He tightened his embrace as she trembled in his arms, too overwhelmed to speak. His heartbeat thudded in her ears. She had never felt so closely connected to another human being.
But she sensed his tension. He’d brought her pleasure without regard for his own release. It flew in the face of every dire warning her mother had ever uttered that men were driven entirely by lust. Still, his hard length pressed against her was proof his need remained.
Hoping she was doing the right thing, she sat up and eased him to lie back. Awed by the proud lance jutting from his body, she curled her hand around its thick length. “I dinna ken exactly what to do,” she confessed.
The candle’s glow illuminated the longing in his eyes.
He put his hand over hers. “I’ll show ye,” he rasped.
New Orders
A loud rapping at his door roused Gray from sleep. He was disappointed to find himself alone, but relieved Faith had returned to her own bed sometime during the night.
“Come,” he shouted, drawing the linens over his naked body.
“Nay,” Smythe replied. “Just letting ye know everyone’s already in the dining hall.”
Evidently, he’d slept late—not surprising after the deep connection he and Faith had shared. They hadn’t joined their bodies, but she was in his blood just the same.
He had no regrets, but didn’t want her reputation sullied. He’d make his intentions clear to his family today, so there’d be no hint of gossip when he couldn’t keep his hands off her.
The memory of their tryst stirred renewed interest at his groin. For an innocent, she’d shown a remarkable depth of passion and made him feel like the world’s most accomplished lover.
Whistling, he bathed and dressed quickly then hurried to join his family, filled with a sense of optimism about the future he hadn’t felt in—well, forever.
Faith blushed endearingly when he entered. He winked and flashed a reassuring smile, tempted to saunter over and tell her he would speak to their parents today. Or perhaps he’d just announce loudly for all to hear that he was in love.
His confidence faltered when he looked along the head table. His father was on his feet, deep in conversation with Quinn Guthrie.
“We wondered when ye’d finally get out of bed, Lazybones,” Jewel said with heavy sarcasm. “Quinn rode in early after meeting with Atholl yesterday.”
He glanced at Faith, worried by her frown. Quinn’s reappearance probably had more to do with Argyll than with personal matters, but she might think he was hesitant to tell Quinn he couldn’t marry his daughter.
“Grab something from the servery, Gray,” his father said sternly. “Meet us in the Map Room.”
The abrupt departure of the men of the family caught the attention of everyone in the dining hall. Speculative murmurs buzzed. Gray’s appetite fled and he hurried to the meeting.
His father wasted no time. “The marquess has requested we send our militia north to reinforce his troops.”
Gray’s hackles rose. “When we left Bute, all indications were the Rising stood scant chance of success. The frigates have Argyll hemmed in.”
“Nevertheless,” Quinn replied. “Rumbold managed to seize Ardkinglas on his way to Inverary, but Atholl’s troops successfully defended the earl’s former stronghold, thanks to the information ye provided.”
“’Twas actually thanks to Faith that we learned of the plan,” Gray interrupted, anxious to make sure they knew of her vital role.
Quinn ignored him. “With Argyll’s ancestral ambitions thwarted, the marquess believes they’ll attempt a foray into the Lowlands. He wants as many men as possible ready to stop any advance they might make on Glasgow. Word has come Monmouth has finally sailed from Holland.”
Gray’s spirits fell. He thought he’d seen the last of Argyll, but he’d be expected to ride with the Kilmer militia, as would Munro and Garnet. Sarah and Jewel wouldn’t be pleased to see their husbands gallop off to war.
“I volunteer,” Giles piped up.
“Nay, laddie,” Munro replied. “Ye’ve done enough.”
Giles clenched his jaw. “I have to see this through. Besides,” he added with a wink, “I’m a trained infantryman.”
Word spread quickly that the militia would be heading north the next day. Faith saw nothing of Gray. Indeed, most of the Kilmer menfolk seemed to be busy making preparations for the deployment.
