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

by Angeline Fortin

  Rising slowly, he held up his hands. “Just oot for a walk. My wife fell. Can ye help?”

  The moment the soldier’s gaze moved to Al, he acted. With both hands, he grabbed for the musket and tried to wrench it from the redcoat’s grip. He began to holler an alarm, so Keir jerked the musket down, dragging the soldier down as well. Releasing it, he thrust a hard right punch up, catching the soldier in the jaw and snapping him backward. Laying him onto his back in the street, groaning but conscious.

  Putting a boot down in the center of the man’s chest, he loomed over him and used all his body weight to hit him once more. With a grunt, the soldier’s head lolled to the side.

  He was out. The sounds of a scuffle had heads popping from the shadows up and down the street. His men. With a wave of his arm, the shadows began to move down the street toward them.

  “I hae tae get ye oot of here,” he said to her, dragging the soldier deeper into the archway and out of sight.

  “I’m fine. Check the door.”

  He pushed on the door but it didn’t give. If they couldn’t get the door open, this was all for naught.

  “Try again,” she urged, getting to her feet. “Harder. It might have only torqued the bolt.”

  Rattling it a second time, he felt enough movement to give him encouragement needed to put his shoulder to it. With a steely whine, it swung inward.

  “Go!”

  She was once again trying to spur him into action but he knew before anything else, he needed to be assured of her safety.

  His men were nearing. Waving them to gather in, he gazed around the eager group. “Quiet now, lads. Seems the company yonder disnae yet ken we’re here. Let’s keep it that way and get everyone oot quickly. Aye?”

  But then, from within the prison, a voice rang out. “What’s going on? Who’s out there?”

  Bugger it, he’d forgotten the guards inside. “Nay time tae waste, lads. Get tae it!”

  They didn’t mind the brusque order. They’d come expecting a fight. Some of them were probably looking forward to it. Enthusiastically, they stormed through the door and almost immediately, muffled shouts of alarm and a scuffle sounded within. The clang of swords.

  He scooped Al into his arms, and carried her quickly across the street. Saying, before she could bother, “Ye can do it yerself, I ken. But I’m taking ye back tae the inn.”

  “No, you need to make sure your father is safe. I’m waiting here for Mathilde,” she hissed at him. “For God’s sake, go!”

  Bloody hell, the sounds of battle coming from within the gaol were getting louder. Shouts of alarm. The clang of swords. Fortunately, there was no musket fire yet, but the alarm was sure to be sounded soon.

  Kissing her hard, he did as she asked. As his loyalty to his clan and country demanded.

  * * *

  Her heart was pounding in her chest as Keir ran from her and into the jailhouse. She’d never known such a flash of utter panic in her life. Not when her father had left her and her mom, not when her stepfather would get drunk and rage at them. Not when her grandmother had died. She wanted to run after him and throw herself into his safe, secure embrace and beg him to come away with her.

  But Keir MacCoinnach wasn’t that kind of man. One who could deny his obligation to his men. It was what had drawn him to the field at Culloden that day they’d met.

  Besides, Al was fast discovering she wasn’t that kind of woman either. She could be strong, confident. For him. Because of him.

  “We need to hurry,” Mathilde called, running up the alleyway behind her. “The guards are returning. They’ll be sure to sound an alarm.”

  It was sure to be sounded anyway. Men were pouring out of the narrow prison door like a river delta. Fanning out across and down the street. Some limping, wounded. Some carried.

  Some scattered, making the most of their escape. Others stayed, ready to help. A few minutes later, Keir emerged supporting an older man who was limping along beside him.

  “That’s Uncle Camran,” Mathilde said and ran out into the street to help.

  “He’s injured. I need ye tae get him back tae the inn.”

  Mathilde nodded and looped her uncle’s arm over her shoulder but Al shook her head.

  “Mathilde can do it, I’m staying here with you.”

  “Go. I’ll be along shortly. As soon as I ken every man has been freed.”

  “I’ll wait for you.”

