by Cathie Dunn
Catriona shook her head. “No. He didn’t talk to me after...” She blushed. “But, dear Lord, the gunshots.” She stared at Auntie Meg whose brows shot up.
“Gunshots?”
“The major said that the body was near Inverness.”
Her godmother nodded.
“Now, why would he take a body all the way from the cave to Inverness?”
“A body? In the cave?” A set of sharp blue eyes bore into her. “How do you know about the cave?”
“It’s a long story. But I heard a shot in the cave one night when I explored the tunnel. And then Rory came back with Jamie MacKinnon.” Her mind went back to that night. “It can’t be the same body. That means he’s killed twice.” A sob escaped her lips.
“Nonsense!” Auntie Meg’s voice cut through her anguish. “Rory never killed anyone. It’s obvious he’s being framed. I’d just like to know by whom.” She reached out and refilled their cups, having picked up hers from the floor. She thrust one into Catriona’s hands. “Drink up! And then we have to make plans.” She leaned back, a pensive look in her eyes, sipping at the stale liquid.
Catriona watched her, wondering not for the first time whether her godmother was made of sterner stuff than she led people to believe. She’d feigned her collapse most believably. Looking at her now, hands calm, drinking tea, Catriona was certain the old lady was craftier than she thought.
Mairi came in, closing the door behind her, and leaned against it. “They’re gone.”
“Good. Then let’s think. Where could Rory be headed for?” Auntie Meg stared at the dregs in her cup, as if to find the answer.
“The gallows if it’s up to the major,” Mairi growled.
“Don’t say that.” Catriona shivered. Ignoring the speculative glance the maid cast her she refilled her cup, and drained it in one draught. “Does he know anyone in Inverness?”
Her godmother laughed. “Aye, he knows half the city while the other half wants his head. But given that’s near where the body was found, we can assume he went there. So he has to come down the route along the glens.”
Mairi nodded. “Aye, shall we send someone to look for him?”
“That’s a good idea, Mairi. Send that young lad of Ewan Cameron’s. He did well enough last time. But wait till after nightfall.”
Mairi agreed. “Aye, too many Redcoats swarming around. Don’t worry, Catriona. We’ll find him, and we’ll warn him.” She lifted the tray and left.
“But Auntie Meg, he’s been accused of murder. Surely, he can’t come back to the house.”
“That’s true, dearie. But Rory’s been set up before and he’s always found a way out of it. He’ll know what to do.”
“I’m worried. Two dead men. How can he possibly wriggle out of that?”
Her godmother laughed. “One body. Two bodies. Rory’s escaped the noose more often than you can imagine, lass. All we need to do is warn him to be on his guard. Young Ewan will find him. I’ve no doubt.”
Catriona nodded. “If you say so.” She sat up. “I hate waiting. I want to do something.”
“Ach, I know. The waiting game is a woman’s fate. We wait to grow up, wait for our prince, all the while hoping we don’t end up married off to an ogre. Then we wait for our husbands to return unscathed from battle.”
Sadness filled her eyes and Catriona clasped her hand. Her godmother’s gaze met hers. “Your Uncle Alan was a fine man. An honest and fair man. And here I am, old and frail, still waiting for him to come back to me. But he never will. That long-ago night in Glencoe, at the chieftain’s house, he learnt the lesson of trust deceived the hard way and paid for it with his life. I’ve waited long enough. Soon it’ll be my time to join him. Then I won’t have to wait anymore.” Tears rolled down the wrinkled cheeks.
Catriona dabbed her godmother’s face with a kerchief. “Not yet, Auntie Meg. You’ve still much to do here. Like looking after Rory. Uncle Alan will have to wait a little longer.” The old lady smiled, her hand stroking Catriona’s. “If I had a daughter, I wish she’d be like you. She’d look after Rory.”
Chapter Thirteen
Rory stretched out flat on his stomach behind the brambles by the roadside, keeping his face low. The grass tickled his nose, and he quickly pinched it. Hopefully, his drab cloak provided him with the camouflage he needed, blending him into the muddy landscape.
