The Renegade (The Renegade, Rebel and Rogue)

by Christine Dorsey

  “Well I brought him to Scotland on my sloop, the Sea Maiden.”

  The man’s blunt admission focused Fox’s attention on him.

  “When did you do this?”

  “A fortnight ago, maybe less. I wasn’t well for a while. Time has a way of slipping by when you’re gripped by fever.”

  “Can you tell me why you decided to transport a renegade, someone who’d been sentenced to hang? Or is your story that you didn’t know?” Fox lost what little interest he had in interrogating the man and resumed his perusal of the map. How many had come to him since he’d made MacDonald House in Moirer his headquarters, with wild tales of smuggling the MacLeod into Scotland?”

  “Oh I knew who he was. She told me.”

  “Who?”

  “Your sister.”

  “My sister?” Despite himself Fox glanced up.

  “That’s who she said she was. Lady Zoe something or another. I didn’t believe her at first. She didn’t look much like a lady.”

  “And she simply came up to you and told you who this man was and asked you to take him to Scotland.” Both dark brows lifted in disbelief.

  “She wanted to get away from him. Said for me to take her to you in Scotland. That MacLeod fellow followed her aboard, my men found him and put him in the hold.”

  Elbows on the desktop, Fox steepled his fingers. “Describe Lady Zoe to me.”

  The sailor shrugged. “A looker if you’ll excuse me saying so. Short.” He leveled his remaining hand near his ear to show Zoe’s height. “A bit on the thin side, but enough there for a man to warm up to at night, if you get my meaning.”

  “I do indeed.” Fox flattened his hands on the smooth mahogany and stood. “I would be across this desk to flatten your nose for using such words to describe my sister... If in fact you were describing her. However you are not.” Poor frail Zoe had a certain beauty to be sure. But Fox was sure he was the only one to see it, so deeply was it hidden beneath the pale skin and sickly body.

  “She called herself your sister.” Holt took several steps back despite his attempt to sound persuasive.

  “I’m sure she did. Now if you will kindly leave—”

  “But I thought you wanted information about Keegan MacLeod. I heard you’d pay good money for it.”

  “That’s true but frankly, I don’t see you providing me with that information.

  “But I brung ’em to Scotland I tell you.”

  “Guard.” Fox called out for the soldier stationed outside. Abruptly the door opened and a burly soldier entered.

  “You’re making a big mistake here,” Holt squealed as the soldier grabbed his good arm. “I seen who took them in after the shipwreck I tell you. I could take you there.”

  With a wave of his hand Fox motioned for the guard to remove the sailor.

  “I waited in a copse of trees even though my arm was bleeding, and I seen them leave.” Frustration over all he’d been through, over losing not only the ransom money and reward for turning both of them over to this haughty bastard, but now not even being believed. Being jerked around and manhandled. Holt’s struggles only made the soldier’s grip tighter.

  “Fine with me, if you don’t catch the bastard,” he spat out. “And as for that bitch with her weak digestion, too good to eat—”

  “What did you say?” Fox was around the desk now, his hands replacing those of the guard. “You heard me. Repeat what you just said.”

  “I don’t care if you don’t catch—”

  “Not that.” Fox’s fingers tightened in the man’s shirt. “What you said about my... about the woman.”

  “She was always complaining,” Holt began. “The food... I don’t know. Her weak heart...” Holt tried to pull away, but the major’s hold wouldn’t budge. “I don’t remember.”

  “Well you better remember.” With a shove, Fox sent the man into a chair. “You better remember all of it.”

  Fifteen

  The low haunting tone of the sheep horn pierced the afternoon calm. Zoe stilled, as did the other women with her, their hands dropping to their sides, their faces lifted toward the narrow cleft in the hills leading into the glen.

  “That’s the signal,” Mary whispered. Her fingers covered the mouth of the babe riding on her hip when he began to fuss.

  “I know.” Zoe shaded her eyes and watched, waiting to see something.

  “Should we be gettin’ t’ the hills?” Anne’s face was anxious.