  Down the street, shouts rang. Then from the Highlanders, shouts of alarm. Catching Keir’s attention, they pointed down the street. Al, Keir, and Mathilde all stepped out to look to the east.

  Damn, their luck had run out.

  The redcoats were coming.

  She could see now the reason for the notorious words of warning. They were an impressive sight in the those red uniforms, black belts crossing their chests, high black hats, white pants, and muskets held at the ready.

  There were only about three rows of ten or so men. Only, she qualified in the way that a tsunami was only a wave. Real fear sank into her chest, setting her heart aquiver.

  “Go!” Keir’s command brooked no argument but Al couldn’t help it.

  “Come with us.”

  “Nay, lass. I will nae leave these men and I cannae be worrying o’er ye. For my sake, go now.” He strode out into the street, pulling a pair of pistols from his belt. He stood there, brass and balls in front of an armed foe, and waved his men to assemble. “A MacCoinnach! Wi’ me, lads!”

  “A MacCoinnach!” they rallied, joining him in the street.

  It was a magnificent sight but one that froze her in terror.

  “Al!” Mathilde tugged at her arm, rousing her forgotten pain. With a wince, she turned. “We’ve got to go. Now!”

  For Keir’s sake, not her own, she did.

  Musket fire thundered from behind them, reverberating down the alley, and Al’s heart stopped. Turning to look back, she tripped and fell. There were screams from the street behind them, cries of pain.

  Boom.

  Another volley.

  “Keir!” she cried in alarm, picking herself up and scrambling toward the fighting. She shouldn’t have left him there.

  “No!” Mathilde caught her arm and dragged her back.

  Al fought her, trying to free herself. Every fiber of her being urged her to return to Keir. “I have to help him!”

  “Don’t be a fool! You go back there, you’d only get in the way and maybe get him killed in the process.” Al continued to struggle but unfortunately, Mathilde was bigger and stronger than her. She held her tight and hauled her along, even while helping her uncle.

  Behind them, the sounds of war escalated. The cries of the wounded multiplied. Terror shook Al’s body until she was quivering from head to toe.

  “Oh, God.”

  Mathilde’s lips thinned grimly. “Aye. There’s nothing you can do for him now but pray.”

  Chapter 38

  Funny how religion could suddenly come to someone, because she began praying on their way back to the inn and hadn’t stopped since. The sounds of the struggle had faded with each step. The anxiety gripping her had not.

  “Och, lassie, can ye nae be more gentle?”

  Al bit her lip and refrained from berating Keir’s father. He’d complained the whole journey to the inn about his wounded leg, which had turned out to be nothing worse than a long scrape down the side of his ankle and perhaps a slight sprain. Yet he carried on and on about it as if he were bleeding in the streets while the men they’d left behind might have been.

  Perhaps she was being uncharitable, but for all his complaining about his own discomfort, he hadn’t yet given even the slightest mention about his son who might, at this very moment, be wounded or worse.

  She couldn’t take it. Any compassion she might have been able to dredge up had slipped away with the hours that passed without a word from Keir. She had no idea where he was. How he was.

  The uncertainty was pure torment.

  She would
’ve gone back already if Artair and Mathilde weren’t actively barring her from leaving the inn. She couldn’t overpower them based on size alone. But when they wanted to start out for Rosebraugh as well and leave Keir to find them there, she’d become a lioness. She didn’t care if they wanted to get out of Edinburgh before troops began searching for the escaped prisoners. She wasn’t leaving unless they bodily forced her. Thank God they didn’t try.

  Artair had negotiated a bargain where he would go out to find Keir as long as she stayed at the inn.

  She agreed but that left her with nothing to do but wait and listen to Cairn complain while Mathilde nursed his minor wounds. She paced the room and stared repeatedly out the window for sight of the men. Fear was plaguing at her and yet Cairn seemed unconcerned. He did nothing but bitch and moan about the pain and Mathilde’s technique the entire time.

  “Nae so tight, Mathilde!”

  “Sorry, Uncle.”

