The Renegade (The Renegade, Rebel and Rogue)

by Christine Dorsey

“ ’Tis fine I am. No more than a scratch,” Keegan insisted. But he didn’t object to a shoulder to lean on as he climbed over the rocks.

  Zoe scurried ahead, rushing into the cave and spreading a plaid for him to lie on. She lit several fir branches to give her light, then filled a basin with water.

  “This way,” she urged as Keegan and Cawley came into the clearing, but Keegan shook his head.

  “I’ve gotta be speakin’ with Mary MacLeod first.” Keegan straightened himself.

  “Can’t it wait?” Zoe saw the lines of pain deepen as he put forth the effort to stand on his own. “You need to rest.”

  “I need t’ be seeing Mary,” he repeated, his jaw tight. “ ’Tis my duty.” His voice softened. “But perhaps ye could come with me.” He reached for Zoe’s hand. “I fear’ tis a woman’s touch she’ll be needin’.”

  “Adair?” Zoe swallowed past the lump in her throat.

  “Aye. He was bad off. Shot. I went back for him and dragged him along. But he could hardly walk.” Keegan wiped the back of his hand across his grimy forehead. “But we managed t’ move along till last night. We stopped t’ rest.” Keegan shook his head. “And there he died.”

  “You did what you could.” Zoe stepped closer.

  “Aye.” Keegan nodded slowly. ‘ ’Tis just that it never seems t’ be enough.”

  ~ ~ ~

  He told Mary the terrible news she’d already prepared herself to hear.

  “I knew he wasn’t comin’ back t’ me but he died doin’ as he pleased... defendin’ his children and me... and the MacLeods.” The woman stared at Keegan dry-eyed. “Ye do as well for the clan as yer cousin did and ye’ll never have need to hang yer head.” Mary settled down on a moss-covered rock, and stared up at the stars. “Now I’m thinkin’ ye need some tendin’. I could do it, but I’ve a thought, Zoe might do best.”

  “Should I send one of the other women?” Zoe knelt down in front of her, taking Mary’s chilled hands. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “Nay, ’tis alone, I’d like t’ be for a while. Now off with ye before yer man bleeds t’ death.” To Keegan she said, “Thank ye for doin’ what ye could for my Adair. I’m grateful t’ ye. Adair loved ye like a brother.”

  “Do you think we should leave her?” Zoe whispered as they entered one of the caves. “She seems so sad and lonely.”

  “Grief is a lonely thing,” Keegan said with a grunt as he lowered himself to the ground. “But I’ll go check on her again in a wee bit.”

  Which didn’t happen, for as soon as the words were out of his mouth Keegan passed out.

  “François,” Zoe called to the Frenchman who slept a few rods away. He stirred, opened his eyes, then scurried to his feet.

  “My God, what happened to him?”

  “I’m not sure, but I need help turning him over.”

  Together they shifted Keegan to his side and stripped away his blood-soaked shirt. When the wound started oozing anew François turned away, dropping his head to his bent knees.

  “Please pass me that rag.” Eyes on Keegan’s side Zoe stuck her hand out, wriggling her fingers when she didn’t feel anything. “François?” Twisting about she saw the valet’s position, then the paleness of his face when he glanced up. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “The blood.” François brought a hand to his mouth. “I could never even watch if there was the tiniest nick while shaving Monsieur Keegan.” He bit his lip. “It was good, he told me. Then I would try my best not to cut him.”

  Fear of blood was something Zoe had never encountered. It certainly didn’t affect her. As many times as she’d been bled over the years she was used to the sight of it. To the smell. A low moan brought her attention back to Keegan.

  For now she simply wished she could give to the Scot all the blood that had been taken from her, for he seemed to have lost so much. Zoe swallowed back the urge to cry and reached across the rocky floor for the supplies she’d gathered.

  “I’m sorry.” François took a deep breath. “Perhaps I can—”

  “No, really, I’m fine now.” Zoe dipped a bit of cloth in the water and pressed it to Keegan’s side. When she rinsed the rag, the water turned a coppery hue. She heard François gag. “But I would like you to see to Mary if you don’t mind. She’s outside, all alone. And Keegan brought word that Adair is dead.”

