The Renegade (The Renegade, Rebel and Rogue)

by Christine Dorsey

  Seonaid obviously sensed her reluctance to answer for she tossed her curls, a smirk spreading over her face. “Of course if he’s asked ye t’ marry him, or even handfast, I suppose it would show he does. Has he done that, Lady Zoe?” Her voice was sly.

  She couldn’t tell her the truth, yet lying seemed too difficult. Besides, by the look on the girl’s face she, as well as the others, already knew the answer.

  “The MacLeod has more on his mind these days than plannin’ his nuptials,” Mary countered. But it was obvious she spoke up because she was Zoe’s friend.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Ye seem a bit pensive.”

  It was evening four days later. Zoe sat with Keegan near the fire that burned continuously just outside the mouth of the caves.

  “Do I?” Zoe drew up her legs beneath her skirt, resting her chin on her knees.

  “Mmmm.” Keegan traced a curl along her cheek then tucked it behind her ear. “ ’Tis unusual for ye not t’ talk a good deal.”

  Zoe turned her head and smiled. “Too much?”

  “Nay.” His grin showed white teeth in the twilight.

  “I would have thought your answer different.” Straightening her legs, Zoe looked up as the first star appeared.

  “Ye mean with that Miss Phelps says’ prattle?” When she nodded Keegan shrugged. “I can’t say I’ve heard ye mention the old crone’s name recently, let alone quote her.” There was a pause when Zoe didn’t respond. Keegan leaned forward, trying to see her face in the grainy light. “I didn’t mean t’ be insultin’ the old hag.”

  Zoe’s laugh was spontaneous. “I shall be certain to tell her.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth Zoe’s expression sobered and she looked away. How could she tell the woman anything when she most likely would never see her again? But then Zoe didn’t even know that for sure. Though it seemed unlikely Keegan would decide to send her back to London anytime soon.

  “Zoe?” Keegan’s finger hooked her chin, bringing her about till he could see the silver sheen of her eyes. “What is it lass?”

  “I was wondering what you planned to do?”

  “About what?”

  Her gaze met his. “About me.”

  He couldn’t bring himself to hold her stare. Keegan picked a bramble from his plaid, then tossed it absently toward the fire. What did he plan to do about her? Holding her to lure her brother into the hills had seemed like a good idea at one time.

  But no more.

  He couldn’t indulge his desire for revenge without jeopardizing the clan. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to kill Fox Morgan anymore. Not that he didn’t still hate him for what happened to his father. But Zoe loved him. And from what he could tell, the bastard had been the only one of her family who cared a fig about her. Keegan didn’t want to hurt her any more than he already had.

  So where did that leave her?

  And where did it leave him?

  Keegan hunched forward reaching his hands toward the heat radiating off the fire. It was cold tonight, and would get colder.

  “I saw him.”

  “Who?” Zoe wrapped the plaid more tightly about herself and looked toward Keegan. The flickering light played upon the shadows of his face.

  “Yer brother. Fox.” Keegan watched as her eyes grew larger. She didn’t speak at first and when she did he had to lean closer to hear.

  “Did you kill him?”

  “Nay!” Keegan shifted closer and took her hands. They were as cold as the winter wind. “No, Zoe.” His fingers wrapped around hers. “It was the day we left Castle MacLeod. He was there.”

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  “I know.” Keegan bent forward till his forehead touched their joined hands. “I didn’t want ye thinkin’ he was near and runnin’ off t’ warn him.” Keegan’s eyes closed on that lie. He took a deep breath. “ ’Tis not true. Was myself I was thinkin’ of.” Slowly he raised his head till he was staring into her eyes, lost in them. “I did not want t’ lose ye, selfish bastard that I am.”

  He was so close Zoe could see the crystalline prisms of his eyes, feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. Her mouth was dry. There was an ache in her heart that months ago she would have thought strong enough to kill her. Now she just wished it would last forever.

  When she pulled her hands from his, Zoe noticed the twinge of doubt flash across his handsome face. But it disappeared when her palms cupped the side of his face. She pulled him closer, her lashes drifting shut when their lips touched.

