“If a people cannot reform an unjust government, then that system has failed. And if that system has failed, a nation is destined for ruin and for change of the fiercest kind. So I say to you now, change is our destiny. The Highlands’ destiny. Scotland’s destiny!”
As he finished, the crowd picked up the cry, “Destiny! Destiny!”
And Cinaed and Isabella raised their voices with them.
CHAPTER 21
The rose is fairest when ’t is budding new,
And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears;
The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew,
And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears.
—Sir Walter Scott, “Lady of the Lake,” Canto IV, stanza 1
As the candle beside the bed flickered, Isabella looked one last time at Cinaed’s powerful arms stretching over to her side of the bed, even in sleep trying to hold her. A dark tendril of his hair lay across his cheek, and she fought the urge to push it back and kiss his face before leaving the room. Dawn was upon them, and he’d just fallen sleep.
She slipped through the door and moved quietly down the steps, her mind continuing to dwell on the love they’d shared by the candle’s light. After what they each had gone through yesterday, there had been great hungering need in both of them. But their lovemaking had known no hurry, and their touches were tender and lingering, as if they had years lying ahead of them.
She had sighed out his name; he had made her tremble. He’d shuddered in ecstasy at the things she’d done to his body. They had not talked of the past. They both pretended a million tomorrows would follow tonight’s rapture.
As she hurried through the labyrinth of corridors, Isabella thought about their plan to leave for Dalmigavie Castle around midday. With the long summer evenings, they would have plenty of time to get there, Cinaed told her. He was looking forward to getting this sojourn over with, and his business with his uncle would not take long, but Isabella was looking forward to reuniting with her sister and stepdaughter. She also hoped John Gordon’s injuries were not too severe, for she already knew that when the time came to leave Scotland, he and Jean would need to come with them. They certainly had no future left to them here.
An ache was already growing inside her when she thought about the man lying in her bed. Last night might have been their final time together. Isabella had known it all along. Too many obstacles lay in their path. Their future was about to be washed with a new color, but neither of them had any real idea what hue their life would take on.
One of Searc’s men stood at the study door. Seeing her approach, he stood respectfully and greeted her.
“Is he in there?” she asked.
“Aye. Never left since last night.”
“Will you let him know I’ve come to see him?”
Isabella waited as the man tapped on the door and disappeared inside. She told Cinaed last night about her meeting with William Adams and explained everything she’d learned from him.
Regardless of her first impression of Searc, since staying here, she’d come to respect his influence and admire his shrewdness. But more than that, she was indebted to him for wanting to save her life, even though she and Cinaed had withheld the truth of her identity. Somehow, he’d learned who she was anyway.
Last night, Cinaed told her he’d speak to him this morning, offer their apologies, and explain. But Isabella felt the responsibility was hers and no one else’s. She wanted to talk to Searc herself.
“Himself’ll see you now, mistress. Don’t mind his temper. Can’t say when was the last time he ate or slept.”
Isabella entered the study, once again awestruck by the range and multitude of treasures Searc had collected. A candlestick on the desk was the only source of light. The curtains had been drawn tight. This was the first time she’d come here without Cinaed, and she was surprised when the burly little man came to his feet and bowed politely.
“You shouldn’t come down here without an escort.”
He thought she was concerned about her reputation, but Isabella was far beyond such worries.
“I came down to say thank you,” she answered, deciding it would be better to say what was on her mind.
“For what?”
“For your kindness. For your efforts on my behalf. For standing surety for me and for my character, even though I lied about who I am. For convincing the weavers to rescind their offer for my head.”
“You are most welcome.”
Searc went around the chair, and she noticed his face was drawn, his shoulders sagging. He was tired, she decided. He paced to his desk and back, but she thought his usually energetic steps were dragging.
“But I didn’t do it for you. I did it for Cinaed.”
She’d guessed as much. Whatever his motivation, she was grateful for all he’d done.
“I’ve lived my life accumulating wealth,” he said gruffly. “I learned early on the power of controlling commodities. I also learned that information is perhaps the most valuable commodity. No information of any value gets past me … in this house or in this town.”
She should have known he’d find out about her, but she wondered how he would have treated her if he’d found out that first night that she was a wanted woman worth a great deal of money. She, too, would have been a commodity.
“A physician. A female physician. And one willing to get her hands dirty.”
She nodded. His shrewd eyes studied Isabella as if she were some exotic insect.
“I won’t ask you how you became one. That information has no value for me. And I don’t care to know how you and Cinaed came to know each other. It’s none of my business.”
Isabella was grateful for that. Even though she’d come down to thank him, her marital status—real or feigned—was truly none of his business.
He paused for a moment from his pacing and pointed roughly in the direction of the tower chamber. “But I owed you a great deal for saving Cinaed’s life. Carmichael told me it was not his skill but yours that saved the lad. What you did before you brought him here made the difference.”
Mr. Carmichael’s comments must have sown the seeds of suspicion about her. But she was absolutely certain the surgeon’s words, whatever they were, had been spoken to give her credit.
