The Highland Renegade

by Amy Jarecki

  “Aye.”

  “As I told your uncle earlier this eve, I say the same to you: From this day forward, I am forgiving and forgetting all past feuds between our clans.” He extended his palm toward Janet’s brother. “Will you shake hands with me, friend?”

  Janet pressed praying fingers to her lips. Please take it, Kennan, please.

  Her brother eyed the man who’d just pledged his love for her. “Is this one of yer tricks?”

  Robert spread his arms to his sides. “In front of our betters? And before so many members of Scotland’s gentry?”

  Appearing to sober a bit, Kennan gave a cautious nod. “I will take your hand, and this had best not be a ploy to woo my sister under your spell.”

  Janet released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as the two men joined hands. Robert stepped in and whispered something in Kennan’s ear—something that made her brother’s eyes pop. For a moment she thought Kennan might take a swing, but Ciar pulled him away. “Come, I reckon ’tis time to switch to a beverage less potent.”

  As they headed back to the card room, Auntie Dallis stepped in and insisted she had experienced one of her spells and thus decided it was time to take Miss Janet home.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Just after dusk, Winfred sat on his horse, stopped on the fringe of the Duke of Gordon’s lands while he watched the glow of the candlelight as the royal ball took place, all too aware that none of Her Majesty’s highest-ranking officers were in attendance. To the depths of his soul he knew this was an unlawful Jacobite gathering, but since he’d lost his leg, no one listened to him. Once he’d been an officer, a leader of men, and now he was mocked and pitied.

  And now he’d been forced into hiding by that meddler Robert Grant. When the faint sound of music floated on the cool evening’s breeze, Winfred turned his horse. This was the chance for which he’d been waiting.

  * * *

  After bidding good night to Janet, Robert stepped into the smoke-filled card room. Through the haze he spotted Ciar at one of the round tables. MacDougall sat beside Kennan, and in front of each was a pile of coins and a tankard of ale. When Ciar glanced over, Robert gave a bow and a clipped salute to tell his friend he was leaving. With Janet gone, he had no reason to tarry.

  Then he found the Duke of Gordon and the king surrounded by admirers. He managed to sidle in to pay his respects. “My compliments, Your Grace. I believe this is the finest ball I have ever attended—and that includes those presented by the crown in London.”

  “Thank you, sir. It was fortunate you were able to come and meet our esteemed guest.” The duke gestured to King James.

  Robert bowed. “Your Grace, I am honored to have met you. Please accept my sincerest wishes for your health. I look forward to our next meeting.”

  The king glanced to his garters and clapped Robert’s arm. “I do as well, Grant. I’ve heard favorable things about you and your army.”

  “Indeed. My clansmen have supported Scottish kings since afore the time of the Bruce.”

  “I am heartened to hear it.” The king placed his bejeweled hand on Robert’s shoulder. “I have every confidence that your loyalty will be rewarded.”

  Robert again bowed, deeper this time. “Thank you, Your Graces.”

  Having imparted an appropriate farewell, he took a coach back to the alehouse, where he found his men.

  Lewis beckoned Robert to their table, the air thicker with smoke than the card room had been. “You’re back a fair bit earlier than I thought you might be. Did everything go well?” Lewis gave him a once-over. “I see no blood.”

  Chuckling, Robert reached for an empty tankard and poured from a ewer of ale. “Pull yer miserable head in. I end up bloodied once in my life and you think the worst every time I venture out.”

  “Mayhap when there are Camerons about. But I’m glad you did not ruin your finery.”

  “I am also.” Robert raised his tankard. “Listen well, men. I have called a truce with Clan Cameron. And I expect every one of you to honor it.”

  “What if they provoke us?” asked Jimmy.

  “Then I must have word of it afore anyone takes up arms against them.”

  “What if they take up arms afore we can talk to ye?” As always, Jimmy was persistent.

  “Do what you must to defend yourself. No more. Let no Cameron accuse a Grant of malice.”

  Lewis shook his head. “I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

  “Och, I kent the end of the feud was near as soon as we rode into the hills with Miss Janet,” said Tormond. “That or else we’d be attacking Achnacarry this very moment.”

