Alec did not consider himself competent to raise children, especially small girls who had lost both parents within a span of three years. They needed more than he could possibly provide.
Despite her outward bristly quality, Euphemia loved the girls with a generous heart. Amy would have been glad to see her daughters raised with warmth and security. Alec, unmarried and a commissioned officer, could not provide that for them.
This time, when he returned to Hopefield House, he would arrive with a guest who refused to divulge even so much as her full name. He wondered how to explain her away to his family.
Kate gave a soft snore and slid sideways, her shoulder nressine his arm. her head tinnine aeainst his
chest. He let her rest there. Moonlight bathed her face so that she looked more like a fairy queen than a hellion or a spy.
He sighed. What the devil was he to do with Katie Hell?
She shifted in her sleep, and Alec settled his arm rather comfortably around her shoulders. The rocking of the coach brought them close together, and she snuggled against him.
Sitting with her in so cozy a fashion, he relaxed a little further. Feeling tired, he rested his chin upon her head and closed his eyes, enjoying the sway of the coach and the warm, sleepy weight of the woman against him.
She made a sound like a mewling kitten, her cheek resting on his jacket lapel, her breath tickling his chest, blowing warmth through the fabric above his waistcoat.
"Oh," she murmured, her eyes still closed. Her hand lifted, her fingers splayed on his waistcoat. "You smell so nice."
Alec glanced down. Her face rested inches from the pocket where he had tucked the wrapped chocolate.
He smiled and brushed a hand over her hair, quickly, almost furtively, so that she would not know, and he would not have to acknowledge it even to himself.
A sudden lurch of the post chaise startled Kate out of a soothing dream that was lost the moment her eyes opened. She sat up, mortified when she realized that she was leaning against Captain Fraser's chest. His fingers cunned her head, but he was awake, tense and braced.
"What the devil—" he growled as the chaise careened sideways, undercarriage creaking. Kate bounced on the seat as Fraser held her tightly by the shoulder, keeping her in place. He peered through the window, twisting to view the road behind them as the vehicle skittered around a curve.
He swore under his breath. "We're being pursued."
"Who is it?" She craned her head to peer over his shoulder, the angle of the carriage on the road allowing a glimpse of the road behind them. For a moment, she saw the moving shapes of horses and men. "Red soldiers! Is that an escort?"
"No," Fraser said. He rose from the seat, half-bent in the cramped space, swaying with every jounce of the chaise. Grabbing the door handle, he opened the door just enough to stick his head outside. "Jack!" he called. "JackMacDonald!"
The next wild bounce of the post chaise threw Kate off the seat, and she fell in a heap on the floor. Fraser braced himself with a hand clamped over the doorframe. "Jack! Get off the main road!" he bellowed.
Trying to stand, Kate lost her balance and knocked into Fraser, who supported her with one arm while he pulled the door shut. With another bounce of the carriage, both of them tumbled onto the seat. Another sharp turn in the road tossed them into a corner, so that her cheek met Fraser's. The raspy feel of his whiskered jaw, the hard brace of his arms felt secure—felt safe. She clung to him.
"Hold on," he said—unnecessarily, as she had no intention of lettine eo iust vet. "Tack knows the tracks
and paths in this area. He'll lose those fellows in the darkness."
The post chaise rumbled down a steep hill at a reckless pace, swaying dangerously. Sliding from the seat again, Kate felt Fraser's hands around her arms, pulling her back into a hard, practical embrace. He leaned back to balance the wild rumbling of the chaise, which tilted down a steep incline.
"Your ghillie is a lunatic!" Kate looped her arms around his neck as the world tumbled and leaped around them.
"Fortunately," he answered.
The chaise careened to one side, righted, and stopped. Kate heard the snorting and stamping of the horses, and heard the ghillie call out. "All's well in there?"
"Aye," Fraser called back, sitting up, one arm around Kate. "Are you hurt, lass?"
"I'm fine." She sat up, limbs shaking, and pushed her hair out of her eyes, shoved her skirts down over her legs.
