Cowie’s bearded face had contorted with hatred. He controlled himself, but the smile that succeeded the snarl was even more chilling. ‘When I heard who was escorting the Frenchwoman, I knew my prayers had been answered. Now I shall be avenged for my Jamie’s death.’
‘He died in battle, not by my hand.’
‘Aye, but who encouraged him to go, eh, Rathmore? Who persuaded him to skulk away in the night, with never a word to me?’
‘Jamie was the one who persuaded me,’ snapped Grant. ‘I wanted no part in the business and thought I could turn him back. Did his friends not tell you when they returned?’ He lip curled even more. ‘No, they would be too afraid to defend a Rathmore against you, Ewan Cowie, isn’t that so?’
‘Not that I should have believed them, whatever they said. Damned traitors.’
‘Yes, you handed them over to the army, I hear. They were not only Jacobite soldiers, but your own people. How will that sit with your French paymasters?’
‘That need not worry you, Rathmore. Your fate was sealed when you persuaded Jamie to fight.’
‘That’s a lie and you know it, Cowie. Deep down you know Jamie was the headstrong one, not I.’
‘You were too frightened to go alone! Pshaw! You have too much of your father’s cowardly Sassenach blood in you to make a soldier!’
Grant held on to his temper by a thread.
‘I stayed and fought,’ he bit out. ‘Even after bloody Culloden, I stayed until word came that it was every man for himself.’
‘But why should you live,’ Cowie shouted at him, ‘why should you live when my Jamie is dead?’
‘He was my friend. Do you not think I grieve for him, too?’ Grant added bitterly, ‘Is it not enough for you that I can never go back to Ardvarrick?’
‘But your father will know you are alive in the world whereas I—’ For a brief moment Grant saw something akin to real grief flicker across Ewan Cowie’s bewhiskered face. ‘No, Grant Rathmore. You shall die, then your damned father will feel the same pain I do. He will feel it even more, once he knows how you disgraced his name.’
‘No!’ Madeleine had listened in shocked silence to the exchange, but now she moved out from behind Grant and addressed Ewan Cowie. ‘My father is paying you for your services and he has promised you much more, has he not, once we are safely aboard the French ship?’
‘Once you are safely aboard, mam’selle. Nothing was said about Rathmore.’
She moved closer to Grant. ‘But I will not go without him.’
‘Oh, yes, you will. There’s a king’s ransom on that ship, for the Prince’s cause, and it will not be released until you are safely on board.’ He scowled. ‘This is the very ship that delivered you and your father to Scotland last year and the Captain remembers you. I cannot fob him off with any other woman.’
Grant snorted in derision. ‘What an honourable man you are to even think of that, Ewan Cowie.’
‘Shut your mouth, Rathmore!’ He turned again to Madeleine. ‘There’s twine for mending the fishing nets on that hook in the wall, mam’selle. You’ll use it to tie Rathmore’s wrists behind his back.’
‘I shall do no such thing.’
‘Well, that is a pity, because the alternative is for me to put a bullet through his black heart. You wouldn’t want me to do that, now would you? And you...’ He turned to snarl again at Grant. ‘Don’t think I wouldn’t shoot the woman. If you want her unharmed, then you’ll make no attempt to resist me.’
Madeleine was looking mutinous.
Grant said quietly, ‘You had best do as he says.’
Reluctantly, she fetched the twine. Cowie insisted they both turn so that what light there was filtering through the cracks in the shutters fell upon Grant’s wrists and he watched as she bound them, ordering her to pull the cord tighter, until he could see that it was biting into the flesh. Then, with a grunt of satisfaction Cowie moved towards the inner door. Madeleine’s nerves were already at breaking point and she felt sick with fear as Ewan Cowie opened the door and stepped back, brandishing the pistols menacingly.
‘Through here, Rathmore, and you follow him, mam’selle.’
The second room was also shuttered. Two bound and dishevelled figures were sitting on the floor against the wall, each one gagged with their own neckcloth. Maddie gasped.
‘Colonel Sowton! Major!’ She stopped and turned to glare at Ewan Cowie. ‘What is the meaning of this?’