  “Keegan said we flee only after the second signal.” Zoe left the semicircle of women who until moments ago were busy complaining about the mundane chore of washing linens. She strained to see... to hear.

  “Well where is he? Maybe he’s dead. Maybe the soldiers killed him and now they’re coming here to kill us. But first they’ll rape—”

  “Hush.” Zoe turned on Catriona. She was young and had experienced too much at the hands of the soldiers for Zoe to fault her hysteria. But panic was the last thing they needed. “Keegan is with the men, hunting. They’re not dead.” Zoe swallowed, hoping she was telling the truth. “And they wouldn’t leave us vulnerable like this.”

  “Well now some of us aren’t all that worried, are we?” This comment came from Seonaid, a tall buxom girl with eyes as green as Keegan’s and a mouth that hadn’t stopped making snide innuendos about Zoe since she first came down from the hills.

  Zoe tried to ignore this remark as she had the others. No amount of explaining on Zoe’s part appeared to quell the woman’s tongue. Besides, what she said had an element of truth to it. Keegan hadn’t told anyone who her brother was, and had warned her to keep it quiet. Still, Zoe wasn’t one of them. And though there were times when she forgot to think about escape, she was a prisoner—even if no ropes bound her or bars locked her in.

  What would happen to her if the signal had meant British soldiers were coming along the path? Would they fire into the glen killing everyone in their sight? Or would she be captured, be able to tell them who she was?

  With that last thought came a twinge of hope, but it was quickly dashed by another notion, one that made her body tremble. If it was indeed British soldiers that caused the alarm to sound where was Keegan?

  Zoe began walking before she realized what she was about. It was Seonaid’s voice that made her pause, but only for a moment.

  “Where are ye off to? The plan is to hide in the hills.” Seonaid jerked her thumb toward the coppice of trees and the sheltering rocks beyond.

  “I’m going to see what happened.”

  “To warn the British is what ye mean.” The Scotswoman yanked her arm. “I’ve no understandin’ of what Keegan sees in ye, but I know he don’t want ye runnin’ off.”

  “Let go of me.” Zoe whirled on her accuser.

  “Now ladies, this be no time for squabblin’ betwixt ye.” Mary tried to step between Zoe and the buxom girl.

  “She’s a spy. Probably got word t’ the soldiers somehow, and planned t’ have all of us killed.”

  “That’s not true.” Zoe’s eyes narrowed and her gaze never left Seonaid’s.

  “Hmmph. Ye may have Keegan fooled with yer innocent ways, and smilin’ lips, but I see right through ye I do. Yer a lowdown snake, a lying Sassenach, a—”

  “That’s enough Seonaid.” Mary’s voice had the ring of authority. “ ’Tis no secret how ye feel about Keegan, so we’ll all take that as yer excuse for being so rude. Zoe may not be one of us but—”

  “Thank you but I can speak for myself, Mary.” Zoe jerked her arm free of Seonaid’s grip. “ ’Tis true I’m not here by choice, but I’d never do anything to hurt any of you... including Keegan. Now I’m going up to the ridge to see what’s happening. If I wave my arms, hide in the hills.”

  “So ye can lead them t’ us?”

  “Think what you will, Seonaid MacLeod. Do what you will.” With that Zoe hurried off.

  By the time she reached the path that twisted and turned its way skyward, Zoe was winded. Her heart pounded and she sucked in a
ir through her mouth. If worry hadn’t driven her, Zoe was certain she would turn back, or at least find a rock upon which to sit and rest awhile. As it was she couldn’t be certain she’d make the climb. What if her heart gave out? It was weak.

  At least she’d always thought it was. But as she quickened her steps, Zoe realized her heart kept pace. And as gradually her mind became consumed with concern for Keegan, she forgot to even question whether her health was up to the rigors of the climb. She reached the summit, out of breath, but not hesitating to climb over the rocks toward the small group of men clustered there.

  There was Donuld and his grandson, one too old, the other too young to be much help hunting and two others who apparently heard the horn and came back. They were huddled around someone or something, that Zoe couldn’t see. No sign of Keegan. No English soldiers.

