Highland Sword

by May McGoldrick

  She wasn’t about to let Aidan get away so easily. Morrigan nudged her own mount and caught up with him halfway up the line of carts, reining in beside him.

  “Yes, Miss Drummond?”

  “I’ve decided that you may accompany me to Barn Hill.”

  “I thought that was already decided.”

  “And afterward, I’ll go with you to the jail.”

  From the pained expression on his face, one might have thought she’d delivered another blow to his eye. “Absolutely not.”

  “You said the two destinations are not far from each other. And I’ve never been to a jail before.”

  “Surely, you’re jesting.”

  “Absolutely not.” Morrigan was indeed jesting, but he didn’t know it. “You want to meddle with my business. It’s only fair that I accompany you as you see to yours.”

  His features hardened and his eyes narrowed. With his bruises and cuts, he looked positively fierce. He leaned toward her and grabbed her hand. His grip was hard. All the good-natured affability in his demeanor had disappeared in an instant.

  “You must certainly understand the folly in such an act. These people know who you are. They know your connection to the son of Scotland. Do not presume that you can stride into that jail and then walk out freely.”

  “Of course I can. Who is to stop me?”

  “The Inverness jailer, for one.”

  “He is no match for me,” she scoffed.

  “And Sir Rupert Burney’s henchmen?”

  “I thrive on the ability to outwit and outrun such scoundrels.”

  “You cannot be serious.”

  “I am. And in addition, you’ve just armed me with my trusty weapon, Excalibur. Thanks to you, I’m now prepared to take on an entire company of dragoons from Fort George.”

  “Miss Drummond.”

  “Mr. Grant?”

  He eyed her suspiciously. “What exactly are you doing?”

  “I’d have thought a barrister of your skills and ability would know when a witness was leading him on a merry chase.” She slipped her hand from his grip. “Give me some credit. I have no intention of going anywhere near that jail. Once you get to know me, sir, you’ll find I do have a lighter side.”

  CHAPTER 12

  AIDAN

  Aidan, Morrigan, and her two Mackintosh escorts left the caravan as the wagons followed the road past Castle Hill. He could see the steeples of Inverness when they turned off.

  Long before his time and his father’s time, an ancient castle once stood on that hill above the river, watching protectively over a village that would grow into a town and then into a bustling city. An arrow-shot from the stone walls, a seven-arched bridge was eventually built to span the Ness. From the castle’s ramparts, knights and ladies watched ships from across the world bring their riches to the river’s quays. Now, centuries later, the city and the port continued to thrive, but only a few stones remained of the once mighty fortress.

  After the stops here and at the jail on Bridge Street, Aidan and Morrigan would continue on to Searc’s house by Maggot Green and wait for the wagons to be loaded and ready to travel back to Dalmigavie. They’d have plenty of time for what they hoped to accomplish.

  Leaving Searc and Blair and the others, they followed an old road east, skirting the south side of Inverness. They immediately passed through the cattle market, crowded with buyers and sellers of traditional shaggy red beef as well as newer breeds of milk cow. The city ended here, and the neighborhoods gave way to fields and pastureland that surrounded estates which had stood since before the days of Oliver Cromwell. A few moments later, the four of them turned up a fairly long lane lined with ivy-covered walls. Several horses and ponies grazed on one side, and a garden rose in tiers on the other to a large, rambling house. Following the lane past a gate leading to the front door, they dismounted by Barn Hill’s stables.

  “I need to know your plan,” Morrigan pressed as they left their horses with the Mackintosh fighters.

  Nearly a fortnight had passed since the day he met Morrigan Drummond on the streets of this town. Seeing her now, Aidan realized his view of her had been changing. He still hadn’t formed a firm judgment as to who she really was and what made her behave so differently from other women he encountered. At the same time, he’d made a few discoveries about her personality, the most obvious being her temper. It was dried kindling that took just a spark to set aflame.

  He always did enjoy a good blaze.

