Highland Storms

by Christina Courtenay

  ‘Go, Liath, back to the house!’ he hissed. ‘Go on, leave!’ But the dog ignored him and bared his fangs at the attackers, growling deep in his throat.

  In the next instant, the men surged forward, dirks at the ready. Some dim recess of Brice’s mind wondered why they hadn’t just brought pistols to threaten him with, but apparently that wasn’t how they fought. He didn’t wait for them to fall on him en masse, but launched himself at the nearest man as fast as he could. Liath did the same, but although the dog managed to take one man down and make him howl with pain as he sank his teeth into flesh, he was no match for a dagger.

  Brice winced when he heard the hound give a loud yelp, then a keening noise, knowing he’d been hurt, perhaps even mortally wounded. There was nothing Brice could do at the moment though, he had to defend himself. He made short work of the first man, feinting left, then right, before hitting the assailant with a powerful blow to the chin. The man had obviously been expecting a thrust with the dagger and therefore didn’t see Brice’s fist coming. He toppled to the ground and lay motionless.

  The other four were cannier and came at him from different sides at once. Although he did his best, Brice couldn’t fight them all, especially with his body still sore and several bruised ribs. He wondered what was taking Ramsay and Alex so long, but didn’t have time to think about it too much. He could only pray they’d come to his assistance soon. He managed to get in a few punches and slashed one man’s arm quite badly, but when one of the assailants cut Brice’s own forearm, the sharp stab of pain made him drop his dirk. After that, it was only a question of time before he was overpowered. No one came to his aid.

  With his arms twisted up behind him, they made him walk towards the forest.

  ‘Who are you? What do you want with me?’ he snarled, trying to dislodge the painful grip without success.

  ‘The name’s MacGregor and as fer wha’ we want, ye’ll find oot soon enough.’

  Brice didn’t bother asking any more questions. He doubted they’d reply in any case so he was just wasting his breath. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Liath lying on the ground. Damn it all to hell! Marsaili was going to be crushed to find her beloved dog dead and he wished he could have spared her that pain. There was absolutely nothing he could do about it, however, and he had tried to tell the stubborn hound to leave. He was moved by the dog’s loyalty and sent him a silent message of thanks, wherever his spirit was.

  Just before the group reached the edge of the forest, Brice heard a shout behind them. He turned to see Iain Seton come rushing out of the house, pulling his dirk out. ‘Hey, stop! What do you think you’re doing?’

  The man next to Brice tsk-ed and shook his head. ‘Wheesht, is he a loon or wha’?’ the MacGregor muttered. Brice wondered the same thing, but hoped Iain wasn’t by himself and that his arrival on the scene heralded more help. It was a bit late in the day, but still better than nothing.

  Iain didn’t remain alone for long, however. His father was suddenly standing next to him, grabbing him by the arm and holding him back. Brice could see they were arguing, but couldn’t hear what was being said. A suspicion took root in his mind and he noticed the MacGregor men all ignored Seton as if he was no threat to them.

  ‘He hired you for this, didn’t he?’ Brice asked, but he already knew the answer. He could feel it in his gut, this was Seton’s doing. ‘Whatever he paid, I can give you more,’ he growled, anger filling him almost to overflowing. Was he never to be rid of the man? He should have hunted him down while he had the chance.

  ‘Tha’s wha’ he seid too,’ the nearest MacGregor smirked. ‘Sae save yer breath. Ye’re goin’ tae need it.’

  ‘Don’t even think about running to his aid,’ Seton hissed at his son, gripping Iain’s arm firmly. ‘Have you no sense? It’s our last chance.’

  Iain shook him off and scowled at him. ‘No sense? You’re the one who’s lost all reason!’ he exclaimed. He glanced at the group of men rapidly heading into the forest, soon to be lost from sight. ‘Who are they? What idiotic plan have you hatched now?’

  ‘It’s not idiotic at all, I’ll have you know. It’s perfect. Those are some of the MacGregor outlaws and I’ve paid them to rid us of the laird and his friends once and for all.’