  The kiss was chaste compared to most they shared. But the emotions that flowed one to the other overpowered them. The night seemed to disappear, the stars and chill. The caves and clan. It was just the two of them, their souls uniting. Neither wanting to leave the other.

  It was only later, when Keegan lay awake, Zoe curled at his side that he realized how true the second part of his admission was. He was a selfish bastard.

  He’d stolen Zoe from her home and brought her to the wilds of Scotland. Soon the winter would come and despite his best efforts food would be scarce and the cold unbearable. The clan... he... had no choice but to bear it.

  Zoe had a choice.

  One that he must give her. Force her to take if necessary.

  He tightened his arm around her and tried to come to terms with what he had to do. But even the thought of it was enough to break his heart.

  ~ ~ ~

  “You’re certain it was him.”

  “Ach, and ye think I don’t know a MacLeod when I see one. Why the smell alone can signal their presence a mile away.”

  Fox stopped pacing. “Too bad it wasn’t enough to give you some forewarning. Perhaps then he wouldn’t have been able to march into your dining room, like the bold thief he is, and make his demands.” Thomas Campbell’s face turned as red as his hair, and the veins in his neck bulged. He didn’t like being reminded of how his archenemies the MacLeods had swooped down on him, on foot, and robbed him blind.

  If Fox knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t do the reminding. It was the Campbell’s cooperation he wanted... needed. But he didn’t like their chieftain. He didn’t like his pompous attitude, or the way he pandered to the army for favors.

  But like it or not, that was the way of things in Scotland. There were the Jacobites who were either transported, dead, or well on their way. And the Royalists, fellow Scotsmen who were doing their damnedest to help the rebels get that way.

  Thomas Campbell was one of the latter. Though Fox imagined it was more a strong sense of self-preservation rather than loyalty to the king that spurred him on.

  “What are ye plannin’ t’ do aboot the MacLeods, Major? ’Tis not safe for decent people anymore.” The Campbell had regained his composure. After ringing for a servant he offered Fox a glass of claret.

  “I intend to catch him.” Fox declined the proffered goblet. Sitting down in one of the chairs angled before the fireplace, he motioned for his host to do the same. “Now how many were there?”

  “As far as I can tell aboot twenty-five.” Thomas more than doubled the number out of embarrassment. “But I’ve told ye all this before.”

  “Tell me again.”

  Thomas puffed out his barrel chest. “It was late. Nearly a sennight ago. When the door burst open and there he was, dressed in his plaid, arrogant as ever, his broadsword catching the light and the daghandled pistol pointed straight at me.”

  “And it was Keegan MacLeod?”

  “None other.” Thomas took a quick swallow of wine. He could still feel the panic that coursed through him when he recognized the bastard. He didn’t like it.

  “What did he do then?”

  “Threatened t’ kill me, and my wife, he did. Swore he would, if we didn’t do exactly as he commanded.”

  “And his commands were?” Fox asked with a lift of his brow.

  “Food. He wanted cheese and oatcakes. Turnips. He came close t’ wipin’ us out.”

  Fox couldn’t muster even a pittance of sympathy for the C
ampbell who looked as if he hadn’t ever missed a meal. “So they must be hungry,” Fox said more to himself than the other man.

  “Needin’ clothin’ too, I wager. He took pins and cloth.”

  “So there are women with him.” Despite the small amount of hope Fox held that his sister might still be alive, his spirits rose with the thought.

  “He’s probably gathered what’s left of his clan about him. That would be my guess.”

  “Where would you say he’s hiding with them?”

  “Could be anywhere. Ye’ll have a hard time of it searchin’ these hills. Especially with winter on its way.”

  Fox leaned back and steepled his fingers. “That’s why I don’t intend to chase him into the mountains.”

  “But I thought ye said ye intended t’ catch him.”

  “And I do.” Fox’s eyes were hard. “Yours isn’t the only house he’s raided. I’ve had word from two other Royalist Scots. He hit Jamie MacNabb at Glenrubin and Dugald Chisholm at Skinettle. Their descriptions of what happened are similar to yours. Though either Keegan MacLeod has lost most of his men or they can count better than you.”

  “I never said I was certain of the number.”

