Exile’s Bane

by Nicole Margot Spencer

  “America is far, far away, on the other side of the world. Barbaric and heathen, I have heard.” A void opened before me. How could I leave England, everything I had ever known?

  “We can claim it. Remember? Killing is what I do best.” He slapped his thigh and laughed in feverish abandon.

  I went to him and stood before him. A secret smile bent my lips, for my mind went back to the freshly hayed loft and the sturdy ladder leading to it. I placed a possessive hand on his chest, clenched the soft shirt material, and drew him close.

  “There is the matter of my name.” He pulled my hands away and held them, his facial expression suddenly serious and intent.

  “I know your name, MacGregor,” I said with the proper roll of the tongue. I stepped away and surveyed this russet-haired Scot I so desired. “And well I know your clan history.”

  “Annie told you.” He glanced quickly from side to side, his face coloring.

  “No. She told Thomas.”

  “Who quickly told you.”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “I cannot change what I am.” Dark eyes flashing, he threw back his wide shoulders, shamelessly proud. “Nor can I help that I have to hide it. When your family is outlawed, you cannot go around announcing your name. Still, my heritage gives me the tools to obtain what I want. My ancestors, the chieftains of Clan Gregor fought for their land, as I will have to fight for mine, wherever we go.”

  “It did give me a start when Thomas told me,” I said. His pride in his name surprised me, though I should have realized he would feel this way. It was the optimistic, passionate way he approached all things.

  “You had doubts?” His gaze followed me as I stepped back toward him.

  “How could I not?” I pulled him close and put my ear to that strong, steady heartbeat. “I love you, Duncan.” I reached up and took his weary face into my hands. “I have learned the hard way just how much I love you, for I tried to turn away from you. But I could not. I need you. I want you for the rest of my life. If you allow me, I shall proudly carry the MacGregor name.”

  His arms finally came around me in a rib-crunching embrace, though he kissed me gently.

  “I have never stopped loving you, my sweet, headstrong, stubborn vixen.” He leaned forward to kiss me again and a grimy lovelock fell forward between us. He smiled sheepishly.

  My face fell, for this symbol, which he could have easily removed, meant he had not forsaken me after all. The pain that stood between us had been my doing entirely. I had deserted him.

  He pulled up my chin until I had to look at him.

  “The mere sight of you stirs my blood. I want to hold you, smother you with kisses. I want to bed you. I want you for my wife.”

  “I accept,” I put in breathlessly. “You are my heart’s desire.”

  We dashed to the ladder and up into the loft, where our hands rushed like torch fire over one another’s body. My breath came heavy, as did his when he embraced me in the sweet hay. We stood on our knees under the low roof. I grasped at his collar, then ran my hands down to undo his button loops. My dress was down around my waist before I finished.

  I groaned in sweet agony, for the feel of his mouth on my breast, no cloth between, sent me into a river of desire that I had no way to stop, not this time. Nor did I wish to. I was his and he was mine. Our union could not be denied.

  I shoved him onto his back and rubbed my nose across his bright, downy chest. I had his pants off in two swift jerks. The generous hardness I had so often felt was ready, but now, he laid me in the hay beside him and gently stroked my inner thighs until I whimpered. He rose over me then, put his hand down to guide himself, and entered me. He filled me, completed me, no holding back. A maelstrom rose between us that left us both panting in arousal. He quickly lost control and pounded at me. I lifted my hips off the hay to receive him, again and again, subsiding only after he groaned with his release and I with mine.

  My mind slowly came back, but my body wanted nothing more than to lounge within the yellow nimbus of the hay around us.

  “I am sorry I was so rough,” he whispered in my ear, winding a length of my hair around his index finger. “Next time it will be gentler, I promise.”

  “How can you apologize? That was beyond anything I dreamed it could be.”

  “And you a dreamer. Fie on you.”

  We dressed hurriedly, for horse hooves sounded in the meadow before the house. A man’s laugh.