Searc looked her in the eye. “I’ve never had a lad of my own, that I know of. Never will. But Cinaed has always been the closest thing to a son to me. In some ways, he’s more precious than if he were my own. And he might know it or not, but for all his life, I’ve kept my eye on him. Here or in Halifax, it never mattered. He thinks he was alone, but there have always been folk out there watching him. I was watching. He imagines he built his life alone, but I’ve always looked after his interests. He had to prove himself to them others, but not to me. I knew he’d come out on top. I always told them so.”
Isabella had no idea who everyone and them might be, but Searc appeared to be talking as much to himself as to her. Even though the room was cold, he was perspiring. His meaty hand dashed away a bead of sweat running down the side of his face. He was breathing heavily. The physician in her raised her head.
“And, truth be told, I’ve come to like you, in my own way. I’m not so old a fool that I can’t see he loves you, and that you feel the same. But that’s not the way it’ll be when you go to Dalmigavie Castle. It’ll be an uphill battle, and a bloody one. Lachlan has other plans for him.”
Isabella stepped toward him as Searc held on to the back of a chair to steady himself. She was focusing on him now and not his words.
“Please allow me.” She took him by the arm and encouraged him to sit. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing. Tired, is all. I want you to go to your husband. Rouse him. Tell him I need to speak to him.”
She checked his pulse. It was rapid, but not exceptionally so. The skin on his face was mottled and covered with perspiration. The first thing that came to her mind was that he was suffering from a heart disease. But any ot
her time she’d seen him, he’d never shown any symptoms. He always appeared to be in perfect health. She decided this episode could easily be the result of exhaustion. “Do you have pain in your chest or in your abdomen?”
“It’s not my blasted body that’s the problem. It’s my supposed friends who are betraying me.”
Perhaps he was talking about Cinaed. Or her. She had no idea. “When was the last time you ate or drank or slept?”
“Yesterday, I think. But I…” He stopped, cocking his head toward the door and scowling fiercely.
“Are you…?” Isabella gasped when he caught hold of her wrist and pulled her close.
“Hush, lass. I didn’t think the scoundrels would dare come into my house, at least not this soon. But they’re here.” He motioned to the cases on the farthest wall. “Go. Hide. No matter what you hear, no matter what happens, you don’t show your face.”
The knock on the door had an urgency to it. He let go of her wrist, and she slipped away to where he’d ordered.
Behind a tall easel upon which a huge map had been mounted to a board, two display cases came together in a dark corner of the study. A narrow space had been left between them, and Isabella managed to fit herself into it. The shadows cast by the single candle and the screen helped hide her, but if anyone came close enough, she’d be exposed. Searc’s man opened the door and came in.
“Apologies, master. But soldiers are in the street. Two officers—”
He never had a chance to finish as he was shoved aside, and two men entered.
“Stay outside with this miscreant and shoot anyone who tries to come in here.”
The order was directed toward whoever waited in the hall. But Isabella recognized the voice.
Lieutenant Hudson.
* * *
The sound of horses and rattling swords in the lane beneath their window pushed into Cinaed’s sleeping brain like a long, sharp needle. The shift from deep sleep to instant alertness was quick. He slid across the floor, knife in hand.
Ten soldiers stood outside and inside the gate below, four of them wearing the blue coats and tall black busbies of the Hussars. They were waiting, alert to any movement around the house or in the lane. He counted horses. Others had to be inside the house.
“Isabella,” Cinaed called in a low voice, looking over his shoulder. She wasn’t in the room.
His heartbeat became a battle drum. He pulled on his clothes and boots. His mind raced as he thought of where he had to go in the house to get weapons, how to attack. He wouldn’t let these devils take her with them. He’d fight them to the death.
Knife in hand, he pulled open the door and Blair appeared, pushing Cinaed back in and blocking his way. He didn’t know any of the Highlanders were back.
“Make way, I have to go after my wife.”
“Wait.” He spoke in a low voice. “Hudson’s here. And an officer they tell me is a regular visitor. Colonel Wade. Commander of the port, he is. This might just be business with Searc and nothing to be worrying us.”
He never knew of any British officers who made casual visits at dawn. Certainly not with that many soldiers in the street.
“How many men do you have with you?”
“Four. The rest went up to Dalmigavie.”
Four would do. Cinaed tried to think how many men Searc kept here overnight. It didn’t matter. They’d handle them. They weren’t taking her.
“Where is Isabella now?”
“Last someone saw her, she was going into Searc’s study.”
“And Hudson?”
“Searc’s study.”
Cinaed pushed for the door, but Blair stopped him again. “Wait. We won’t let them walk out with her. But let them make the first move. Be patient. We don’t want to make it any more dangerous for her, I should think.”
* * *
“Colonel Wade, you know I don’t take kindly to anyone barging into my house.” Searc’s voice was hard and gruff. “But since you’re here, why don’t you introduce your spirited junior officer?”
The colonel had no chance to speak. Hudson cut in, introducing himself, his jangling voice filling the room, loud and arrogant. “Lieutenant Ellis Hudson, of the 10th Royal Hussars.”