  “You need say no more.” He pushed to his feet. “I shall comfort her.” He hesitated. “But if you need any more help—”

  “I shall call you,” Zoe finished for him. With the Frenchman gone she concentrated upon washing away the blood. His wound seemed to be caused by a saber or knife, and probably wouldn’t have been so serious if treated earlier. As it was, all Zoe could do was pack the wound and wrap it tightly. Then she covered Keegan with a plaid, cleared away the dirty water and sat down to keep watch over him.

  She was sitting there, her hand pressed to the hot skin of his forehead when his nightmares began. Zoe jolted awake, grabbing a clean cloth and dipping it in cool water. But though she held this to his brow Keegan continued to call out and thrash about.

  He was fighting again.

  At first Zoe thought it the battle for the glen three days ago, but then she realized in his mind he was on Drummossie Moor near Culloden. Watching as his brother William died. Then Duncan. And Angus. Silent tears trailed down Zoe’s cheeks as she heard the anguish in his voice as he cried out to the Fates.

  “Hush, my love.” Zoe tried to quiet him, but his movements became so violent she feared his wound would tear open again. “Keegan, you must calm yourself.”

  “My da. No. I’ll save ye Da.”

  “Keegan, please, be still.”

  “ ’Tis sorry I am Da. I trusted him.”

  “Keegan, you’re bleeding again.”

  “I trusted him Da, I don’t know why, and he lied t’ me. The bloody English Lord lied t’ me.”

  “Keegan, please.” Zoe was sobbing now, her hands on his shoulders, the tears splashing onto his chest. “Please don’t do this.”

  He opened his eyes then, but Zoe didn’t think it was her he saw. But he did quiet, drifting into a calmer sleep, leaving Zoe to think on his words.

  For two days and nights Keegan did little but sleep; Zoe did little but sponge him down with cool water. She tried to feed him weak gruel and dripped water into his mouth, declining offers of help from everyone. She did sleep for a few hours, falling into an exhausted heap when François promised to watch over his master.

  But it was Zoe, Keegan saw when he first opened his eyes with any lucidity. He tried to smile but the effort seemed too much for him, so she smiled for him.

  “You’re awake. And I think...” She reached out to touch his cheek above the dark whiskers. “Yes, the fever is gone.”

  “How long...?” His voice was rusty from disuse.

  “You’ve been back two days. Do you remember coming to the caves?”

  “Barely.”

  “It isn’t important.” Zoe reached for his hand, surprised at the strength he used to squeeze her fingers. “Nothing matters now that you’re well.”

  But of course that was hardly the case. Life went on for the small band of renegades even as Keegan’s side healed and he grew stronger. There were meals to fix, and weapons to clean and little more to do besides that, than sit and fret. At least that’s the way it appeared to Zoe. The men were like a horse without a head, unsure of what to do next.

  She mentioned this to Keegan one afternoon when he sat in the sunshine by a waterfall that splashed over the rocks.

  “What would ye have them do?” Keegan picked up a pebble and tossed it into the water.

  “Hunt. Build huts. Cut peat. We can’t survive on oatmeal forever.”

  “Hell, Zoe. We can’t survive forever period.” Another stone arched into the stream.

  “So that’s it then? You’re giving up? Just giving up?”

  “Nay!” Keegan grimaced and clutched his side, then gingerly leaned back a
gainst the moss-covered rock. He hated being laid up, unable to move around as he wished. “But I don’t know what t` do. They burned Castle MacLeod again.”

  “I know.”

  “This time I doubt there’s enough grain left t’ feed a titmouse.”

  “We don’t have to go back to the glen.”

  “Where do ye suggest we locate? Here?” With a sweep of his hand Keegan indicated the untamed setting.

  “I don’t know. But these people look to you for leadership—”

  “They best look somewhere else. ’Tis hardly a sterlin’ job I’ve done so far.”

  “Do you think anyone could have done a better job in the glen? You and your planning saved us Keegan.”

  “Tell that to Adair.”

  “Yes, Adair died. ’Tis a shame, but look at all those you allowed to escape.” Zoe shifted closer. “No one could have done better.” She saw the hint of a smile and touched his cheek. His hand covered hers.

