Rescued by Her Highland Soldier

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘Why have we stopped, where are we?’ Madeleine’s voice broke through his gloomy thoughts and he tried to be cheerful, for her sake.

  ‘The end of our journey is very nearly in sight. We are not much more than twenty miles from our destination.’

  The information was welcome, but Madeleine was too tired to do more than nod. She could see nothing but the enveloping mist. She followed Grant, guiding her pony down the winding track until at last they descended out of the cloud. Before them, away to the west, the sky was almost unbroken blue and the landscape was bathed in the golden glow of the late-afternoon sun. A meandering pass descended like a ribbon through the glen to the very edge of a huge body of water that stretched to the western horizon, bordered on each side by rugged hills covered by woodland.

  ‘Oh, how beautiful!’ She spoke without thinking.

  ‘That is Loch Òrail,’ he told her. ‘The golden loch.’

  She nodded, unable to take her eyes from the dazzling waters. ‘That is where Papa instructed me to go, is it not? I remember the name from his letter. He said there is an inn at the head of the loch where I will find someone to take me on the final leg of my journey to the coast.’

  Grant nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the view before him. She reached across and touched his arm.

  ‘You have told me how much it pains you to see what is happening here, so near your home.’ He looked at her blankly, as if her words had not registered. She continued, ‘You have kept your promise to me. You do not need to come further.’

  He smiled, although she could see it cost him an effort.

  ‘Of course I am coming with you. Have I not said I have no home in this land now? Come along, we should reach Kinloch before dark.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kinloch was a small village at the eastern end of Loch Òrail. The farmland surrounding it showed no signs of being ravaged, which gave Madeleine hope that the army had not reached this remote place. By the time Grant led the way to the inn the hour was late, although the summer sun was still visible over the distant hills.

  They found the tavern and tethered their ponies outside. Grant, she noted, checked his sword, a sign that he was ready for trouble, and she had to fight down the temptation to cling to his coat-tails as they strolled into the building. The small windows of the tavern made it gloomy inside, but she kept her hat pulled low over her eyes, shielding her face from all but the closest scrutiny. They sat down at a table and a jovial figure strode up to them, wiping his hands on a cloth.

  ‘Welcome, sirs, what would be your...’ He trailed off. ‘Well as I live and breathe, ’tis Grant Rathmore!’

  ‘Aye, but I’d be glad if you didn’t broadcast it to the world,’ Grant muttered, placing a silver coin on the table.

  ‘Och, no, I will not be doing that.’ The man glanced about him before scooping up the coin. ‘You may be easy; I’ll keep quiet and I doubt anyone here knows your face. I only do so because I kept an inn at Ardvarrick for a few years and used to see ye riding by with the Laird. What can I get for you?’

  ‘A flagon of your finest ale, landlord, and I believe someone might have left a message here for my young companion? A letter, perhaps, addressed to a traveller from Glen Muick.’

  The landlord grunted. ‘It’s not wise to commit anything to paper these days, but I believe I know who you’ll be wantin’. Donald Roy. He stays not far from here. I’ll send the tap boy to fetch him.’

  With that he went off, coming back a few moments later with a jug of ale and two tankards. Grant pulled out a couple of coins for the ale and handed them over.

  ‘Contullach land is not far from here,’ he remarked casually. ‘Do you have any news from there?’

  ‘Och, very little.’ He glanced at Grant. ‘Cowie makes no secret he blames you for his son’s death, do ye know that?’

  ‘I can believe it.’

  ‘Aye, but no one here puts much store by that.’

  Grant’s hands gripped his tankard until the knuckles shone white.

  ‘He was a friend, even though we often disagreed. I should have stopped him leaving Contullach. I should have stopped them all from joining the rebels.’

  The landlord waved a hand. ‘Everyone knows Jamie Cowie was a bad lot, I doubt many will miss him, still less will they blame you for the loss of their menfolk. It is a bad business.’

  ‘Have any of the others returned?’

