“Why did he pick you to be The MacKinnon? Why not one of your clansmen?” Alex asked.
“I was not his first choice,” Kitt admitted with a rueful smile. “He wanted Ian MacDougal to lead after him. But I refused to marry Ian.”
“Why?”
“I didna love him.” She looked up at him and continued, “My father was too proud to admit he couldna control his own daughter and too stubborn to choose someone else. He named me as chief only because I … I finally agreed to marry a husband of his choice.”
“So you’re to marry Ian MacDougal after all?”
Kitt shook her head. “No. Not Ian. Someone else. An Englishman.” She could not keep the venom from her voice.
“Is it all Englishmen you hate, or is there someone in particular you loathe?” Alex asked. “I mean, aside from Blackthorne raising the rents, what have the English done to you?”
“There was Culloden,” Kitt replied.
“That was more than fifty years ago,” Alex said.
“The Scots will never forget … or forgive.”
“I’ll remember that,” Alex said. “But tell me, recently, what harm has an Englishman done to you?”
Kitt turned to face him, her eyes bleak. “They killed the man I loved.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sympathy willna bring him back,” she snarled.
“How did it happen?”
“Leith was caught poaching on Blackthorne land and transported. He died on board ship before he ever reached Australia.”
“He was breaking the law,” Alex pointed out.
“Leith only sought to feed his starving brothers and sisters,” Kitt said. “Starving because the bastard Duke of Blackthorne raised the rents once too often.”
“What happened to Leith’s brothers and sisters?”
“They moved away to Glasgow. Even so, the two youngest died of hunger. You can see why I canna allow Patrick Simpson to be transported,” Kitt said. “ ’Tis a death sentence.”
“Surely not always.”
“I willna take the chance with one of mine,” she said.
Alex noticed the possessive one of mine. There was nothing false about Katherine MacKinnon’s sense of responsibility toward her clan. He wondered how far she was willing to go to gain her ends. “Who did you finally agree to marry?”
Her green eyes were filled with hate as she said, “The bloody Duke of Blackthorne.”
“The duke?” Alex asked incredulously.
“I promised my father on his deathbed that I would trick Blackthorne into a handfast marriage, then do my best to get pregnant and bear a son to inherit the land. It doesna matter now. The duke is dead, drowned in the sea.”
“If the duke had lived, would you have gone through with it?”
She met Alex’s shocked look with determined eyes. “I would do anything I believed would improve the lot of my clansmen. Even sacrifice myself in an Englishman’s bed.”
“How did you plan to convince the duke to wed an impoverished Scotswoman?”
“My station is not so low,” she said. “You forget I’m a lady by birth. Two generations ago, Blackthorne Hall belonged to my family—not his. I am pursuing the matter in the courts, but it would have been easier to marry him.”
Alex scowled. “I canna believe you were willing to do such a thing! ’Tis despicable to marry a man for profit.”
“ ’Twas not for profit! ’Twas for the sake of my people. The land and the castle were stolen from us after Culloden by the English. Blackthorne Hall—Castle MacKinnon—should have been mine. If the duke wasna so cruel, I doubt my father would have suggested anything so desperate.”
“Even so, I canna like it.”
“I didna like it!” she spat. “I tell you I had no other choice.”
“The courts—”
“Move too slowly,” she interrupted. “Bairns are starving. My clansmen are being forced off land their families have farmed for generations, never to return.”
“What will you do now that the duke is dead?”
“I dinna know,” she admitted with a huge sigh. “I made a vow to my father on his deathbed that I would do whatever was necessary to save the clan. Now that his plan has come to naught, I … I dinna know what to do.”
Alex gingerly rubbed at the two-days’ growth of beard on his bruised chin, then said, “If you’re willing to go so far, I’m surprised you havna thought to steal back a little of what the duke’s taken from you.”
“ ’Tis too dangerous.”
“Why?”
“If anything went missing, the duke’s steward, Mr. Ambleside, would not have to look far to find the obvious suspects.”
“You’d have to be caught with the loot.”