  “You’re right. You should know my plan.”

  “What is it? What are you going to say?”

  “I’ll tell you when I know.”

  “I should have done this by myself,” she huffed.

  “We already determined that would not have worked out well.”

  “This is important. Your cavalier attitude is making me nervous.”

  He repressed his smile. “I can’t imagine anything like a casual visit making you nervous. Your charm is limitless.”

  Aidan nodded and tipped his hat politely to two middle-aged women supervising a half-dozen young girls in a group beyond a row of hedges. The students were huddled around a litter of puppies.

  “Never mind the flattery, Mr. Grant.”

  When they reached the front door, he stopped. “Are we using our real names today?”

  Her dark brown eyes rounded with alarm. “Why shouldn’t we?”

  “Well, you’re a Drummond, and I’m a Grant.”

  “What does that mean?”

  A serving lass opened the door, interrupting their discussion. She took Aidan’s card as she led them through the entrance hallway into a drawing room. With a curtsy, she disappeared, leaving the door slightly ajar.

  “You gave her your card.” She seemed a bit flustered. “With your name on it.”

  He shook his head. “By mistake. I didn’t intend to give her a card.”

  “So, we’re using our real names?”

  “We’ll have to.”

  She let out a frustrated breath. “You argued that accompanying me here was a necessity. Now, please think. Do something. You must have a plan.”

  “I’m thinking of one now.”

  “Mr. Grant!” she scolded.

  Aidan was enjoying the game he’d set out to play but knew he couldn’t keep up this pretense of ineptness with her for long.

  He put on his most thoughtful look and strode across the bright and well-furnished room. Bookcases lined one wall. A painting over the mantle depicted the estate in a bygone era. The tall windows looked out over the gardens, where an ancient gardener was digging up scarlet flowered plants and placing them in a wheelbarrow.

  “I didn’t realize geranium bloomed this late in the year.”

  “If you please, sir, either focus on the task at hand or wait by the stables.”

  Aidan looked over his shoulder at her. She remained by the door. A panther, ready to spring.

  “You like to be in control, Miss Drummond. Don’t you?”

  “This is important,” she said again, ignoring his question. “I’m no good at pointless social calls. So, if you please, tell me how you intend to proceed. No more idle chitchat about gardens or anything else.”

  “We’ll have no idling about today, Miss Drummond.”

  “Thank you. But I warn you, unless you come up with a strategy immediately, I’ll proceed the way I’d intended.”

  He walked back toward a cluster of chairs by the fireplace and motioned her to join him. She came farther into the room but did not sit.

  “Our approach to our hosts is of paramount importance,” he said, infusing a note of gravity into his tone. “You’re visiting Barn Hill for the first time. What do you know about this beautiful estate?”

  “I don’t need to know anything about it. I’m not here for a tour of the grounds.”

  “If I may, allow me to offer you some advice from a man who spends far more time chasing down and interviewing people than he does standing before the court and arguing his c
lient’s case. Please, have a seat.”

  She did sit, but her tight-lipped expression said she was doing so under protest.

  Aidan took a seat across from her. “If you’re seeking information from a mother, you mention how absolutely charming and well-behaved her children are. If you want answers from a weaver, you speak of unfair pay and long hours. If you—”

  “I take your point,” she cut in. “And what would a famous silver-tongued barrister use as an approach today, pray tell?”

  “Do I detect a note of sarcasm, Miss Drummond?”

  “You do, sir. But please proceed.”

  It was a good thing he had sound self-esteem. She could cut the faint of heart to ribbons with her tongue. “Based on my observations, I’ve determined the appropriate approach.”

  She was not trying to hide her growing skepticism. “What have you concluded from our few moments here?”

  Aidan gestured toward the windows. “I’d say the house is set on approximately thirty acres, including the walled gardens, terraced lawns, and mature trees and rhododendrons we saw riding in. You must have noticed the old burial ground. I’m certain you’d find the fields covered with bluebells and daffodils every spring.”