  The reply was grim. ‘I have heard of only two.’

  Grant felt as if he had been punched in the gut. ‘So few? But ’tis early days. More may be hiding out in the hills.’

  ‘Then they’d be wise not to come this way.’ The landlord wiped a small spill of ale from the table. ‘Fraser Reid and Tom Graham returned, but they had not been with their families a day before Ewan Cowie had them marched back to Inverness and turned over to the army. He wants everyone to think he’s a loyal subject of the Crown.’ He turned and spat on the floor, making his feelings on this quite clear. A movement near the door caught their attention. ‘Here is Donald now. I will send him over.’

  Madeleine waited until the landlord had moved away, then she spoke.

  ‘I know you blame yourself for the death of your comrades, but from what I have heard—’

  ‘It does not matter one jot what he or anyone else says,’ Grant hissed, shaking off her hand. ‘I am responsible. If I had not been so weak, if I had not got drunk on that last night, I might still have persuaded them to turn back. As it is, I was too sodden even to help myself. By the time I woke up we were all enrolled in the Prince’s army!’ Madeleine recoiled and he continued savagely, ‘Now do you see why I cannot go home? I have too many deaths on my conscience.’ He rubbed a hand across his eyes. ‘I beg your pardon, I should not be angry with you, but the guilt is still so raw.’

  ‘Yes.’ She took a sip from her own tankard. ‘Yes, I see that. I am so sorry.’

  ‘Enough now,’ he muttered, sitting up. ‘Here is your contact coming over.’

  A burly man in rough clothing was approaching their table. He stared hard at Madeleine before addressing her directly, but as he spoke in Gaelic, she was obliged to look to Grant to translate for her.

  ‘This is Donald Roy. He says he was told to expect a lady.’

  Maddie pushed back her hat and looked up into the man’s fierce eyes. She said, making no attempt to disguise her voice, ‘Tell him I am a lady!’

  There was no need for Grant to translate, she saw the gleam of understanding in Donald Roy’s eyes, the slight nod of satisfaction before he turned and spoke again to Grant.

  ‘He asks if you have the money to pay him.’

  She pulled out a small purse. ‘I have the sum agreed with my father.’

  As the man stretched out his hand, she snatched the purse back out of reach. ‘Does he understand that you are coming with me?’

  She watched the exchange of words, saw the stranger shrug and shake his head.

  ‘If he is asking for more money, tell him I have none,’ she said, guessing the gist of their conversation. ‘And tell him I will not go without you, since I cannot speak his language.’

  Grant raised his brows at her, then repeated what she had said. Another flurry of words before Grant turned back to her, the faintest hint of a smile playing about his mouth.

  ‘He agrees, but says you drive a hard bargain.’

  She raised her chin and looked the man in the eye. ‘My father was a good teacher.’

  She handed over the purse, giving the man a smile as she did so, and she did not miss the slight softening of his features and what might have been reluctant admiration.

  The man drew up a chair, the landlord supplied them with another jug of ale and an extra tankard. Madeleine sipped at her drink and waited patiently while Grant and Donald Roy spoke in low tones. At last the man picked up his tankard and sat back
while Grant explained to her.

  ‘The French ship is to drop anchor in Loch Tonnan, some five-and-twenty miles from here. But he says there is a problem. Soldiers have been seen riding that way. They are even now encamped somewhere on the road. And there is only one road,’ he told her. ‘It would be impossible for us to avoid them.’

  ‘Then what do we do? They could be in the area for weeks. I cannot delay so long.’

  ‘Roy has arranged for a small skiff to take us to the far end of Loch Òrail.’

  ‘A boat!’ She sat back, surprised. ‘What about the ponies?’

  Grant shrugged. ‘We leave them here. They will form part of his payment. We will go as far as we can by water, then it is but a half-mile or so across the narrow bridge of land to Loch Tonnan, where we must make our way to the inn. We are to wait there until we can board the ship.’

  ‘And when do we set off?’

