Sarah Gabriel - Keeping Kate

by Keeping Kate (lit)

  "Lovers' spat," Alec answered.

  Kate nodded vigorously. "We had a terrible disagree­ment."

  "That's a hell of a way to punish a lass for disagree­ing with you. I should try that with my wife." Lord Hume began to wheeze with laughter.

  Grant looked thunderous. "And you never said a word about this?" he fumed.

  "I was sure of my heart, but not of hers," Alec replied. "But we were married in a Highland fashion."

  "For how long?" Grant snapped.

  "It seems as if that happened the moment our eyes met," Kate said. "We committed our hearts to one an­other."

  "Lord Advocate, sir." Alec said formally. "She has

  never done such crimes as have been attributed to her. She is an impetuous lass and thinks with her heart, not always her head, and so she has done some foolish things—but she's no strumpet, and she's no thief. This girl is loyal, sir, and devoted."

  "But she's a spy," Grant said bluntly.

  The Lord Advocate slurped up the last of his cocoa and poured another helping from the silver bowl, fra­grant mist rising as he poured. He said nothing as he took the last biscuit and dipped it in the hot chocolate.

  "Sir, this is utter nonsense," Grant said. He was scowling, his hands knuckled white on the back of the empty chair in front of him.

  "So you're vouching for this lass?" Hume looked at Alec, who nodded. Then the old man looked critically at Kate. "And you swear you never took a military doc­ument, or any other thing, with criminal or treasonous intent?" His glare was powerful.

  "I can say in honesty, sir, that I never entered an offi­cer's tent, or looked at a document, without Captain Fraser on my mind, without him being my sole pur­pose, my sole reason for ... doing anything. I can tell you truthfully that he fills my every waking thought, and my dreams. I could not rest, sir, until I found him again." Truthful enough, she thought. Reaching up, she rested her hand on Alec's, which still gripped her shoulder.

  "Oh, please, do not expect us to accept this," Grant said.

  "It's true," she said. "We have been searching for each other for months."

  "Make of that what you will, sir," Alec said quietly. "I only want to clear this matter up and take my wife back to Kilburnie House, where we can begin a peaceful life together."

  The Lord Advocate grunted again. He finished the second helping of cocoa, brushed the crumbs off his black robes, and stood. "I am not wasting my time, or the crown's time or money, on a lovers' spat between two besotted fools. This is not worth presenting in court. I am the Lord Advocate of Scotland, not a blasted matchmaker. And if the girl is a spy, she is not a very good one, and again it is not worth presenting this at the Court of Justiciary. We have a burden of cases as it is."

  "Sir—" Grant began. "I implore you to pursue this."

  "Love and such has no place before my bench. Alexander, good day to you. Katherine, welcome to our family. And Colonel Grant—come with me, sir. You have a report to prepare." Though Grant protested loudly, the old man was intractable. He waved Grant toward the door, then turned.

  "Excellent choice in a wife, Alexander—and that was a damn fine story." He smiled then, truly smiled, for an instant.

  "Thank you, sir," Alec said, and Kate stepped for­ward to kiss the Lord Advocate on the cheek. He blus­tered, said nothing coherent, and left, slamming the door behind him.

  Alec looked down at her. "Now that," he said, "was either a miracle or some very fine fairy magic."

  She lauehed then, with breathv relief and true iov.

  She threw her hands around his neck, and he hugged her to him, arm in a sling between them, and she lifted her face for a deep, rich kiss that mingled chocolate and coffee and the sweetest measure of passion and tender­ness she had ever known.

  Then Alec pulled back and looked down at her. "My love, as much as I would love to continue this, we have another task more pressing to see to."

  She nodded. "Alec—if we should be caught remov­ing Ian and the others from the castle dungeon—after the Lord Advocate's leniency here, we would have no more chance for mercy, or miracles. What if it goes poorly?"

  He held her then, in silent answer, just held her, and that rock of security and comfort he offered was one of the most wonderful sensations she had ever felt. Then he drew back.

