The ground seemed alive, writhing beneath him like some great serpent waking from the center of the earth. Hand wrapped in rope, Graham held fast and scanned the area. “Marsden!”
“Here, I am! Here!”
The palest white flashed just beneath the trunk of an uprooted tree. Graham leaned forward and peered closer, then smiled. It was Marsden’s white arse, shining through the storm.
“Hold fast, man! I’m nearly to ye.” Graham let out the rope and lowered himself to the tangle of branches Marsden clutched.
“My breeches,” Marsden wheezed and coughed as he glanced downward. His trews were tangled around his ankles. “Thank heavens my boots kept them from washing away.”
“Take hold of the rope, man. Quick now, or losing your trews will be the least of your worries.” Still holding tight to the rope himself, Graham tossed Marsden a length of it.
Marsden wrapped the rope around one hand, released his hold on the tree, and crawled his way up the embankment. Graham held tight to the collar of his jacket as the man worked his soaked breeks back up in place.
Face splotched and red, his body coated with mud and leaves, Marsden held fast to the rope, gasping and sputtering as Graham hefted them both back up to safety. As soon as they reached level ground, he rolled to his back with a hand clutched to his chest. “Praise God Almighty for strong, able Scotsmen.”
Graham shook his head as he wound up the rope and untied it from the tree. “Next time, ye’ll listen to me, aye?”
“Absolutely,” Marsden gasped as he struggled to stand. He wiped his muddy hand clean and held it out. “Allow me to shake your hand, sir, and give you my heartfelt thanks.” He swallowed hard as he gripped Graham’s forearm. “I owe my life to you, and I assure you, I will never forget what you did here today.”
Chapter Ten
“Does the quiet beauty of Loch Lomond no’ inspire ye?”
Graham’s voice always triggered deep feelings within her. Even more so of late. His burr sent giddy anticipation thrilling through her. But not today. Today, the sound of his voice brought only regret, hopelessness, and despair.
Mercy smoothed her hands across the clean, unmarked page of her journal. She kept her gaze locked on the peaceful, blue-green waters of the loch and watched the trails of sunlight sparkle and dance across its surface. “I was just thinking how peaceful it would be if I sank into those waters and never returned.”
Graham took hold of her and pulled her close, knocking her sketchbook to the ground. “Never say such!” he said with such startling urgency it rattled her. He clasped her tight, showing fear she’d consider ending her life. “Ye’ve made me care for ye, woman. I’ll be damned if I allow ye to give up and leave me now. We will figure this out together.”
His words made her heart pound. He cared. She hitched in a sob before it escaped, forcing the warm, comforting security of being cared for away. No. He mustn’t. For him to care risked too much.
“I would never give up,” she reassured with a sad whisper. “But caring for you plays right into my father’s hands. I will not endanger your family.” Unshed tears stung her eyes, and the need to weep made her throat ache. She pressed both hands to the rock-hardness of his muscled chest, willing him to hold her, not caring if anyone saw. “I fear all is lost for us, Graham. The world is closing in and determined to see us separated before we are ever joined.”
“All is not lost.” He glanced over at the encampment, then released his hold on her and took a step back. “I never thought I would say this. Thought myself a soldier forever.” His charged gaze held her captive, refused to let her look away. “But I swear I shall find a way for us to be together.” He lifted his chin as he took a step closer and swept her hands up into his and held them to his chest. “That is—if ye can see fit to have me.”
If her heart wasn’t aching for all she would never have, Mercy would have laughed out loud. Her Highlander. Her guardian. Her courageous, caring heartmate. He stood before her offering himself as though he were the lowliest of the low. To her, a woman who had never belonged anywhere. “‘See fit to have you, you say.” She held his hands tight as though she’d never let them go. “If only I could have you, my fine, honorable man. No matter what comes to pass—you must know this, you will always be the only choice of my heart.”
Graham pressed a kiss to the back of each of her hands, then gave her a reassuring smile. “When we reach Tor Ruadh, we shall have more heads to put to this quandary. We’ll search out a way to make a future. We will find a solution, lass. I promise ye.” He released her hands and retrieved her journal, brushing dirt from its cover. “No more talk of drowning yourself, my fine, wee selkie. I’ll no’ relinquish ye to the waters, ye ken?” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Unless ye fancy an evening swim and the gift of another kiss.”