  “Important observations,” she scoffed, “if one were a botanist or considering leasing the estate.”

  “Very well.” He let his gaze sweep slowly over the walls. “The books on the shelves indicate the political perspective of the residents. The furniture makes it clear that the women here are not suffering from any financial hardship. Note the new upholstery on these chairs. Indeed, they must have generous patrons. The painting over the fireplace tells us a great deal.”

  “The painting.” She nodded skeptically. “What could you possibly learn from it?”

  He took a deep breath. “I know that the house was built in 1754 by the Duncan family. A descendant donated the property to an order of nuns, I’d say about twenty years ago, with the stipulation that they offer a place of retirement for spinsters such as herself.”

  Morrigan moved to the fireplace, studying the painting.

  “How could you possibly know all that from…?”

  A tap on the door drew their attention, and Aidan stood. A round-faced woman with silver hair and a florid complexion glided in, all smiles.

  “I am positively elated at seeing you, Mr. Grant. It’s been far too long since we’ve had you here.”

  He bowed. “Thank you for receiving us, Mrs. Goddard.”

  She did not acknowledge Morrigan. She hadn’t noticed her. From their many meetings in the past, he knew the good-hearted woman was severely nearsighted.

  “How is your brother?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ve been following your legal successes through the newspapers mailed to me from Edinburgh. I do love seeing your name mentioned. This week, however, we were delighted to see an article about you in our Inverness Journal.”

  “You don’t say?” He turned to introduce Morrigan, whose eyes were shooting daggers at him, sharper and more deadly than the sgian dubh she was so fond of.

  “Aye, a lovely article. It was all about the upcoming trial of those poor men. The editor commented on how fortunate the Chattans were to have so excellent a barrister representing them.”

  “Mrs. Goddard, allow me to intro—”

  “Your eye, Mr. Grant! Oh, dear!” A pair of spectacles appeared, and the mistress of Barn Hill gaped as she drew closer to study the damage done to his face.

  “Who would do this to you?” Again, she didn’t appear to expect an answer. “As soon as I read the article in the newspaper, I told Sister Martha that I feared for your life. The local yeomanry has become a gang of undisciplined brutes, of late.”

  “They pose no threat to me.”

  “Then who did this to you?”

  Morrigan stepped toward them, and Mrs. Goddard turned, shocked to find another person in the room.

  “Mrs. Goddard, allow me to introduce Miss Drummond.” He addressed Morrigan. “Mrs. Goddard is the mistress of Barn Hill.”

  The elderly woman quickly overcame her surprise, and the two exchanged greetings and a little casual conversation about the unexpectedly warm weather. Aidan noted that Morrigan could be very pleasant and charming when she chose to be.

  “I must admit,” she said to Mrs. Goddard, “I had no idea Mr. Grant was a friend of yours.”

  “Much more than friends, my dear. The Grants have been patrons of Barn Hill for years.” She gestured toward the chairs. “Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll tell you all about it over tea and sandwiches.”

  Without waiting for a response, Mrs. Goddard hurried out the door, calling to the servants.

  Carrie House was only two days’ ride from Inverness. Even though Scotland was predominately Protestant, pockets of folk who still practiced the old faith remained in the Highlands and the islands in the west. A number of Aidan’s tenants were Catholic, and as Mrs. Goddard mentioned, the Grant family had maintained a relationship with Barn Hill for quite some time.

  Today, when Searc mentioned the place, Aidan had been the one to suggest that he go along.

  Morrigan came and stood beside him.

  “If you reach for your boot,” he said, “I’m going to dash for the door.”

  “You knew all about Barn Hill.”

  “I did.”

  “And you mentioned nothing of it before we arrived here,” she said, her voice thin and icy.

  “I didn’t.” He smiled at her. “There was no point of mentioning it and spoiling the surprise.”

  When she was angry, her cheeks bloomed with a bonny shade of red. He noted the rose color in them now.