  ‘What, you’re stooping to murder now? That’s definitely taking things a step too far. I’m not having any part of this.’

  Iain was about to take off at a run after Brice, but Seton pulled out a pistol from behind his back and cocked it. The soft click behind his left ear made Iain freeze and he turned incredulous eyes on his father.

  ‘You move and I won’t hesitate to shoot, boy,’ Seton answered the unspoken question. ‘I won’t kill you, but I will make sure you can’t go very far for the foreseeable future.’ He gritted his teeth and hoped Iain couldn’t tell he was bluffing. He wasn’t at all sure he could shoot his own son, but hopefully the boy wouldn’t realise that. Besides, too much was at stake so perhaps he’d be able to pull the trigger if he had to.

  Something which looked suspiciously like pure hatred flashed in Iain’s gaze. Seton knew there wasn’t anything he could do about it right now, but when they had Bailliebroch back and were restored to their rightful position in society, he was sure the boy would thank him.

  ‘Now get back into the house and stay there. If I catch you setting so much as a foot outside in the next hour I won’t hesitate to use this.’ Seton nodded towards the weapon.

  A muscle jumped in Iain’s jaw, but he did as he’d been told. ‘You’ll regret this, Father, mark my words,’ he gritted out.

  ‘I doubt it, and neither will you,’ Seton said. He watched the boy go indoors and slam the door, then walked off towards the forest. He wasn’t going with the MacGregors, but he had to pay them the rest of the sum he’d agreed and that meant fetching more gold from his hidey-hole.

  Once they’d been paid, he hoped never to set eyes on them or Kinross again.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ‘I thought the mon seid Glasgae? Wha’ are we doin’ here then?’

  Brice lifted his aching head and listened to the bickering MacGregors. He was sitting inside an old carriage on the quayside at Leith, the port just outside Edinburgh. He couldn’t see much because the windows were shuttered, but there was a hole big enough for him to recognise the place he’d arrived at himself not so long ago. Unfortunately, he couldn’t call out since he’d been gagged. The foul rag in his mouth was making him thirsty as hell, but so far no one had offered him either food or drink. He doubted they cared whether he lived or died.

  The first MacGregor was answered by one with a much more cultured accent. ‘I don’t care what he said. We’ll do whatever we bloody well please. He’ll never know. Edinburgh was closer and although they’ll have to make a small detour, they’ll be sent to the colonies eventually, as agreed.’

  ‘Are ye sure ye can trust the captain o’ this here vessel?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve dealt with him before. He knows what will happen should he fail me. Go find the others and let’s get this over with. I don’t want to stay here a moment longer than I have to.’

  Brice glanced at the two dark shapes lying on the carriage floor next to where he sat propped against one side. Ramsay and Alex, unconscious. He’d been appalled to find them slung over a pack pony each as he left the forest with the MacGregors the previous day. He assumed they’d been ambushed before he himself was captured, but how or where, he didn’t know. Neither was aware of their discomfort, however, which was a blessing, and when they finally stirred, they were gagged just like him so there was no chance to find out what had happened to them. Just before reaching Leith, someone had clouted all three of them over the head again and Brice was the first to stir. He obviously had the thicker head, which was only scant consolation since it was throbbing like the very devil.

  Damn Seton to hell! Brice clenched his fists behind his back, where they were securely tied together. He would make the man pay for this, if it was the la
st thing he did, he swore. It may take him a long time, since he’d gathered from the MacGregors’ conversation with each other that he and his friends were being sent to the Americas. It would be his goal from now on though and no matter what it took, he was determined to return and take his revenge.

  His thoughts turned to Marsaili and something inside him lurched. He couldn’t bear to contemplate her marrying Seton, which was probably what would happen. The devious whoreson would force her somehow, perhaps with the help of more MacGregors. The notion made Brice want to scream. She was his and she might be carrying his child.

  He went cold all over. My child! Dear Lord, and he might never see it.

  We have to escape.