Jamie stayed with the horses, hidden from sight behind a mound. But Rory needed to watch the soldiers. Heart pounding in his ears, he watched as the men marched in line up the narrow road toward Inverness, only yards from his hiding place. Pinched faces, shoulders hunched against the wind, they walked at a brisk pace.
Counting the rows passing by, he guessed there must be at least one hundred foot soldiers. Fortunately, their superiors rode ahead. He shuddered. If he’d not heard the hooves beating on the gravel, he’d have found himself in Inverness gaol, no doubt.
Rory decided to stay down until the last row turned a sharp bend ahead. It seemed like an eternity before he dared raise his head, scanning the roads and hillsides around him. Not a soul in sight. Relief washed over him when he thought how close he’d come to having himself arrested. It was time to leave the main roads and cut through the hills. He rose and hurried across the mound to where Jamie patiently waited with the horses.
“I think we’re safe now.” Rory shook the dust from his clothes. Taking the reins from Jamie, he heaved himself into the saddle. He grabbed the water skin, took a large draught, and passed it on to the boy.
“We head up on that hill.” He pointed toward a peak behind them. “The road is too dangerous. I wonder how many more soldiers will be heading north.” His mood was grim. “Watch your horse, lad. The ground is quite loose here.”
“Aye, sir.” Jamie’s voice shook. “What would they’ve done with us if they caught us?”
“Thrown us into gaol, lad. Or thrown a noose over that tree ahead and done away with us. Who knows.”
“W-without a trial?”
“Aye, without a trial. It’s what happens in times of war.”
“But, we’re not at war now.”
Rory turned to face him. “As long as we’re ruled from London, we’re always at war.” He swore, dragging his hand through his hair. Deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry, lad. I’m angry, that’s all. But not with you. Best leave me be a wee while, aye?”
Jamie nodded. “Aye, sir.”
“Good. Then let’s move on. The sooner we reach Loch Linnhe the better.” He turned and began the climb the hill. The rabbit path was barely trod, but Rory knew all the hidden trails that cut across the Highland hills. He’d walked them plenty of times.
***
The sun was sinking low over the hills on the far shore when Rory stopped short. It took them five long days to reach the hamlet of Inverlochy. Several times they’d been forced to hide, once for almost half a day, when soldiers on patrol roamed the area. Patience was not his forte, and Rory was at boiling point. His skin was filthy, his clothes ragged and muddy. So many Redcoats. This was more than a simple manhunt. Were they searching for the muskets?
Of course. Rory raised his head as he stopped in the shadow of Inverlochy Castle. His hood low over his brow, he gestured Jamie to follow him in silence. The arms. How could he have forgotten about the muskets? Some military bigwig knew they were hidden in the Highlands. He thought of the cave, cut deep into the mountains, where the guns waited for him.
Ready for the next rebellion—not for one damned banker who’d sell them to the highest bidder—making a profit on the backs of honest Highland folk. He was never going to reveal the hiding place, not even to Jamie. He didn’t dare put the boy’s life in danger.
With grim resolve he rode on. They had barely reached the shore when a shadow darted from behind shrubs. “Mr Rory, Mr Rory.”
Rory reined in his horse before it trampled over the boy jumping up and down in front of him. The lad was no older than 10 years. “Young Ewan.”
“Mr Ro
ry, quick. Awa’ from the shore.” A small finger pointed toward a frigatte far out on the water. “Come wi’ me.”
More Redcoats. Rory swore. Surely something else was afoot. He heaved himself off his horse and followed the boy as he darted between several hovels. Jamie followed his lead unasked. Once out of sight of the water, Young Ewan came to a halt.
“Mr Rory, Lady Meg sends me. The soldiers, they’re looking for you.”
Jamie took the reins off him and stayed behind, casting furtive glances toward the road.
Rory grabbed the boy’s shoulder. “How long have you been waiting for me?”
“Seven days. The soldiers found your cave.”
“Damn!” He nodded. “But at least they didn’t find anything inside.”
“No, but they found the tunnel. Mairi says they followed Miss Catriona to the other cave, the one where the black seal lives, but didn’t find the entrance once the lady went through.” The lad squirmed under Rory’s glare. “I dinna ken who Miss Catriona is. But Mairi says they’re safe for the moment. Miss Catriona and Lady Meg got rid of the soldiers.”
