The man who called himself Will appeared from the back of the cave. He was dressed in a kilted plaid that came over his shoulder. His cheeks were covered by new beard which only partially hid the scar that ran down one side of his face. His eyes looked tired, and he seemed thinner than he had before. Neil was startled to see that they were nearly the same height. He had not recalled that, but then he had been on the ground most of the time.
Cold, blue eyes regarded him carefully, then he looked toward Burke. “You did well,” he said.
Burke looked uncomfortable. “He came on his own.”
“You did not have to force him?”
“Nay,” Burke said and cast a pleading look at Neil. He obviously did not want his leader to know that, in fact, Neil had taken him.
Will stared at him. Hard. “A trick, my lord?”
Neil shrugged. “I wanted to see the man who would nearly kill me and then say I owed him.”
“I must say I dinna think you would take it so to heart,” the bandit said wryly.
“Then why did you send your man for me?”
“Hope, I suppose,” Will said. “Come walk with me.”
“In the rain?”
“Why not?”
Neil stared at him for a moment, then nodded his head. “I need to look after my horse. Do you have any oats?”
“Hell, we donna have any food for the wee ones, much less an animal. He will have to satisfy himself with the grass.”
“I’ll hobble him then. If it is safe.”
“From the bloody English? Aye. They do not care for our fine Scottish weather.”
He watched as Neil took hobbles from his saddlebag and quickly secured the horse. Burke’s mount was tied to a tree. Will apparently saw his disapproval. “I will take care of him after we walk.” He led the way to a spot partially sheltered by overhanging rock.
Will leaned against the wall, putting one foot against it. “Why did you come?”
“To tell you the truth, I really do not know.”
“I found a jack of spades on you. Also known as the black knave.”
“Are you asking me if I am that legend?”
“Aye,” Will said softly.
“That is a long jump in reasoning.”
“I have also heard that Braemoor was one place where … one might find help.”
“Is that what stayed your hand?”
“Aye,” Will said. “And something else. I heard that the Marquis of Braemoor had been at Lochaene. I had not equated that with an English gentleman until you spoke.”
“And that would mean something?”
“If you lived, aye.”
“You believed the countess might complete what you started.”
“I know you had met before.”
“How?”
“Rumor, my lord. I have several spies in the surrounding villages. They help with information for a portion of whatever we take.”
“Why would you care about Lochaene?”
“I knew the countess long ago.”
Neil did not like the jealousy that rose inside him, nor did he like the intent way the man looked at him.
“You did not answer my question, my lord. Are you the Black Knave? Or do you know who he is?”
“I am a king’s man,” Neil said.
“So must be the Knave, if he has survived this long.”
“I heard he was killed nearly a year ago.”
“Then what were you doing with those cards?”
“I happen to like them.”
Will was silent for a moment, then said slowly, reluctantly, “I have to get the children out of here before winter or they will never survive. One of them belongs to a clan marked for extinction. Cumberland will kill him if he finds him.”
“And you think I can help?”
“I think by being here you show a certain … interest.”
“It could be a trap.”
Will’s eyes looked anguished. “I canna go anywhere with this face nor barter for passage with money I do not have.”
“Not enough people to kill and rob?”
“The word gets out,” Will answered without apology. “The English avoid this area, but soon …”
“You would trust me?”
“I donna trust anyone, but I have bloody little choice at the moment. I canna leave these children alone here to travel far, and these woods have been hunted out. I had only hope that you had some association with the Black Knave and that if so you would come willingly.” His gaze met Neil’s steadily. “You did.”
“You have no friends?”
“Most died at Culloden Moor. The others have been hunted down.”
“What is your name? I know it is not Will.”
“It is unimportant. I do not want to endanger anyone.”
“It is important … if you want my help.”
“Why?”
“If I am committing treason, I would rather like to know who I am doing it for.”
“If?”
“There is a large reward still for the Black Knave, although most consider him dead. What is to prevent you from claiming it once you are safe? A word to someone, and it will be my neck on the line.”
Will looked at him for a long time, then asked, “What were you doing at Lochaene?”
“The countess is a widow. I was appointed her son’s guardian.”
“Why?”
Will’s blue eyes were intense, probing. And familiar.
Why had he not noticed it before? Because he had been so bloody ill? Or because he had not wanted to see it? Or had he noticed and buried it somewhere inside? Was that what had brought him here?
“You are a Leslie,” he said. It was not a question.
A muscle throbbed in the man’s cheek.
“A cousin, mayhap, to Janet Leslie? Or a brother?”
Another silence.
Neil tried again. “Alexander Leslie?”
A muscle throbbed in the man’s neck. “Aye,” he said after a moment’s pause.
“She believes you dead,” Neil said with some anger.
Leslie ignored it. “You have not answered my question. Why were you appointed guardian?”