Kitt searched Alex’s face. “Are you seriously suggesting I rob the duke’s estate?”
“Think of yourself as a Scottish Robin Hood, stealing from the rich to give to the poor. There’s a certain nobility, even justice to the crime, is there not?”
Kitt’s brow furrowed uncertainly. “I suppose. You make it sound so easy, but—”
“It is.”
“Not so easy as you might think,” she argued. “There are soldiers billeted not far from Mishnish to keep the peace. We have few weapons, even fewer horses.”
“If you’re clever enough, you willna need weapons or horses.”
Kitt pondered the idea a moment longer, then shook her head. “It wouldna work.”
“Why not?” Alex persisted.
“I dinna believe the men would follow me. And I wouldna send them on such a perilous endeavor without their chief.”
“I see,” Alex said. “That’s a problem right enough.”
Kitt could hear weeping through the open windows long before they reached the door to the one-room stone-and-thatch cottage where Patrick and Dara Simpson lived with their five children and Patrick’s elderly mother. She hurried her pace, knocking loudly on the wooden door.
“Dara, ’tis Lady Katherine.”
The door opened in a rush and a teary-eyed Dara stood before her, a babe in one arm and two small children clinging to her skirt. “Come in. Come in. Disaster has struck!”
Kitt’s heart leapt to her throat. “Patrick has been caught poaching?” She heard the answer in Dara’s gulping sob, saw the answer in Dara’s frightened hazel eyes.
“When I told Patrick what you said, he left the house without even eating any of the supper you gave us. He didna come home last night, and this morning Mr. Ambleside came to tell me Patrick was caught with two rabbits by the gamekeeper. He said—” She grabbed her mouth to hold back a wail of grief, but it did no good. “He said Patrick is to be sent before the magistrate and will surely be transported. He said he knows we canna pay the rent, and that we must leave. Leave!” she cried. “Where can we go?”
“Shh. Shh,” Kitt said, pulling Dara, clinging children and all, into her embrace. Her heart was thumping madly. She knew exactly what Dara was feeling. Leith had also been caught poaching … and had died on the journey to Australia. “Quiet yourself, Dara. You’re frightening the children. I’ve brought food—”
“ ’Twill keep us alive, but for what?” Dara demanded. “If only your father had named someone else as chief. If only—”
“Feed your bairns, Mrs. Simpson,” Alex interrupted, handing the distraught woman the basket of foodstuffs.
Dara’s reproach tied a knot in Kitt’s stomach.
If only your father had named someone else as chief.
Her father’s plan had failed. And she had not come up with a better one.
Why not do as Alex suggested? Why not steal from the duke? Why not take back what Blackthorne wrongly took from you?
Kitt kept her thoughts to herself, but for the first time in a long time, she let herself hope that she could avoid an unwanted marriage. It could work. Not that she would risk any of her clansmen in such a dishonest venture. She would do the stealing herself, with Alex’s help in planning the venture
s. Surely he would be willing. After all, it was his idea.
Kitt helped feed the children, marveling at the way Alex calmed Dara Simpson, at his ease with the smaller boys and girls, even taking the baby, Brynne, from Dara, holding her gently in his strong arms while Dara and Kitt dispensed portions of lamb stew and dried figs to the other children.
“You look comfortable with a bairn in your arms. Do you have children of your own?” Kitt asked.
“ ’Tis not so difficult when you treat them as little people,” he said, supporting the baby’s head as he switched it to the other arm in order to help wee Connie reach for a piece of fruit.
“Little people?” Kitt said.
“Smaller versions of ourselves,” he said. “Take this little one, for instance. She’s looking at me so intently with those blue eyes of hers, I think she must be wanting to tell me something important, if only she could talk.”
“Like what?” Kitt asked, intrigued.
He grinned and held Brynne away from his shirt, which had an obvious damp spot. “ ‘I’m wet. Change me.’ ”
Kitt laughed. It took her a moment to realize he had never answered her question. Did he have children of his own somewhere? And a wife who had borne them? If so, why had he never spoken of them. He would make a good father. Considerate and caring and kind.