Apparently, no one was inclined to hear about the time she, Gray and Giles had spent in the Isles—except Esther who badgered her all afternoon for details of Giles’ exploits. It didn’t seem to occur to her or Rachel that anything may have gone on between Faith and Gray. Maggie remained unusually silent during the entire conversation. Faith deemed it wiser to wait until she and her little sister were alone before telling of her close call during the fire at Rothesay Castle.
Esther was angry that Giles intended to go with the militia and was certain her sister had the wherewithal to prevent it. This ridiculous assertion finally drove Faith out of the house and into the meadows.
She inhaled the warm June air and the aroma of newly-scythed grass as she walked, glad neither she nor Gray had been obliged to give an account of the mission. After last night’s intimacy, she feared it would have been impossible to hide their attraction to one another, and Jewel was bound to probe more deeply than Esther.
However, Gray was riding into danger again, and this time she wasn’t going with him. The memory of his shout of elation when she’d helped his body find release would have to sustain her in his absence. It was the most meaningful event of her life. His husky promise that on their wedding night he’d bury himself deep inside her still sent winged creatures fluttering in her heart.
The shadows were lengthening by the time she returned to the house. The evening meal was already underway when she slipped into her seat at the table. She kept her eyes fixed on her food, afraid everyone in the hall would see the anguish on her face if she looked at Gray.
Plagued with indecision about the coming night, she took no part in the argument between Maggie and Esther over the latter’s constant bemoaning Giles’ imminent departure.
She longed to go to Gray’s chamber again, to spend another night wrapped in his embrace, learning what pleased him. It might be weeks before they were reunited. But the departure would come early on the morrow and he needed his sleep.
She startled at the touch of his warm hands on her shoulders as he bent close to her ear. “Papa has asked dragoons to patrol the house and grounds,” he whispered. “He’s worried about the amount of powder and ammunition on the premises. Best not come this night, much as I want ye to.”
She nodded her agreement. But that didn’t stop the tears as she watched him join his parents.
Alas, Unfortunate Argyll
June 18th 1685
Gray snapped a couple of limbs off a branch Giles had fetched earlier and tossed them on the campfire. “This is turning into a wild goose chase,” he muttered.
The hungry flames licked at the green wood, sending wisps of smoke into the early morning air as the men broke their fast.
Seated beside him on the same fallen log, Munro agreed. “We’ve spent a week tramping all over northern Ayrshire in Atholl’s wake, but it seems Argyll is reluctant to join battle.”
“Near Dumbarton he was in an advantageous position to advance on Glasgow, but then retreated,” Garnet added, nursing a bowl of porridge. “Doesna make sense.”
“Atholl reckons the rebel force has dwindled to about five hundred men,” Munro remarked. “A lot have deserted.”
“They were already getting disillusioned on Bute,” Gray confirmed. “The arguments among the leaders that caused many to lose faith are still ongoing. In my opinion, dissension is the reason for their withdrawal at Dumbarton.”
“Argyll must be at his wits’ end,” Giles said. “The marquess reports he’s lost his three ships and the fortress at Eilean Dreag.”
“Along with the munitions stored
there,” Garnet added.
Munro shook his head. “And the Orkney hostages.”
Gray scooped the last of his oatmeal. “He must ken ’tis a lost cause, especially if he’s heard about Monmouth’s lack of progress in the south.”
They rose as one when a commotion drew their attention to the meadow beyond where they sat.
A soldier held the halter of a newly arrived horse. The rider dismounted.
“’Tis the marquess,” Giles declared.
“Good news,” Atholl shouted as he approached. “The earl has been captured.”
Cheering echoed off the surrounding hillsides as the news spread. Gray shook hands with the marquess, then turned to share a joyful embrace with his kin.
“Now ye can get back to that lass of yers,” Munro quipped as they hugged.
“Lass?” Garnet asked with a frown.
“Aye,” Munro confirmed. “And dinna think to naysay a match betwixt Gray and Faith. ’Tis obvious they’re well suited.”
