The Highland Secret Agent

by Emilia Ferguson

  “We can drink it,” Amice said bluntly. “It's not like there's much in it, is there?”

  He laughed.

  They ate the stew – it was essentially thickened water with a slightly sweet taste and added particles of root and grass. They fed some of the grass to the horses, which ate it. They must have been terribly hungry, Henry thought.

  Putting out the fire and leaving some small coin for the charcoal burner whose hut it was, they mounted and left.

  “You know,” Henry said as they rode, “We're going to have to stop somewhere.”

  “Why?” Amice asked, frowning. Then she flushed, laughing, too.

  “We need clothes,” they said together.

  “Imagine what would happen,” Henry said, grinning. “If we arrived dressed like this?”

  They both laughed.

  Setting their heads to the path out of the woodlands, they rode into the light of the morning.

  First, to find a tailor, and then to the Customs house.

  CHAPTER NINE

  AT THE PORT

  AT THE PORT

  Amice watched Henry carefully, wondering about him, as they rode out of the woodlands. He was a spy. If she thought about it logically, she had no reason at all to trust him. Yet he had saved her life, when he had no reason to do either. She did trust him.

  She trusted him sufficiently to be riding through the woods with him, dressed in a nightgown and riding cloak.

  I must be mad. Somehow, it's a nice feeling.

  She giggled.

  “What?” Henry asked. He raised a brow at her, smiling.

  “Um, nothing,” Amice said, flustered. “I was just thinking how strange it will be when we arrive in town, dressed like this. How will we get clothes, when the only reason we need some is to avoid scaring people?”

  “Well, yes,” Henry smiled. “My original plan was to steal something, but I think you won't like that idea.”

  Amice nodded vigorously. “All we need is to actually commit a crime,” she said firmly. “Now we are merely suspected of being criminals – if we do that, we would be criminals.”

  Henry laughed. “Yes, my lady. I see your logic. Of which, I must say, you have a good deal.”

  “Thank you.”

  He chuckled. “Now, my plan is this. We ride into the other side of town, making a huge fuss about how we were robbed on the road and all we have left is these clothes. By the time anyone figures out who we might be, someone will already have helped us on our way.”

  Amice giggled, relieved. “Brilliant!”

  “Thank you.” He gave her a satisfied smile. “Now. Here we are. Get ready to put on the mummer's play of your lifetime.”

  Amice gave a big laugh, and then schooled her features to neutral. “How's that?” she asked.

  “You're biting the insides of your cheeks. I can see it.”

  Their eyes held and they were both helpless with giggles as they rode along.

  “Shush,” he said.

  “Whist,” Amice countered.

  “Whist,” he imitated. “That's essentially Scots for shush, isn't it?”

  Amice nodded. “You do know something.”

  He shot her a frosty glance. “Of course, I do.” Then they both laughed. “Though,” he added, “I never thanked you for saving my life back then. In the inn. If you hadn't come in just then, I would be in a dungeon right now.”

  Amice shivered. “Please, don't say that. We're safe. That's what matters.”

  “Yes. And thank you.”

  As they rode in silence, it surprised Amice how much it did matter to her. She had only known this man for a few days, but already it mattered a great deal to her whether he lived or died. She looked down at her hands where they held her horse's mane, struggling for composure.

  So strange, how we only just met, and under such dangerous circumstances! She shook her head, amazed by it. Her hands were dirty, the white skin stained with dirt from where she'd dug out the roots with them.

  “I hope we can find a bath wherever we are going.”

  Henry nodded. “Yes.”

  They found more than a bath. At the first inn they came to – the Pheasant in the Grass – they put their emergent acting talent into use.

  “Help!” Henry shouted. “Robbers! We've been robbed.”

  Amice wanted to laugh, but she managed to stop herself. She tried to simulate sobbing, and managed to make her eyes fill with real tears when she thought about home and her mother's tenuous health.

  “Hallo! What's the noise about?” A man with shoulders like an ox came out of the inn, frowning crossly. That was the innkeeper, Amice presumed. She looked at Henry, and decided she'd better speak, since he was shouting in French.