  “True enough.” Fox stood. “But he will be coming out of the hills again. He has women with him, most likely children too. He’ll need more food. As you say, winter is coming. When he comes down to raid again I will catch him. Him and his band of renegades.”

  Eighteen

  “They be comin’ back!”

  Zoe glanced up from the sleeve she was hemming. The sound of the lookout’s voice heralding the return of the men never ceased to make her smile. This was the fourth raid Keegan and the others rode out on. Stockpiling for winter he called it, when Zoe asked why they had to go so often. But they were back now, and perhaps there were enough supplies to last them awhile. At least she hoped so.

  “Sounds as if they’re ridin’ their ponies hard,” Mary commented after biting off a length of thread. “I hope there’s naught wrong.”

  “Anxious to be back, I imagine,” Zoe said, but Mary’s words sent a chill racing down her spine that had nothing to do with the biting wind. She rose, brushing dirt and wrinkles from her skirt and folded the fabric she was painstakingly fashioning into a shirt.

  She told herself that naturally Mary was apprehensive, seeing ghosts where there were none, and hearing trouble in the clip-clop of horses’ hooves over rocks. Her husband was dead, and it was at a time very much like this, when the men returned, that she discovered Adair’s fate.

  That didn’t mean there was a problem this time, Zoe reminded herself, but her step quickened as she made her way toward the crevice in the rocks.

  Zoe knew the moment she saw Cawley’s face come into view over the rise that something was terribly wrong. And it wasn’t only the blood seeping through the hastily wrapped bandage circling his head. His eyes were wild, his expression terrified. As the riders thundered into the clearing Zoe half expected a regiment of English soldiers to pour in on their tail.

  But there were no cavalry. There was also no Keegan.

  As soon as Cawley jerked his mount to a halt, Zoe grabbed the reins. “Where is he?”

  “Weren’t nothin’ we could do.” Cawley slid to the ground, his knees wobbling. Zoe reached to help support him, but her own knees felt weak. All around her, loved ones were rushing forward helping others who were wounded or simply winded from the hard ride.

  “Keegan? Where is he?”

  “They got ’im. Zoe.” Cawley took a few steps away and Zoe hastily shoved the reins toward François who’d come up behind her. Part of her felt sorry for Cawley. He was tired and had obviously been through a lot, but she couldn’t stand not knowing.

  “Tell me.” Zoe grabbed his shoulder, turning him.

  “Mademoiselle Zoe.” François covered her hand with one of his own. The other held a tankard. He handed it to Cawley. “We should give him a moment to catch his breath, oui?”

  Zoe swallowed, tilting her head so he couldn’t see the shine of tears and nodded. “I apologize Cawley.” Zoe knelt beside where he’d slid to the ground. “Let me look at your head.”

  “Nay.” His hand stilled hers. “Not till I tell ye, what ye want to know.” He took a deep drink, backhanding his mouth of the liquid. “ ’Twas a trap. Musta been.” He paused, shutting his eyes. “ ’Tis a miracle any of us escaped with our lives.”

  Zoe twisted to look around her. It was obvious all had not. She wasn’t the only one begging information from the survivors. Wails of grief echoed off the mountain cliffs.

  “They was waitin’ for us, hidin’ in the barn.” Cawley took a deep breath. “We opened the doors and ’twas like they exploded out at us.” His eyes clouded. “I saw Donuld fall, and Andrew. ’Tweren’t nothin’ I could do.” He looked at her then. “The MacLeod, he’s yellin’ for us t’ get out of there. His horse was twistin’ and he was shootin’.”

  “Did they kill him?” Zoe steeled herself for the answer.

  “I don’t know. Not that I saw. But he stayed behind, drawin’ his broadsword and chargin’ at them.” Cawley dropped his head into the crook of his arm. “ ’Tis because of him, I got away.”

  “He was alive the last I saw ’im.”

  Zoe looked around to see Will at her elbow. He appeared unharmed but his eyes, like Cawley’s, wore that same anxious expression.

  “But they’d caught ’im.”

  “He’s a prisoner?”

  Will shrugged. “Don’t rightly know if that be the case. But I stopped at the top of a rise t’ see if they was followin’ me. I saw Keegan standin’ on the ground, surrounded by soldiers.”