Gray braced himself, but whatever reply Garnet was about to offer was preempted by the marquess’ gleeful account of Argyll’s capture. “Militiamen apprehended him resting in a ditch, disguised as a farmer. They didn’t recognize his bearded face at first. He tried to fire his pistol but the powder was damp, so the soldier hit him on the head. As he fell he reportedly cried, Alas, unfortunate Argyll. ’Twas only then they realized whom they’d captured.”
“A pathetic fiasco to the end,” Gray replied.
Atholl put a hand on his shoulder. “Scotland owes ye a debt of gratitude.”
Gray pointed to Giles. “And this brave young mon.”
Atholl shook Giles’ hand. “Well done, lad.”
Gray’s chest swelled with pride. “And we canna forget Faith Cameron. Without her…”
“Aye,” Atholl replied, already walking away.
“Seems my foster daughter’s contribution means little to the marquess,” Garnet hissed. “I suppose I’ll learn soon enough what happened in the Isles.”
Munro pursued their commander. “Do we have yer permission to return to Kilmer with our men, sir?”
The marquess paused. “Aye, but remain watchful. Cochrane and Rumbold are still out there and we dinna ken how many men they have. They’ll be desperate now. I’ll assign Cleland’s troop to accompany ye.”
Munro returned to the campfire, rubbing his hands. “Let’s strike camp. I plan to be tucked up this night with my wife in a warm bed.”
“Aye,” Garnet agreed, eyeing Gray. “And what about ye? Is there something ye want to tell me about Faith?”
Gray replied without hesitation. “I plan to marry her—with or without yer permission.”
He wished the threat unspoken. Faith would never defy Garnet’s wishes.
“What exactly went on in the Isles?”
“Nothing untoward at all,” Giles piped up. “I can vouch for Gray’s behavior as a gentleman. He saved Faith from being raped by drunken Highlanders in Rothesay.”
Gray wasn’t the only one who gaped at the lad.
“Seems our Giles has grown up,” Munro said.
Garnet scratched his head. “I dinna ken why I’m being so pig-headed about it, brother. Ye’re a fine catch for Faith, and there’s nay doubt she loves ye. If ye love her in return…”
“I’m besotted,” Gray confessed. “Just as ye are with my sister.”
“Then there’s just the matter of Meaghan Guthrie, which I ken very well Jewel will bring up.”
“I’ll deal with that,” Gray assured him.
News of Argyll’s capture reached Kilmer in the early afternoon. The earl summoned the women of the family and Luke Harrison to a meeting in the gallery, where Quinn confirmed the news.
Sarah and Jewel embraced each other, laughing through their tears.
Rachel tried to console a weeping Esther. To Faith’s surprise, Maggie went to Luke instead of her. It was touching to see the two of them hug self-consciously, but Faith felt bereft, despite her elation Gray would soon be home.
The countess left her husband’s side and took Faith’s hands. “’Tis over,” she said.
The temptation to blurt out her feelings for Gray was fierce, but she glanced nervously at Quinn.
The countess followed her gaze. “Dinna fash. ’Twill be resolved.”
“I hope so,” she replied, praying they were both talking about the same thing.
The Kilmer militia followed Cleland’s dragoons across the Clyde at Erskine Bridge, then headed south.
They’d covered about half the twenty-five mile journey home when they heard distant musket fire.
Cleland called a halt and sent a scouting party ahead.
Gray took the opportunity to dismount and stretch his legs, hoping they wouldn’t be delayed too long. “At least the rain has held off,” he remarked to Munro.
Garnet stood in the stirrups and scanned the nearby loch. “No cover. We’re too exposed.”
Munro shrugged. “The shots sound far away. I dinna think we need to worry. Here come the scouts now.”
Gray led his horse to Cleland. “What’s afoot?”
“Lord Ross has a troop of about seventy-five rebels pinned down near Lochwinnoch. They’ve drawn up in a small close protected by stone walls and refuse to surrender. I’m obliged to assist. ’Tis important to capture their leader.”
“Who is it?”
“Cochrane.”
Gray had no trouble believing Cochrane would fight on. “How can ye be sure?”