  “Are you entertained by seeing me riled, sir?”

  He was, actually, but Aidan knew better than to say so. “Give me some credit, Miss Drummond. Once you get to know me, you’ll find I do have a lighter side.”

  She opened her mouth to speak but closed it instantly. The hint of a smile touched the corners of her lips. The blush spread across her skin. Her eyes lifted to his, and the two of them were suddenly treading on an untried terrain. She was beautiful enough to take his breath away. And her toughness and independence pleased him beyond his wildest imagination.

  Aidan cleared his throat and looked away at the windows. He was not a romantic by nature, but he always knew that he’d need to marry someday. With that idea came thoughts of how he could make an advantageous match, to help advance his career. Perhaps a politician’s daughter, or a young woman with family connections to the courts. He didn’t need his wife to have a large dowry, but it was greatly helpful to marry a person who could maneuver the rough waters of the social world.

  Morrigan Drummond didn’t meet that criteria at all. He was no cad, however. He wouldn’t pursue her without honorable intentions. All this he knew, and yet he still couldn’t quiet the eager kicks of his heart.

  Mrs. Goddard’s arrival was a relief. She bustled through the door with a servant carrying a tray.

  “I want to thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Goddard,” Aidan told their host before tea was poured. “But I’m afraid I can’t stay. I have clients I must speak with at the jail. I was hoping that I might leave Miss Drummond here with you. She has a question or two that you might be able to answer.”

  “I am disappointed you’re going, but I certainly understand,” Mrs. Goddard told him. She immediately reached over and took Morrigan’s hand, giving her a conspiratorial smile. “We’ll have a nice visit, and you can ask anything you want. I’ve known Aidan Grant from the time he was a wee lad in skirts, chasing after his two older brothers.”

  There was no point trying to clarify the purpose of this visit. Morrigan’s smile at their hostess made it clear she had everything in hand.

  CHAPTER 13

  MORRIGAN

  Morrigan realized that, almost in spite of herself, she was enjoying Mrs. Goddard’s company.

  In Edinburgh, she’d had no bosom friend. Invitations to dinner parties wer
e nonexistent. She and Maisie were never asked to attend a ball or concert or soirée. Part of the reason for it stemmed from the fact that her father and Isabella led an existence that excluded them, for the most part, from social events. Morrigan always had a sense that suspicions about Archibald’s support of radical reform kept them off invitation lists compiled by the more conservative members of the ton.

  Though Morrigan was determined to learn what she could from Mrs. Goddard, she was surprised at the pleasure she was finding at this moment sitting and conversing with the old woman. The mistress of Barn Hill was interesting and well-read. Her opinions on matters were remarkably thoughtful. She also had a great many stories about Aidan’s family.

  “After the lads’ mother died, Mr. Grant—the elder, I mean—had enough on his hands. An aunt of theirs came to help raise the four sons. She was an old friend of mine, so I visited Carrie House many times when they were young.”

  Morrigan thought back on her own life after her mother died. Archibald Drummond’s life was consumed by his medical career and his covert politics. He had no idea how to bring up a daughter, and he was not alone in thinking that a girl needed more than servants to raise her. But he was wrong to think his daughter would be better off in Perth with his wife’s family than with him in Edinburgh.

  She shook off her dark thoughts and focused on Mrs. Goddard’s words.

  “I recall those days so well,” the older woman continued. “The lads slashing away at one another mercilessly with their wooden swords. Arguing for no other reason than just being boys. Aidan was always the leader. It mattered naught that he was younger than Thomas and Noah and smaller in size than Sebastian; they always hearkened to him. He could settle any row, that Aidan. Where he is today is no surprise to anyone watching him through the years.”

  People did trust him. Morrigan knew Searc was not one to place his trust in someone lightly. Isabella said that Cinaed was eager to meet him. He did have a sharp mind and a quick wit. She thought of what he had done today. The devil had bested her. She had absolutely no idea he had a relationship with Barn Hill.