Taming His Rebel Lady

by Jane Godman

  “The only better use for it would be up an English arse,” he would say, raising his glass as if in toast.

  When the poker began to glow orange-red, Iona grasped it and withdrew it from the fire. After propping it on the edge of the grate, she carefully held the rope on her wrists against the burning metal. It quickly became too hot, and she had to withdraw her hands. Nevertheless, the poker had partially burned the rope. Heartened by this observation, she repeated the process over and over. Several times, she burned her wrist on the poker and drew in a hissing breath. Urging herself on with a reminder that the pain she felt now would be nothing in comparison to what she would feel when Sir Garwen arrived, she kept going. Finally, the rope gave way and her hands were free.

  Not pausing to examine the deep gouges and burns on her wrists, Iona quickly untied her ankles. She managed to stand with difficulty. The ropes binding her ankles had been just as tight as those restraining her wrists, and her feet felt as though they no longer belonged to her. There was no time to waste, and she dashed out of the door and into the snowy, early-evening gloom. A rocky path led down the hillside, and she commenced its steep descent. As she did her numb right foot caught between two stones, and she stumbled, twisting her ankle sharply beneath her. Although her cry of pain was loud enough to drown out most other noises, Iona distinctly heard the sound of her own bone breaking as she fell to her knees.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Edwin strode through the dusk from the stables to the house, his top boots kicking up the light flurry of snow that had fallen in the night. His thoughts were of Iona. When, of late, did he think of anything else? His business in Inverness was concluded. Sir Garwen was no longer a threat. The next part of his task was more difficult. Edwin had never viewed himself as a hero. A slayer of dragons. Yet the monstrous beast he must destroy resided deep within his own chest. There hadn’t been anything in his life worth fighting for until Iona. He already had her hand, could he overcome his fears and also win her heart? It was time to find out. He broke into an impatient run, calling her name as he burst through the door. The house was oddly silent.

  As Edwin entered the great hall, Cù-sìth slunk out from behind a carved oak chair. The dog crawled low on her belly toward him. Coming to a halt in front of Edwin, she gave a plaintive whine and rested her head on his boot.

  “She has been hiding there since her ladyship left.” Gordie moved forward to light candles and place logs on the fire. “Would’nae come out for food nor water.”

  Edwin stood still as the candles blazed into life around him. The fine powder of snow on his coat was slowly changing into glittering droplets of water. “Left?” He repeated the word in a voice that matched the dull numbness of his other senses.

  “Aye. The last time I saw her was this morning. I was mightily surprised for not a word did she say to me or to Morag.” He watched Edwin’s face thoughtfully. “Yon new groom of yours has gone off in search of her.”

  “Fetch me a drink, please.” Edwin turned away to frown into the fire.

  He was still in the same brooding position, with his hands deep in the pockets of his coat, riding whip tucked under his arm, and three-cornered hat tilted low on his brow when Gordie returned. The steward handed Edwin a goblet containing hot punch. He took a sip of this beverage made from brandy, wine, lemon and spices. It revived him somewhat and he looked up. A feeling of foreboding had seized him and he was unable to shake it off. He could think of no reasonable explanation for Iona’s abrupt departure. The fact that Williams had gone in search of her suggested that she might have given her guard the slip. Either that or someone had managed to get past the former soldier and into the house or grounds to—what?—abduct her? Dear God, let it not be anything worse!

  Gordie was still hovering, clearly eager to discuss the situation further. Cù-sìth had curled up before the fire, a picture of dejection. “Did anyone call here while I was away?”

  “No, sire.” Gordie shook his head emphatically.

  “Did anyone see Lady Iona leave?” Gordie responded with another shake of his head. “She spoke to no-one? Left no note?”

  Gordie cleared his throat. “Because it seemed a wee bit strange, I took the liberty of asking all of the servants the same questions, sire. The answer to each is ‘no’. The strange thing is that she did not take her horse.”

  Edwin swung round abruptly at that. “What? Unless Aoidh was injured, she would not ride out on any other horse.”

