The colonel moved away from the door. Anne rolled over, listening intently.
“Major, Lord Tiebauld is well respected amongst the gentry and by the people. If Gunn doesn’t confess his name, you can’t charge him with treason. Otherwise, you will create a situation I will be forced to divorce myself from. Am I clear?”
“Gunn will talk.”
“So you say—and yet he isn’t going to say anything tonight. The man in the cellar appears half-dead.”
“I was a bit overzealous today,” Major Lambert conceded. “Sergeant Fullerton can be heavy-handed. Gunn will recover.”
“You’d best hope so. Or you will find yourself apologizing to Lord Tiebauld, who can make my position in this country very difficult. If that happens, I will sacrifice you.”
“I would expect you to do no less, sir,” Major Lambert said, but some of the cocksureness had left his voice. “At the same time, sir, I will also look forward to your full support when my suspicions are found to be correct.”
“If that is the case, Lambert, then your career will take a new and very fortunate turn. I believe you know
of what I speak.”
“Yes, sir.”
They parted company then, presumably to go off to bed…but Anne didn’t sleep.
Every fiber of her being centered on Aidan. He had to succeed. The alternative was unthinkable.
Aidan had never killed a man.
He stood over the body of the sentry who had been guarding the cellar door gripped by a coldness he had never felt before.
He had not meant to kill him. His intention had been simply to render him unconscious.
However, just as Aidan had been about to attack, some inner sense had warned the soldier he was not alone. He’d turned and would have cried out except for Aidan’s quick action. He’d snapped the man’s neck.
For a moment, Aidan imagined the guard’s soul passing through him. Something, something he couldn’t name, pricked the hair on the back of his neck and tore at his conscience.
Anne was right. War meant hundreds—thousands, even—of men dying. He could not live with the responsibility of their deaths on his shoulders. He understood her fears now. Just as he slowly, painfully accepted the fact he’d had no choice but to take the sentry’s life.
At the same time, an idea of how to use the man’s death to his advantage also came to him. He’d left Gilbride’s body on the other side of the cellar in the shadows. He could let it be for now.
The cellar door did not have a lock. Aidan pushed it open and pulled the soldier’s body through it. Inside, the torch still burned, giving the room its only light. He kicked shut the door and lay the body on the floor.
Robbie Gunn could have passed for dead himself. He slumped in the chair, his chin on his chest. He appeared not to be breathing—but Aidan sensed the spirit of the man was alive.
“Robbie? ’Tis I, Tiebauld.”
A choking sound was his only answer. It was enough. Aidan knelt at his side. “God, man, can you stand? Because if you can’t, we’ll both be swinging from a tree.”
Robbie moved, lifting his head with difficulty. His swollen lips formed a crooked grin. His eyes were battered shut, his face discolored from bruises. “Have you come to save me, Tiebauld?” He sounded as weak as a wee lamb. Even his body seemed to have been shrunk by pain.
“Only if you are much tougher than you look like right now.”
Pride shone in Robbie’s eyes. “Death alone will make me heel.”
“Good, lad. Now listen, here is what I have planned. I want you to play the soldier.”
“And guard myself?” Robbie asked with a hoarse laugh.
“Exactly,” Aidan answered seriously. He began working to loosen the knots binding Robbie to the chair. “I want you to put on the guard’s uniform. Wear his hat low on your head.”
“Are you telling me you don’t have armed men outside waiting to help?”
“Aye, I brought all the kitchen women. Bonnie Mowat is going to conk heads with her washboard.”
His quip earned a rusty laugh from Robbie. The knots finally untied, Aidan placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s us and us alone, lad. If you can’t do it, we’re damned.”
“For my freedom? I can do it,” Robbie said proudly. He attempted to sit straight and winced. “It may take me a moment.”
“Aye, you’ll manage,” Aidan said, more to reassure himself than Robbie. If Robbie failed, they were all doomed. There was no turning back. He continued explaining his plan.