  “Ah...Greetings. I...speak a little Gaelic,” she said brokenly. “Can you help us?”

  “Depends,” the man said, looking at her suspiciously. “Why should I help foreigners? What sort are you?”

  “We're French,” Amice said. She saw his face lighten slightly. Good.

  “Oh. Depends on what you need help with, then, milady.”

  Amice smiled, relieved and noticed the moment when he noticed her strange clothes. He stared, and then went red.

  “My lady! I...” He didn't know where to look after that – whether at her face, or her pale body loosely covered by the linen and the torn, dirty velvet cloak. He looked at the ground.

  “We were robbed,” she explained, as Henry rode up, making a great performance. He was shouting in French, gesturing wildly.

  “There were three of them, all armed. In the woods, where our carriage was halted...Oh!”

  Amice nodded, making her face a worried frown. “We were robbed by three men in the woods. All our luggage was in the coach. It was all stolen.”

  “Oh.” His face softened a little, though he still gave Henry a dark glance. “Well, in that case, I can put you up in the barn. And we can see what you can wear. You must be hungry, too.”

  Amice nodded and his face was suddenly gentle.

  “Come inside. We'll get you settled.”

  Amice and Henry looked at each other. Genuine relief flooded both of them. Soon, they were in the innkeeper's best room – Henry had discovered miraculously that he still had a purse of coin – and the innkeeper's wife was finding a dress for Amice.

  “Here, my lady. You can have the one my daughter left here when she went to live with Alisdair in the town. It'll fit you well, I think.”

  The dress was of plain linen; pretty but serviceable. It was the plainest thing Amice had ever worn. All the same, when she stepped out of the warm bath and slid into it, it felt good against her skin. It was good to be warm! And it looked pretty.

  She turned in front of them mirror, pleased with the results. Then she joined Henry for a massive breakfast.

  While they ate, they were surrounded by a gaggle of townsfolk, all of whom listened, fascinated, as Henry recounted a captivating version of their escape. He put in plenty of details about the robber band; enough to distract people from wondering about them. Amice translated it, amazed at his imagination.

  When they were alone in the stables – their horses were newly fed and fresh groomed – he whispered to her.

  “They'll all remember the monstrous outlaws in the wood, and none of them will think to question why two French nobles were mucking about in a carriage down here.”

  Amice nodded. “Brilliant.”

  “Thanks.” he looked pleased.

  They rode on together, in wonderful spirits after their delicious breakfast.

  In town, Henry rode in close. “The customs house is up there,” he indicated a double-story building with a pitched roof and slightly skew windows, all made of wattle and daub. Amice nodded.

  “Good.”

  “And, may I say, the fresh dress suits you enormously.”

  Amice dimpled. “Thank you, sir.”

  “And you smell lovely too.” His voice was husky and Amice felt her whole body heat up.
r />   “Sir, you are very presumptuous,” she said primly. She laughed. “And you look good.”

  “Oh.” Henry sat up straighter, a soft pink flooding his face. “Thank you, my lady.”

  She blushed. He did look good. He was wearing a white linen tunic and cream trews, a thick belt around the waist. Everything fit his lean, hard body perfectly. He was more ruggedly dressed than he had been when she first met him, but it really suited him.

  He looks like a handsome prince pretending to be a woodsman.

  She laughed at her own fanciful imagination.

  Soon they were in the customs house.

  Amice cleared her throat and spoke up. She started in French, and then switched to Gaelic.

  “I am here looking for my cousins. They are Leona and Conn MacConnoway. They sailed from Calais, yesterday.”

  “The Frenchies?” the man stared at her. “They are your cousins? The name MacConnoway?”

  “Yes.” Amice nodded. She frowned. “Why is that odd?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing odd, milady. Nothing at all. We'll fetch them down.”

  Amice stared at him. Somehow, she hadn't expected it to be so easy. Her whole form slumped with relief. Then the man was going up the stairs and she and Henry were alone together.

  “We did it,” she whispered, relieved.