  “Aoidh is still in the stables, sire, but the mare is perfectly healthy. Her ladyship took no horse. Mayhap she left in response to an urgent message from Lachlan. If so, perhaps the laird sent a carriage for her?”

  “Yet you and none of the other servants here knew of it?” Edwin lifted a dismissive shoulder. He dashed off the rest of the punch. “I need to get out of these wet clothes. After that I will need a messenger to ride out to Lachlan.”

  The bedchamber he shared with Iona was too large and cold without her bright presence. Her nightgown lay on her pillow, and Edwin held it to his cheek, inhaling her scent. He frowned when he noticed her dress flung down on a chair and her shoes kicked carelessly aside. Iona was usually so neat about her belongings.

  An unpleasant thought loomed. Going to Iona’s dresser, he saw that the drawer where she kept her Jacobite clothing of trews, jacket and cockaded blue bonnet was not properly closed. Pulling it fully open, he saw that all of these items were gone. Edwin felt his lips thin into a hard line. Did his wishes mean so little to her that, the minute his back was turned, she must ride out in her rebel garb? More to the point, with Sir Garwen on the prowl, could she have been so foolhardy? His heart had been rocked by the force of his fear when he thought something bad might have happened to her. Now his emotions went sharply into reverse.

  “And all the time, have you been out doing what you do best…harassing the English?” he muttered.

  After swiftly changing his clothes, he returned to the hall and poured himself a goblet of wine. His thoughts were vacillating wildly between fear for Iona’s safety and anger that she might have defied him. If he hesitated and she really was in danger, he would never forgive himself. On the other hand, if he plunged off into the night only to find her engaged on some mad raid against the redcoats, he would curse his own foolishness.

  Before he could take more than a sip or two of his wine, the sounds of an arrival reached his ears. Expecting Iona or Williams, he observed his brother-in-law’s entrance instead with some surprise.

  “Give you good eventide, my laird.” Edwin raised his goblet in Fraser’s direction.

  Fraser eyed him with mild interest. “Aye, that’s what my sister needs right now. A drunken Englishman with his nose stuck to the inside of a chalice.”

  “Your sister seems hell-bent on ridding the world of Englishmen. It is only her methods that vary. Most are on the receiving end of dirk or sword. Her methods in my case have been more subtle.”

  “I’ve no idea what rot ye’re spouting, Roxburgh, but we’ve no time to waste. Get your coat and pistols.”

  Edwin shook his head. “Your hellcat sister has defied me once too often. This latest escapade is a message, loud and clear, about how little she cares for or heeds me.”

  “Och, will ye stop wallowing, man? When we have her safe I’ll knock your bloody heids together, so help me. I’ve never come across a pair more stubborn nor yet more suited. But for now, we’ve more important things to consider. Like getting her away from Sir Garwen.”

  That name acted upon Edwin like a glass of iced water flung in his face. “What makes you think Sir Garwen has his hands in this?”

  “I had a little visit from his wife and she told me of his plans for Iona. At first, I was only half-inclined to disbelieve her. By the end of her tale, I was more convinced. When I arrived here and Gordie told me Iona was missing with Aoidh still in the stable, however, I knew Lady Hendry had told me the truth.”

  “Since Iona’s rebel gear is missing, I thought it
was more likely she’d be out leading her men in a raid on an English garrison.”

  As if on cue, Cù-sìth came out from behind the chair where she had been hiding when Edwin first came home. The dog carried a blue woollen bonnet between her teeth and dropped it at Fraser’s feet. Fraser picked up the Jacobite cap with its jaunty white cockade and ran it through his fingers. Nostalgia crossed his face briefly, before it was replaced by annoyance. “If that was the case, would she not have been wearing this—” he waved the cap in Edwin’s direction, “—and riding Aoidh? Aye, and why does this bonnet have blood on the crown?” He held the cap out to show Edwin the bright red splatters.

  After snatching the cap from him and studying it, Edwin sprang, rather shakily, to his feet. “My God, I’ve been a blind, bloody fool. I’ve been wasting time pondering while Iona was in Sir Garwen’s clutches.”

