"Settle down, lass," he said breathlessly, pinning her arms.
She twisted. "Are you mad? Get off me—"
"Ease up. I would not hurt you." He dropped his weight on his hands, pressed them to the earth beside her shoulders, keeping her trapped under him. "Do you think I would chase you out there for a tumble I could have from any number of willing lassies? You're a plum, my dear, but I'm not so overcome by your legendary charm that I'd go to the trouble just now," he bit out. He sat back on his heels, keeping her under him.
She glared up at him, breath and bosom heaving. She snarled something in Gaelic—he knew it was no compliment—and managed to free an arm, striking upward. Alec snatched at her wrist.
"Wherever did you learn such manners," he said calmly, and rose to his feet, hauling her up with him. "Come with me."
"I won't go anywhere with you." She brushed at her skirt.
"Would you rather sleep in the heather? Last night you were very particular about your bed." He pulled her with him. and when she stumbled, he nut his hand
on her elbow. "I've no great whim to be chasing spoiled young lassies over the hills in the middle of the night."
"It's dawn," she said, as if determined to contradict him any way she could. "I have to go home. That's all."
"Tell me where it is, and we'll both go. I've questions for your kinsmen as well."
"We will not be troubling them with Whig business."
He huffed. "My horse is at the foot of the hill. Home, hey?" he asked, as she tramped along beside him, her arm rigid in his grasp. "It must be a grand place, with you in such a fever to get there."
"It is. But I'll not tell you where to find it."
"Katie my dear, your intractable nature does you no good. Think how poorly it will go with the Lord Advocate if you refuse to identify yourself."
"I can avoid trouble for both of us by just going home."
"Oh, for my sake? Or just to ignore this whole business?"
"If you would leave me here, I know these hills—"
"Ah, so you do live near here somewhere." He led her toward the waiting horse. "If you want to protect others, take my advice and do not be the saintly, sacrificing sort. It does not pay in the end."
"I am not sacrificing anything. My sister is more that sort. She considers others first, always, sometimes to her detriment. But I am not like that."
"So I see," he drawled. "If your sister does not have your wildcat ways, then bless the lass for a saint."
He thought Kate laughed. "My brother used to call her Saint Sonhia. She's a natient soul, thoueh she has a
temper when she needs it. One day she was stolen away by rebels and had to find the courage and spirit to defend herself. And now she's married to the very man who took her away."
"Brave man indeed," Alec grunted. "Watch your step."
"She's sacrificing and loyal, but I'm loyal, too. That's why I must get back home. If you have any true Gael in you, you'll understand that."
"Loyalty can be overdone. I lost someone once by being too loyal." He wondered why he mentioned that.
"What do you mean?" she asked as they walked.
He sighed. "A few years ago, I lost my betrothed when I was in Leiden studying. I wanted her to be happy, urged her to do what she most needed, while I was gone. She decided she most needed my brother and could not wait for me."
Kate halted, stared up at him. "Oh! I am so sorry."
"Aye, well," he muttered. "She had her reasons, I suppose."
"It must be hard for you to visit them."
"At the time, aye, but they're both ... gone now. He died months ago of a sword wound, and she ... passed away over two years ago in childbirth. I am guardian to my three nieces now."
"Do they live in your house in Edinburgh?"
"Aye."
"I would like to see them," she said.
That surprised him. He glanced at her. "Why, after this great urge of yours to be shut of me?"
"If I cannot eet shut of vou. and if I do have to eo to
Edinburgh, I'd rather visit your wee nieces than meet the Lord Advocate," she said reasonably.
"Understandable. But you'd see the Lord Advocate at any rate. He's my uncle."
She stared at him, slowing her step. "Is he a Fraser, too?"
"No, but an uncle just the same."
"Then I need not worry. Why did you not tell me before?"
"Do you think I can buy your way free with him for that reason? Hardly. Though you might try your wistful, bonny charm with him ... so long as you do not expect the old gentleman to chase you through the streets."
"That's just for you," she snapped.