“Thank you, Ewan. You staying with family?”
The boy gave him a crooked grin. “Aye, wi’ ma sister. She lives just here.” He pointed at a small cottage with gaping holes for windows. The walls were whitewashed with lime some time ago but now it was covered in mud. Life was tough out here for ordinary folk.
The news was worse than expected, with the cave and tunnel exposed. Mairi was always careful to warn him of any goings-on. He pulled out a couple of coins and gave them to the boy. “Be careful as always with them, Young Ewan. Don’t want to attract undue attention.”
Ewan’s grin widened. “Nay, Mr Rory. Ye can count on me. They’ll go in a safe place.”
Rory nodded and thanked him. He watched the lad run to his sister’s hut, closing the rickety door firmly behind him.
Jamie stared at him. “The safe place?”
Rory chuckled. “Aye. He’s got a small box buried in the garden somewhere. Not sure if at his parents’ croft or here. That’s where he keeps his stash.” He slapped Jamie’s back. “One day young Ewan Cameron will be a rich man.”
Jamie laughed. “He seems clever enough already.”
“Aye. This way, Jamie. First, we’ve got to lose the horses. And then settle in for a long snooze somewhere sheltered. Until nighttime.”
“Nighttime? But why?”
“We’ll be less conspicuous in the dark. Horses can be heard. Boats not necessarily if you’re silent enough. We’ll walk down another couple of miles to where I’ve a boat hidden. We’ll take it close to the boathouse and then we’ll lose that, too.”
“Boats?” Jamie’s face turned green. “At night?”
Rory grinned. “Ah, there’s a first time for everything.” He watched the lad’s cheeks go from green to scarlet. “This first time not even Mairi can save you.”
“Mairi?” The blush deepened.
“Aye, Mairi. She’s a good lassie, Jamie. Imagine what she’d say if she heard you’ve thrown up on a boat on a calm loch?”
Sparing the lad more discomfort, Rory took the horses from him and walked toward the blacksmith’s, chuckling all the way.
***
Catriona woke to a grating sound. A sharp pain in her neck and knees reminded her she’d curled up on the settee in the library, reading. Oh dear, she must have fallen asleep! Blinking, she stretched her legs. The sound of voices brought her fully awake. In the dim light of only a couple of candles, she stared at the fireplace, heart in her mouth. Had the Redcoats discovered the exit? Glancing around the room, she found nowhere to hide. She froze in her seat and stared at the man ducking underneath the lintel. He straightened and stared at her.
“Rory!” Catriona jumped up and rushed to him. She stopped a foot in front of him, her fingers intertwined, not daring to touch him. The look of relief in his eyes gave her hope. “You’re back.” Tears blinded her as a wave of happiness consumed her. He was home. Now, all was going to be fine.
Rory raised a hand, calloused fingers brushing her cheek. “Aye, I’m home, lass.”
The sound of footsteps on stone behind him made him drop his hand and turn. “All safe, Jamie. It’s only Catriona.” He ushered the boy into the room and, reaching into the fireplace, closed the stone door. The lad nodded, cheeks burning.
Catriona took a step back. She felt bereft when Rory dropped his hand, the fragile bond broken again. “I’m so glad to see you both alive and well.” Casting a glance at the close-drawn curtains, she said, “Did you get our message?”
Rory nodded. “Aye. Young Ewan waited for us at Inverlochy.”
A sudden fear gripped Catriona. “But you came through the cave. The Redcoats know of it.”
He smiled, and her head spun. God, she’d worried so much about him, relying on him to simply return and make everything all right.
“We came through the sparkly cave, Cat. I guess they didn’t fancy keeping watch inside a dank, narrow tunnel but I’m sure they’re watching the main cave. We must keep away from it.” He turned to Jamie. “You go and rest, lad. I’m sure you’ll find the bunk bed all ready.” He looked at Catriona, eyebrow raised in question.
“Yes,” she said, turning to Jamie. “You’ll find some water in a bowl in the kitchen to freshen up. We kept it ready for you every night. Here, take this candle.”
Jamie gave her a curt bow, and took the lit candle. “Thank you, Miss. Until the morning.” Silence fell after he’d closed the door behind him.