  ‘Tonight. An hour after sunset. The summer twilight is as dark as it will get then and the trees will screen us from the track for most of the way. We must hope we escape notice.’

  * * *

  Two hours later they were sitting together in the bow of a large wooden boat manned by eight oarsmen. A covering of cloud made the summer night darker, but there was still sufficient light to show them the hills rising steeply on each side, the wooded slopes black against the night sky. Madeleine imagined for a moment that the soldiers Donald Roy had mentioned were watching them from the trees and she shuddered.

  ‘Cold? Come here.’ Grant pulled her against him and wrapped the plaid around them both.

  She tensed, but only for a moment, then she relaxed back against him. The oarsmen were into their rhythm now and the oars dipped almost silently into the water, keeping them gliding steadily over the loch.

  She felt Grant’s chest heave in a sigh and, sensitive to his mood, said quietly, ‘You will be sad to leave this land, I think.’

  ‘I will. I did not know how much I loved it until I went off to fight. Och, it can be fearful cold in winter, and deadly when ’tis stormy, sending the ships scuttling to find a sheltered bay. And even in summer the wind and rain will cut through a body, chilling one to the skin.’

  ‘As I know to my cost,’ she retorted, with feeling.

  He laughed. ‘Aye. You have put up with it without a murmur, my lady.’

  ‘What would complaining have achieved, save to make us both more miserable?’ Sitting here so cosily within his arms, she found it so easy to forget the hardships. She settled more comfortably back against him. ‘Tell me about your home.’

  ‘Why, it is not so very different from this, only we are bordered by the sea to the west. On a fine day there is nothing better than to be out of doors with the sun hot on your back and the larks singing high over the moor. And in the distance, encircling Ardvarrick, are the mountains. Snow-capped in winter, but just as magnificent when the grey clouds shroud the tops and spill down the slopes like maiden tresses.’

  ‘You make it sound idyllic.’

  ‘It is by no means that. ’Tis a hard life, but my father has been working to improve it for everyone. There is more trade now coming into the harbour and he has invested in his land, too, trying to improve the breeds, rebuilding the tenant houses.’ He paused. ‘Everything was prospering when I left.’

  He did not need to say more.

  ‘You must not blame yourself, Grant.’

  ‘But I do. What if I am the cause of everything being destroyed? That is why I cannot go back. My father may stand a chance of keeping Ardvarrick if he disowns me. If he says I am no longer his son. That is the best I can hope for.’

  ‘Ardvarrick is so remote. Perhaps the army will not venture so far.’

  Grant was not attending. He said bitterly, ‘I went about it all the wrong way. I should have enlisted under a false name, but when it came to the sticking point I could not do it. I thought, if anything happened to me, they will want to know.’

  She twisted round and gripped his coat.

  ‘Of course they would want to know! And they will want to see you! Grant, they love you, it must surely be torture for them not to know your fate.’

  Grant shook his head. ‘I am dead to them. As are those who went with me. There were no men from Ardvarrick, to be sure. When any of them suggested joining the rebels, I ordered them to stay home, that much I did manage to do. But the guilt is no less because it was Contullach’s men who died. Jamie persuaded at least two dozen men to march with him.’

  ‘But the landlord said no one will blame you for that.’

  ‘Ewan Cowie will. He will never forgive me for the death of his son.’ He looked down at her, his eyes bleak. ‘There has been bad blood between the Cowies and the Rathmores for generations. This will bring it all back again. Ewan Cowie will want vengeance and the blame can be laid squarely at my door.’

  She wanted to comfort him, but did not have the words. Instead all she could do was hope that the rhythmic swish of the oars and the gentle movement of the boat would alleviate his sadness, as it soothed hers.

  ‘What an adventure this has been,’ she murmured at last. ‘I have almost lost count of the days.’

  ‘I haven’t.’