"I doubt anyone could charm the old man," he mused. "He is wretched and disagreeable. I wish you luck of it."
She muttered something low in Gaelic and stomped away. Alec strode with her, his hand firmly on her arm. "Lass," he said between his teeth, "I think you are not so much an irresistible siren, as they say of Katie Hell, as a spoiled and overindulged young lady who suits herself."
"How do you know that I am not thinking of others every moment," she said hotly, "including now? Would I be in this fine pickling if not for them? I would not!"
He chuckled, for her slight trace of accent and her Gaelic speech patterns showed now and then. "Pickle," he said. "Fine pickle. And we're both in it. Asking who the devil you are is not intended to harm your kinsmen, but to heln vou." he pointed out.
She tilted her head. "How could that be?"
"Obviously you are fiercely devoted to your Jacobite kin, though they seem to have sent you into the mouth of the lion to fetch information for them. But what have they done for you?"
"They are not cowards," she burst out. "They are utterly loyal to their clan and their rightful king!"
"All a fine bunch of rebels within one clan, is it? I see. Are you MacDonald, then? My mother was of that ilk. Or MacDougall? They're loyal to a fault when it comes to the crown of Scotland and the king over the water."
"I'm no MacDougall, though I respect their stand in this rebellion. And if you're a Keppoch MacDonald through your mother, then why are you wearing a red government coat?"
"We're discussing your kin, not mine. You could be a MacGregor," he went on, "since you refuse to give your name. The Gregorach are a proscribed clan, and Miss Kate prefers to remain nameless. Hmm," he said, tapping his chin, sliding her a glance.
"Wrong, though I'll admit to having some MacGregor kin."
"This is a fine game, but I'm losing patience. Perhaps I'll just call you Rumpelstiltskin when we go to Edinburgh."
She laughed then, an enchanting chime. "I've read that tale in the German, sir, but I'm no Hanoverian. In Scotland you'd have to call me Miss Whuppity-Stourie. It's also a tale of guessing and magical names."
"My nurse told me the story often enough. Magical, I aeree. thoueh vou're definitelv not a enomish sort. Let
me see," he murmured. "You were heading northwest. If you kept walking in that direction, you'd come across MacPhersons ... and those devils the MacCarrans of Duncrieff, a small but troublesome nest of Jacobites. Fiercely loyal, and clever, too."
"I am thinking that Miss Whuppity-Stourie is a nice name."
"Aha! MacCarran! They have a legend about fairy blood, I think. It makes so much sense, I should have realized it earlier." He crowed with victory. "Kate MacCarran!"
"Now what?" she asked bitterly. "Shall I turn around three times and disappear?"
He grinned. "How about spinning me a barnful of gold?"
"I'd rather turn you into a frog," she sulked.
"Marie Katherine MacCarran." He hooted softly, saw her grim expression, and grew sober. "Are you the daughter of a rebel, or sister to one? The MacCarrans are a fine lot, but gone to rascals of late. Your chief was imprisoned a while back, though it was established as a false charge later. He's young ... and I would guess you're his sister. What is his name? Robert MacCarran."
"Oh, hush
up," she muttered.
"Sister to a chief," he said, pleased with himself.
"And you thought I was just a fairy queen," she snarled.
They reached the bottom of the hill, and he led her toward the waiting horse. "A pity I did not learn your name that day in London. It would have been easy to nut all this toeether."
"I learned yours," she said. "I learned about the chocolate, too, but not the Whiggishness."
"What have your kinsmen talked you into doing for them?"
She tried to jerk her arm away, but he gripped her securely. "I do what I please, and no one orders me."
"I do not doubt that," he said. "But you're helping your kinsmen for some reason."
"MacCarrans have always been loyal to the Stuarts, which you, as a red-breasted puppet of Lovat, may not comprehend."
"Aye, the lass has a mouth," he muttered. "Why did the rogue MacCarrans send a lass to do their work for them?"
"Because they would look odd carting laundry about."
Alec chuckled. "Miss MacCarran, you keep your secrets close. Come on." He walked her forward, lifted her into the saddle, and swung up behind her, shifting her onto his lap.