Isabella’s blood ran cold at the nearness of the man.
She pressed her face against one of the cases to see what was happening. Only a small sliver of the room was visible. She thought worriedly of Cinaed, hoping someone had awakened him. Perhaps Jean had gone up. Hudson wouldn’t come here unless he had an army with him.
“What can I do for you, Colonel?” Searc appeared to be intentionally ignoring the newcomer.
“You will address me and not Colonel Wade,” Hudson barked, moving into Isabella’s field of vision.
She shrank back involuntarily, but only for a moment.
“I’ve been sent here from Edinburgh on a mission of the utmost importance to the Crown, and I answer only to my commander there.”
“I didn’t know that’s the way the British army worked,” Searc put in. “New military protocol, Colonel?”
Hudson continued to talk, ignoring the barb. “And nothing you say or offer me…” He paused and sent a degrading glance at Colonel Wade. “Nothing will dissuade me from accomplishing what I’ve been assigned to do.” He looked around the study. “And that includes any effort on your part to bribe me with gifts, favors, or whatever else you use in this barbaric corner of the kingdom to induce others to do your bidding.”
Even before he finished talking of bribes, the map on the board near Isabella’s hiding place drew his interest. Her heart stopped as he moved toward it.
“Why are you here, Lieutenant?” Searc asked sharply.
Hudson paused and looked back at him. “Yesterday, there was an attack on a prisoner escort on the way to Nairn. You will hand over those responsible.”
The lieutenant’s broad back was to her. Isabella wished she had a knife. A broken stick would do.
“I have no knowledge of any attack. How would I know who was responsible?”
“Your reputation and your web of spies are well known to us,” he said, turning his back on Searc and coming closer to the map … and Isabella. “You’re lying.”
“Careful what you say, laddie. Slander is still taken quite seriously by the courts here.”
Hudson scoffed. “You paid local officials as well as—I suspect—military officers to attend your seditious gathering and stand on the perimeter like so many puppets, allowing violence against the Crown to be incited from the platform. And while these treasonous acts were taking place, you knew exactly what was happening on the coach road.”
“You give me far too much credit,” Searc growled. “And you haven’t a shred of evidence to back your outlandish claims.”
“Give the order to search the house,” Hudson barked at Colonel Wade. “There has to be plenty of evidence in this ruin that will incriminate him of this crime or some other. There isn’t a Scot in the Highlands who doesn’t have something to hide.”
An item on a shelf in the case beside the map drew Hudson’s attention. He was only a few feet from where she hid.
“We spoke of this before we came in here, Lieutenant.” Wade cleared his throat uncomfortably. “We have no desire to create a situation which could result in bloodshed or destruction of property. And if you still intend to take Mr. Mackintosh from his home, his household will—”
“Save your breath, Colonel. Our duty is to the Crown, not some scoundrel in this vile place.” He wheeled his tall frame and glared. “Are you a loyal officer, or are you not? I tell you this man is guilty of nefarious crimes. Whom do you fear?”
Searc’s men, Isabella thought. She recalled all the weapons hidden in this house, in this very room. They were probably better armed than the soldiers. They wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“I advised against it, but we are here at your insistence.”
Appearing satisfied, Hudson turned back to the case and approached. I
sabella had nowhere to go.
“Very well. Take me to Fort George,” Searc snapped, stopping the lieutenant in his tracks. “I’ll go willingly, without any trouble. My men won’t stand against you. I’m certain we can resolve whatever misunderstandings we have and avoid any complications that will surely arise here.”
Surprise and then smug satisfaction registered on Hudson’s face as he slowly turned and faced the others. “Indeed. Take him into custody, Colonel. Now.”
CHAPTER 22
Revenge, the sweetest morsel to the mouth that ever was cooked in hell.
—Sir Walter Scott, The Heart of Mid-Lothian
Cinaed had to keep Isabella out of the room. He couldn’t allow her to think she had any responsibility in this. She believed Searc sacrificed himself for her that morning by volunteering to go with the British soldiers to keep her from being discovered. He tried to make her understand that Hudson had come to the house to arrest Searc, using force if he had to. No other reason explained arriving so early. The streets were empty of people, and he brought a sufficient number of men to do it.
“Trespass on property of the Crown. Illegal assembly. Incitement to commit violence. Sedition. Conspiracy to commit treason.”
Cinaed paced the room as Philip Kenedy read the charges from the printed handbill. The notices were being plastered all over the waterfront. All the other men who’d gathered with him in the study—Blair, Carmichael, the leadership of the weavers, and several of Searc’s men—also knew.
He cursed himself for allowing Hudson to take Searc. But his own men believed that their master could talk himself free of any situation. He was a friend to the commander of the port of Inverness. He knew the Deputy Governor of Fort George very well, but the man was at Fort William, according to the weavers.
In the absence of the general, Hudson was abusing his power. Because the assembly had been held on “ship lands,” controlled by the Royal Navy, the lieutenant was taking it on himself to make the arrest under military law. Same-day trial. Same-day judgment. Treason and “compassing to levy war against His Majesty” was his justification.
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