The Highland Renegade

by Amy Jarecki

  By the time Janet finished, Kennan had resorted to pacing back and forth. “I didn’t think Cummins had it in him to steal into my uncle’s house—up to the third floor with a peg leg, no less. Good God, had I known, I never would have allowed you out of my sight, Sister.” He kneeled before her and grasped her hands. “Can you ever forgive me?”

  “Perhaps.” It was her turn to smile as she glanced to Robert’s handsome mien. “As long as you agree to a truce with Mr. Grant.”

  Kennan took in a deep breath as he rose. Then his gaze shifted to Robert, a bit heated at first. His lips thinned, then he bowed his head. “I owe you a debt of gratitude for rushing to my sister’s aid. Please tell me, how did you come to be in such proximity to the town house?”

  “I couldn’t sleep and stepped out for a bit of air. I was across the street when I saw the flicker of fire from a third-floor window—honestly, I had no idea it was hers until I heard Miss Janet’s scream. And I’ll tell you true, the only other time I’ve heard such a chilling shriek of terror was when she plummeted down the ravine at Finnach Ridge.”

  “Thank heavens he was there. After our sweeting shrieked, Broden and I had only just opened the door to our bedchamber, and I’d never seen such a sight,” said Auntie Dallis. “I do not even think Grant’s toes touched the stairs, he was moving so fast.”

  Kennan folded his arms, his expression softening. “The words you whispered in my ear this night. Did you speak true?”

  “I am an honest man—”

  “I’ll vouch for that,” said Ciar.

  Robert cleared his throat and stood. “And to further prove my sincerity, if I have ever spoken truer words I know not what they are.”

  Kennan gave a resolute nod. “Then we must make haste to Achnacarry afore word of this night reaches my father.”

  “So soon?” asked Auntie Dallis.

  “A moment.” Janet shoved herself to her feet, swooning a bit. But Robert immediately steadied her. “If it concerns me, I must know what you said to my brother, Robert.”

  “Very well, if you insist.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he squared his shoulders. “I said, and I quote, ‘I aim to marry Miss Janet. When she is mine, I vow on my life I will spend my days making her happy. Is that not what you want for your sister?’” He took her hand in his and dropped to one knee. “Mo cridhe, I planned to propose marriage in a more intimate setting, but I can no longer wait. Will you marry me?”

  Kennan placed his hand on Robert’s shoulder. “If our father grants his consent.”

  Janet’s heart soared. She’d gone from facing certain death to being the happiest woman in all of Scotland all in one evening. Tears welled in her eyes. “I will marry you, Mr. Grant. And God save my father if he does not agree.”

  His smile filled the room with happiness, and as he plied her hand with a kiss, Janet did not care if all of Glasgow witnessed this moment.

  Kennan squeezed his fingers into Robert’s shoulder. “The two of you may have made a pact for now, but nothing is settled until my father gives his blessing.”

  Robert eyed him. “If I must, I will wait.”

  Though the night had gone from terrifying to rapturous, there was still something Janet had to settle. And it couldn’t wait. “Kennan, I need to hear you apologize to Robert for using your dagger against him at the duel. You’re no backbiter, and I shall not tolerate any further jibes against His Lairdship.”

  Kennan gaped as if smacked between the eyes. “Ah…” His astonished gaze shifted to Robert, who stood rigid and unsmiling. Without a word the big laird turned his cheek and pointed to the puckered scar. “Jesus,” Kennan cursed, gulping.

  “Well?” Janet grasped one of the chairs and sank her fingers into the upholstery.

  “It was a rather vicious attack.” Ciar clapped her brother on the nape. “And that’s not like you, even considering the rift between your kin.”

  Dropping his shoulders, Kennan gave a nod. “I was wrong. Just couldn’t admit it, is all.” He thrust out his hand. “Truth be told, ye fight like Goliath, and I’d be honored to have you by my side in any battle.”

  Robert seized the offering, clamping his fingers around Kennan’s forearm—a Highlander’s grasp, which meant far more than a mere shaking of the hands. “And you, sir. You’re faster than a wildcat. Next time I, too, would prefer to have you on my side.”