  “Will you help me unseat Gorgon?” I asked. I pulled my dress up over my breasts, put my arms into the sleeves, and swatted at the clinging hay.

  “If the plan is good enough. He is an intractable enemy. But once we hold the house, you must understand that we cannot defend it. I do not want us to die as martyrs after barely finding one another.” He was dressed and at the top of the ladder.

  “Nor do I. I just do not want Gorgon holding Tor House under Parliamentary rule. Not him.”

  “You suspect he is a traitor?” he asked, his foot on the second rung down.

  “In one form or another. Thomas was afraid it was Fairfax at our gates when you arrived.”

  “All the more reason to dispose of him.” His glance left me, and his eyes glazed, his mind elsewhere. “I will help you,” he said, with sudden resolve.

  He seized me, tossed me over a broad shoulder, and carried me down the ladder like a hard-earned sack of grain.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Thomas and Captain Wallace entered the little house, both of them red-cheeked and wary. They each threw up a hand in greeting when they saw us, for they carried full water skins, which they emptied into the little cistern.

  Wallace turned back from that chore and smiled broadly at sight of Duncan. “Of all times, it is good to have you back now,” he said, relief softening the lines in his face.

  But Thomas stepped back into the open doorway and stopped short. Moonlight highlighted his curly brown hair, giving him that cherubic look that made it hard to believe he was no longer a child. He remained silent, his look of happy innocence melting away, for his face darkened at sight of my companion.

  “Ah, but wait,” Wallace said, with a raised forefinger. He went out and came back with a bag full of game, which turned out to be quail. “No matter what the morrow brings, we shall eat well tonight.”

  “I drove the covey, and the captain here took them one by one with his bow,” Thomas said, loosening up a bit. His gaze ran from the loft back to Duncan and me, hay undoubtedly still imbedded in our clothing. Suspicion turned into a frown and settled into a glare at Duncan.

  Wallace shut the door and the pleasant breeze ceased, as did the full moon’s silver illumination.

  “Does Comrie know our plan?” Thomas whispered in my ear.

  I jumped, for I did not realize he had moved so close to me in the dim candlelight, though certainly he smelled of old wine. I nodded.

  “We must overthrow Gorgon before he destroys us all,” he said grandly, as though it was a new idea. He plopped unceremoniously into the only chair and bit at a thumb nail. “I can get him out of Tor House and bring him here.” Gaze steady and implacable, he looked over at Duncan. “If you are willing to do the deed, Comrie.”

  “He will bring guards,” I said, knowing Gorgon’s tendency to protect himself. I leaned back against the loft ladder.

  Duncan moved to stand beside me, distaste in the set of his mouth.

  “Not this time,” Thomas said. He shook his head knowingly.

  “How can you be sure?” Duncan snapped.

  “I have set up several meetings for him with various generals. I will insist that he meet this particular officer here alone or not at all.” He stretched his arm and, since there was no chair support to display his vanity, he tucked the arm stylistically up against his chest.

  “What have you done?” I asked, astounded. To my own ears I sounded like an accusative Peg.

  Thomas shrugged and his gaze traveled from the loft above us to Duncan and me standing below.
Even the crickets turned silent in that bare traitor’s den.

  “Generals,” Duncan repeated, the candlelight wavering in his face. He squinted at Thomas, did not trust him, had never trusted him.

  “Yes,” Thomas said, his voice overcome with gusty excitement. His brown gaze leapt from one of us to the other, gathering us in. “Parliamentary representatives. Gorgon is looking to save the house.”

  I uttered a puff of offended disbelief.

  “Save the house, eh? Save his own hide, you mean.” With an unbelieving frown, Duncan shook his head, setting his russet locks in motion. “All the more reason to kill him soon.” He paced to the single shuttered window and back to me. “Though assassination is not something I condone, this man must be stopped. I will do it. So long as you get him here unaccompanied.”