  When did Mathilde become so meek? If she were wrapping that bandage she’d be telling him what he could do with his complaints. For a grown man, he was the biggest baby she’d ever known. She didn’t care if he was the Earl of Cairn, after all, and Keir’s father.

  “Oh, my God!” she burst out. “It’s not that bad!”

  “Listen here, lassie—”

  “Please,” Mathilde interrupted as if she hadn’t heard the miraculously renewed strength in his voice. “My uncle is a man of sixty years. He is too old to suffer such an injury.”

  Al shook her head. She might not be able to say a lot of complimentary things about her stepfather, but at sixty-six, he’d knock anyone on his backside who said he was too old for anything. But then again, sixty might be considered old since the life expectancy was probably shorter. It was a different time. She’d only assumed from the example Keir had set that it was a tougher one.

  “No, he’s too old to act like a child,” she argued, then glowered at the man upon the bed. “Haven’t you even thought to ask about your sons?”

  “Impertinent, lass! Who are ye tae question me?”

  “I’m someone who actually cares about what’s going on out there,” she told him. “You should be grateful for what Keir’s done for you. If you can’t manage that, you should at least be concerned. Worried that he hasn’t returned.”

  Cairn harrumphed but didn’t say anything else. But this time when Mathilde tightened the knot, he only hissed and shot Al a venomous glare. “He would nae be in this mess a’tall if I’d stayed where I was.”

  “In prison?” If he wanted to go back, he could be her guest.

  “Nay, I’ve nae e’en been here a full sennight. I was safe and comfortable in the home of my,” he shot a glance at Mathilde, “er, a certain lady friend. She convinced me I should return tae Dingwall. That is when I was captured. Shouldn’t hae happened a’tall.”

  Al and Mathilde both gaped at him.

  “Uncle, you’d been free all the days following the battle and didn’t think to let Keir or anyone know you were well?”

  “I dinnae dare send a message. It was in my best interests—”

  “Your best interests?” Al questioned in amazement. Fear for Keir and anger over his unbelievable apathy bubbled up inside “Yours? Your family has been worried sick about you.” Perhaps an overstatement but at least now she was getting a clearer picture of why none of the MacCoinnach men seemed to be genuinely worried about their father. He wasn’t only selfish, he was uncaring of their feelings, too. “Do you even know Frang was killed in the battle?” she asked. “Do you even care?”

  Cairn only blinked. Surprise, but no remorse. “Aye, well, ‘twas the lad’s duty tae serve his clan.”

  “Oh my God. You don’t care at all, do you?” She looked up at Mathilde who seemed equally taken aback by her uncle’s indifference. “One son dies because you command him to fight, your nephew is lost as well. Keir is out there fighting right now because he was determined to save your life.”

  “I dinnae expect it, but ‘tis good to know I raised sons who know their duty.”

  Yes, Keir did know his duty. Somehow this man had managed to instill that in him.

  “You don’t deserve a son like him. He’s the finest man I’ve ever known, even dreamed might exist. He’s smart, brave, and loyal even when his loyalty isn’t deserved, I can see,” she choked the words out from the tears clogging her throat. “You, sir, are a horrible person.”

  Cairn lurched up in the bed. “Just who do ye think ye are, lass, tae talk tae me like that? I am the Earl of Cairn.”

  “I don’t care if you’re the king of the world!”

  Hot tears fell then, splashing on her cheeks. It was as if letting them fall unleashed a torrent of emotion as well. Her body stiff, hands fisted at her sides, she screamed at him. The words were ripped out of her, from her very heart.

  “I love him. Even if you don’t care, I do. I love him! God, I love him more than anything. More than I ever imagined. And you just lay there not giving a damn. You bastard, don’t you realize he might have given his life to save yours?”

  “I dinnae.”

  Whirling around at the rumbling burr, she saw Keir in the doorway being supported by Artair. There was a small trickle of blood running down his temple, another spot on his shoulder, but overall he looked sound and wonderfully alive.

  With a sob, she ran to him, falling into his arms as he lifted her against him. Her feet dangling inches above the floor as he hugged her tight. His warm lips brushed her brow, her temple, then her cheeks. Kissing away her tears.