“He’s related to Ross.”
Gray glanced back at the Kilmer militia. “I’m loath to expose our folks to danger so close to home. They’re nay trained soldiers, just volunteers.”
He didn’t add that it was vital his kin arrive home safely. The prospect of telling Sarah and Jewel their husbands had been killed ten miles from Kilmer when the Rising was essentially over wasn’t to be borne.
Cleland nodded. “Take cover. We’ll make short work of them.”
“There is no cover here,” Garnet yelled as the soldier rode away at the head of his troop.
Sitting Ducks
They crouched in the grass for over an hour.
Gray became increasingly uneasy as the sounds of battle died, grew louder, then faded again.
“So much for a quick rout,” Munro remarked more than once. “We’re sitting ducks here.”
Garnet agreed. “We should either join the fray or make a run for Kilmer.”
Munro glanced back at their men sitting in groups in the meadow. “I dinna want to risk their lives at this stage.”
“We have to decide soon,” Garnet replied. “The shadows are starting to lengthen. We canna be galloping across the moor in the dark.”
They stood quickly when a group of soldiers staggered toward them bearing a litter.
“A casualty,” Munro said.
“Put him down here,” one of them ordered, “then get back to the lines.”
They obeyed as the newcomer dropped to his knees beside the litter. “Bothewell. Army surgeon. This officer has been gravely wounded.”
“We’ve a lad here can help,” Munro said, bringing Giles forward. “He kens a thing or two…”
“Just hold him down,” the man repeated with great agitation.
Gray knelt to assist, nigh on losing the contents of his belly when he realized it was Cleland lying on the litter, a hole the size of a fist in his chest. Munro knelt across from him. A glance at his brother’s pale face confirmed Cleland was already dead.
“There’s nay point restraining him,” Gray said.
The surgeon sat back on his haunches. “Damn them to hell,” he rasped. “A fine officer. They’ve wounded Ross as well. Shot his horse out from under him.”
“I thought there were less than a hundred rebels,” Garnet interjected.
“But they ken the cause is lost and they’ve fought off every assault. Ross is on the verge of retreating to Kilmarnock. We’ll catch up to Cochrane sooner or la
ter.”
“We’re heading south too,” Garnet declared.
“If we join the fight, our numbers might make the difference,” Gray suggested.
“Ross has already given the command,” the surgeon replied. “I’m off to find my horse.”
Gray looked at the devastated body of the handsome young man who’d been alive a scant hour ago. “What about Cleland?”
“I’ll send volunteers to get him on a horse. Leave quietly and watch out for snipers. If they sense we’re retreating, they may follow in pursuit.”
Munro and Garnet hurried off to rouse their men.
Gray hunkered down, staring at Cleland, Giles at his side. “I canna leave him,” he rasped, not fully understanding the reason for his reluctance.
“A brave mon,” the lad replied. “But the dragoons are already moving stealthily through the meadow. They’ll take care of their own.”
Gray stood abruptly when another officer approached. A bloodied bandage wrapped around one hand led him to believe this was Lord Ross.
“Stop yer men,” the newcomer yelled. “The rebels are scattering in the direction of the loch.”
Gray’s heart lurched. In the confusion, the Kilmer militia might easily be mistaken for Cochrane’s men. He set off at a run through the dry grass, Giles pulling their horses not far behind.
Panting, he caught up with Munro. “Head north,” he shouted over the racket of a volley of musket fire. “The rebels are retreating to the south.”
His brother heeded his warning and turned his horse. The Kilmer men followed, evidently sensing the danger.
Giles mounted and rode off with them.
Gray put one foot in the stirrup then unexpectedly found himself writhing in agony on the ground. Some vestige of sanity told him he’d been shot. His last coherent thought as he slipped into darkness was a deep regret that he would never see Faith again.
The earl was the first to start pacing in the gallery, hands clasped behind his back. “I expected they’d be back before this,” he muttered.
Highland Rising (The House of Pendray Book 4) Page 12