“I asked for it. She wrote me. The Campbells were spending what there was left of her husband’s inheritance and keeping her virtually a prisoner.”
“Why you?”
“We had … met years ago. I was the … only one she had to turn to. Everyone else, including you, was dead. Or thought to be.”
“I did … not know. I knew her husband had died, but I thought …”
“Why did you not try to reach her?”
“I was badly wounded. It took nearly six months before I could function again, and then I was marked with the scar. I knew I would be on a wanted list. Both Janet and I would be safer if I were believed dead. Do you think I wanted her to see me hang? Or get her involved now? And she would have tried if she knew I lived. Janet would risk everything for those she loves.”
“She has the right to know. She feels all alone.”
“She has you, and for that I am grateful.”
“I fear she doesna feel the same gratitude.”
Alexander straightened. “If you have done her harm …”
“I have, but only for her own good.”
Alexander’s eyes stared at him, weighing him. “Burke was told that a woman had let it be known that a wealthy Englishman would be crossing this way. I did not know if it was Janet. If it had been, she would have had a bloody good reason, and you damn well would have deserved it.”
“So that is why you sent me back there? If it had been her, it would have been easy enough to let me die.”
“Aye,” Alexander said. “Since you are alive, I can only assume you have another enemy.”
“So does your sister,” Neil said. “One of the Campbells wants her dead. Someone cut her saddle cinch. She is at Braemoor now.”
Alexander looked stunned. “I did not know that.”
“You should cultivate better spies.”
“I have not been able to pay them lately.”
“Who are those with you?”
“Orphans I found along the way. As I said, one belongs to an outlawed clan. They have no one else. I was hoping they might find family or friends in France.”
“If not?”
Alexander sighed. “Then I will see to them.”
Neil tried to equate the man who had ambushed him and would have killed him without a qualm with this protector of children. And as the brother of the woman he loved.
Alexander had not been with his father and sister when they had visited Braemoor years ago. And apparently he’d never been told of Neil’s offer of marriage, nor its disastrous aftermath. They had never met elsewhere. The old marquis and his oldest son Donald had rarely left Braemoor. On the rare occasions when they had traveled, Neil had been left at Braemoor.
Janet had spoken of her brother with great pride and affection. According to her, he had been the gentlest, most honorable and bravest of men. Now he had turned to savaging travelers.
“I will make arrangements for passage to France,” Neil said abruptly. “But I want to tell Janet you are alive.”
“Nay,” Alexander said. “Mayhap when I am safe. Not now.”
More lies. And, like his own eight years ago, for good purposes. But he was beginning to wonder whether a lie could ever be justified. In the grand cause of protecting someone, exactly how much pain was caused?
“Swear it,” Alexander said.
“I will consider it,” Neil retorted. “I make no promises.”
“You do not know her,” Alexander pleaded. “She will come to me. You will not be able to stop her. And it is far too dangerous.”
Neil regarded him icily. “Too bad you were not so protective when she married a Campbell.”
“I tried,” Alexander said. “But she loved those girls. And someone had hurt …” His voice broke off as he narrowed his eyes. “You. It was you who—”
“It seems we both failed her,” Neil said simply.
“Damn you,” Alexander said.
Neil had no defense. Not now. Not for this man. “I have some food I will leave with you. And some money. Enough so that Burke can buy some more food, and even some blankets. I will return as soon as I can arrange passage.”
He knew from Alexander’s expression that he wanted to refuse the offer, but he would not. For the children’s sake, he would not.
Alexander nodded stiffly.
“Burke,” Neil said. “Can he be trusted?”
“With my life,” Alexander said, not explaining further.
“I will leave as soon as my horse is rested.”
Alexander stared at him for several moments, a frown further marring what once must have been a very striking face. Then he turned, left the shelter of the rock overhang and walked into the cave.
Neil waited for several moments. If he’d ever had any doubt of the damage he had done years ago, he knew it now. It was partly because of him that Janet had married a Campbell. And now, because Alexander was right about the danger to her, he would lie to her again.
And this was one lie she would never forgive.
Chapter Nineteen
Janet visited the cottage on the second day after Braemoor left. It had taken her that long to get away from Kevin’s anxious eyes. He obviously had divided loyalties.
She knew Braemoor had told him to ride with her because the roads were dangerous. But she was the lady of Lochaene, where he was employed. She saw the conflict in his eyes, and so she had waited until Torquil had sent him on an errand.
The truth was that she wanted to investigate the cottage on her own.
The night Braemoor had left, she had been able to get the horse back to the stables without anyone seeing her. She had spent the next day with her daughters. She’d prowled through the empty rooms, taking clothes that could be cut down for dresses, then reading to the children from a book in the library. She played with Colin. She loved them all more than life itself, and she realized she could bear anything in order to keep them with her—and safe.
At the same time, they made it impossible for her to find safety for them. If she was alone, she would not hesitate for a moment to flee from Braemoor. But how to take four children—the youngest not yet one?