  In a blinding flash he realised he couldn’t wait years before seeing Marsaili again, couldn’t allow Seton to get his hands on her. I love her! What a fool he’d been. He shook his head at himself. He couldn’t believe he’d fallen for a woman again, had let his heart become ensnared once more, but somehow he knew this was different. Marsaili wasn’t Elisabet. If she ever promised him anything, she’d keep her word. He trusted her. If only he’d had the sense to realise that he loved her earlier, then perhaps she would have sworn to become his wife. Once she’d spoken those words, he knew she’d rather die than marry anyone else.

  That’s my Marsaili.

  Somehow he had to find a way out of this situation. For now, all he could do was bide his time, but when Ramsay and Alex woke up eventually, they’d put their heads together and come up with some plan.

  They simply must.

  Seton didn’t think he’d ever been so angry in his life, but as he marched back towards Rosyth House he literally saw red. His kist of gold was gone. The money he’d so patiently hoarded for years had disappeared and there were only two alternatives. Either Iain had taken it or the laird had. No one else could have even guessed it existed. Whoever it was, he would find out.

  As he came out of the forest, he was astonished to see Iain and his new wife slowly making their way towards the house from the loch, carrying that infernal hound of Marsaili’s on a blanket. He rushed over and brandished his pistol once more.

  ‘What in the name of all that’s holy do you think you’re doing? Leave the flea bag and get back inside this instant! Didn’t I tell you to stay in the house?’

  Iain shot him a look of disdain. ‘He’s wounded and needs treatment. My wife would like to nurse him and her word is my law. Shoot me for it if you want, I no longer care.’

  Seton was speechless at such defiance, but since the pair were heading back towards the house in any case, it didn’t make much difference whether they brought the mangy hound or not. He didn’t look to be long for this world. And good riddance!

  ‘And where’s my gold? Did you take it?’ he demanded. ‘I suppose you thought you’d stop my plans by removing the kist, but I’ll thank you to give it back. It’ll be yours one day, but not yet.’

  Iain turned to glare at him with a frown. ‘What kist? What are you talking about?’

  ‘You know very well what I mean. The money I’ve been saving up for Bailliebroch. Now give it to me.’

  Iain shook his head. ‘I don’t have any money, you know that. Kirsty’s dowry hasn’t been paid out yet and you’ve never given me so much as a merk unless you had to.’ He and Kirsty had reached the stable yard now and carried the large dog into the nearest loose box where they placed him on some hay. They were both panting and red in the face from their heavy burden. Seton still couldn’t understand why they’d go to such efforts for a mere dog.

  ‘I’ll go find Flora,’ Kirsty said quietly, without looking at Seton. ‘She’ll know what to do if he needs stitching.’

  ‘Stitching? Have you gone mad? He’s not worth the effort,’ Seton spat.

  Kirsty fixed him with a narrowed gaze. ‘I’ll be the judge of that, Mr Seton. This hound is my sister’s and I’ll not have him die unless he has to. Are you going to stop me?’

  Seton was too astonished by her open challenge to reply. She waited a moment, then left on her errand. ‘You’ll need to curb that tongue of hers,’ he muttered to Iain, but his son stood up and marched over to face him.

  ‘I like her exactly the way she is, so just you leave her alone, d’you hear? Now what’s this nonsense about a stolen kist? You shouldn’t have mentioned it in front of her, you know. She’ll tell the laird and then where will you be?’

  ‘Hah, he won’t be hearing any tales for a long time, if ever. He’s not coming back in a hurry. I told you.’ The thought of Kinross sailing across the vast ocean towards the colonies cooled his temper somewhat and almost made him smile. Until he remembered his missing hoard. ‘But if you didn’t take my gold, then he must have. Find out from your wife where he might have hidden it. Or better yet, ask Marsaili.’

  ‘Marsaili? I can’t ask her, she was taken away by the Redcoats not half an hour ago. Why else do you think she’s not here caring for her dog? Wild horses wouldn’t keep her away normally.’

  ‘Taken by the Redcoats?’ Seton felt his heartbeat stutter. What did this mean? And what on earth was Sherringham playing at? He scowled at his son. ‘Why didn’t you stop them? She hasn’t done anything.’