  Lifting her skirts, Zoe marched forward. “What is it? Why did you sound the alarm?”

  Donuld shifted and she noticed he held his dirk at the ready. She also got a look at a person crouched on the ground, his arms wrapped about two spindly legs.

  “François?” Zoe nudged the old Scotsman aside just as Keegan’s valet lifted his head. He stared at her, his eyes large. Zoe saw the moment recognition hit.

  “Mademoiselle Zoe?” He started to rise, only to be pushed down by a firm hand on his shoulder. “Mademoiselle Zoe,” he repeated. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  “Ye know this Frenchie?”

  “Of course she does. Tell this barbarian who I am.”

  Zoe cringed. Though she’d used the description herself several times when referring to Keegan, she could tell the four men surrounding François didn’t take kindly to it. And she could hardly blame them. Yet it seemed the sooner she defused the situation, the better.

  “Gentlemen, allow me to introduce Monsieur François DeBerry, Keegan’s valet.”

  “Ye’re saying this little saplin’ of a fellow is Keegan’s man?”

  “He is. Not only that. François is the one who arranged for Keegan to escape the noose.” Zoe reached down, offering the Frenchman her hand. He rose with exaggerated dignity, brushing at his silk breeches and straightening a velvet coat that had seen better days. Then with a sigh he bent forward, grasping Zoe’s hand and kissed it.

  “What a pleasure to see you again Mademoiselle Zoe, and in such excellent health. This Scottish air, thin as it is, seems to agree with you.”

  “I suppose it must.” Zoe gave his arm a pat. “For I’ve never felt better,” Zoe said, realizing it was true.

  She was living most of her hours out of doors, eating whatever the men could catch and the women could scrounge from the garden and fields, and sleeping on a mattress in a large drafty room. She hadn’t been bled in well over a fortnight, rested only at night, yet here she was smiling and laughing at François, feeling as if she could hike to the summit of the next mountain if need be.

  It was a wonder.

  “... Monseigneur Keegan?”

  Zoe forced her thoughts back to the present, realizing François had asked her about the Scot. “He’s well, hunting with some of the other men, I believe.” Zoe took his arm and started down the path. “I warrant he’ll be surprised to see you.”

  After one last arrogant look at the men who’d captured and ridiculed him, François concentrated on his footing. His leather pumps were in sad repair to be sure. “Well, it’s a miracle that I found this place. Have you any idea how out of the way it is?”

  Zoe laughed. “Frankly yes. But wait a minute.” She stopped, grabbing his padded shoulders and turning the little Frenchman to face her. “You didn’t tell the English soldiers you were coming here, did you?”

  “Please, give me credit for some intelligence.” He brushed lint from his sleeve. “I keep my distance from English dragoons whenever possible.”

  “Good.” Zoe let out her breath.

  “Though I’m surprised by your question. I would have thought you’d be pleased by the prospect of a brigade or two swooping into this valley.”

  “Glen.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Glen, it’s called a glen, not a valley, and I’m not sure what I want.” Zoe’s smile was self-conscious. She shrugged her shoulders and walked on.

  “It really is amazing,” he said after a moment.

  “What?”

  “The change in you. Do you still have problems with your stomach, ma chérie?”

  “No.” Zoe shook her head. “I’m much better now. But tell me of you. How did you know to come here?”

  “Monsieur Keegan would hear of nothing else but coming here when he escaped, so despite his little setback...”

  “You mean at the inn?”

  “Oui. That was a close one for the two of you.”

  “It was my fault.”

  Zoe’s admission earned her a shrug from François.

  “Anyway, the inn’s patrons were so busy planning what they should do... not doing it mind you... that I simply hitched the horses to the coach and followed you south. Unfortunately I reached Harmouth after the two of you had sailed.”

  Zoe bit her bottom lip. “That was my fault as well.”

  “Ah.” He lifted his hands. “That does not matter now. I was surprised though to find Monsieur Padraic Rafferty still in the town.”

  “You saw Captain Rafferty?”

  “Oui.”