You shouldna care, Kitt warned herself. The likes of him is not for you. You’ve a duty to marry where it will serve your clan. Dinna be thinking of brawny shoulders and a tender heart.
But Alex was undeniably good with children. Kitt watched as he won the confidence of each child in turn, until even the eldest girl, Rhiannon, who had eyed him suspiciously from the moment she saw him, finally gave in and allowed him to put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
When they took their leave Kitt said, “Please dinna worry, Dara. I’ll figure out some way to save Patrick, and I’ll find a place for all of you.”
“Dinna make promises you canna keep,” Dara said bitterly.
Kitt felt the sting of her words, but it was Alex who replied, “Trust The MacKinnon, Mrs. Simpson. She will make all well. Never fear.”
Kitt found as much reassurance in Alex’s speech as Dara Simpson obviously did.
“ ’Tis sorry I am for doubting you, Lady Katherine,” Dara said, bobbing a curtsy. “We’ll be ready when you have a place for us to go.”
Kitt waited only until they were far enough from the cottage that she couldn’t be overheard before she said, “I’m willing to rob the duke, but I’ll do it myself. I willna risk the others.”
“We’ll do it together,” Alex said.
“I’ll go alone. You can help me plan—”
He stepped in front of her, cutting her off. His gray eyes were dark with anger.
“I’m your bodyguard. ’Tis my duty to protect you. But even had you decided not to go, I would have gone on my own. Any man so careless of the needs of his tenants deserves to be robbed.”
“Thank you, Alex,” Kitt said, moved by his offer of support. “I accept your offer of help. But first we must rescue Patrick Simpson and send him and his family away from here.”
Alex frowned. “That may be more difficult, and is likely to be more dangerous, than stealing from the duke. Patrick is sure to be well guarded.”
“Aye. We can count on it.”
“Perhaps this is something you should broach with your clansmen. They may want to help. There are bound to be consequences—searches and the like—afterward. Everyone should be forewarned.”
Kitt chewed her lip. “You’re right, of course.” She feared her clansmen would not follow her if she tried to lead them on such a raid. Alex would see the situation for himself. Even if they would not help, she intended to see Patrick Simpson freed. She would not leave him to suffer the same fate as Leith. “I’ll speak with everyone tomorrow before services at the kirk.”
“I like this Duke of Blackthorne less and less,” Alex said.
“I hate him,” Kitt declared simply.
“Yet you would have lain with him? Borne his child?”
Kitt met Alex’s angry glance without flinching. “I would lie down with the devil himself, if it would save my people.”
When they reached the kirk the next day and Kitt saw the distrustful faces of her clansmen, who were gathered outside the door, she shifted unwittingly toward the man at her side. She wondered what tale Ian had spun about his encounter with her the previous morning. Nothing close to the truth, she was willing to venture.
“Who is he, and what is he doing here?” Ian demanded, stepping forward out of the crowd.
“Ian MacDougal, meet Alex Wheaton,” Kitt said. “My bodyguard.”
Ian’s swollen jaw dropped. “That misbegotten oaf? Your bodyguard? The devil you say!”
Kitt felt Alex tense, but to her relief he said nothing, did nothing in response to the insult. “ ’Tis customary for the chief to have a gille-coise,” she said.
“But he’s not one of us!” Ian protested.
“Of course not.” Kitt let her gaze travel over the gathered crowd. “Every bachelor standing here is a possible husband. We canna have the fox guarding the chicken coop, can we?” she said with a winsome smile.
She watched Fletcher, the biggest man among them, exchange a look with Birk the Bowman. Watched Evan the Swordsman nod to Angus the Wrestler. Met Wise Old Cam’s eyes and saw them twinkle with laughter. These few, at least, saw the wisdom of what she had done. A few others, most notably Ian, did not.
“He has your father’s dirk,” Ian said through tight jaws.
“And his shirt and shoes and trousers and plaid,” Kitt confirmed. “What of it?”
“ ’Tis The MacKinnon’s dirk,” Ian said.