She turned. "You learned my name," she said, holding out her hand. "We had a bargain. I'd like my necklace now, please."
He lifted a brow. "I had to guess the name."
"You enjoyed it," she pointed out, and Alec smiled. "Now I'll have my crystal and chain from you."
"Very well." He sighed, and stretched two fingers into an inside pocket of his jacket. "You did not look there earlier, did you," he said wryly, pulling out the silver chain and quartz crystal. "You were too busy looking elsewhere, weren't vou." He pooled the silver into her nalm.
She cupped her hand, and such joy lit her face that he felt foolishly glad to see it. "Thank you. And as for looking elsewhere ... you liked it well enough."
"I did. So did you." He watched her.
She shrugged, and in the pale dawn he saw her blush.
"What is so important about that bonny wee bauble?" He helped her to fasten the clasp behind her neck, his fingers straying a little to trace over her neck. She bowed her head, and angled away from him, the gesture a silent reminder that he was, after all, her captor and not really her lover, even if he felt so tempted to change that.
"This is a fairy crystal, handed through my family for generations," she answered. "I've got a touch of fairy blood in me, and ... a hand for the magic now and then." Her eyes sparkled, their moonlight gray enchanting.
"I could almost believe that, Miss MacCarran, if I believed in fairies and such." He took up the reins. "Hold tight. And try to resist your unrelenting urge to be shut of me."
He turned the horse toward the Perth road, and was glad to see that Kate wrapped her arms around his waist without protest.
She rode dozing in his arms, giving him the sort of trust he wished he could earn from her when she was awake. Supporting her with one arm, he slowed the horse beside the road and sat watching the dawn turn from cool pink to brilliant fire over the ridge of the mountains.
He often felt grateful for such things—the rising sun, the breath in his body. He knew how quickly it could vanish, and he had built a shell around himself to protect against such loss.
Lately, most particularly when he was with Kate, he sensed that shell beginning to shift and crack. He felt a warm burst of gratitude, of emotion, in his chest. He had felt that only since he had met Kate MacCarran.
For too long he had allowed himself only safe feelings, emotions he could control. Since this fey and lovely girl had walked into his life, that had changed. He knew that now. And if it continued, the gates that shielded him would crack.
Either he would then face his old hurt—or he would find that it had healed and he could be reborn, in a way. He did not know what might happen, nor could he guess if Kate was a permanent part of that. But he knew she had a kind of magic indeed.
All his careful resistance had fallen by the wayside now, for he realized that he was succumbing more than any other man ever could. He had gone the fool for Katie Hell. And he did not mind so much as he thought he might.
He pressed his cheek against her hair, kissed her head, allowed himself that—no one to see, no one to know. He held her quietly and watched the new day birth out of the old.
Kate stirred, half sat, looked about sleepily. "Oh, it's lovely," she said, looking at the sky.
"Aye," Alec murmured, and urged the horse forward.
Chapter 17
T
he bed beneath her sagged, but no more so than her spirit. Seated in the upstairs room at the inn, Kate gazed out the window at a sunny sky, heathered hills, and trees blazing with autumn. She wanted to be out there, on her way to Duncrieff. Instead, she was locked in his room, with a couple of guards posted outside.
Alec Fraser was taking no chances that she might try to escape again—or so he had told her when he had left her there earlier that day. Before departing, he had found two old women to sit outside her room and make sure she stayed put inside.
"I am not so foolish as to post a male guard outside vour door." he had told her when he had returned to
the room to fetch his canvas bag. "I'm concerned about Jack, and I'm going to ride out looking for him. It's best I leave you here, where you can be confined. Old Mrs. MacLennan and her sister will act as your chaperones. They're not very talkative," he had said, opening the door while Kate gaped at him in disbelief. "They fear you'll try to cast a spell on them."
"Why?" she had demanded, jumping up from the bed to rush toward the door.
"I have no idea," he said lightly, and closed the door, but not before her shoe, yanked off and thrown at him, narrowly missed his head. Then she heard the turn of the key in the lock and his footsteps on the stairs.