  “ ’Tis not the talk I’d expect from a fragile English rose like yerself, Lady Zoe.”

  “Perhaps I’m not so fragile.” She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his.

  Seventeen

  “I don’t think you should go.”

  “Am I t’ assume from that, ye’ll be missin’ my company while I’m gone?” The words were spoken in a careless tone. It was only the intensity in the depths of Keegan’s green eyes as he cupped Zoe’s shoulders and turned her to him that gave him away.

  Zoe knew the power that expression had over her. She knew the power he had over her. With a shrug she stepped out of his loose embrace. “You’re not recovered yet.”

  “Is this Miss Phelps speakin’ or her patient?” Keegan walked to the edge of the Highland plateau. The sun was bright, though the air, with a strong wind off the sea was chilled.

  “You needn’t bring up Miss Phelps. Any reasonable person would agree that your wound is not sufficiently healed for you to be... to be...”

  “Raidin’?” Keegan tossed the word over his shoulder, grinning when he saw her eyes narrow. Despite her insistence that the men should do something to gain the clan food and provisions, she was not pleased by this plan.

  But she seemed unwilling to argue that point at the moment. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and stepped to his side.

  “ ’Tis less than a sennight ago you were delirious with fever.”

  “Aye and ’tis ye I have t’ thank for seeing me well again.”

  “But that’s just it.” Zoe swiped a tangled lock of windblown hair from her face, looking up at him earnestly. “You aren’t well. How could you be?”

  “Zoe.”

  “No.” She batted away the arm that reached out to drape her shoulders. “Don’t try to make light of this.” She stepped out of his reach. “Your wound is barely healed. What if it should reopen?”

  “After the fine stitchery ye did in my flesh? I doubt it will happen.”

  “Don’t jest.” She’d never learned more than the rudiments of sewing as Miss Phelps feared such fine work was bad for her eyes. But after his wound continued to gape open she’d decided it needed to be sewed.

  “Now Zoe, ’tis unfair, accusin’ me of kiddin’ with ye.” He pulled his shirttail from the wrap of plaid, exposing the angry wound for her to see. Zoe ignored the uneven swatch of small scars crisscrossing the large welt.

  “You’re still weak,” she said angrily, turning her back and folding her arms across her chest. Her eyes closed when the warmth of his lips touched the side of her neck. She felt helpless as his arms crossed over hers and he drew her back against his body.

  “Ye wound me Zoe.” His voice was low, a tingle in her ear. “I thought I’d disproved that argument once and good, last night.”

  Zoe’s head lolled to the side, memories of their lovemaking the previous evening still strong enough to elicit chills. They’d gone off for a walk in the moonlight, as Keegan called it. And he did have a point. His stamina had not been that of a man lacking strength.

  Of course afterward, when they lay wrapped in each other’s warmth beneath his plaid, Keegan told her of his plan to raid the stronghold of the Royal Campbells at Lochgreggan.

  “There are too few of you.” Zoe repeated one of her arguments of last night.

  “We have surprise and stealth on our side.” His defense hadn’t changed.

  “There’s no need for you to do it.”

  “Zoe.” Despite her initial reluctance Keegan turned her in his arms. His chin rested atop her head and he stared out over the sea as he spoke. “We’ll die up here, starve t’ death without more provisions.”

  “There must be another way.” Her words were muffled by his shoulder.

  “There isn’t.” Keegan took a deep breath. “We need horses and cattle, foodstuffs... ammunition if we’re t’ survive.” Keegan shut his eyes, drawing her closer. For he feared even with those things there was little assurance the clan could make it through a Highland winter.

  She opened her mouth to offer another argument, then let it slowly shut. Pulling away enough to see him, she said instead, “I don’t want you to leave me.”

  Her words, the crystalline tears warmed Keegan’s heart. He cupped her oval face in his hands, wiping at the moisture with his thumbs. He looked into her eyes. “I will come back t’ ye my English rose. ’Tis a promise I’m makin’ ye.”

  When his lips touched hers, Zoe leaned into him, accepting that this was the assurance she’d sought. Hoping his words would prove prophetic. She held onto him as if she’d never let him go. But in the end, of course, she had to.