  “Wait,” Henry cautioned. “We're not out yet.”

  Amice nodded, feeling nervous again. Then there was no time to think anything other than how overwhelming everything was. Conn was coming down the stairs.

  She saw his legs appear first – fine silky-soft linen trews and leather boots – then the rest of him. He laughed.

  “Amice! Cousin! My dear.”

  He ran at her and swamped her in a bear hug. Amice felt her heart melt a little as she held him in her arms, feeling safe again. She could smell the dusky scent of whatever herbs he used to store his linen, and the spiced scent that was him alone. She looked up as she heard another pair of feet.

  A lady in a gossamer-fine cream dress appeared. “Amice!”

  “Leona!”

  As always, her cousin's beauty awed her. With her pale hair arranged on the top of her head, loosely covered with a see-through veil, her long neck ringed with a simple circlet of gold, those violet eyes wide, she was a vision. She saw the customs man staring and wanted to laugh.

  I suppose even Henry will be smitten by her. She felt a little sad when she saw him looking at Leona too, even as Amice hugged her. She breathed in the scent of lilies and stepped back.

  To her surprise, he wasn't looking at Leona with the amazement she was used to. Instead, his eyes had narrowed and he was studying her with interest. Amice frowned.

  Well, that's a reaction I'm not used to. Probably Leona too. She felt her cousin tense and saw her notice Henry for the first time.

  “Amice, I am so sorry,” Conn was saying, distracting her from the look that passed between her cousin and the spy. “We tried to get back, but this...gentleman here...” he indicated the official dryly, “said we were detained. No clue why.”

  The customs officer blinked. “Sir, it was a misunderstanding,” he said smoothly. “We had reason to believe criminals were sailing from France. Smugglers, bandits, you know the like. We apologize sorely for the oversight.”

  Conn raised a brow. In that moment, his rugged face became quite commanding. “We can forgive the oversight,” he said magnanimously. Amice smiled.

  He is every inch a nobleman of France. She felt so proud of him. Becoming the count of Annecy had suited him well. He looked healthy and happy, and he and Leona were a perfect couple.

  She heard Leona cough and turned round. She caught her cousin's surprised look and guessed she had been rude for not introducing the three to each other.

  “So remiss of me not to say something,” she said quickly. “But I was distracted. It's so good to see you! Cousin, this is Henri...um...de Courin. A countryman of yours, I think.”

  “Oh.” Conn held out a hand with characteristic good humor. If he wondered why his cousin was traveling alone with a strange Frenchman he didn't think to question either of them about it. “Honored, sir.”

  He spoke fluent French and Amice saw Henry blink, then hold out a hand. “Charmed.”

  She supposed Conn looked nothing like a French aristocrat, with his red hair and ruddy complexion, his cheeky, rugged face. He had grown into the dignity of the part and it had settled on him, giving him a grounded and commanding air.

  “And my other cousin, Lady Leona,” she said, indicating Leona. She watched with a stab of hurt as Henry bowed over her hand, raising it to his lips.

  “Enchanted.”

  His eyes sparkled and Amice looked away, feeling sick with envy. She sighed. She had grown up feeling inferior to Leona's striking looks. She should be used to it by now. Anyone in a room noticed her first and Amice second. That was the way it was.

  “Can we go?” Conn asked, surprised.

  “Sir, there's nothing to stop you,” the customs man said apologetically. “Save that, if I were you, I'd consider curtailing my visit. The squalls are coming in now – it's springtime – and I think you'd do best to avoid further delays.”

  Conn looked at Leona, who frowned.

  “If we were to stay, how long would it be before the squalls were finished?” she asked generally.

  The customs man shrugged. “A fortnight? Make it three weeks if you want to be sure, my lady. In fact, a month.”

  Leona was dismayed, Amice could see that. “We can't be away that long!” she said, shocked. “What about Francis?”

  Conn nodded. “Leona's right, cousin,” he said briskly. “We cannot leave Francis for so long alone. Besides, I worry for Leona. We're expecting another child.”

  Amice grinned, delighted, then she frowned as Leona spoke up.