"Stay here." He stood and opened the door, stepping out into the cool night air.
Not about to take orders, Kate followed, nearly tumbling to the ground when she discovered that the drop step was still up.
Fraser spun, caught her deftly, and set her on her feet, then turned her toward the ghillie. MacDonald clamped an arm around her shoulders, while Fraser walked away.
"He's gone to look for them. You'll stay here with me, Miss," Jack MacDonald said.
Hearing the soft accent of a true Gael, Kate glanced at him in surprise. He smiled down at her. He was only a few inches taller than she and dressed in Lowland gear, yet in the moonlight, she saw a lean and muscular man, younger than she expected, with a startlingly beautiful face, clean-chiseled and perfect. And he looked familiar, which she had not noticed earlier upon hastily boarding the vehicle.
"We'll wait here, you and I," Jack said.
Nodding, still trembling, Kate glanced around. Fraser was nowhere in sight, and the post chaise had come to rest at the bottom of a long hill, which faced another steep hillside, forming a pass far below the level of the road. They had taken a drover's track down the hillside. A thick fringe of trees and underbrush screened the gully from the road above.
Catching her breath, Kate realized that not only was Fraser gone—her confining chains were off, and she was outside. This might be her only chance to run. If MacDonald released her even for a moment, she could slip into the trees and disappear. She glanced at him again—and nearly gasped.
Now she knew him: MacDonald had been in the London court, too, as Fraser's opponent in the swordsmanship demonstration.
Her thoughts whirled. This was trouble indeed.
Both Fraser and his ghillie could place her in the royal court, with access to the king—a true threat of
treason if Fraser also identified her as the girl who had come in disguise to his tent intent on stealing documents. All of it would spell Jacobite intrigue and danger for her and her kinsmen.
She looked around, increasingly desperate. In the darkness, she saw that a tangle of trees and underbrush edged the track that led through the hills. Black mountains thrust into the night sky, feathered with mist. Kate recognized the profile of those hills: they bordered Perthshire from the north.
Duncrieff Castle, her home, lay just west of those peaks, and not so far from here. A day's walk between a gap in the range of hills would bring her to Glen Car-ran. Her brother, Robert MacCarran—chief of their clan—and several of their kinfolk would be at Duncrieff even now. Her sister, Sophie, had recently married Connor MacPherson of Kinnoull, whose Highland estate was not far from the family seat. Anywhere in that long, narrow glen, she would find kin and clansmen willing to hide and protect her.
If she could only get there, she would be safe.
She hoped that Allan MacCarran had already brought them word of her capture. If so, her kinsmen would be looking for her. Somehow she had to reach them, and she needed to let them know that she had seen Ian Cameron, that he was on his way to trial and probable execution, and that he had a message for them concerning the hidden cache of weaponry.
Overwhelmed by a sudden need to be home, to be with her family, to be free and safe, Kate gasped aloud and nut her hand over her mouth.
"What is it?" MacDonald asked in Gaelic.
"Nothing," she replied. "I am only weary."
He squeezed her shoulder, but did not let her get away from him. Moments later, Fraser emerged from the trees.
Kate's hear
t leaped inexplicably—so tall and handsome in moonlight and shadows, clothed in dark tartan and regimental red, he exuded both wildness and authority. She watched him almost hungrily, in spite of herself.
But any hint of the romantic warrior dissolved when he went straight to the chaise, opened the door, and retrieved the manacles and chains. He dumped them into a canvas satchel that he dug out of the luggage hold at the back of the chaise. Shouldering the pack, he came toward them.
"How many were after us?" he asked MacDonald. Kate glared at Fraser, thinking about the chains, but he only glanced at her before listening to his cousin.
"Six or eight," Jack answered. "We lost them coming down here. They did not see us in the darkness and rode past."
"They'll be back. But that was well-done, Jack."
"Well done?" Kate burst out. "He nearly killed us all!"
"Jack did what he had to do," Fraser pointed out calmly. "It was necessary to lose the soldiers somehow."
"Why lose them?" Kate snapped. "They were accompanying us."