  “I shall be with him.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as Prince Rupert and his forces leave. Probably mid-morning tomorrow.” Thomas stood and jerked his sleeves into place, ready to leave.

  “Good,” Duncan said. “I will take him as he approaches the house. Stay clear once you start through the meadow. Leave your horses at the wood. Make some excuse why you must do so.” He pulled out his long-barreled pistol and ran his hand over its shiny stock.

  “You seem awfully sure of yourself,” Thomas said with a sudden curl to his upper lip.

  “Last I tried—” Duncan glanced at Thomas without a blink, his stare direct and hardened. “—I took the tail off a weathercock at five hundred paces.”

  My eyebrows rose in astonishment.

  Thomas snorted and then shrugged, as though such a feat was unlikely.

  “In that case, aim to hit him between the eyes,” Wallace’s fine baritone put in, his fire popping in the background. “It will only be an hour or so until we eat,” he added.

  “My people put the heads of traitors on their gate posts,” Duncan said with a sudden step up to Thomas. With one strong hand splayed across his chest, he shoved the smaller man up against the closed door. “Keep that in mind, Mr. Reedy.”

  “Certainly, yes, I will,” Thomas whimpered, his face shaking in terror.

  Duncan let him go.

  “Yes, well,” Thomas garbled, collecting himself. “We cannot wait on the food. Elena and I must get back to the house before we are missed. We do not want to make him suspicious.”

  “We have to do this,” I urged Duncan, whose features had tightened into intense wariness.

  “Agreed,” he said, finally. But he hesitated and glanced at me with underlying concern, his hand at my back. “As soon as they leave the house, I want you and Annie to barricade yourselves within your rooms. I will come for you when the deed is done.”

  Thomas rode ahead to enter Tor House by the kitchen gate, and I returned through the postern with no difficulty. I went straight to my stuffy rooms, where Peg awaited me. Annie had left the prince’s quarters earlier in the evening and disappeared down the south stair before anyone could stop her. But before I could search her out, she sauntered into the room, snapped at both Peg and me as she put away her dress, then went directly to her low trundle and lay down, her back turned to us.

  I slept uneasily, dreams upon me, and rose early the next morning to find Peg going from trunk to trunk, finalizing her packing. After all, how did one pack one’s life? It was not a simple chore.

  My quarters felt empty. The night had been cool for a change, and Rosemunde had closed up the room, chairs pushed to the table, as though I would not return, which was a fair assumption, since I had insisted she return to her family in Bury.

  “Annie went out already, dressed in that yellow abomination of hers,” Peg grumbled in indignation.

  The dress with the newly attached lace at the revealing neckline, Peg meant.

  “Why did you not stop her?” I shook my head in frustration and walked past the two huge trunks. Every corner was stuffed with some small treasure.

  “I tried, but she has become quite insolent of late.” Peg brushed her hair one last time and put the tortoise-shell brush in her dress pocket. “She did not wish to wake thee.”

  “Of that, I am sure,” I said sarcastically.

  “Ye must find her soon. She’s up to something. Full of bruises, her arms are.” She moved a pair of shoes from one stuffed trunk to the other.

  Paul Simpson’s bruised little body came to mind again. I swept the thought away. Surely not that.

  Annie was not yet aware that she was not leaving with the army. At least her attitude led me to believe she did not know. Duncan had certainly had time to tell her, but if he had, then her reactions made no sense. Had someone offended her? The yellow dress tended to belie that explanation. With whom, then, was she involved? Or was it mere wishful thinking on Annie’s part?

  Peg slammed the trunk lids shut. Her lustrous hair slid over her shoulders as she secured the straps on the two large chests. The prince’s servants then stepped into the room. She and I hovered about the table as they hauled the big containers into the hallway.

  “Are you absolutely certain about this?” I asked. I turned to her, watching her reactions.

  “His heart is pure. I want to be with him come what may.”

  I searched her flushed face in concern. I understood how she felt, my own priorities newly attuned to the necessity of overwhelming love.