  “To be fair, there wasn’t much ye could have done since ye knew not what had happened to her, nor where she had gone.”

  Edwin ran a hand through his hair, disordering it even more. “How will we find her? He could have hidden her anywhere during the hours she’s been gone. It’s a near impossible task.”

  “Bear up, man. ’Tis not quite as bleak as it looks. Lady Hendry wrote down all she knew. She overheard Sir Garwen speak of having Iona taken to a remote cottage. That is not exactly a helpful description here in the highlands, but she did remember him talking of the lower slopes of Aonach Mòr. There are a few crofters’ cottages there that were recently abandoned when the English harried the occupants out of their homes.”

  “What are we waiting for?” Edwin’s tone was impatient.

  “What indeed? I will get them to saddle your horse and Aoidh. While I do that, you might want to consider changing into your riding gear. ’Tis woeful cold out there.” He indicated Edwin’s shirt and breeches. “And, since we know not if Sir Garwen is alone, bring sword and gun.”

  “Sir Garwen will not be there. That much I do know.”

  “How can ye know that?”

  “He is in Inverness, a guest of the Falcon.” Edwin threw the words over his shoulder as he left the room.

  The snow had begun to fall again in earnest as the two men rode toward the lower slopes of the mountain range. The moon was full and cast enough light for them to see their way along the narrow track. Edwin rode in front, leading Aoidh behind his own horse. He assured himself that, on the return journey, Iona would be riding at his side. Nevertheless, he could not help voicing his fears aloud.

  “Even though we know that Sir Garwen himself does not have her, she will be at the mercy of his henchmen.”

  “Aye, but they will be expecting the man himself to be there to give them their orders. His disappearance will throw them into disarray. If I know aught of Sir Garwen, they are likely to be too afraid of him to take matters into their own hands. And ye are discounting one very important factor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “’Tis Iona of whom ye speak.” Fraser started to laugh. “Have ye not lived with my sister this long and learned what mayhem she is capable of when she sets her mind to it?”

  Acknowledging the justice of this remark, Edwin joined in his laughter. “Nevertheless, we must find her tonight. If Sir Garwen’s capture by the Falcon means she has been left alone on the mountainside, she’ll not last until morning in this weather.”

  “Aye and find her we will. As I rode here I promised myself I would end this business by getting my hands around Hendry’s throat. Yet ye’re telling me I must travel to Inverness to do so?”

  “Further than that. If ever you have a yearning to meet up with Sir Garwen again, you will have to follow him to Charleston in the Carolinas. I was with Jack Lindsey and the Falcon when they waylaid him yesterday. Using a little of their unique charm, they persuaded him to accompany them to Inverness. I meanwhile, continued in the opposite direction and came back here. From Inverness, Sir Garwen will shortly be crossing the ocean. I assisted him on his way by paying for his passage on a boat aptly named Highland Queen.”

  Fraser stared at him dumbfounded. Then he threw his head back and began to laugh. “My God, I’d give something to be there and wave him off!”

  Edwin’s lips twitched. “The image is an engaging one. Of course, had I known what plans that bastard had for Iona, I’d have not been inclined to let him get away with his life.”

  “He may still not do so. Crossing the Atlantic is known to be a dangerous activity in itself. And once Sir Garwen arrives in Charleston he may find himself face to face with several people who do not view him or his ilk with kindness. Can I ask ye something?”

  Edwin turned his head. Fraser’s face was shadowed by the brim of his tricorn hat. “You can ask. I may not answer.”

  “Why did ye not just kill him and have done with the cur once and for all?”

  It was a question Edwin had asked himself many times. “I wanted to be rid of Sir Garwen so that Iona and I had a chance to get on with our lives, but I wasn’t sure we could do that if I had his blood on my hands. If I killed him, I would allow his shadow to remain with us forever. This way, he is gone but I need not look over my shoulder every day and wonder if I am to face my trial for murder.”

  Fraser was silent for a long time. “Aye, I can understand that,” he said at last, and Edwin knew Fraser was thinking of the years of torture he had himself endured following the death of Augustus Hendry.