  “There are many battles to be fought, though I reckon the days of clan feuds are numbered.” Had they been in Glenmoriston, Robert would have said more about the need for all Highlanders to stand together and support James in the succession but eavesdroppers might consider such talk treasonous, especially in the Lowlands.

  He held his tankard high. “To Clan Grant, stand fast, stand sure!”

  “Stand fast, stand sure.” They boomed the clan motto, then raised their tankards and drank.

  “The stale smoke in this place is not agreeing with me.” Robert gave Lewis a nudge. “I’m stepping out for some air.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “Nay, stay and enjoy yourself. I have a great deal on my mind.”

  “All right, then. Keep clear of Trongate. Word is some poor sop was dirked there last eve.”

  “Dirked, aye?” Robert snorted. “Soon Glasgow will be as bad as London.”

  Straightening his sword belt, he opted to head northwest, walking through the closes and alleyways until he arrived at the MacLean town house.

  As his gaze swept up to the third-floor windows, ice shot through his blood.

  * * *

  When Janet arrived home, she hummed and danced all the way up the stairs.

  Lena was waiting in her chamber with a broad smile. “It sounds as if you had a lovely time.”

  “It was glorious.” Janet swayed, still hearing the music, while the maid unlaced her gown and placed it in her trunk.

  “All the gentry in their finery,” Lena said as she closed the lid. “I would love to attend a ball one day.”

  “It was a night I shall never forget.” Janet sashayed through the chamber and sat on the dressing table stool.

  Lena started the task of removing hairpins. “Did you dance all night?”

  “I did.”

  “Forgive me for asking, but I’m curious. Did any gentleman strike your fancy?”

  Janet flipped open her fan and covered her face—all but her eyes. “There may have been one.”

  “Och, ’tis exciting. Have you met the gentleman afore?” Pins removed, Lena picked up the brush.

  “Aye, I ken the gentleman well.”

  Lena’s hand stilled. “If you already ken him well, then why are we in Glasgow to find you a husband?”

  “Because the gentleman isn’t exactly on good terms with my father.”

  Covering her mouth, Lena gasped. “Do not tell me ye are speaking of the Grant laird.”

  Janet gave the lass a wee backhand with her fan. “Since when did you become so opinionated?”

  “Forgive me. I spoke out of turn.”

  “Nay.” Janet sighed. “But Mr. Grant made it clear he was prepared to cast aside all differences between our clans because he intended to court me.” Janet’s insides leaped.

  “Intended? My, it sounds as if he behaved quite boldly.”

  “Aye, you should have seen him, and he rendered Auntie Dallis speechless.”

  “He didn’t!”

  “He did.”

  “Och, I would give an entire month’s pay to see such a sight.”

  Janet stood and shook out her shift. “I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for myself.”

  “So what now? Will we be seeing more of Grant?”

  “I suspect we will. Though we’ve yet to win o
ver Kennan.”

  “And your da.”

  The mention of her father made her stomach squeeze. “That will be the tricky part. Perhaps I can enlist Uncle’s help on that account.” Janet twirled in place. “I have no idea how I’ll sleep.”

  “But you must. Shall I turn down the bedclothes for you?”

  Janet plucked a book from the dressing table and sat on the chair in front of the hearth. “I think I’ll read for a bit. You go on and go to bed.”

  Lena curtsied. “Thank you, miss.”

  “Nay, thank you, lass.”

  Try as she might, Janet couldn’t concentrate on reading, either. Setting the book aside, she yawned. Perhaps I am tired. Still dancing, she blew out the candles, leaving only the oil lamp burning near the bed.

  Then she turned down the bedclothes.

  In the blink of an eye, a cold chill slithered across the back of her neck.

  Clutching her hands to her stomach, she drew in a sharp gasp. Elation turned to terror gripping her stomach, making her every muscle freeze.

