Love in the Time of a Highland Laird (A Laird for All Time Book 3)

by Angeline Fortin

  “Mathilde!” he said in surprise, crossing the room in long strides to take her hand.

  This was the other sister? She gaped in surprise. She looked nothing like either Maeve or Ceana. Nor did she have the blue eyes that marked all the rest of them as blood.

  “Where is Hawick? Did he come wi’ ye?” he asked, taking her cloak.

  “No, he doesn’t know I’m here,” she said, eyeing Al curiously. “No one does. I couldn’t say a word when he refuses to accompany me.”

  “Refuse? Why would he nae come tae Rosebraugh? Did ye ride all this way alone?”

  “I had two men-at-arms wi’ me. And only them because Hawick has said he will not help Uncle Camran.”

  Keir stiffened visibly. “Hae ye found him, Mathilde?”

  “Hawick found him,” she said. “He’s being held at the Canongate Tolbooth just as you feared with more than a hundred others. Hawick spotted him there, touring the prison with Cumberland.”

  “And he willnae help us see him released?”

  Mathilde shook her head. “He says the Jacobites need to learn their lesson thoroughly to prevent more incidents like this.”

  * * *

  Dread snaked through Keir. Hawick had been to Rosebraugh dozens of times. They all considered him family. If he refused to come now, there must be more to it than just an unwillingness to help them free his father.

  “What are they planning tae do?”

  “Cumberland means to see that the lairds who had a hand in rousing the rebellion are made an example of. The prisoners are being transferred to Carlisle to stand trial,” she told him. “It’ll be a mockery, of course. They intend to execute them.”

  “Them?”

  “All of them.”

  “That’s a hell of an example,” Al couldn’t help saying aloud. “Surely this guy couldn’t be so evil.”

  “They call him the Butcher, lass,” Keir said. “Nothing is too bad tae be believed of him. He has already proven there is nothing he willnae do.”

  “He’s right,” Mathilde agreed, walking farther into the room with her hand extended. “You must be Miss Maines. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Al’s brows lifted in surprise and tentatively, she shook her hand. Heard about her from who? Ceana? Maeve? Would this Urquhart sister end up being at nuts as the other two? “Nothing good, I suppose.”

  “Some,” she slanted a glance at her cousin, “but no, not all. I want to thank you for being so kind to comfort my cousin during this difficult time. He and Hugh were quite close, admittedly closer than my brother was to any of us. Nevertheless, I loved him dearly. I am incredibly saddened to hear of his passing.”

  Unlike Maeve and Ceana, Mathilde did appear genuinely aggrieved. Al felt a tug of sympathy. “I’m truly sorry for your loss, for your whole family’s loss.”

  Would she again be accused of having a hand in it? Should she be wary? Expect a knife to be thrust her way? No, Mathilde only wiped away a tear and braved a smile.

  She liked her.

  She turned back to Keir. “To answer your question, aye, Keir. They mean to execute all the prisoners at Canongate. Including your father. According to Hawick, the Marquis of Tullibardine is also being held as well as the Earls of Derwentwater, Kilmarnock and Cromarty, and Lord Balmarino.”

  Keir swore under his breath. “Cumberland means to murder them all? How can he justify such a thing?”

  “I told you, he means to set an example so harsh no other will dare take up arms against the king.”

  “As if the murders in the aftermath of the battle were nae enough?” he asked bitterly. “As if hanging women and children who dared speak in opposition to him or hide those who fled him were nae enough? As if grinding our entire culture beneath his boot heel were nae enough?”

  Tears burned in Al’s eyes at his impassioned speech. It was as if the words were being torn from his soul, this man who claimed to have no political ties. Clearly, he cared for his clansmen and his countrymen deeply.

  “They must be stopped,” he said. “The king has got tae ken what is happening.”

  She rushed to his side, slipping her hand into his. He squeezed it hard. “Is there anything that can be done?” she asked Mathilde.