  Zoe pushed to her feet. “If he’s still alive there’s hope.” She glanced around. “Were there any others who were captured?”

  “Didna’ see any. Most were either shot straight out, or got away.”

  “I see.” Zoe paced a few steps. “Then it is clear what we must do.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The hair on the back of his neck bristled.

  Keegan MacLeod stood as he was, refusing to turn around, but he knew who’d just entered the small stone out-building. He flexed his fingers, the desire to have a broadsword in his hand almost painful.

  “Tell me what you’ve done with her.” Keegan heard the swoosh of steel. “Tell me, or so help me God, I’ll run you through like the dog you are.”

  Keegan’s stare was hard as he shifted about. “Will I be disemboweled first, or do ye reserve that for helpless old men?”

  Fox’s eyes narrowed, then he hefted the sword higher. “ ’Tis my sister we’re discussing, and I’ll give you two minutes to tell me where she is.”

  “What makes ye think she’s still alive?” No sooner had the taunting words left his mouth, than the English major was across the room, grabbing Keegan’s shirt with one hand. The other held the sword point against his exposed ribs.

  “You’re a dead man, Keegan MacLeod.”

  Their faces were very close, their eyes dark with hatred. Yet as tense as the moment, as filled with hostility, neither man could dispel the odd feeling that swept over them. It was hardly kinship but its roots seemed buried in the same soil.

  Fox loosened his grip. “She’s not dead, is she?”

  As tempted as he was to keep up the ruse, to hurt the English bastard any way possible, Keegan couldn’t do it. His mind filled with Zoe, her grey eyes shining, her smile. “Nay,” he finally said, and jerked out of the major’s grasp.

  Relief swamped him. Knowing what he did of Zoe’s health, Fox had assumed that his sister had died long ago. But now, for the first time in months, he believed she was alive. And as strange as it seemed, he believed it because Keegan MacLeod said it.

  He sheathed his sword. “Where is she?”

  “Go t’ hell, Sassenach.”

  A nerve in Fox’s jaw jumped as he stared at the man he’d been pursuing for over a fortnight. He was tall, with skin browned by the weather, w
ith those green eyes that he remembered well.

  “Why did you do it? Why Zoe? She never did anything to you.”

  Keegan’s head whipped around and he speared the Englishman with a look. “Do not pretend ye don’t know.”

  “I’m pretending nothing. I know we’ve crossed paths before.”

  “Aye, we have.”

  “On Drummossie Moor.”

  “Right again, Major. ’Twas there that ye encountered me and my father.”

  There was little about the battle and its aftermath that Fox hadn’t relived in his mind hundreds of times, including his meeting with this Scot. “That still doesn’t explain why you’d hurt Zoe.”

  “It was ye I was aimin’ t’ hurt, ye bastard, not Zoe.”

  Fox kept his gaze steady. “I did what I could for you at Culloden.”

  “Ha! I’ll be believin’ no more of yer lies. I listened t’ ye then and handed over my broadsword only t’ see it used on my da.”

  “I ordered your father taken prisoner.”

  “But he wasn’t. And it was yer men that killed him.” Keegan’s jaw tightened as the horror of that day played out in his mind. “And it wasn’t just killed. It was tortured, and left t’ die layin’ in his own blood.”

  The impact of the Scot’s words... of his anger shook Fox. “What did you do to her?” he asked, his voice low. When Keegan said nothing, Fox continued. “If you hurt her so help me—”

  “I didn’t hurt her!” Keegan wondered if part of his own vehemence was the niggling question of whether or not he had. True, she hadn’t been tortured or hurt physically. Not yet. If truth be known she seemed in much better health now than when he broke into her house.

  But there were other wounds, wounds no one could see.

  “She’s fine,” Keegan added before turning away. It was the sound of a pistol cocking that made him look back.

  He wasn’t surprised to be staring down the barrel of the major’s gun.

  “You’re a lying son of a bitch. Zoe isn’t fine and we both know it. Her heart—”

  “Is stronger than ye think. She survived a cross-country ride, a shipwreck and a raid by yer soldiers.”