  “So ye know who the Falcon is? Were ye surprised to learn his true identity?”

  Edwin considered the question. “I should be, I suppose, given the public persona he chooses to present. But we were at school together, and I remember odd occasions that make sense. He always did have a strong sense of right and wrong, and a thirst for justice.”

  They rode on in silence for another hour or more. As the terrain became steeper and rougher, Fraser pointed upward. “The cottages Lady Hendry spoke of are there. They have been abandoned since just after Culloden.”

  “They do not appear to be so any longer,” Edwin said. “There is a light of some sort up there.”

  “That’s no light…’tis a fire.”

  They urged their horses onward up the arduous track. As they approached the cottages, the orange glow they had observed from below grew brighter, providing them with a sinister beacon. No matter how hard he tried to force them away, the dark memories he fought so hard to keep at bay insisted on crowding in on Edwin. Not again. Not Iona.

  “’Tis one of the cottages.” Fraser’s unnecessary observation was carried to him on a breeze filled with snow and smoke.

  After leaping from the saddle, Edwin ran toward the furnace that had once been a crofter’s home. The thatch was fully alight, and there was a horrible beauty about the brightness of the leaping flames and the ashes dancing up into the night sky. It was the smell and the crackling sound of burning wood, those were the things that he remembered so well. They took him back in time and tried to freeze his limbs, turning him into a statue of shock. His inaction lasted only seconds before he hurled himself toward the fire.

  “Edwin.” Fraser’s voice came to him above the melee of the roof collapsing. “Are ye mad? There’ll be naught left alive in there.”

  It was the other voice that halted him in his headlong dash, however. A woman’s voice called his name. Exactly the way it had happened ten years ago. Except this time the voice—Iona’s voice, not Lilith’s—came from behind him, not from within the flames themselves. Hardly daring to allow himself to hope, he turned. His heart gave a thud so powerful he thought he might actually lose consciousness with the force of it. Iona was there, framed in the doorway of one of the nearby cottages. With a hoarse cry, he covered the distance between them in long strides.

  “The sound of horse’s hooves carries a long way on the mountainside,” she explained. “I thought it was Sir Garwen coming for me so I set fire to the thatch. I hoped he would think I was dead…”

  As Edwin drew closer, he noticed she was leani
ng on some sort of metal crutch. It looked like a poker. When she didn’t run to him, he knew the only reason was because she couldn’t.

  “Hold me and don’t ever let me go again,” she ordered as he caught her against his chest.

  Obediently, he wrapped his arms around her. “I never will.” It was a promise murmured into her smoke-scented hair.

  “Just for once in your life, will ye consider the possibility that someone else might know what’s best for ye?” They were Fraser’s parting words as he set off once more for Lachlan the day after he and Edwin had rescued Iona from the mountainside.

  Edwin thought that Iona’s uncharacteristically pale and subdued appearance must be as a result of the shock she had sustained. Although she didn’t complain, her ankle was clearly paining her and Edwin was concerned to see the extent of the burns and lacerations on her wrists. There was a physician in the town of Fort William, and he came and dressed her wounds. Recommending rest, he assured Iona that there was no reason why her ankle should not fully heal.

  “A nice clean break, my lady,” he said in an admiring tone. “I wish I saw more as uncomplicated as this.”

  “You heard the doctor. There you will stay.” Edwin pointed at the bed where Iona sat reclining against the pillows.

  Leaving her alone, he escorted the physician out to his horse. When the doctor left, he paused before returning to the house. The events of the last few days had been so dramatic, his mind was still reeling.

  He had made light of Sir Garwen’s capture when speaking of it to Fraser, and it had been a relatively easy task for the three of them to overpower and capture him. Once Sir Garwen learned of the fate in store for him his rage and vitriol were unbounded. In the poisonous threats that had dripped from his tongue, he had reminded Edwin more than ever of his brother. Because of his desire to return to Iona and make sure she was safe, Edwin had not stayed in Inverness to see Highland Queen embark on her voyage across the Atlantic. He knew that he could count on Jack Lindsey who had promised that Sir Garwen would be shackled in the hold when the ship set sail.