  “I hate to lose you, Peg.” I went to the dressing table, motioned at her and she followed. I picked up my rouge pot and handed it to her. “A parting gift.”

  She squealed with delight and caressed the little tin container. “Because thee made the rouge with thine own hands, it means much to me.” She put it carefully away in the same pocket where her brush resided and lowered her face in guilty concern. “Mrs. Lowry has agreed to join me. Please do not be angry. She is good with the sick and the wounded. Rupert has many injured men who need attention.”

  “Take good care of her,” I said with a smile, for I could think of no better place for our Mrs. Lowry. She would be in her glory.

  “I will,” Peg said, with a quick, pleased smile.

  “Take Mrs. Deane, as well.” I sat at the dressing table, overcome with sudden lethargy. “I’m sure the army, if not Prince Rupert, could use a good cook.”

  “Are ye serious?”

  “It is that or leave the woman here to starve—for I doubt Duncan and I will stay.”

  “Ye surprise me.” Her hand pulled at my shoulder and I looked into her astounded face. “The ox moves. I never thought to hear ye speak so lightly of leaving Tor House. Where will ye go?”

  “Like you, wherever he leads.” I stood and took her hand. “I dreamt last night. The first in a while. Well, actually, I have started having normal dreams again, but this latest vision is vital and pressing.” And it contained familiar faces that haunted my every waking moment.

  “What did thee see?” Peg asked, a commanding stridency in her voice.

  “Death on a mountain pass . . . in driving rain.”

  “Mountains.” Peg licked her lips. “Like Wales?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  Peg motioned toward a lifeguard cavalier who had come to the door when the trunks went out and remained close by.

  Before me were the same striking eyes and extensive mustache of Sergeant Burke, whom I well knew . . . yet his face stared at me, pale and lifeless, straight out of my vision. A void opened within me and my stomach dropped. My hand clutched at my chest.

  “Do you remember Captain Burke?”

  He stepped in the door. I forced a breath, for the shock of him, alive, had shut down my respiration.

  “Captain, is it?” I asked, recovering with a hard swallow. “A well-deserved promotion. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you, my lady,” he said with a proud wiggle of his mustache. “Forgive my impertinence, but I could not help but overhear talk of your vision. Colonel Comrie instructed me to pass on, with great candor and secrecy, any such information that you might provide to the pr
ince. And so that you know, none of this will pass my lips beyond the prince or Comrie himself. Can you tell me any more?”

  I hesitated, but there was no sense holding back. I understood the nature of my dreams now. The insight they provided could save lives, so long as I had the courage to act.

  “Men on horseback are strung out along a rock path that runs across the face of a cliff.” I took Peg’s hand, closed my eyes, and could see the slick ledge under my feet, as real as if I stood upon it. For the most part, the road ran essentially level, though it slanted back into the cliff in spots. There was also a spot where the track slanted down and away, out over the cliff edge. “Horses slide over the brink,” I said. “Men scream in pain. The rain is constant and hard.” I opened my eyes and stared at an open-mouthed Burke. “You ride beside Prince Rupert, like Duncan used to do?”

  “Yes,” he said, with some pride and confirming what I had seen.

  “You both fall, horses and all—”

  Peg uttered a choking gasp. Her hand fell away from mine.

  “—along with a dozen others. Your mounts cannot maintain their footing on that wet ledge.”

  Burke’s horrified gaze searched my face.

  “At the base of the cliff, men and horses writhe and scream around you. Your limbs are all askew, broken. Roundheads stand nearby, pleased with what they have found. I see rain pounding your armor, yet I sense no life.”

  Peg gasped again, an expelled sob.

  I reached over and clutched Burke’s sleeve. “You must avoid any such road, no matter your need,” I said, viciously insistent. “Go around, even if you have to fight.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Visibly shaken, his face had faded to a pallid gray. He bowed deeply to me and was gone down the corridor toward the prince’s quarters. If the prince had already left, I was certain Captain Burke would find him.