  “‘Though she be but little, she is fierce.’”

  A watery laugh escaped her and she buried her face in his neck. “How long have ye been listening?”

  “Long enough.” He chuckled near her ear. “I seem to learn a lot lingering in doorways.”

  He leaned back and kissed her so tenderly her heart ached even more.

  “I’ve learned much about Father as well.”

  “Are you sorry you saved him?”

  He shook his head, glancing over her shoulder. “Nay, but I’m glad I dinnae have to live with him. I’m the Duke of Ross now, ye ken?”

  Her lips quirked. Releasing her, he turned to Cairn who was pushing himself out of bed.

  “Father, ye should know I’m getting married.”

  He started to protest but Keir went on.

  “Whether ye like it or nae.” Glancing over his shoulder at her, his lips kicked up in the corner. “Whether she likes it or nae.”

  He strode to Al and took her in his arms once more. “Tell me ye’ll marry me.”

  Tears burned in her eyes. “I will.”

  “And say again how ye love me.”

  “With all my heart.”

  With a grin, he bent his head and kissed her.

  “We’re not going to go through this again, are we?” Mathilde asked dryly.

  “It’s been some time since I’ve done a wedding,” Artair spoke up. “I shall hae tae prepare a sermon.”

  Groaning under her breath, Al kissed the man of her dreams and thanked God for accidents.

  Epilogue

  The redcoats hadn’t offered much of a fight, Keir told her later. The Highlanders didn’t fight like the Sassenach who lined up just so before taking a shot. They had attacked en masse and broken through the enemy formation by the time the second line had taken their shot.

  It was only a stray bullet grazing his temple that had delayed his return. The way it sounded, adrenaline had energized him through the fighting. He hadn’t even been aware of the injury until he’d been on his way to the inn and briefly fallen unconscious in an alley where Artair found him.

  She’d wanted to stay at the inn and nurse him, but he’d insisted they start straightaway back to Rosebraugh to avoid any other encounters with the soldiers.

  But the redcoats hadn’t come after them. Nor did they in the days following. Cumberland had recaptured a few of the men and had his trial in Carlisle. Following Keir’s example, a mob
of angry Scots had stormed the building and freed them. Holding Cumberland and his senior officers as leverage, they were petitioning King George, who was also Cumberland’s first cousin, for peace.

  When he hadn’t responded straight away, others had taken up the standard and attacked the prisons in Inverness and Carlisle and farther south in York and Kennington Common. Even the prison hulk on the Thames had been struck. An accord between England and Scotland was being negotiated.

  Part of the terms laid out by Scotland was for Cumberland to face punishment for his ‘crimes against humanity,’ a term newly coined for the time in a long letter by the Duke of Ross to King George detailing the atrocities Cumberland had heaped upon the Highlanders after the battle at Culloden.

  History had a way of changing.

  So did families.

  Oran returned from the Orkney Islands with news that Maeve’s husband, Robert MacLeod, had died from an infection from a minor wound he received in the battle. In her grief, Maeve had thrown herself from the cliffs on the southern coast of the island of Hoy.

  Mathilde and Ceana were grief-stricken. Al, too, felt a true sorrow for how unkindly life had treated Maeve.

  Mathilde was fast becoming her dearest friend besides Keir. Though she was to return to the Lowlands and her husband soon, she promised to bring her daughters to Rosebraugh soon to visit and be tutored.

  Having bet on the wrong side, Cairn’s perfect image with the English monarch was soiled. His place in court lost, he left Scotland for Paris.

  Without a word to anyone.

  But he did send a note days later.

  Ceana and her Earl of Braemore had gone as well to wait out the reprisal of the English king on those who had stood in opposition to him. She would return someday soon, Ceana promised and Al would welcome her back. At least life would never be boring with her around.

  Nor would it be in general. Keir had plans for them, both romantically and academically. Having received word that his discovery of two new planets and their moons was being duly noted, he was determined to see what else he could find. No cheating, though, she was only there for confirmation after the fact.