"Not exactly." Fraser took her arm as MacDonald stepped back. "Jack, go on ahead with the chaise. We'll walk from here."
"I am not walking to Edinburgh! Tell me what is really going on here," Kate demanded.
"Later," Fraser said curtly.
Kate punched him in the arm—a petulant, futile, impulsive response, she knew. Fraser sent her an irritated glance and put a hand on his canvas satchel. She backed away, and Jack caught her.
"Huh!" Jack grunted. "A walk with that lass would be like strolling with a wildcat. You take the chaise, Alec, and I'll take charge of her."
"Oh, no. You'd enjoy that too much. I'd wager the two of you would hie off somewhere, and I'd never find either of you again. We're due in Edinburgh soon, and that's where we'll go."
"Ach, the lad does love his rules," MacDonald whispered loudly to Kate. "His da bought him a commission in the army because of it. But he has a wildness, too, that he will not show to anyone—not even himself."
Kate blinked at Jack, then Fraser.
"If you two can stop chatting," the captain drawled, "we'll leave now and meet you at MacLennan's, a few miles from here."
Kate looked up. "Is MacLennan another wicked regimental officer? Does he run a local jail?"
"MacLennan's Changehouse. An inn," Fraser said. "Fortunately it's not far, it has good stables, and it's owned by friends."
"Yours or mine?" she shot back. Jack laughed.
"Take that damned chaise and get out of here," Fraser barked to the ghillie. "Lead the soldiers as far awav as vou can."
"I'll lose them in the hills where the military road ends, and I'll meet you tonight, or by dawn at least."
"Fine. Be careful, lad."
"Aye, Alec. Tell Jeanie MacLennan I'll see her soon."
"If I do that, you'd best keep your promise to her this time," Fraser rumbled ominously.
As Kate glanced from one man to the other, she saw Jack grin and shrug before turning to run toward the chaise and horses.
Guiding Kate with him, Fraser walked away. He seemed calm, but his fingers flexed on her arm, and she felt his urgency, taut as a fiddle string. Behind them, Jack chuckled softly to the horses as he turned them, and the vehicle began to roll toward the earthen track that led up to the road.
Chapter 10
%% ^L lee—such a normal name for a madman," A. ^LKate grumbled as they walked along. "And you must be mad to drag me about like this. What is it you want from me?"
"I'm not a mad sort, according to my family," he answered, so blithely that she felt tempted to stomp on his foot out of sheer frustration. He had simply ignored her question. The man was so consistently unruffled that it irritated her. Kate was the opposite much of the time: high-tempered, direct, and expressive. Serenity of character, such as her sister Sophie possessed, eluded Kate, though she craved peace often enough.
"Our branch of the Frasers," he went on, "is tradi-
tionally said to be made up of 'mad' Frasers and 'staid' Frasers. I am not one of the wilder ones."
"Really," she said sourly.
"When I was a lad, my Highland nurse dubbed me Alasdair Callda in the Gaelic."
" 'Dull Alexander'? I could see it... though Jack Mac-Donald says you have a touch of the wildness in you."
"I make up for staidness in other ways," he murmured, and his fingers flexed on her arm.
An unbidden thrill poured through her like a spiral of flame. Kate remembered his compelling touch upon her body on another night, when matters had been very different between them.
"Besides, more to the point here would be to learn your name, Miss Hell, not mine," he said.
"Alasdair Callda ... You may call me Catriona Allta," she replied quickly.
He chuckled. "Very good. Wild Katherine. Alas, not quite what we're after."
"Alas," she echoed.
Within minutes, he had led her along a diagonal path over the slope, far from the drover's track, keeping below the level of the military road. As they mounted another hillside, Kate yanked out of his grip. Fraser let go long enough that she stepped away, but he snatched her arm again.
She twisted. "Please, just let me go."
"If I did, you'd soon be lost out here."
"I know the area too well for that—" Instantly she regretted the words.
"Do you? Interesting. So your home is near here, is it?"
"No," she said hastily. "I've ... just been through here before. On my way to Edinburgh for shopping," she added.