  “I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “But in all honesty, my husband believes no one beyond Cumberland and a few others are aware of the identities of the higher ranking lairds being held. Hawick recognized your father straight away, of course. Uncle Camran told him of the others.”

  “Yet he supports this?” Keir asked. “He willnae raise a hand tae stop it?”

  Mathilde shook her head once more. “No. You know he has always supported the unification of Scotland and England. He might not agree with Cumberland’s methods, but he stands with him in making an example to dissuade others from rising against King George in the future.”

  His sharpened gaze slid to Al. “Is this how it will be then? Do ye lie tae me aboot this as well?”

  As if anything she might have known of the future mattered at all in this reality. For all she knew now, the Highlanders were truly lost for all time. Everything she knew of their evolvement over the past three hundred years might not ever happen. Yet it might. So what purpose would it serve to tell him that now? Any more than admitting to what she’d withheld from the previous night would?

  No, some lies were for his own good. He needed to believe there was a future for him. She couldn’t let him down. But neither could she say anything about it in front of Mathilde who was already eyeing them keenly. So, she shook her head infinitesimally, hoping it would be enough.

  His shoulders sagged slightly. “But there was nothing of this?” he pressed.

  Biting her lip, she shot another glance at Mathilde. “No.”

  “What is this?” his perceptive cousin asked. “Are you a soothsayer, Miss Maines? Do you know the future?”

  Now that would have made an excellent excuse. Hokey, yes. But decent enough. But Keir didn’t give her a chance to jump on it. “’Tis naught, Mathilde, merely a conversation on a different subject. She’s merely a lass wi’oot a home right now.”

  Mathilde shrugged. “Too bad. There’s more than one thing I’d like to know of my future.”

  “I certainly can’t help with that,” Al said honestly. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry yourself, Miss Maines,” the woman said. “What we do need to worry about is seeing dear Uncle Camran set free.”

  “But how?”

  “Nae,” he said. “The greater question is what tae do wi’ him after he’s freed. Will Cumberland admit who he’d taken prisoner and hope for the support of the king in recapturing him? Hound him for the rest of his days? Or will he let it go? I’d wager on the former.”

  “It’ll all be moot if he’s taken to Carlisle, Keir,” Mathilde pointed out. “I came here on my own, opposing my husband so you might have a chance to save your father from sure death. Because that is what awaits him. I overheard Cumberland telling Hawick last night that he will see the prisoners each hanged, disemboweled on the block, and beheaded before their viscera is thrown to the flames.”

  Al grimaced at the bloody image.

  “Is that the fate you want for your father?” Mathilde pressed.

  “Nay,” he said, then stronger. “Nay. I willnae stand for it. Nae just Father but any of them. I’ll bluidy well see them all freed and face the Butcher myself for what he’s done tae my clan. Tae Frang.”

  Fear skittered through Al. His conviction was strong, undeniable. But she couldn’t stand the idea of him getting hurt, possibly killed.

  “I’m glad to hear my efforts in reaching you weren’t in vain,” Mathilde said with a satisfied smile. “The real question will be in how to release them.”

  “Aye, that might be a problem.”

  Silence fell over them. Evidently the problem was obvious to the two of them but she had no idea what might impede them. “Why?”

  “Canongate is the largest tolbooth in Edin
burgh. A prison, lass,” he told her. “The most heavily guarded.”

  Flipping through the atlas still sitting on the table from last night, he opened the book to a map of Edinburgh and showed it to her, pointing to a building right on the Royal Mile near Holyrood. Granted the map didn’t show Edinburgh to be as large as she knew it was in her time, but the thing was smack dab in the middle of it.

  “‘Tis a fortress centuries old. Four stories wi’ a single entry kept locked at all times wi’ even the guards sealed wi’in. Our only saving grace would be that it is nae far from the edge of the city if we approach from the south around the Salisbury Crag’s and Arthur’s Seat.”

  He shot a sharp glance at his cousin. “Do ye ken how heavily it is guarded now?”