  “Och, I’m glad that’s settled.” Broden joined them. “I will write a letter to Lochiel and explain the goodwill Laird Grant has shown us.”

  Janet clapped her hands together. “Oh, Uncle, that will help us immensely. Thank you.”

  “Excellent,” Kennan agreed. He turned to Robert. “Now, sir, I bid you good eve. The repairs to the barque are complete. We will sail for Achnacarry on the morrow, and I aim to ensure you do not take liberties with my sister again until and if you are properly wed.”

  “I, ah…Of course.” Robert reached for Janet’s hands. “Will you feel safe with your brother?”

  If only she could say no, but they’d just managed to win Kennan over, and to disagree would be unwise. Moreover, she desperately needed her brother as an ally when they faced Lochiel. “Until the morrow.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Robert was all too happy to spend the fine day on deck with Janet. With her brother manning the helm of the three-masted barque, there was little more they could do than chat and stare into each other’s eyes. But they were together, and Robert was content. Later they moored in the saltwater Loch Eil and offloaded the horses, with a half-dozen Cameron men riding at their flanks. At the confluence with the River Lochy, Kennan pulled his horse to a stop. “This is where we part company.”

  Robert nearly spat out his teeth. “I beg your pardon?” Had he given Cameron his trust only to be stabbed in the back?

  But Kennan raised his palms. “During the voyage I thought long and hard about how to broach the subject of a union between Grant and Cameron with Da. You ken as well as I that my father will not welcome you straightaway. I bid you stay at the alehouse in Inverlochy until I’ve had a chance to explain matters.”

  “I’d rather do that myself. I let your father take Janet away once before, and I’ll not sit idle while you do it again.”

  The lady drew her reins through her fingers. “Surely we can speak to Da and then he’ll understand. Why insist he stay away?”

  Kennan shook his head. “I won’t be swayed on this. I ken what is best, and I bid you stay the night in Inverlochy, and I promise I’ll send word on the morrow.”

  “I do not like it. What if you are not convincing enough? I should be the one to speak with Lochiel man-to-man, laird to laird.” Robert’s hackles stood on end. Only Lewis had sailed with them; his other men were riding north and wouldn’t arrive for another two days. Two days and I’ll have the men to take Janet by force if I must. Weighing his odds, Robert dragged his fingers through his hair. On the one hand, Kennan made sense. Doubtless Lochiel would be irate at first. The old man needed time to mull over the idea.

  Still, years of feuding made him doubt the young heir’s motives, even after his apology. “What say you, Janet? Is your brother speaking true, or is he about to strike me across the face?”

  Kennan threw back his shoulders. “I said I was wrong. What more—”

  “I. Will. Answer!” Janet boomed in a tone so commanding, every man in their party sat up and took notice. She turned her attention to Robert. “Kennan speaks true. Da has a temper like a tempest, but once it hits shore, it ebbs, and eventually the thunder and lightning are replaced by rays of sunshine.”

  “Do you think he will listen to your reason, mo cridhe?”

  Frowning, she tapped her lip. “Perhaps if Kennan is steadfastly backing me.” She thrust her finger at her brother. “Steadfastly! And with the letter written by Sir Broden, I think he might just be swayed.”

  “This is not agreed.” Robert clenched his fingers around his reins. “I must speak to him directly.”

  �
�Understood.” Kennan held up his palms—at least the man hadn’t drawn a weapon. He even sounded sincere. “Let us make a wee truce.”

  “What say you? I turn my back so you can take a swing at me again while you plot against me with Lochiel?”

  “Bloody oath, Grant, you make it difficult for me to like you. But my sister loves you. You have sworn to me you will make her the happiest woman in Christendom, and I damn well aim to hold you to it.” Kennan thrust his finger northward. “Janet and I will ride on and meet with our father. If I have not sent a messenger to Inverlochy by the noon hour on the morrow, you come to Achnacarry.”

  “While your da places a sniper on the battlement walls, ready to shoot as soon as ye see my bonnet,” Robert growled, growing angrier by the moment.

  “You have my word. Clan Cameron will grant you safe passage.”