Kate was not sure what explanation Alec had given either of the old ladies, but when they had delivered luncheon to her shortly afterward, they both gaped at her in silence, deposited the tray, and scuttled out with scarcely a word. Again the key turned, and she was alone.
At least she was free of shackles, and she had her crystal pendant back in her own keeping. After closely examining the lock, and seeing through the keyhole the two old ladies perched on chairs in the corridor— one of them sending such dark scowls toward the door that Kate was certain she was the only one in danger of a nasty spell—that she had finally decided just to spend some time resting. The past week had been exhausting.
Later, awake and refreshed after a long nap, she heard a male voice outside her door, but it did not belong to Alec, nor was it the gravelly tones of the old ladv with the dark scowl.
She went to the door and tapped on the wood. "Hello!"
"Aye?" the man answered. It was a young voice, a bit quavery and quite pleasant. "What can I do for ye, Mrs. Fraser?"
"Who's there?" She pressed her hands to the door. "Where are the old—where is old Mrs. MacLennan?"
"Och, the ladies were weary, 'twas a long time for them to sit here, so I offered to watch the door for a bit. I understand you're not to leave. Are you sick? By the way, I'm Davey, Jean's brother."
"Oh! No, I'm not sick at all. I feel quite well. And I'm pleased to meet you, Davey MacLennan." Kate smiled to herself. Oh, she thought, Alec Fraser would regret leaving her this day.
"And you, Mrs. Fraser." His voice had not yet settled into its masculine resonance. "What d'ye need, Mistress? Would ye like some food or drink?"
"That would be lovely, Davey, thank you."
"Yer husband says ye're no' to be let out of there, no matter what."
"We had a silly spat, my husband and I... I'm sure it's fine if I come out now."
"He said ye're no' to go even downstairs. Says ye're a bit of a wildcat, and we're to keep an eye over ye 'til he returns."
"Oh, Davey. That's not really necessary."
"He was quite firm aboot it, Mistress."
"Oh," she said tentatively. "Do you
know where he is?"
"He left a while ago, riding out, and hasna come back. He said ye shouldna come down to the public room for anv reason, wi' the draeoons down there.
Worried aboot his wee bride near soldiers, I suppose."
"I see," she said, oddly touched to think that Alec might have had her safety in mind after all.
"He has a temper indeed," Davey said, "for he was arguing wi' two soldiers. These dragoons came stormin' in and accusin' him o' hiding something—"
"Davey," she said urgently, "what are you talking about?"
"Them dragoons said they'd arrested two braw Highlanders today wi' some guns they shouldna be carrying," Davey said.
"Weapons that should have been confiscated?" She held her breath, palm flattened to her chest.
"I dinna think they meant the auld, rusty bits that Highlandmen turn over to the army, swearin' they have no more weapons when they do," Davey went on, referring to common Highland practice, "but fine, shiny flintlocks o' Spanish make. Fine enough to make the Englishers mad, hey."
"Spanish! Did they say who these Highlanders were?"
"Nah, just that they were men from the western hills, which describes much o' the Highlands, to my mind. Then the dragoon said they would send troops into the hills to look for others with the same arms, which they shouldna have. He said that Captain Fraser might know more about these than he'd let on and that he shouldna protect those that had the Spanish pistols."
"Oh, no," she said, distress mounting. "What did Captain Fraser ... my husband ... say then?"
"He was angry. I saw it 'round him like steam, but he
were calm enough. Said 'twas so much kerfuffle and he knew nothing about it. Then he went off to find his ghillie, who may have come to harm along the road. Rode off like a hellhound, did Fraser."
Kate nodded to herself, breath coming anxiously. Someone else knew of the missing Spanish cache and was using the weaponry, and the government troops were after him in force. And Alec Fraser, she suspected, wanted her to tell him what she knew because he meant to stop this or even protect the Highlanders who had found the weapons.
But why? Frowning, she leaned her head against the door.
Sarah Gabriel - Keeping Kate Page 15