“The watch will change at four. The night grows cloudy. I’m wagering whoever comes on for you will be sleepy. Keep quiet, walk straight, and you could pass.”
Robbie rubbed his legs, attempting to get the circulation going, a painful process. “Pass for the guard?”
“Aye.”
“And then what?”
“Then you walk off the estate.”
Robbie stared slack-jawed. “Have you been drinking?”
“No. I just did it myself. Lambert thinks you important, but his men prefer the show of soldiering to hard work. They lounge in the house and enjoy heavy meals. If they are on guard for anything, it is an armed force coming from the road.”
Robbie considered his words a second and then he smiled as he realized freedom was within his grasp. Aidan was glad to see this surge of renewed spirit.
“So, you’re joining me, are you?” Robbie said softly.
Aidan frowned. “What do you mean?” he asked in a low voice.
“You are leaving Kelwin for the rebel’s life. It is glad I am to have you beside me.”
Aidan rocked back on his heels. “I can’t leave Kelwin.” He couldn’t. It was where he belonged. Yes, it was his birthright, but it was also the haven he’d created for himself.
“You can’t stay, not after killing Lambert’s guard. They’ll hunt you down.”
“If my plan works, Lambert will never know you are gone.”
Robbie snorted his disbelief. “He’ll know. Granted, you believe Lambert’s men thick, but
don’t you think the bastards will recognize their own
mate sitting in my place?”
“It won’t be the same man.”
“Who will it be? You?”
“Packy Gilbride.”
Robbie’s eyes widened. “Gilbride? I know he has a rebel’s heart, but I didn’t think him a fool.”
“He’s not. He’s dead.” Aidan knew his words were blunt, but he didn’t have time to sweeten them. However, he didn’t anticipate Robbie’s reaction.
“They’ve not killed him, have they?” Robbie rose with a surprising amount of strength, ready to do battle.
“No, no,” Aidan hastened to assure him. “Gilbride died of old age and obstinacy as we all knew he would. But I’ve a plan to pull a switch, one I think Old Packy would enjoy playing a part in.” Quickly, he told Robbie what he intended. “I’ll bury the soldier in Gilbride’s grave. There won’t be any loose ends.”
“Sooner or later, someone will miss the soldier.”
Aidan shook his head. “Lambert will think the soldier deserted. They desert all the time, especially around planting season.”
“But Packy and I don’t look anything alike.”
“Have you seen yourself lately? Dead Gilbride looks better.” Aidan stood. “You’re both about the same height, and the grayness in the red hair may or may not be noticed. I warned Lambert he dare not
let you die or there will be a war. If my plan works, I’ll advise Lambert to bury you as quickly as possible else word gets out the English killed you.”
“I don’t—”
Aidan cut through his protest. “It’s the only plan I have. We must risk it and time is wasting.” He began stripping the soldier. “If you want freedom, get into this uniform.”
Robbie began disrobing. While he changed, Aidan fetched Packy Gilbride. Packy’s body had shrunk in death. Robbie’s shirt and coat fit him. Aidan didn’t bother with the rest of t
he clothes but tied Packy’s body to the chair.
In all, he’d spent ten minutes in the cellar, but at any moment someone might notice the guard on the cellar was missing. The time had come to leave. “Hurry,” he urged. Robbie nodded that he was ready.
Aidan said, “When you leave the estate, go to the Widow Ewing’s house. Do you remember her?”
“How could I forget Mavis? We’ve romped under the covers more than one night.”
Aidan couldn’t help but smile. Robbie was sounding more and more like his old self; he was beaten, but he was a survivor. “Tell her I will make it worth her while if she takes you in for a stay. She’ll do it for me.”
“She’ll do it for me,” Robbie refuted.
“Just see you don’t let any harm come to her,” Aidan answered, and hurried him toward the door. “You go first, I’ll follow.”
Robbie took the guard’s post. Aidan waited the space of several heartbeats and then lifted the guard’s body on his shoulders. He cracked open the door, listening, and was about to slip out when he heard voices. The watch! Probably the two men who had been gossiping under the tree.