  “You have my word as well,” said Janet.

  Christ. Robert groaned. “I’ll wait, but only if Janet thinks it best.”

  She gave him a nod. “I do, until midday tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Janet wrung her hands, her eyes growing wide as Kennan opened the door to the library. “Is Da amenable?”

  He gestured to his person with both hands. “I’m still breathing, am I not?”

  “You’re hardly convincing.”

  “I’d be lying if I said he was dancing a reel.” Kennan threw his thumb over his shoulder. “’Tis your turn. Hold your head high and stick to your convictions. He’ll cut ye to the quick if you do not.”

  She grasped his hand and kissed his knuckles. “Thank you. Now wish me luck.”

  He cupped her cheek. “Godspeed, Sister. You have survived his wrath before, as you will this once.”

  She gulped as she stepped inside the library. Da was seated at his writing table, his fingers steepled against his lips. “Ah, my wayward daughter. It seems I send you to Glasgow to find a husband and you encounter Robert Grant. Tell me, does that man follow you everywhere you venture?”

  Janet looked to the missive from Uncle Broden open on his table. Surely from that and Kennan’s testament, Da knew all the details of what had transpired. “I assure you my meeting Mr. Grant in Glasgow was purely by chance.”

  “Likely story.”

  “But fortuitous all the same.”

  “Why him? He all but kidnapped you. The man is a dastard of the highest order.”

  “He rescued me, Da. I’m certain you have already heard of his heroism regarding the fire.”

  “Aye, but any man can fight a cripple.”

  “Very well, if in your eyes Mr. Grant can do nothing heroic, then let me tell you I love him. I want to marry—”

  “Ewen.” Lady Jean, Janet’s stepmother, entered. She shut the door behind her. “Before this goes any further, I believe I should have my say…”

  * * *

  Robert sat in the alehouse with his back to the wall. He clicked open his pocket watch for the hundredth time that morn.

  “Still read quarter to twelve?” asked Lewis.

  “’Tis fourteen minutes to twelve, ye wastrel.”

  The man snorted. “Father Time enjoys playing tricks. There’s never enough of it when you’re working your fingers to the bone, and when you’re waiting, the clock seems to bloody stop.”

  Robert looked to the bar, tempted to order a bottle of whisky. Unfortunately, doing so would be folly. Imagine showing up at Achnacarry in his cups, tripping over his feet, slurring his words, and most likely ending up with Kennan’s boot up his arse.

  He pushed back his chair and paced…until he looked out the window. “Boar’s ballocks, the rascal is here.” In two strides he sat, tipped the chair back, and started cleaning his fingernails with a dagger. When the door opened, Robert feigned nonchalance, though his gut was spinning like a wheel.

  As footsteps approached the table, he gradually shifted his gaze until he met Kennan’s blue-eyed stare. Interestingly, this was the first time he’d noticed the lad had his sister’s eyes.

  They look bonnier on Janet. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” he said with a growl in his voice.

  Kennan smirked. “Anxious? That’s not like you.”

  “Aye? I reckon you might be as well if circumstances were reversed.” Robert looked to Lewis. “Give us a moment, please.” Then he signaled to the barman. “Two ales over here.”

  Kennan slipped into the chair opposite. “Over the past month or so, I have had discussions about you with Ciar as well as my sister.”

  “Have you now?”

  When the barman placed two tankards on the table, Robert wrapped his fingers around the handle of one, Kennan the other. Watching each other’s eyes, they both drank.

  “It boggles my mind,” Kennan continued, “but they both reckon you walk on water.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Hmm. What perplexes me most was Ciar told me you had my unconscious body in your arms when he arrived at the bank of the River Lochy. Is that true?”

  “It is.”

  “Why would you ride to my aid when I cut your face only days prior?”

  “Several reasons.”

  Kennan arched his eyebrows in question before he took another drink. “Go on then. Unless it is a secret.”

  Robert sat back and sighed. “First of all, I returned because I heard your sister scream. I didn’t care to admit it at the time, but I’ve always harbored a fondness for Miss Janet and I would never turn my back on her. Never.” He paused to ensure Kennan understood the depth of his sincerity. “Secondly, no matter how deeply the rift runs between our clans, in the face of another rising I would take up arms and fight beside you notwithstanding.”