  A plucked white dog rose lay atop the mattress, a dagger through the center, pinning it to the bed. Before Janet could think, a figure lurched from behind the bed-curtains. Clutching her chest, she ran toward the door, but a hand clamped over her mouth and jerked her back, knocking the oil lamp to the floorboards.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Janet screamed, though her cries were muffled by the brutal hand over her mouth. She thrashed and kicked, desperate to free herself from the beast’s iron grip, her mind frenzied, every nerve spun taut with fear. But when the man thrust the point of a dagger at her throat, she froze. Panting, unable to control her breath, Janet shifted her eyes from side to side as she searched for an escape.

  “Shut your bloody gob,” he growled, pulling her away from the flames creeping from the fallen oil lamp. Janet’s blood ran cold at the sound of Lieutenant Cummins’s voice. “You ruined my life, and now we will burn together in the fires of hell.”

  She shied away from the knife, her head pushing into him. “Noooo,” she garbled through his fingers. A bead of sweat bled from her forehead as the flames climbed up the coverlet and ignited the bed-curtains. Dear God, she was going to die at the hand of this madman. Smoke billowed around them. Her eyes burned and watered as she panicked, pressing her body against the devil. In a rush of courage, she stomped on his instep.

  “Bitch!” Cummins staggered and shoved her to the floor.

  Janet’s head hit the chair leg hard. She winced. “Ow!”

  “Whine all you want, wench. I prefer a woman who moans.” Tottering toward her, he began to loosen his falls. “I will take my plunder whilst we burn.”

  “Stop!” she shrieked, scooting away and dragging her feet beneath her.

  “Yes, it pleases me to see the terror in your eyes. Fear me, wench!” He dropped to his knee, his peg leg scraping the wood behind while he grabbed for her shoulders.

  Janet ducked away from his hands. She sprang to her feet and dashed toward the door. “Help!” she cried, lunging for the latch. Cummins caught the hem of her shift and yanked so hard Janet’s head whipped back. As she thudded to the floor, the blackguard launched himself atop her. “You will be mine!” He yanked up her hem, the smoke choking her while the flames leaped from the canopy to the ceiling.

  “Help!” Janet screamed, praying for a miracle, fighting to slide out from under the madman. Tears flooded her eyes. She sputtered and coughed while struggling with all her strength.

  An ember fell beside her head. “Help!” she yelled over and over, while she wrenched a hand free and slammed her fist against the lieutenant’s temple.

  “You shrew!” he bellowed, swinging his arm back with an open hand.

  Janet winced, protecting her head with her arm.

  The door flew open. She sucked in a whoosh of air while the fire behind them leaped.

  Lunging inside, Robert stopped Cummins’s hand in midstrike and dragged the brute off her. “I’ll kill you for this, you ragged-arsed fiend.” The silver of His Lairdship’s eyes gleaming with rage, his voice low and deadly, he swung at the scoundrel’s jaw.

  The dragoon ducked, wrenching his arm way and skittering toward the flames. “You! Just the man I wanted to see.” Cummins cackled like a madman. “The pair of you will die here this very night!” Gnashing his teeth, he drew a flintlock from his holster. The blaze leaped behind the viper as if he were Satan incarnate.

  Robert kicked the pistol as it fired. Still coughing, Janet scooted toward the door, gasping for air while Robert drew his dirk. “Come at me.”

  “No!” Cummins’s eyes were wide and crazed. “We burn!”

  Bless the saints, Lionel and the servants barreled inside with buckets and blankets, racing for the flames. Hissing filled the air as the men emptied their pails.

  The lieutenant lunged to the floor, reaching for his dagger. “You’re traitors, the lot of you!”

  “Watch out!” Janet warned as Cummins slashed the blade through the air, hobbling toward the servants. As he raised the weapon over his head, Robert grabbed the brute’s wrist and stopped the attack as he wedged himself between Winfred and the men battling the fire with blankets.

  The two men faced each other, snarling in a bout of strength while the razor-sharp blade shook between them. Scowling, Robert gained the upper hand, shifting the point of the dagger toward the madman. Slowly, torturously, the knife inched toward the weaker man until, in a heartbeat, Robert overpowered him, striking the blade straight across Winfred’s gullet. The evil man dropped to his face, the water from the buckets mingling with his blood and pooling red.