Aware of the butterflies doing somersaults in her stomach, Catriona covered it with her hand as she glanced at Rory’s face. He had not moved, and his scrutinizing gaze made her shiver. Slowly, he broke the spell and flopped onto the settee by the curtained window, patting the seat next to him. “Come, sit, lassie. I heard you dealt with the soldiers well. Tell me.”
Catriona sat on the edge of the seat, careful their legs and hips didn’t touch. Despite the gap, the heat Rory exuded overwhelmed her. She took a couple of deep breaths, her gaze never leaving the fireplace. Fiddling with her skirts, she startled when he slid his hand up her back, coming to rest at her neck. His strong fingers gently massaged the pain she’d felt on waking.
Her brain cried out for her to ignore his touch, but her body gave in. She turned to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and lay her head on his chest. God, she’d missed him so much. Had he missed her, too?
Catriona opened her mouth to speak when Rory closed the gap between them in an instant. His mouth crushed hers, devouring her lips, her tongue. His arms trailed down her back, pulling her closer. He’d missed her, surely. Her heart leapt. Sliding her hands underneath his coat, she slid them around his broad torso, feeling his strong muscles underneath the thin fabric of his shirt. Grime brushed her skin but she did not care. Rory was home. He moaned, his kiss turning soft, playful as his teeth nibbled her lower lip before sending a blazing trail down her neck.
“Cat,” he growled, “I’ve...” He broke off, pushing her away, and stared, their faces but inches apart. His eyes shone with disbelief.
Catriona bit her lip, feeling his gaze turning to her mouth. “What?”
He sat back, releasing her. “I apologize, Catriona. I don’t know what’s come over me.”
She withdrew into the corner of the settee. He’d come back to her only to reject her again. He didn’t care after all. Tears strained to break through, and she averted her gaze. There was no hope for them, no hope for a shared future. He didn’t want her.
“I saw the Redcoats in the cave.” She hesitated, taking a deep breath. “I was worried about you that’s why I went back in.” Her hand shook as she pointed at the fireplace.
“You were curious, you mean.” The sarcastic tone of his voice made her shudder. Why did he despise her so much?
“No, Rory. I wasn’t curious. Not this time. I was concerned.”
“Alright, then. So, what happened?”
“They were s
earching for something. I couldn’t hear them properly, and when I wanted to go back, I sneezed.” Shame suffused her. It was her fault that they’d found the tunnel, found the link to other places. Perhaps even suspected a path to this house. “I’m so sorry,” she blurted out, pleading with him. “It’s all my fault.”
“Nonsense, lass.” She heard him sigh. “They’d have found it sooner or later. And you didn’t lead them here but took the other turn instead. That was very brave of you given you didn’t know where it led.”
She laughed, the cynical sound ringing harsh in her ears. “No, I wasn’t brave. I was scared. But more so about Auntie Meg if they’d found the link to the house.” And for you, she thought, not daring to voice it out loud. She swallowed hard.
He took her hand, holding it between his. “You did the right thing, Catriona, and I’ll be forever grateful for that.”
Grateful? She nearly screamed. Rory was grateful? Shaking off his hands, she stood and turned to face him. “No need to be grateful, Rory. Auntie Meg’s part of my family, after all.” And you’re not.
The notion saddened her. It was time for her to retire. “To cut a long story short, a Major Robertson visited us shortly after my excursion. And he accused you of murder.” Catriona shivered as she spoke the hated word. “Up north, near Inverness. A government agent.” She wanted Rory to deny it but he remained silent. Desperation rose inside her. Was he guilty after all?
“Tell me,” she whispered.
Rory pushed himself off the settee. Weariness surrounded him. She’d just wanted to hold him but that was out of the question. He’d push her away again.
An eyebrow raised, his hands gripped her by the shoulders. “Do you think I did it?”
“Of course not.” Catriona dug her fingers into his arms, trying to wrestle him off her and pull him closer at the same time. “I never believed you capable of such a deed. I defended you to Major Robertson.”
He glared at her, unmoving. “Did you indeed?” A wolfish grin made her want to scream, to hold him, to shake him into believing her.