  A furrow formed between the man’s brows as he tapped his finger on his cup. “I misjudged you.”

  The churning in Robert’s gut eased. “It has been known to happen.”

  “I owe you another apology. In your eyes, I imagine I’ve behaved like a toad.”

  Shifting his gaze aside, Robert gave a single nod. “’Tis difficult to cast aside centuries of feuding.”

  “It is. And I tell you true, last night I spoke to my da. Janet, too. He’s not happy, but he has agreed to talk to you.”

  “My thanks. That is all I ask.”

  “Och, you’d best thank my stepmother. In truth, I believe she had more sway with the old man than either me or Janet.”

  “Stepmother?” Robert couldn’t picture the woman. Janet hadn’t said much about her other than to indicate there was no love lost between them—though Lady Cameron was rather anxious to see her stepdaughter married.

  “Aye, if anything she seemed overjoyed with the news.”

  Robert shoved his chair away from the table and stood. “Then let us away.”

  At a steady trot, it still took two hours to reach the castle. Robert had never been inside the grand manse, but he’d seen Achnacarry from afar, and it was nothing short of palatial. In truth, one of the reasons he had gone along with his father’s prejudices toward the Camerons was their lavish wealth. As with many Highland clans, their reputation was fierce; it held that when they were raided, they repaid with vengeance, burning and pillaging like savages. Now he rode beside the heir to the Lochiel lairdship straight up to the prominent double oak doors.

  As they dismounted, Miss Janet cantered from the stables as if she were chasing a fox.

  “What are you doing here?” Kennan scolded.

  She ignored him and skidded to a stop alongside Robert. Her eyes flashed with mischief as she leaned toward him. “I’ve been warned not to speak to Mr. Grant when he arrives, but I will have him know I will be working my new gelding in the round pen for the duration of the afternoon.”

  He grinned. “I hope to find you there. Soon.”

  She gave him a wink as she rode away.

  Kennan rolled his eyes. “Come, afore anything else happens. She’s supposed to be in her chamber.”

  Robert couldn’t help his chuckle. Janet wasn’t one
to obey orders, especially when they made no sense. Perhaps that’s what had attracted him to her in the first place.

  The interior of the home was as magnificent as the exterior. The walls of the entry were trimmed with mahogany paneling and festooned with paintings. Robert turned full circle, examining the portraits of Camerons—men who had opposed his kin in battle.

  Kennan gestured to a servant. “I must ask you to leave your arms with the footman.”

  “You’re jesting.”

  “I am not.”

  “Bloody Christmas.” Robert removed his sword belt, his dirk, and his musket and gave them to a man who looked nowhere near as polished as Lionel in Glasgow. “I’m trusting you to watch over these as if they were your own.”

  The man bowed. “Aye, sir.”

  Kennan clapped Robert on the back. “Make no bones about it, Grant has been given leave to visit with Lochiel. Let us ensure we show him true Highland hospitality.”

  “Understood.”

  Robert watched the man retreat with his weapons—all but the daggers hidden in his hose. Was he doing the right thing by forging this alliance? His heart said yes, but his sense of reason wasn’t as convinced. Reason told him to demand his weapons back, head for the stables, open the gate, and ride for freedom like a pillaging Highlander with Janet across his horse’s withers.

  But then there was the Jacobite cause. The succession. Camerons and Grants alike believed in the sovereignty of the Stuart line and, until the rightful king was once again on the throne, both clans could ill afford to bicker over grazing rights and petty cattle theft. Aye, during the time of his father, the Camerons had raided Grant lands, burning crofts and thieving cattle, and Robert’s clan had repaid in kind. Was either clan right?

  And what of the feud? The Camerons accused the Grant woman of seducing their laird, and the Grants declared the lady had been debauched. Most likely neither party was wholly innocent, and after centuries, how could they ever uncover the truth, even though Robert sided with the woman?

  The question is, will a woman be the one who ends the feud once and for all?