  ~ ~ ~

  Four days later he was in her arms again.

  Keegan slid from the back of a shaggy Highland horse into Zoe’s embrace. He tossed the reins to François before leaning forward and giving her a loud kiss. She was laughing and crying at the same time and Keegan thought she’d never looked lovelier. The sun had lightened her hair till the golden strands nearly equaled the brown. Her color was high, her eyes shining. The sight of her took his breath away.

  He felt like a conquering hero, a crusader returning to his lady love, his saddlebags laden with treasures.

  The women and children, the men too young or too old to take part in the raid, pressed toward him and the others. Reluctantly, with a last touch to the side of Zoe’s neck, Keegan released her.

  “What did ye bring us?”

  “Did ye encounter the damn English?”

  “What of the Campbells? Are there any of ’em left breathin’?”

  Keegan laughed, drawing Zoe with him as he squeezed through the crowd. “Give us room here and we’ll show ye, all of ye, what we brought. Is that not right, Cawley?”

  “Aye, ’tis so.” Cawley and the other men were busy unloading the packs off the “liberated” horses. The animals were taken away and tethered, as were the few cattle they’d herded up the mountain.

  Then while the clan watched, the men unwrapped bags of grain, bolts of cloth, and wheels of cheese.

  “How did you get these things?” Zoe asked when Keegan settled back to watch the women’s faces as Cawley uncovered a cache of pins and needles.

  “If ye’re askin’ if we slew the whole household, the answer is nay, dear Zoe.” He grinned as she assured him she’d never thought him capable of such a bloodthirsty deed.

  “I simply entered Campbell House by the front door, as brazen as ye please. They were more than willing to share what they had.”

  “You’re fibbing to me, Keegan MacLeod. I don’t believe a word of it.”

  “Now Zoe, love, ’tis hurt I am that ye don’t take my word for it.” Thick, dark lashes drifted down to cover his eyes. “Though t’ be perfectly honest I think it more the pistol I had aimed at their dark Royalist hearts rather than my winning ways that gained us the most wares.”

  She couldn’t help laughing. Not with him back safe. And all the others as well. And a pile of things they needed, growing on the trampled heather. It was enou
gh to make one forget. How she came to be here. That she didn’t really belong... everything.

  But Seonaid was always around to remind her.

  ~ ~ ~

  “I don’t understand why she’s in charge of dividing up the supplies.” Seonaid’s whisper was loud enough for all the women, including Zoe to hear.

  “She’s naught but a Sassenach... and Keegan’s whore.”

  Zoe’s hand stilled on the pile of linens she was handing out. A quiet fell over the group, that moments ago had been chattering gaily about the goods Keegan and the men brought.

  Abruptly Mary said something about the cheese tasting good after days of nothing but oatmeal, her voice too animated. Zoe glanced her way, silently thanking her for trying to shift attention away from Seonaid’s words, but decided the best thing was to face the woman. Zoe straightened her shoulders.

  “Keegan asked me to do this, Seonaid. As he asked Cawley to see to the cattle and François to store the food. I may be English, but I’m in the same situation as you at the moment... hiding away in these hills.”

  Seonaid’s eyes shifted from one woman to the next looking for an ally against this outsider. When no one would meet her gaze she stiffened. “Well, ’tis not exactly the same as the rest of us now, is it? I doubt the soldiers will be killin’ ye if we’re found.”

  Hardly a point she could argue.

  “And then the rest of us are either God-fearin’ married women or we’re without a man. We’re not sleepin’ with someone hopin’ t’ turn his head with our wide-eyed ways.”

  “That will be enough, Seonaid. I daresay you’d be a bit wide-eyed yer own self if the young laird would give ye a look. Ye can’t blame Zoe that he don’t.”

  “Thank you Mary, for your support, but I think this is between Seonaid and me.” Zoe took a breath. “I didn’t ask to come here, or to leave England for that matter. But I’m here now. And I... I love Keegan MacLeod.”

  “Aye, but does he love ye or the forbidden fruit ye give him?”

  There was a sound like a large intake of breath and Zoe noticed every eye was on her, even Mary’s. It was also a question she wanted more than anything to know the answer to. But one she didn’t know.