  "We'll have to take the risk. We cannot let the lads linger there awaiting their deaths, and Ian will be trans­ferred to the Tower of London very soon, I think. But you do not have to do this if you are anxious over it."

  "I'll come with you." She lifted her head.

  "Good," he said softly. "We'll need your glamourie up at the castle to shield our way."

  He led her out of the little room and through the main room of the Chocolate House. Waving to Walter Fraser as Alec opened the street door for her, Kate did not notice, at first, the group of people standing out­side on the pavement, talking to a pair of sedan chair carriers.

  She looked, and gasped, and looked again. Alec gave a low huff that sounded like a smothered laugh.

  Rob, Connor, and Jack turned, all dressed in long, dark, hooded cloaks, similar to the one that Kate had with her. And all of them, beneath the cloaks, were dressed in gowns.

  None of them looked particularly pleasant as ladies, Kate thought, trying not to laugh. The situation was desperately serious, she knew. Men could die this day for what they had planned—and she was sure none of them would want to die looking like this.

  "Well," Jack said, coming toward them. "We're ready. Let's do what must be done. The chairs are hired, so we can go up to the castle now."

  "Jack," Alec said, "you look quite ravishing."

  "Go to the devil," Jack growled, and spun to return to the sedan chair awaiting him.

  Chapter 29

  T

  he sedan chair rocked, its seat fastened with pin­ions, so that as the chair carrier went up the hill, Kate stayed level on the leather seat. She gripped the seat edge tightly, and looked behind her. All of her "fe­male" companions rode sedan chairs as well, while Alec would make his way separately.

  Ahead, the castle walls loomed dark at the top of the hill, and all four chairmen brought the group easily through the first sentry gate, for Kate explained that she and her friends had come to visit prisoners within, with three of the ladies in danger of becoming wid­owed. They were waved on to the front gate, where they were passed through again.

  As thev entered the inner walls and climbed the

  slope toward the complex of buildings, Kate glanced toward Rob.

  "Up there, straight on," he whispered, keeping his head low. "The dungeons are in that keep."

  She nodded and proceeded slowly. Then she heard a voice hailing them from behind, and she turned to see Alec, dressed in red coat and kilt and officer's sash as before—but now there were many like him in this place, soldiers and officers, and he looked anonymous and strikingly handsome. He came toward their group, and her heart flipped to see him.

  "Ladies, allow me to escort you. Are you here to see prisoners? Aye, then." He was cool and polite, hardly looking at Kate. Within minutes he had passed them through one sentry post after another and led them down a few worn stone steps to the dungeon area, and finally into a narrow, dark corridor that smelled of oil smoke from lanterns, barely covering far worse odors.

  Kate shuddered, remembering her confinement in Inverlochy Castle's dungeons. A sense rose up in her then, all doubt vanishing, that what they were doing here was right—these men could not be left in this place.

  "Sergeant, Corporal—these ladies have come to visit the Highland prisoners," Alec said, as two sentries in the corridor stood and saluted. "I suspect they are soon to be widows," he whispered loudly. "We may want to allow them some privacy."

  "There's four ladies," the sergeant observed, "and three Highland Donalds in there, so how many wives do these fellows have? Three can eo in." he said. "Not four."

  "One of them is sister to a prisoner."

  "Then she ca
n go in separate-like," the sergeant replied. "We cannot let them all in there at once, Cap­tain." He stood.

  "Unless they are prepared to convince us other­wise," the corporal said, holding out a gloved hand. "You know, sir, these Donalds are kept in these lower cells because they've no money to pay for better quar­ters. They could have fine rooms above, good food, beds with linens, even a servant and postal privileges and books and such, if they had coin to pay. But High­landers are notorious poor. We had to put all three of those rascals together, and we have to sit down here watchin' 'em." He wiggled his fingers, and after a mo­ment, cleared his throat and stepped back.

  "I understand," Alec said, and turned. "Ladies?"

  Rob, dressed in a long green cloak and hood, and showing a ruffled blue hem under the cloak, came for­ward. He held a kerchief to his face and sniffled. He was followed by Connor, then Jack, all in swishing skirts and cloaks, two with handkerchiefs to their noses, Jack with a pretty fan. He sobbed as he went past, fluttering the painted silken fan, and Alec patted him on the shoulder.