  “Miss Janet!” Robert dashed to her side and wrapped his powerful arms around her. “Did he hurt you?”

  “I-I-I—” Heaven help her, she curled into his warmth, his strength, his security while she caught her breath. “Nothing but a bruise or two.”

  Lionel and the others doused the remaining flames with blankets, snuffing the fire.

  On a sigh she threaded her fingers around Robert’s neck. “I thought I would die for certain.”

  “Not this night, lass. Not until you’re old, with great-grandchildren playing about your feet.” He tightened his grip and stood. “I’ll take you below stairs and away from this gruesome sight.”

  “Thank you,” she said, then stretched a hand to Lionel. “I will ensure you and the men are rewarded for your gallantry.”

  “Bless you, Miss Janet,” said Lionel, walking with them to the chamber door. “The men will indeed be indebted to you for your kindness.”

  She rested her head on Robert’s chest as he started down the steps. “I am grateful to you most of all, my love.”

  “I only thank God I arrived when I did.”

  “The man was insane. I fought as hard as I could. But he overpowered me.”

  “Aye. And now he’s headed for Hades.” Robert stopped at the landing and looked her in the eye. “I am amazed by your bravery, your strength. With your fighting spirit, you purchased valuable time. And now you are free of him.”

  “I am.” She raised her chin and kissed his lips. “Let us think on him no more.”

  “Agreed, though your aunt and uncle are waiting below. They’re worried to death. Are you ready to face them?”

  “In your arms I can face an army.”

  He kissed her forehead. “That’s my lass.”

  She cupped his cheek, the scar making him look all the more gallant. “How did you know I was in peril?”

  “I was restless and took a stroll. Somehow I ended up across from this house.” A furrow formed in his brow. “Thank God I did.”

  “Oh, thank the heavenly stars! Janet, my dearest,” Auntie Dallis called out as soon as they started down the final flight of stairs. A tear splashed on her cheek as she drew her hands over her mouth. “Are you injured, my poor sweeting? What happened up there?”

  “She needs fresh air.” Robert did not set her down as he stepped into the entry. “Th
e smoke had all but overcome her.”

  “I’m coming good,” Janet said, coughing. “Thanks to Mr. Grant’s heroism.”

  Uncle’s gaze trailed upward. “Is the fire snuffed?”

  “Aye, and Winfred Cummins dead.”

  “So it was he?” Sir Broden shook his head.

  “It was. I’m afraid the bedchamber is badly burned. I recommend all rooms above and below be vacated until reconstruction is completed.”

  “I’ve already sent a runner to Sir Donald requesting his hospitality for the night. The liveryman is hitching the horses as we speak.”

  Robert nodded. “With your consent, I would like to accompany you to assist Miss Janet. She has had a terrible ordeal. And—”

  Before he could utter another word, Kennan bounded through the door with Ciar right behind. “What is the meaning of this? Unhand my sister this instant!”

  Auntie blocked his path. “Just one moment, young whelp.”

  “Not until Grant sets Janet on her feet. Then I need an explanation for this untoward state of affairs.” He blinked. “Are…are you wearing nothing but a shift?” Sniffing, Kennan turned full circle as he swept a hand across his bloodshot eyes. “Something’s afire.”

  “Was afire,” said Uncle. “Miss Janet had a stowaway in her bedchamber, and—”

  “You bloody bastard!”

  “Kennan,” Janet chided, keeping her fingers firmly laced around His Lairdship’s neck.

  Both Sir Broden and Ciar blocked Kennan’s path to Robert, who managed to smile even though her brother was behaving like a boor. He gave her a wink. “Are you well enough to stand on your own, miss?”

  “I believe so.” She coughed for added effect.

  “Everyone’s tired,” he continued after setting her down. “Let us retire to the parlor, where we can explain the whole ordeal whilst we wait for the coach to come around.”

  Once Janet had a cloak secured about her shoulders, Robert sat on the settee beside her while she related exactly what had happened. Kennan stood at the hearth with his arms crossed, frowning and glaring at Robert throughout the soliloquy. Ciar looked on from beside Kennan as if he’d planted himself there to intercede if necessary.