  ‘I know that well enough, but what was I to do? One man against a whole troop of Sassenachs? That captain of theirs said he had a warrant for her arrest and everything. I went looking for the laird immediately, but that’s when I found him being taken away as well, on your orders. Anyway, I thought you were in cahoots with the Redcoat so I assumed he was acting on your behalf. Another ploy to make her marry you? Scare her into thinking you her saviour?’ Iain sneered.

  ‘No, I had nothing to do with it. We must get her back, immediately.’ He considered his son’s words and remembered he’d had the same idea once before. ‘Although come to think of it, that’s not a bad notion. She ought to be glad to see me for once.’

  ‘Well, good luck with persuading the Englishman to release her. I’d rather talk to the devil than have anything to do with that fellow. He’s a nasty piece of work and no mistake.’ Iain spat on the ground for emphasis.

  ‘No, you don’t understand. You’ll have to come with me and help rescue her from their clutches. I don’t know what he’s up to, but I doubt he’ll release her unless he feels like it. He won’t listen to me.’

  ‘I thought you said you had him exactly where you wanted?’ Iain challenged.

  ‘Not with regard to Marsaili. She was never part of the equation. The man’s supposed to smooth my way towards buying back Bailliebroch, nothing more. Apart from arresting Kinross, of course, but that didn’t work out too well.’

  Iain shook his head. ‘So you’re telling me Marsaili really is at the mercy of the Redcoats?’

  ‘Aye, isn’t that what I’ve been saying? We must go after them. Saddle the garrons.’

  Iain glanced at the dog, who was whimpering slightly and panting. Seton couldn’t believe his son would care what happened to the animal. He was probably only doing it to please his wife. Seton shook his head. One of these days Iain would be ruled by his head instead of what was in his breeches.

  ‘Leave him, your wife can take care of him.’

  Before Iain could reply, Kirsty returned, closely followed by Flora. She was frowning and carrying a note. She held it out to Seton. ‘This is addressed to you. I found it in the great hall.’

  Seton swore under his breath, but unfolded it quickly.

  Seton, I have Kinross’s wench. Kindly tell him that unless he gives himself up, I’ll have no option but to keep her entertained for a long while. I’m sure he’ll know what I mean. And if he tries anything or involves any of his high and mighty friends, he won’t see her alive again. See to it he understands or our deal is off as well.

  Sherringham

  ‘Damn and blast it!’ Seton threw the note at Iain, who caught it and read it, with Kirsty and Flora looking over his shoulders. Seton swore some more. It wasn’t his fault the laird had escaped. And now Sher
ringham was ruining everything. It was not to be borne. ‘Come, Iain, leave the women to deal with the mutt. We need to leave now if we’re to have any chance of catching them. And find us some weapons.’

  ‘I thought you handed those over to the Sassenach.’

  ‘No, he left them behind. Hurry!’

  Iain looked at Kirsty, who nodded. ‘If you’re going to save Marsaili, go, but keep an eye on him.’ She glanced meaningfully at her father-in-law. ‘I don’t trust him. Especially not now I’ve read that note.’

  Iain kissed her hard on the mouth, then bent to whisper what Seton assumed were sweet nothings in her ear before he finally went to do his father’s bidding.

  Seton shook his head. The boy was going soft.

  The first thing Marsaili saw when she came to was something red which flickered in front of her eyes. She blinked to try and clear her vision, while registering that her cheek was being rubbed against scratchy material. This proved to be the back of an English soldier’s jacket, which explained the red. She’d been leaning against him because someone had tied her to him, presumably so she wouldn’t fall off the back of his horse.

  She lifted her cheek as far away from him as possible and wrinkled her nose at the smell of wool. The soldier himself wasn’t too fragrant either, but she had to suffer this as she couldn’t put any distance between them. He turned his head to glance at her and nodded. ‘So you’re awake at last. That’s good.’

  Marsaili wasn’t so sure. ‘Where am I?’ she croaked, her throat feeling as parched as a dirt road on a hot summer’s day. ‘And where are we going?’