  “But we heard he was dead.”

  “Non, he was very much alive, though I do believe he mentioned being late coming into the harbor. He arrived the day I entered Harmouth. But anyway when I explained my situation... and mentioned Mademoiselle Kate’s name he brought me to Scotland.”

  “Goodness.”

  “Oui. We docked in a small cove near Fort William. And I came here.”

  Of course it was not nearly as simple as that. François’s ordeal had been almost as grueling as Zoe’s and Keegan’s. He’d been forced to ford raging rivers and had climbed mountains that touched the sky, and eaten the most abominable food... François’s words.

  But he was delighted to be reunited with Keegan, and seemed equally pleased to see Zoe.

  That evening, he delighted the Scots by taking the salmon they’d fished from the waters and poaching them with a divine cream sauce. One taste and most misgivings concerning the little Frenchman were forgotten.

  But it was later, with just Keegan and Zoe present that François announced what would make him completely accepted by the Scots.

  “I’ve had to spend some of it I’m sorry to say,” he explained, after entering the room where Keegan and Zoe slept. With an apology for having it hidden in so many pockets and seams in his clothing, François produced gold coins. “It’s the money Mademoiselle Kate lent you in London. I found it in the room you let in Harmouth. The proprietor of the inn hadn’t even cleaned the room before I got there,” he said with a snort of disdain. “Monsieur Rafferty kindly refused to take it for my voyage, suggesting instead it would be better used by you.”

  Keegan watched the pile grow. True, a year ago he’d have thought it a modest sum. But now it was a fortune. With an outburst of emotion, Keegan wrapped his arms around François, lifting him off the floor in a giant bear hug, that had the little man red with embarrassment.

  “It is the least I can do for you Monsieur Keegan,” he said, when Keegan thanked him for the second time. “After you saved me from those men and took me in.”

  “What did he mean by that?” Zoe asked after François left to spread a pallet in the main hall.

  Keegan shrugged, “When I first went t’ London I was by the docks and saw some bullies beatin’ up on the little guy.”

  “So you jumped in and saved him?”

  “I’ve always been too fond of a good fight for my own good,” was all Keegan would add. He was more interested in the money François brought. “This means we can buy cattle. Start the herds up again. Perhaps—”

  “The lookouts sounded the alarm today when François came into v
iew,” Zoe interrupted.

  Keegan laughed. “ ’Tis hard t’ imagine him being much of a threat.”

  “I was with the women. We didn’t know it was François. We thought it was English soldiers.”

  Keegan’s expression sobered. “And are ye tellin’ me this tale for any particular reason.”

  “They are bound to come.” Zoe found herself hating that she was piercing his elation with a jab of reality. “If not today, then another day. You cannot hold them off with the men you have here.”

  “Perhaps other clans will join us. No one really wants the English here.” His eyes, fiercely passionate one moment, disappeared behind a curtain of thick lashes. “I didn’t mean to be insulting ye.”

  His apology warmed her heart, made what else she had to say doubly difficult. “You know in your heart that I’m right.”

  Keegan strode to the window. The moon hung full and bright, shimmering fractured light over the black luster of the sea, limning the strong lines of his face in silver. “What would ye have me do, Zoe?” he finally asked.

  The question was so poignant Zoe could do nothing for a moment but close her eyes. Then slowly, purposefully she joined him, wrapping her arms about his waist, leaning her cheek against his muscled back. She loved the smell of him, the feel. “What of the New World? I’ve read about places. The Carolinas. It would be a new start.”

  “I told ye, I don’t want t’ leave Scotland.”

  “I see.” Zoe took a deep breath. She hated the response she had to give to that. “Then I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know what either of us can do.”

  He’d expected no other reply. Hell, there was no other reply. But hearing it, hearing the catch in her voice, brought reality crashing down on his shoulders. What was he to do? There was no answer. Keegan took a deep breath wondering if his father would know, wondering too if he’d stayed in Scotland, listened to his father, taken an interest in the clan’s undertakings, would he be better able to lead. But he’d paid no heed to anything, anyone but himself.