  "There, madam. Go in, please. The sergeant will un­lock the door for you." As the "ladies" left with the ser­geant, Alec turned to Kate. "Miss ... Cameron, you're sister to one of those lads, are you not? Would you mind staying out here and keeping these gentlemen company until the other ladies have finished their

  visit? Then you can have a few moments alone with your brother."

  "Thank you," she murmured. She pushed back her cloak, so that the lanternlight caught the ruddy golden glow of her hair, which she had loosened and taken down during the ride in the sedan chair. The corporal seemed startled, then stared.

  "Greetings, Miss Cameron," he said, stammering.

  She inclined her head regally.

  "I'll take my leave now," Alec said, bowing. "So very nice to make your acquaintance, Miss." He turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing.

  Kate smiled at the corporal, who was still staring, his skin beginning to blush. She knew her role—to distract the guards as much as she could while the Highlanders went back and forth in various stages. Jack, Rob, and Connor all wore extra cloaks and skirts under their outer cloaks that they planned to share with Ian, An­drew, and Donald.

  The sergeant came back, and she turned to glance at him. He blinked at her, and smiled, and offered her a chair in cordial silence. She declined, and asked after their health, asked after their families, asked about themselves.

  They were both eager to talk, young men who were lonely and bored on sentry watch in the dungeons. She showed rapt interest in everything they said, laughing prettily at their jokes.

  All the while, they stared, and the corporal's jaw kept slacking open. She knew both men were surren-

  dering to the allure of her fairy gift, with every word, each glance she gave them.

  "Miss," the corporal said, "you have a sort of glow all about you like candlelight, did you know it? A very pretty glow." His companion readily agreed, nodding.

  "Like a new lantern. We needed such," he said.

  She caught her breath at that, and thanked them. Fin­gering the crystal at her throat, she felt its power in a new way—a confidence she had never had before and a detachment as well.

  Suddenly she felt as if she could control this ability as never before. A smile, a word, a touch of the crystal seemed not nearly as powerful, now, as something that came from within. It was different than will, or any sort of awareness. It had more to do, she realized then, with her own conviction that she was loved, her own sense of holding love within her like a vessel holds water, or a lantern holds light.

  This had not happened before in her experience with the fairy charm, and she knew now, indeed, that the fairy-blessed among the MacCarrans were those who could carry this love within themselves and give it to others. The thought took her breath away, and she set a hand to her chest, feeling the beautiful power of it. The Fairy Gift was meant to be shared, she knew then, shared in the kindest and most beneficial ways.

  Her breath quickened, and her smile deepened, and the men with her seemed completely entranced.

  And behind her, first one and then another lady came out of the cell and went back inside. One and then another walked nast her weenine. or sobbine: two ran

  past and down the corridor beset by grief, and one came back sniffling, apparently intent on one last em­brace, one last kiss. Back and forth they went, while Kate smiled at the guards, and they smiled at her, and no one counted the cloaked ladies shuffling and snif­fling between the cell and the corridor.

  "Oh," Kate said, turning at one point. "They seem to have all gone. Beset by grief," she whispered, "my poor friends. I'll go say my farewell, if I may. Oh, no, do stay here," she urged, when the corporal moved ahead. "It is something I must do myself, but I thank you for your courtesy."

  She walked down the short length of the passage to the cell, with its planked wooden door and inset, barred window. Stepping into the cell, she stood for a few moments, turning around to enjoy its emptiness.

  They were all gone—and all she need do now was linger long enough to give them time to get out of the castle, six ladies, when four had gone inside. With Alec's help, they would be escorted out of the castle compound and be away down Castlehill in sedan chairs before any of the guards realized what had happened.

  When she thought enough time had passed, she left the cell, closing the door behind her. Then she walked past the guards, sniffling, giving them a tremulous smile.

  She paused, and reached into the small purse she had tucked in a deep pocket. Extracting two gold Spanish doubloons, as arranged with her kinsmen earlier, she handed one each to the sentries.