Aidan took a step back so that if someone entered, he would be behind the door. He waited.
The guards said something to Robbie, who grunted his answer. Robbie’s response must have been enough, because a moment later, he knocked on the door, a signal it was safe.
Aidan slipped out. “They didn’t notice?”
“They’ve been drinking,” Robbie whispered with disgust. “I’d shoot any of my men who drank on watch. Well, now, go on. Hurry…and God be with you, Laird Tiebauld.”
Aidan didn’t answer, but started back to the village. The sun would soon rise. It was close to three in the morning when he found himself in the graveyard. He made quick work of burying the guard and carefully put the shovel and pick back in the shed where he’d found them.
If anyone noticed anything out of place, they’d probably think it spirits and ghosties. The idea gave him no amusement.
He had to make his way back to Anne without tipping off the guards, and he was running out of time.
Anne thought she’d been alert and wakeful, but when the door opened, she gave such a start, she knew she’d been dozing. She threw her arm over the mound of pillows masquerading as Aidan and pretended to sleep. The door closed.
“It’s me, Anne,” her husband whispered.
She rolled over on her back and then scrambled up, tucking the sheet around her. Aidan closed the door, his shadowy presence almost larger than life. “What are you doing coming in the door?” she whispered. “I thought you’d use the window.”
“I didn’t have the strength to climb back up and I decided at this hour of the morning, no one would expect me to walk right in. So I removed my boots and tiptoed up the stairs. Our guard is asleep. Both he and Lambert snore.”
Aidan appeared exhausted. He walked past the bed to peer out the window. Night was passing, replaced by the first hazy glow of dawn.
“Weren’t there guards anywhere else?” she asked.
“Major Lambert’s men are a lazy lot,” he answered, his voice subdued. “He has patrols out but they are easy to dodge.” He set his boots down and crossed to the wash stand.
“The major checked on you. The ruse worked.” She told him of Major Lambert’s conversation with the colonel. While she spoke, he poured water into
the wash basin. Carefully, he splashed water on his face and hands. Then he began lathering with the soap. Over and over he kept washing his hands.
Anne’s voice trailed off. She stood, wrapping the sheet around her. “Are you all right?”
He didn’t answer, but kept rubbing the lather over his knuckles, along his fingers.
“Is it Robbie?” she whispered. “Could you save him?”
“It is too soon to tell.” He stopped washing his hands and stared at the lather covering them as if he couldn’t quite comprehend how it had gotten there.
Anne crossed to him. Lifting the pitcher, she rinsed off the soap.
Aidan didn’t look at her. “My clothes are filthy. Dirt. Everywhere.”
“I’ll brush them off. Here, remove them and let me have them.”
It seemed to take several minutes for her words to sink in. Almost absently, he began to undress, but got lost in the motions.
Gently Anne guided him to the bed and pushed him to sit, sensing he needed this moment of quiet. She undressed him. Sweat and dirt stained his shirt. Fortunately, the streaks of dirt on his breeches could easily be brushed out.
“Your neck cloth and coat will hide the soil on your shirt, at least long enough for us to get away.”
He nodded.
His strange manner was unsettling.
She knelt in front of him. “Aidan, has something horrible happened?”
He made more of an effort then. “It’s been a long night.”
“When will we know if you’ve succeeded?”
Shrugging, he asked, “What time is it?”
“Almost four, I suspect.”
He nodded, but when he didn’t speak, she took his hand in hers. “Let’s return to bed. It is out of our hands now. You have done everything you could.”
“Yes.”
Expecting him to lie down, she started to rise, but he caught her by the shoulders. He pulled her into his lap and hugged her close, his arms like strong bands around her. He held her tightly.
“Aidan, what is wrong?” she whispered in his ear.
“I killed a man, Anne.”
The words were etched in such deep regret they were almost painful to hear. She brought her arms around him. “You had no choice?”