‘Don’t waste your pity on them, mam’selle, they are the enemy and would prevent you sailing for France, if they could.’
He motioned to Grant to sit down beside the officers and ordered Madeleine to strap his ankles together.
‘There are Dragoons searching the village now,’ she said when she had finished. ‘When they come here—’
Cowie shrugged and tucked one of the pistols into his belt. ‘It will take them a while to cover all the buildings there and along the shore before they come this way. By then we shall be long gone.’
‘And how did you snare these two?’ Grant inclined his head towards the officers.
‘The army had learned of the shipment of gold and sent a troop here to intercept it. Fortunately, the Captain got wind of it and stood off, out of sight. These two strayed a little too far from their camp and I took them prisoner.’
Behind his gag, the Major made a muffled growling protest and shifted angrily.
Grant gave a snort of derision. ‘If I know you, Cowie, ’twas you who was their informant. Playing both sides.’
He saw the Major nod, confirming his suspicions.
‘And why not?’ Cowie jeered.
‘Why not indeed. I’d even wager that you have no intention of sending the gold on to the Prince or his supporters.’
‘His cause is lost. And the Jacobites owe me something for my son’s life. Enough now, time is going on. Come, madam, I have two horses waiting. Collect your bag and I will escort you to the rendezvous.’
‘No.’ Maddie jumped to her feet and placed her hand on Grant’s shoulder. ‘I’ll not leave until I know what you intend to do here.’
Grant saw Cowie’s eyes fall to Madeleine’s fingers, watched him walk forward and grab her hand, staring at the ring.
‘Unhand my wife, sir!’
In response Cowie laughed, tugged Maddie to him and kissed her. With a cry she pushed him off and struck him hard across the cheek, regardless of the pistol her attacker was still holding.
Grant’s blood ran cold. He strained against the cords at his wrists but could do no more than watch, helpless as Cowie threw Madeleine away from him, sending her sprawling against the pile of netting stacked in the corner.
‘Your wife, is it, Rathmore? Does Ardvarrick know how low his heir has sunk, to marry a traitorous French slut!’
Inwardly Grant raged, but he would not let it show. Instead he said coldly, ‘Have a care, Cowie. Your French Captain might take exception if the lady’s not delivered to him safely. He might well withhold the gold.’
Thankfully, his words struck home.
‘You are right.’ Cowie grunted. ‘There is no time to teach her manners. Come, madam. We are leaving. Now.’
Madeleine glared at him. ‘I have told you, I want to know what will happen to these men.’
‘Och, ye need not fret. The soldiers will find them and release them, in due course.’
Grant knew his old neighbour too well to believe that. Cowie would ensure there were no witnesses to his perfidy.
‘No.’ Madeleine scrambled over to Grant and clung to him. ‘I’ll not leave you here!’
Grant closed his eyes, beating down the frustration that he could not take her in his arms. The only way he could save her was to make her leave.
‘You must go, Madeleine. Your father has organised your safe passage, you must go to him.’
She
clung even tighter and whispered against him, ‘Grant, I love you.’
The words were like a knife in his heart. He turned his head and nuzzled her neck, speaking quickly into her ear.
‘You can do no good here. If you want to help me, you must get safely to France. Then you can write to my father, tell him what happened here.’
If there is anyone left alive by then to care about me. If the army has not arrested my father, turned everyone out of doors and torched the houses.
‘Enough of this maudlin stuff,’ snapped Cowie. ‘Do not delay me any longer, madam. The Captain should be even now waiting on the shore for us, ready to hand over the gold to me once I have delivered you. Mark me, woman, if you won’t ride with me willingly, I will strap you unconscious to the saddle!’
Grant saw the stormy look in Madeleine’s eyes and spoke sharply, afraid she might resist.
‘Get thee gone, madam. I have told you, you can do no good here.’
Madeleine climbed slowly to her feet. Grant did not struggle when Cowie stuffed a cloth into his mouth and gagged him. For Madeleine’s sake he must not falter now. If she thought he would not survive he knew she would refuse to leave and he could not bear to have her death on his conscience, too.