  Grant spoke with sincerity. He could recall every hour spent in Madeleine’s company. Every smile, every look. This summer night would give him one of his most pleasant memories since leaving Ardvarrick, sitting here with Maddie safe within his arms, her curls tickling his chin. But he knew that much as he would like to keep her with him for ever, it could not last.

  He said, ‘You will be glad to see your father again, Maddie.’

  ‘Yes.’

  By this time he knew her well enough to be alive to every nuance of her voice and he did not miss the doubtful tone of that single syllable.

  ‘What’s this?’ he muttered, in mock horror. ‘You do not sound very sure of yourself.’

  ‘Truth be told, I am not,’ she confessed. ‘I think I have had enough of the nomadic life, following Papa from one intrigue to another, never knowing if tomorrow we will be living in a chateau or a stable. Or even a prison. I need to see him, of course, to talk to him, but then I shall go to Tante Élisabeth and throw myself on her mercy.’

  ‘As I recall, you described your aunt’s house to me as dreary.’

  ‘I did, but I need not remain there long. I have some of Maman’s jewels that I might sell, if I am desperate, but I think I might try to earn my living, while I am able. I am sure my aunt will find me a post as a lady’s companion, or a governess.’

  ‘I cannot think such a life would suit you.’

  ‘It is a case of necessity,’ she told him. ‘Papa may talk of his connections, but I have never known his existence to be anything but precarious. I am tired of wondering if he is going to get himself hanged and would prefer to fend for myself.’

  ‘And your father’s plans for you to make a great marriage?’

  She looked up at him, her eyes full of disdain.

  ‘Another of his grandiose dreams that will never be realised. But even if he did have such plans, they would be for his benefit, not mine. I think now I would prefer to earn my own living.’

  ‘You would prefer the life of a drudge, little more than a servant, to marriage?’ He shook his head. ‘You cannot mean that.’

  ‘I do!’ she retorted, vehemently. ‘I do mean it. I will not sign over my life, my body, to a stranger, be he never so rich. How could I put myself into the power of a man I do not know, do not love? Someone I do not trust.’

  And me, Maddie—you know me now; could you trust me? Could you love me?

  The words came unbidden and he closed his lips firmly to prevent himself from speaking them aloud. What was he thinking? He had no money, no prospects. He would soon be a stranger in a foreign land. Perhaps, if fortune favoured him and he was able to maintain himself, he
would be able to rescue her from a life of drudgery.

  No. He should not even think of it. And it was madness to think that Maddie would be reduced to earning her living. From everything she had told him, her father would never allow it. She was a very desirable woman. Yves d’Evremont should have no trouble finding a suitable match for her. A wealthy, handsome honourable suitor to whom Madeleine could safely give her heart. He must not stand between her and the chance of such happiness.

  ‘Ah well, who knows what the future may hold for you.’

  He spoke lightly and moved away from her to speak to one of the oarsmen.

  * * *

  Madeleine turned up her collar and huddled into her coat. It was not the warm plaid she missed as much as Grant’s protective presence. His questions had made her face the uncertain future that lay ahead. It would not be so very different from the previous years she had spent with Papa, but she felt different and it frightened her.

  ‘We are about halfway through the loch now,’ said Grant, coming back. ‘Another hour should see us at the jetty.’

  She nodded, hoping he would wrap himself around her again, but instead he placed the plaid over her shoulders and sat down beside her.

  ‘What will you do in France?’ she asked him.

  ‘I shall deliver you safely to your father, as we agreed.’

  He was being flippant, avoiding her question. She said impatiently, ‘And after that?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘You could seek out the Prince and join his entourage.’

  His mouth twisted. ‘I think not. I never had any real heart for his cause and to survive by hanging on to the Stuart’s coat-tails would be to live a lie. I have had my fill of intrigue. I have seen its consequences.’

  ‘Perhaps in time you will be able return to Ardvarrick.’

  ‘No, that cannot happen. Even if my father manages to keep his estates, I have spoiled the peace between him and his neighbour, Ewan Cowie.’

  ‘He would understand. He would forgive you.’