So she tried to tame her restlessness and await her opportunity. On the second afternoon, Kevin was gone, and Jamie was exercising a horse. After helping Clara put the children down for a nap, she saddled a mare.
She quickly rode out of the courtyard before anyone stopped her and down the road to town, hoping that she could find the overgrown path that led to the cottage. She had not yet asked Torquil or anyone about it for fear of showing her interest. She wanted to get there before anyone else did.
Janet found the path after having passed it once. She hoped she would not run into Kevin along the way and was grateful when she finally saw the opening. She guided her horse between two ancient trees, then continued until she found the cottage. It looked lonely, almost as if it were waiting for someone. An overgrown garden sat adjacent to the house. She dismounted, tied her horse to a tree branch and went over to the garden.
She stooped down and readily identified some of the plants. Herbs.
Then she went to the cottage door. It opened easily and she stepped inside, leaving the door open. A layer of dust covered the floor. She raised it with every step she took. How long had it been empty? And who had lived here?
A woman. Little touches told her that. Curtains at the window. Pots of flowers long dead. A rug thrown across the dirt floor.
She wondered why scavengers had not looted it. Was the cottage under Braemoor’s protection? If so, why?
She moved around the cottage, looking for more evidence of the man who had ridden out with Braemoor. Who was he? But there were no clues. Then she saw a woman’s dress bundled up in a corner. She held it up. The simple garment was made of a good soft wool and obviously meant for a tall and slender woman. Other than that, she saw nothing to mark the owner. She left abruptly, intent on finding out more about the woman from the servants at Braemoor.
She rode back slowly, enjoying the fresh air even while questions pounded at her. She sought answers as to why Braemoor had left in the middle of the night and met someone secretly in an abandoned cottage. She had once thought him so honest and direct. It had been one of the things she had liked best about him.
Kevin met her halfway back. His eyes were anxious, and she sought to allay that anxiety.
“My lady,” he said. “You …”
“Do not worry, Kevin,” she interrupted. “I am quite safe. I just wanted to go riding and no one was around.”
“The marquis …”
“I know the marquis worries,” she said. “But I needed some fresh air, and this mare needed exercise.” She paused, then changed the subject. “Are you planning to wed Lucy?”
The tactic worked. Kevin’s face grew even rosier. “Aye,” he said. “If she will have me.”
“I do not believe there is much doubt about that,” she said. “But I am pleased you are not trifling with her.”
“Nay, my lady, I would no’ do that.”
“How are you and young Jamie getting along?”
“He is a good lad,” Kevin said. “Quick and willing.”
“Has he lived here long?”
“All his life. He was here with his father, who beat him. The marquis indentured him and sent the father away, then freed him.” Kevin’s words were full of awe and respect.
Janet just wished the marquis would free her. But Kevin’s words made her wonder. She kept hearing these small stories. Except they were not small at all. They were very big. She had heard something similar from Torquil. And the cook.
And yet except for a kiss or two, Braemoor showed so little emotion, said so little about other people. She always had the impression of aloneness. Even when he had courted her years ago, he had be
en quiet about his background, about friends. Now that she thought about it, she had never seen him in friendly conversation with another person.
She had never met anyone as puzzling as Braemoor. Whenever she thought she understood a little about him, he did something else that completely negated her earlier opinion. She knew, though, that she was going to ask Jamie. And Torquil.
Jamie was not exactly forthcoming. He was shy. Only when she brought Samson and her older girl to see him did he relax.
“You like animals?”
“Aye, the previous mistress had a wee dog.”
“Tell me about her.”
“She was a fine lady. Like you, my lady. She had the same spirit.”
Spirit?
Janet had not thought she had spirit at all recently. She realized suddenly that she had worried so about feeling trapped that she had become trapped. And by her own hand. Not Braemoor’s.
“What happened to her?” She kept hoping someone would know more than she’d already been told.
“No one knows, my lady. She disappeared with the Black Knave. They say the marquis went after her and was killed.”
They say. The words repeated themselves in his mind. They say. It was almost as if the lad did not believe them.
“And the Black Knave?”
“He disappeared at the same time, my lady. Some say the marquis might have killed him before dying himself. Others say he fled the king’s justice.”
“And no one has heard of the marchioness since?”
“Nay,” he replied.
“Who lived in the cottage down the road and in the woods?”
Jamie’s eyes widened and he busied himself with Samson, rubbing his ears as the dog’s throat rumbled with pleasure.
“Mistress Mary Ferguson. They say she was a witch.”
“A witch. Is that why no one goes there?”
“Aye, they say she bewitched the former marquis.”
“The one who went after his wife and was killed by the Black Knave?”
“Aye.”
“He must have been a busy man.” She tried to remember him from her own visit eight years ago, but she did not. He must have been away.
The Heart Queen Page 27