  “In addition to the regular city patrol, there is a platoon of Cumberland’s dragoons camped in the square behind the Canongate Kirk.”

  Both winced. Al wondered how big a platoon was.

  “You can gather the men to take the camp,” Mathilde said quietly. “I know you and Hugh had connections everywhere for all you practically lived abroad. You know enough men to do it.”

  “Aye, honest men I can trust.” Keir examined the map, scratching his jaw. “Och, the guards are nae the problem. ‘Tis the bluidy jail itself. The cells wi’in present nae problem. There will be nae more than a dozen guards inside. All will hae keys. Any one will open all the cell doors. Nay, ‘tis the main door. ‘Twill be but one man carrying that key and he’ll be inside.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she said. “One door? One exit? And only one key? That’s an awful safety hazard.”

  Mathilde appeared interested about her phrasing but he wouldn’t allow her a breath to ask. “Tis why it’s so secure a gaol, lass. There’s nae been a breakoot from the Canongate since the 1500s.”

  “Well, I hope they never have a fire in there.”

  “You must know someone who can pick the lock,” Mathilde jumped in. “Someone who could pry it open?”

  He half-nodded without committing. “Mayhap, but ‘tis nae wee thing easily done. “Twould need tae be done quickly ‘ere the alarm is raised and the platoon reinforced by the burgh’s garrison. I dinnae ken how tae assure ‘tis done quickly.”

  “Why don’t you just blow the lock?” Al asked. They both turned to her inquisitively.

  “Blow the lock?” Mathilde repeated. “Whatever do you mean?”

  She shook her head uncertainly and looked at Keir as if he might truly be able to read what was in her mind.

  “Blow it up.” She curled her fists together before spreading them out to simulate the boom with a whooshing noise to accompany it. “Explosives. You do have them, don’t you?”

  “Like black powder?” he asked. “I ken ‘tis been used for mining excavation but mostly just used as a propellant for cannon and musket fire.”

  She pursed her lips, thinking. “Could you get some?”

  He was curious. She could see it in his eyes, that same vivid fire that burned whenever she talked about something new. “How much? We’ve muskets in the armory.”

  Her mind was working furiously, trying to mentally construct some mode of delivering an explosion of only gunpowder on a focused area. They needed to take out the lock and the jamb area next to it. Everything she knew about blowing things up with just gunpowder involved a coyote and barrels and barrels of powder marked Acme.

  Too small, it wouldn’t work at all. Too big, they blew through the prison wall and took down the innocent people inside he meant to free. Working their way through the rubble would take time.

  It had to be just the door.

  Then even if they managed the right amount, the ignition would be the problem. A cartoonish trail of gunpowder that might fizzle out before it could get there wasn’t going to work. It would hardly be reliable in the best of circumstances. And if this pouring rain continued…

  “Do you have safety fuses?”

  He shook his head. He didn’t understand what she meant. But she could see by the expectation on Keir’s face, he was counting on her to come up with something.

  “There’s no dynamite…” Al left off the ‘yet.’ He shook his head. “No nitroglycerine?”

  Her eye roll was all for herself. She knew full well from her chemical engineering classes it hadn’t come around until Nobel’s time after the Civil War and hadn’t been employed for demolition purposes until later in the 19th century. This was only the 18th.

  But there must be something here they could use. Something small but that packed a big, focused punch. Enough of a blast to take out a lock.

  Tapping her lip, she paced the room searching for inspiration.

  “What is she doing?”

  “Thinking,” Keir answered his cousin softly.

  “Is there anything that can be done about it?” was Mathilde’s droll reply.

  “Nay, she’s a brilliant lass, my Big Al. Ye just wait, she’ll come up wi’ a solution for us.”

  Warmth spread from her heart at his proudly spoken words. Bursting like the bomb she was determined now to produce for him.

  No one had ever had such faith in her before.

  She wouldn’t let him down.

  Chapter 30

  Al paced the perimeter of the room, running options through her head. Best case was to make a plastic explosive for size and ease of use. Unlike nitro, it was far more stable and without the unfortunate side effect of randomly exploding if dropped. She could mold it right into the lock.