Cowie grabbed Maddie’s arm. ‘Quickly now, collect your bag and let us get you to your French friends.’
Reluctantly she went with him, stopping at the door for a last look back at Grant. He closed his eyes, but her face was engraved upon his eyelids. It would be his last view of Madeleine and he would take her wounded, anguished gaze with him to his grave.
The door closed between them, he heard the rattle of the outer door, the rustle of departing footsteps and then silence. He sat still in the gloomy half-light, listening to the grunts and snuffles from the two officers, but their gags made it impossible for any of them to speak. All they could do was make themselves as comfortable as possible and await their fate.
* * *
Grant had no idea how long it was before Ewan Cowie returned, but he thought it could be no more than a couple of hours. Cowie would not have risked leaving them all alive if there was any danger that they might be discovered. The Major stirred as the outer door opened. He turned his head to stare at Grant, but, gagged as they were, communication was impossible. The inner door swung open and Cowie came in. He walked over to Grant and pulled the cloth from his mouth.
‘You knew I’d be back to finish this,’ he snarled.
Grant regarded him with contempt. ‘The only reason you are doing this alone is to have no witnesses to murder. Let me see, knowing you so well, I would say that you are going to keep the French gold for yourself and somehow put the blame for everything on to me.’
‘There now, you have the right of it, Grant Rathmore. It is pleasing to think your arrival has made my plan so much more plausible. Originally, I should have had to hand the French gold over to the army and make do with the pittance the Frenchie was prepared to pay me for saving his daughter, but now I can have it all. I shall tell everyone that you shot the officers before I managed to kill you.’
There was a grunt of protest from the Colonel, but it was ignored. Grant kept his eyes fixed on Cowie.
He said, ‘That will not explain the gold.’
‘Och, your men escaped to the hills with it. Desperate rogues every one. I couldna’ stop them.’
‘And you think anyone will believe that?’
‘Of course they will. I have been unswerving in my loyalty to King George during the uprising, even disowning my own son.’
‘So, you turned against your own to save your skin!’
‘Jamie is dead, thanks to you,’ Cowie spat. ‘I couldn’t help him, nor any of them.’
‘Tom Graham and young Fraser Reid? Poor wretches. They are nothing but boys and you have given them up to the army.’
‘I couldn’t risk them staying at Contullach.’
‘You always were a rogue, Ewan Cowie. My mother and yours tried to bring our families closer, but Mother was always wary of you, even if you are her kinsman.’
‘What care I for her opinion? I was content to be a peaceful neighbour to Ardvarrick while it was in my interests to do so, but I never liked Jamie’s friendship with you. I might hate the British for killing him, but not as much as I hate your family and all you stand for, Grant Rathmore.’ That hatred now blazed out from his eyes. ‘Why Jamie took such a fancy to you I never knew. He was the better fighter. He could always beat you in a wrestling match. And he was a better shot, too.’
‘I don’t deny it,’ murmured Grant. Jamie had always hated to lose.
Cowie gave a sudden howl of rage. ‘It should have been you killed in battle, Rathmore. It should have been your body lying at Culloden, not his! You were the one meant to die, cut down by the English.’
Grant almost pitied him. ‘Anyone would think you had planned it.’
‘I did.’ Cowie dragged his hand across his mouth to wipe away the spittle. ‘I did plan it. I saw a way to get back at your father after all these years, to rob him of his only son and disgrace his name. I knew you’d never disobey your father and join the rebels. Jamie told me you were reluctant to go, that’s why I gave him the poppy juice and told him to play along with ye, to make ye think they’d all turn back before the sticking point. I wanted to see your father’s face when I told him—’
‘Wait!’ Grant sat up straighter. ‘What was that about poppy juice? What did you mean?’
‘If strong ale didn’t give ye the courage to sign up as a soldier, I told Jamie to put it in your drink. One way or another I wanted you in the Prince’s army.’
‘So that was your design all along,’ muttered Grant. ‘I never had any chance of dissuading Jamie and the others. You wanted him to fight.’