  "Oh. no. we could not accent—" the cornoral beean.

  "Please," she said. "You've been so kind. This is for your trouble. They're quite valuable, I'm told."

  "I'd say," the sergeant remarked. "But they don't shine nearly as brightly as you, Miss. It's like a magic about you." He grinned, looking boyishly eager to please.

  She smiled, and pressed each man's hand in farewell. "I'm in love. That's all the magic you see." Smiling again, she turned. "You need not accompany me, gen­tlemen. My friends are waiting outside." Then she glided away.

  And around the corner, picked up her skirts and ran.

  Outside, as Alec ushered each "lady" into a hired chair, the grateful as well as the grumbling ones, he kept glancing back to watch for Kate. While Jack Mac-Donald, and Kate's kinsmen were done with ladies' gear and did not want to keep it longer than necessary, Ian, Andrew, and Donald were more than willing to leave the esplanade in any disguise. Finally, seeing them all safe away, Alec turned and headed back to the castle entrance.

  Where the devil was Kate? She should have been out­side already, he thought, frowning. As he walked for­ward, he looked up to see her coming out of the arched tunnel entrance and across the lowered drawbridge. She picked up her skirts and ran toward him, her cloak hood falling back to show her hair, shining Celtic gold in the afternoon sun.

  He hastened toward her, and she smiled up at him, but he kent back. "No embraces, love, as beautiful as

  you are to me," he said, "more lovely than even the queen of the fairies. But unless you can vanish into the mist, or fly, we'd best find you a sedan chair and get you gone from here."

  Kate nodded, for he knew she well understood the need for caution. He turned with her and walked se­dately to escort her to the outer gate. When he glanced down at her, she suddenly gasped and set a hand upon his arm to stop him.

  Looking in the direction of the gate, he saw Francis Grant coming toward him from Castlehill like a thun­dercloud, his brow lowered and dark, fists clenched.

  "Fraser!" he yelled, his hand on the sword at his side. "Damn you to hell, Fraser, and the lady with you! What have you been up to in this place?"

  "Nothing much, a little sport," Alec murmured.

  "Aye, I'd wager one or more Highlanders are gone. You and this one have been about some sort of wor
k, I'm sure of it. And I'll give you sport, sir, if that is what you want," Grant snapped, and whipped his sword from its sheath.

  Alec pushed Kate back and drew his own sword, ad­vancing on Grant with such ease and sureness that the colonel stumbled back immediately at first. Then Grant recovered, and threw away his cocked hat and took his stance, a hanging guard.

  Countering quickly, knocking back the blade as it came down, Alec began a fast series of lunges and parries. Grant proved to be a skilled opponent, and Alec had to watch every step, every move. He could not snare a elance for the euards who eathered

  around, hands on swords, two with their fingers set on pistols.

  Nor could he watch the lady who stood with them, beautiful and luminous in the midst of the soldiers. Most especially, he could not look her way.

  Dance back, quarter guard, parry, and thrust—Alec spun out his moves, scarcely thinking about them. He circled, his balance affected slightly by his injured arm in its sling, so he tore away the confining cloth in one motion, pulling it over his head and flinging it away. Then he extended his left arm for necessary balance, and though pain protested all along his forearm, he hardly noticed it somehow.

  Rounding so that his back was to the setting sun over the castle walls, he saw Grant blink furiously. Keeping the man facing in that direction required that Alec step forward and backward, rather than side to side, and he did his best to maintain that position.

  Blocking blows, he retreated, lunging, he thrusted forward, keeping his back to the brilliance of the lower­ing sun. Grant tried again and again to shift away, the sun slanting strong gold over his face now, illuminat­ing his eyes, so that Alec saw the deep fire in them and knew he would be killed for certain if the man got so much as an opening.

  Hang guard, step forward, thrust—and this time Alec found flesh and whipped open a wound in Grant's cheek. Slapping a hand to his face, Grant shifted, and Alec shifted back again, so that the setting sun was ever there behind him, like a luminous ally at his back.

  Grant stenned backward, and Alec followed with a