  She’d even made it before in a weapons engineering class she’d taken for fun and to meet guys before she’d given up on ever finding one. Surprisingly, it wasn’t hard. If she could get the ingredients.

  “Do you have bleach?”

  “What is she talking about, Keir?”

  “Perhaps, I can have Hastings show ye tae a room, Mathilde, where ye might rest,” he suggested. “Ye’ve had a long journey. Ye maun be neigh exhausted.”

  “I am to the bone but I cannot imagine leaving just now. This is fascinating. Tell me, Miss Maines, what is bleach?”

  Al wandered closer to Keir and spoke softly. “It’s a cleaning liquid. I’d need potassium chloride, too…”

  “Nay, lass, whatever it is, we dinnae hae it.”

  “Any chemicals? Anything?”

  He shook his head. Biting her lip, she resumed her pacing. Not that it really mattered, she realized. She would’ve needed petroleum jelly for the plastic explosive as well. Something the source of wouldn’t even be discovered until the next century.

  She was pretty sure they couldn’t wait so long.

  “How long do we have?”

  “Not long, I’m afraid,” Mathilde answered. “The transfer of prisoners is to begin next Thursday.”

  “That’s six days,” Al said. “That should be no problem.”

  “Edinburgh is nearly three days of hard riding,” Keir told her.

  She cringed. So assuming they wanted to do this under cover of night, they had only two to three days to get this done. It wasn’t long enough to get creative.

  No chemicals meant no plastic explosives, so there was really nothing she could make herself. So what else was there? Back home she could have just Googled how to make any number of different bombs on her phone. Barring a handy stick of dynamite to throw at the door, a pipe bomb might do the trick. There were thousands of sites on the internet just waiting to show aspiring terrorists how to do it in a thousand different ways.

  Just type, type, click and she could have the answer in the palm of her hand and ultimately use her phone for something more productive than watching cat videos on YouTube.

  Not that it mattered, even if the battery in her phone weren’t dead, there was no wi-fi or cell coverage here in the…

  Her steps slowed along with her thought process. She scratched at her earlobe as an idea began to take form.

  Maybe.

  Possibly.

  She looked up and found Keir staring at her. His eyes alight wi
th something she couldn’t identify but thrilled her just the same.

  “Ye thought of something?”

  She grinned. “I thought of something.”

  Chapter 31

  “I cannot begin to understand what you’re about.”

  “Go tae yer room, Mathilde.”

  “I will not,” she said firmly. “There is something intriguing going on here. I don’t plan to miss a minute of it.”

  “Then just shut it.”

  Silence fell as they hurried through the halls of Rosebraugh to the bedchamber Al had been given for her use. She hadn’t spent much time there, as he’d kept her pleasantly occupied the last few days. But her clothes were kept there and among them, the scant personal items she’d carried with her from the future.

  The knowledge of which was going to save more than one life. Soon.

  His cousin retained her silence for all of five seconds.

  “Ceana told me there was something different about you, Miss Maines,” she went on. “I can see now she wasn’t wrong.”

  Al, smart lass, ignored his cousin and dug through the small trunk Peigi had brought from Dingwall. Inside was a bundle of the green silk she’d been wearing when he first found her at Culloden.

  “I told Peigi when she first asked about it that it was very important to me but not to touch it. Ever. I’m glad she remembered half of that at least and thought to bring it along.”

  She untied what turned out to be sleeves of the bodice she’d worn that day. Inside it were the miniscule excuse for a skirt, the flat, rectangular badge that had adorned her white jacket—which was not among the items—and a shiny black item, nearly flat and also rectangular but with no markings upon it at all.

  That was what she pulled out, setting the rest aside.

  “What is it?”

  Al glanced at his cousin uncertainly.

  “Have no fear, Miss Maines. My lips are forever sealed, but I beg you, don’t deny me the first bit of intrigue I’ve had in an age.”