“ ’Twas his dirk,” Kitt said softly. “ ’Tis mine now. And I’ve given it to my bodyguard, that he may the better protect me from my enemies.”
“From what Ian’s told us, we’ll be needing protection from him,” Tavis the Handsome said, crossing to stand beside Ian.
“What did Ian say happened to him?” Kitt asked, perusing the purple marks Alex’s solid hit had left on Ian’s chin.
“That this stranger attacked him without warning,” Tavis said.
“ ’Tis true,” Kitt replied. A hush fell, and Kitt felt every eye on her. “You should know that when Alex attacked, Ian was holding me against my barn wall with every intention of taking what I had no desire to give. Alex asked him to release me, but he would not.”
Every man there switched his gaze to Ian, whose face reflected his resentment at being shown in the wrong. “We need a leader, Lady Katherine,” he said in a cold, hard voice. “ ’Tis time you made a choice.”
“ ’Tis my choice to make,” Kitt said, her voice as cold as his. “Alex will ensure there are no further attempts to force a decision sooner than I am ready to make it.”
“We need a man to speak for us,” Tavis said.
“I have a tongue,” Kitt snapped back.
“Patrick Simpson was caught poaching on Blackthorne’s land yesterday and put in jail,” Duncan said. “ ’Tis needful someone plead on Patrick’s behalf for leniency. I dinna think they’ll listen to a woman, Lady Katherine.”
Kitt had expected the lack of confidence in her ability to lead, but hearing it spoken aloud still left her reeling. She felt a strong hand close over her shoulder.
“Steady,” Alex whispered in her ear. “Remember you’re The MacKinnon.”
She shot a grateful glance over her shoulder, then said, “I think there is more that can be done for Patrick Simpson than simply pleading for leniency.”
“What did you have in mind?” Ian said disdainfully. “Inviting the magistrate home to discuss the matter over tea?”
“I had in mind breaking Patrick out of jail and sending him with his family on the next ship bound for America.”
“What? Are you mad?” Ian said.
“He’s being guarded by soldiers!” another man cried.
“Wher
e will we find the funds to buy passage?” yet another shouted.
Kitt answered the objections to her suggestion in the order they’d been posed. “It makes perfect sense to rescue Patrick, if you consider the alternative,” she said. “And since when could a Highlander not outmaneuver one of the king’s soldiers? We’ll come in under cover of darkness and sneak away without anyone the wiser. As for where to get funds for the passage to America, leave that to me.”
“Where will you get such a sum?” Ian demanded.
“That’s my business,” Kitt said.
“Ian is right. ’Tis a foolhardy idea,” Duncan said.
Kitt stared at her father’s advisor, trying not to feel betrayed by his failure to support her. If she had been a son … but she was not.
“ ’Tis more likely a few of us will end up in jail than that Patrick will be freed,” Ian said.
“Not if we plan everything carefully in advance,” Kitt argued.
“ ’Tis a stupid idea, and we’ll have no part of it,” Ian said.
To Kitt’s dismay, it seemed her clansmen were united with Ian in opposition to her plan. If she allowed him to win this battle, she might as well concede the role of chief to him.
“Cowards,” she accused.
The word hung in the air like a pestilential smell, causing scowls to form and noses to curl with distaste.
“I am determined to save Patrick Simpson,” she said in a quiet voice. “Who is with me?”
Kitt looked at Duncan, willing him to see the necessity of saving Patrick and his family, but Duncan simply lowered his eyes to his toes. She glanced at Cam, at Fletcher, at Evan, at Birk. All of them avoided her gaze. She did not get through the entire clan before a voice behind her said loudly and clearly, “I will go with you.”
Kitt turned to stare at Alex. His bruised face was pale, his lips thinned into a flat line.
“Thank you, Alex.” She turned back to her clansmen. “I intend to rescue Patrick—with or without your help.”
She stared them down, watching them trade shamefaced glances as they realized the trap in which they were caught.
“I canna let you go alone,” Duncan said. “Your father would come back to haunt me.”
The Bodyguard Page 9