For the first time since he’d entered the room, Aidan’s gaze met hers. “I had no choice.”
She cradled the side of his whiskered jaw with her hand. Tears welled in her eyes. She felt his anguish as if it were her own. “My poor love. My poor, poor love.”
For a long time they sat this way…and then he began kissing her. “I need you, Anne. I need you.” His hand loosened her sheet.
“I know.” She shifted so the sheet could slip down around her waist.
His fingertips lightly outlined her lips. “You are right. No one wins at war.”
She didn’t know what to say. No words were adequate. Instead, she opened her arms and he came to her. She hugged him close, her fingers combing his hair.
“Anne,” he whispered against her breast. His tongue flicked the sensitive nipple before he lowered her onto the mattress.
They made love. This time, it was different than it had been during the joyful afternoon when they had been enamored with the excitement of discovery.
Now their lovemaking was a solace, a search for meaning in a world that often seems senseless. A bonding.
When they were done, he was able to sleep.
But Anne couldn’t. She held him in her arms and kept watch, praying his sacrifice was enough to free them—knowing that if it wasn’t, she would follow him anywhere, even to death.
Well past dawn, Anne heard shouting. Aidan woke. They both lay still, listening.
Booted footsteps bounded up the stairs and pounded on the room belonging to Major Lambert. He summoned the messenger in. A second later, he swore with frustration.
She strained to hear what was being said but there was too much noise. Aidan rose from the bed and crossed over to the window, heedless of his nakedness.
“What is happening?” she asked.
“I don’t know—yet.” He turned from the window and gave her a inscrutable smile. Aidan’s smile. Whatever had haunted him the night before had passed. The ends of his newly cut hair stood up every which way, and he needed a shave.
She didn’t think he’d ever appeared more handsome.
Colonel Witherspoon was now awake. He stopped outside their door in the hall. “What is it, Major? What is going on?”
Anne reached for Aidan’s hand, uncertain of what to expect. Aidan was as tense as s
he was.
“It’s the prisoner,” Major Lambert said, lowering his voice. “Robbie Gunn is dead.”
Chapter 16
“The devil you say,” the colonel snapped. Aidan pulled Anne away from the door.
“Get dressed,” he whispered. He reached for his breeches hanging over the back of the chair.
“But Aidan, they’ve killed Robbie Gunn.” The implications of their act overwhelmed her. The Highlands would be set aflame with war and strife. Kelwin and all the people who made it special could be destroyed.
“Anne, get dressed,” he ordered. He was already buttoning his breeches.
“Aidan—?”
Suddenly he was in front of her, silencing her protest with a kiss, his hands gripping her arms. He broke the kiss, his gaze intent. “I ask you to trust me. Now, do as I say. We don’t have much time.”
Woodenly, she moved to obey. She reached for her chemise at the end of the bed and dropped the sheet to the floor. Aidan pushed his head through the
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neck of his shirt and shrugged on his vest, buttoning the front so the worst of the dirt stains were effectively hidden. Then, without warning, he threw open the door.
Anne grabbed her dress and scrambled to hide behind the door.
Her bold, outrageous husband confronted Major Lambert. “Did you say Robbie Gunn is dead?”
Quickly pulling on her clothes, Anne peeked through the crack. Major Lambert frowned, his lips clamped shut, but Colonel Witherspoon, who still wore his nightshirt over his breeches, nodded.
“That is what the major is telling me.” He made a short bow. “I am Colonel Witherspoon, Lord Tiebauld. We have not met before, but I have heard much about you. I wish our introduction could be under more fortunate circumstances.”
“I didn’t choose the circumstances at all, Colonel Witherspoon,” Aidan said coldly, every inch the affronted lord. “I fear Major Lambert has overstepped his boundaries. Of course, you realize, Colonel, his singlehanded decision to take Robbie Gunn prisoner and torture him may cause rebellion.”
Marriage 03: The Marriage Contract Page 20