Cowie sneered at him. ‘Of course he had to fight. I ordered him to go. I had to make sure Contullach and all my lands were safe, if the Stuart won the day. As it is, the Prince is fleeing for his life and the British see me as a most loyal supporter of King George.’
‘When in fact you are a traitor to both sides.’
Cowie bared his teeth. ‘But the only people who know that are in this room, Rathmore. And you will all soon be dead.’
He drew the pistols from his belt. Grant sat back, feigning interest, putting off the inevitable.
‘Tell me, just how do you mean to carry this off?’
‘One shot each to despatch these English vermin, then I shall run you through with your own sword. Once I have removed all the ropes, I shall press the spent pistols into your hands and when the soldiers arrive, they will see immediately what has happened here—’ He broke off, throwing back his head and listening intently. ‘What was that?’
A faint knocking on the outer door, and a whining voice begging entry.
‘It is a beggar,’ hissed Grant. ‘If we keep quiet, they will soon go away.’
At least, he prayed they would, for he knew Cowie would not hesitate to add another murder to his tally.
The knocking sounded again. Stronger this time and it elicited a muttered curse from Ewan Cowie. He pushed the pistols back into his belt, drew out his dirk and left the room. The Major grunted against his gag and drummed his heels. Grant appreciated the effort, but the floor was nothing more than packed earth and he knew the sound would not carry far enough to warn the vagrant of his fate.
The three bound men kept very still, listening hard. Grant heard the metallic rattle of the latch followed by an angry voice, a grunt, then silence. The little room suddenly seemed airless, the shadows thick with menace as the inner door swung open.
‘Madeleine!’ Grant watched her come in, Cowie’s dirk in her hand. ‘Where is he?’
‘Outside. I hit him as hard as I could on the back of his head. He is unconscious, but I do not think I have killed him.’
Maddie was aware that
her voice was shaking, almost as much as her hand as she quickly sawed through the cord on Grant’s wrists.
‘Why aren’t you on that ship?’ he demanded, watching her work. ‘How did you get here?’
‘When I saw that rogue ride off, I begged the Captain to row me back to the shore and then I walked. It was not so far; Cowie only really needed the horses to carry the gold. I saw how he looked at you, the hatred in his eyes. I knew he would kill you.’
The knife cut through the last threads and she risked a tremulous smile. ‘I am not ready to be a widow just yet.’
She started to untie his ankles, but he stopped her.
‘No, no, I can do that. Cut the others loose. Hurry, before Cowie comes round.’
Maddie had only managed to free the Major’s hands before they heard a roaring bellow. Cowie burst in, waving his pistols, but Grant was already on his feet. He threw himself at Ewan Cowie, knocking his arms so one weapon discharged harmlessly into a wooden shutter. The other was soon wrestled from his hand and slid into a corner. As soon as Major Rutter was free he piled in, helping Grant to overpower Ewan Cowie and tie him up.
‘Well, well, you tricked us finely, madam, and no mistake,’ declared Colonel Sowton, when Madeleine removed his gag. ‘When we learned there were rebels at work here, I did not think it would be our fellow guests from Calder House.’
‘We are not rebels,’ she retorted, cutting him free and helping him to his feet. ‘I am merely trying to make my way to France to join my father, and I paid Mr Rathmore to help me.’ She picked up Cowie’s pistol from the floor before turning to Grant. ‘The Captain has agreed to wait another hour before setting sail.’
‘You cannot let them escape,’ shrieked Cowie, struggling against his bonds. ‘The whore is a French woman, an enemy!’
‘Insulting the lady will not help you, Cowie!’ barked the Major.
‘And he is Grant Rathmore, a Jacobite. He fought with the rebels.’
‘And he has just saved your lives!’ Madeleine came to stand beside Grant, levelling her pistol at the two officers. ‘Ewan Cowie planned to murder you, not us, and you have him safe now. Also, his horses are outside with the French gold stowed in his saddlebags. Surely that is enough to buy our freedom?’
Rescued by Her Highland Soldier Page 21