"Shopping? So the laundress shops in Edinburgh?"
"No, the fairy queen does," she snapped.
"The mysterious Miss Kate," he drawled. "Even if you know the area, if you were to wander alone, Grant's men would find you, I promise you. They'll search the roads and the hills."
"And the inns," she pointed out.
"We'll take that risk together."
Together. A feeling stirred in her, something she did not want to awaken, a deep and real need for companionship, for a partner in life, for love. Captain Alexander Fraser was not the remedy for that, she told herself sternly.
"'We'?" She spoke defiantly. "I would not go anywhere willingly with you, nor would I go with Grant's soldiers."
"That's an odd remark for Katie Hell," he growled.
Without thinking, she slapped his face.
Angling his head to one side, Fraser stared down at her. In the moonlit gloom, she saw the flushed mark of her hand on his cheek. Heart pounding, she stared upward in silence, breathing hard. Tension rose between them, palpable and pulsing.
"I am not a whore," she said between her teeth.
"And I'm usually more of a gentleman," he murmured. "I beg your pardon." He took her arm and walked onward.
Over the shoulder of that hill and along a weathered track that led beside a burbling stream, Kate allowed him to guide her. Then she tried again to pull away from him, another futile attempt. Although she was determined, he was simply stronger.
"Please, you must let me go."
"You're a stubborn wee thing," he muttered. "You're not off to a certain beheading. It's just a judge's inquiry."
"Which could lead to a hanging. I've done nothing wrong. And I want... I just want my freedom."
"So do we all, lass, in our ways."
"What sort of freedom could you want? You have what you need, seems to me—a man of privilege and rank and good family, with only the thought that he must do his duty or be damned. You crave nothing more than that, I'm sure."
"You've a mouth on you," he ground out. "I crave the sort of freedom that brings peace of mind and peaceful lives. The sort that helps make a man's life what it truly could be."
"Then get rid of your red coat, Lovat Fraser," she replied.
He exhaled audibly. "Careful of the rocks here," he said, and she realized in that moment how patient and tolerant he could be. "Listen to me, Kate. You'll go to Edinburgh with me, or with Gra
nt. I'd far rather you were in my company."
"Why should you care who takes me to prison?"
"It is the manner of the taking that concerns me."
His implication was clear, and Kate felt grateful for his nrotectiveness. But she could not stav with him for
that, or any other reason. "Releasing me would solve this for everyone."
"It would solve it for you."
"Just tell them that I escaped from you."
"But Colonel Grant would be so disappointed. He and I do not see eye to eye about some matters as it is." His tone had a wry, teasing note in it.
"You agreed with him about packing me off to prison!"
"I'm following orders, as you point out. General Wade assigned you to my custody. I'll keep close watch over you until the courts decide what's to be done with you."
"They should just release me."
"I hope for your sake they do, my dear. Or Miss Hell," he amended carefully.
My dear sounded so much better. "Where are you taking me, if not directly to prison?"
"To my home in Edinburgh for a few days," he said.
"That is the first good news I've had from you. If I must go in your custody, I at least want a proper bath after the hospitality of your prison."
"It's not my prison, lass. You can have all the baths you like at Hopefield House, and clean clothing, too, until it is time for your interview with the Lord Advocate. It would greatly help matters if I could give his office your name."
"It would be so much more helpful if you just let me
go-"
He sighed. "I suppose I will have to register you with the courts as Marie Katherine Hell. Or do you prefer MacHellion?"
"Register me as the Queen of Nonny-nonny, for all I care. Why did Colonel Grant send soldiers after us if you already have custody of me?"
"Because he is a blethering idiot."
Kate laughed, surprised. "We do agree on that."
Alec glanced at her. "Apparently he has some personal grudge with you and would like nothing more than to see that you pay for that. I suppose you know what he's upset about, Katie Hell?"
Her face burned, despite the cool wind. "I did not seduce Colonel Grant, if that is what you are thinking."
Sarah Gabriel - Keeping Kate Page 9