  “It's only two months gone so far,” she said, nodding, “but that means that if we delay another month, it will be three months. And that's a dangerous time to travel. You know how many women lose their child then.”

  Amice nodded vigorously. She had learned from Alina, as had Leona. Something happened round that time in a woman's pregnancy that made it most likely for her to lose the baby then. She agreed with Leona. They couldn't delay.

  With a sinking heart, she turned to Conn. He sighed.

  “Fellow, if we left today, would it be possible to take passage out?”

  The man nodded vigorously. “You could catch the Sea-Shanty back. That's a ship,” he explained redundantly. “Merchant ship. She sails today. Certainly there'd be passage for ladies and gentlemen. You'd do best to take it today – that's my advice.”

  “Then we will take it,” Conn said lightly. He turned to Leona, whose pale blue eyes were sad.

  Amice felt sorrow for them. They had set out with such hope, and the two-week delay had spoiled their plans. It was awful.

  “Well,” Conn shrugged. “We did see some of Scotland again. That's all for the good. Eh?”

  Leona nodded. “I did want to see my mother again, before the birth.”

  Amice nodded wordlessly. “My sweet cousin.” She shook her head wordlessly. “I am so sorry this happened.”

  “As are we,” Conn murmured. “But we cannot help it.”

  “No,” Amice nodded.

  “Mayhap you could find a captain to return you as soon as the danger is passed.” Henry said it, the first time he'd spoken. Amice blinked. He was a captain. Was that an offer? She wondered.

  “Mayhap,” Conn said distantly. “Though I doubt there'd be many mad enough to agree to it.”

  Henry cleared his throat and Amice, who knew him, saw him grin. He didn't move his face, but a muscle twitched and his eyes sparkled. She wanted to smile too, and bit her cheek.

  “Mayhap,” Henry said lightly.

  “Well,” Conn said. “Now that we have found each other, the least we can do is all go and find a place to have a bite of luncheon. Myself, I'm ravening to get out of four wal
ls and stretch my legs!”

  Amice laughed. “Oh, cousin! It's good to see you.”

  He smiled. “Thank you, Amice. You too.”

  They all walked out of the customs office in high spirits. Caught up in the celebratory atmosphere, Amice felt her spirits soar. She was safe. Henry was safe. Now they had rescued Conn and Leona and they were all together as if none of it had ever happened. However, it had happened. She had met Henry and now her life was changed, so that, in some strange and lovely way, he would always be in her heart.

  CHAPTER TEN

  MAKING CLOSER ACQUAINTANCE

  MAKING CLOSER ACQUAINTANCE

  It was strange, but being with Amice and her cousins felt natural. Conn, Henry thought, was a good sort: blunt, bluff and direct. He liked him.

  “Now,” he was saying, as he addressed the innkeeper of the best inn in Queensferry, the Boar in the Woods. “We will take your best luncheon, and as much of it as you can muster. We're all ravenous for good food.”

  Amice giggled.

  “Yes,” Leona nodded vigorously. “I'm starved, Conn. You know how it is when I'm expecting.”

  Conn nodded. A look of immense tenderness passed between them and Henry felt his heart jolt with it. True love was beautiful, and the love between Conn and Leona seemed to be a thing of that kind of beauty.

  Well, he thought, the lady is stunning. Myself, I prefer a sweeter look. She isn't as attractive as her cousin. Not to me. His glance fell on Amice, where she sat with her brown eyes wide, watching her cousins. She was like a sweet, solemn owl and he wanted to kiss her.

  “I must say, I am lucky to have met you all,” he said sincerely. Amice felt her heart warm at that. He liked her family. That was surprisingly nice.

  “So many Frenchies, eh?” Conn chuckled. “Well, it is fortunate we all met up.” He turned to Amice fondly. “You did rescue us, dear cousin,” he said. “And I'd love to hear the tale of it.”

  Amice looked at Henry, who inclined his head. She cleared her throat. “Well, I traveled alone – I was accompanied by Bronn, because Mama – auntie Amabel – is ill. Father didn't want to leave her.”