The burden of her black mood managed to lighten. Mercy tapped a finger to the end of his nose. “I see no grasses in which we can hide, my tempting water rat.”
Graham chuckled as he caught her hand and brought it to his lips.
“I say there. Might I join you?” Pebbles and clumps of dirt tumbled down around them, dislodged by Captain Marsden’s progress down the incline toward the water’s edge.
“There’s a body I wouldna mind surrendering to the loch,” Graham grumbled in a low tone meant just for her.
“Now, Graham,” she scolded gently. “He’s not that bad, and if you’d admit it, I believe you rather like the man. You did see fit to save his life.”
Since Marsden had joined their party, the garrulous man had befriended every person in the camp—even Cook.
He stumbled the last few feet to the shoreline, arms extended and flapping like an awkward bird attempting to take flight. “I never knew grasses could tangle a man’s boots so. Do be careful, m’lady, when you make your way back to camp.”
Mercy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the poor captain. “Thank you, Captain Marsden. I appreciate the warning.”
The red-cheeked man smiled, yanking his uniform back in place down around his rather full form as he settled in beside them. “Although my arrival brought the two of you ill news, I consider myself quite fortunate to have made your acquaintance. I feel as though we’ve become good friends.”
Graham didn’t respond, just glared at the man with that stoic expression that infuriated Mercy so. She nudged her elbow into his side as she spoke. “And we feel the same, Captain Marsden.”
“Ye seem a good man, Marsden.” Graham gave Mercy a sullen dip of his chin that told her she should be grateful for him saying that much.
The captain clasped his hands together, lacing his fingers so tightly his knuckles whitened. “Thank you, Master MacCoinnich.” He nodded with a knowing wink. “I understand how much it pains a Scot to admit friendship with an Englishman.”
“Was that all ye wished to say to us, Marsden?”
“Graham!” Mercy couldn’t believe Graham’s rude behavior. Well, she could, but his forwardness never ceased to amaze her. “Please forgive him, Captain Marsden. At least you know he always speaks his mind.”
“Too true, m’lady. Which brings me quicker to the point Master MacCoinnich seeks.” His jovial demeanor faded, replaced with a concerned look. “I am compelled to tell you I was sent here to replace Lieutenant St. Johns because the man failed to report any useful information regarding the two of you.”
“Aye?” Graham held up his hands. “We all knew St. Johns to be a poor informant. What’s your point, man?”
“If St. Johns was replaced for his failings as a spy, then how did His Majesty and the Duke of Edsbury come to possess such pertinent information involving the two of you and your, shall we say…attachment? The report I was given was more than explicit and extremely detailed.” Marsden looked away and cleared his throat, shuffling back and forth in place as he continued, “Private dinners. Heated kisses and…dare I say…swimming without benefit of either clothing or chaperone.”
&n
bsp; “Janie.” The name escaped her before she could stop it. Mercy felt the greatest sort of fool. Graham had warned her, but she’d been unable to believe her maid a spy. Not after the friendship she’d thought they’d formed. How could she have been so naïve?
“How many confidences have ye shared with her?” Graham asked in a patient, protective tone that made Mercy feel even worse.
“Of late—not many.” Mercy shook her head, wringing her hands. “I had an ill feeling about her after the day at the river.” A wave of nausea washed across her, making her grab hold of Graham’s arm. How could she have been so blind? She’d risked so many lives by trusting that conniving girl.
“Take care, lass.” Graham caught her up and held her. “If she doesna ken we are privy to her sly ways, mayhap we can use this.” He looked to Marsden. “What say ye, man? Will ye help us?”
“Absolutely,” Captain Marsden replied without hesitation. “My loyalty to king and country goes without saying. But I am also loyal to the protection of those who should be together. No greater pain exists than that of true love denied.” He gave Graham a solemn nod. “And after all, you did save my life, sir.”
Mercy’s heart went out to the man. “You lost a great love, Captain Marsden?”
“Yes, m’lady. True love denied.” Captain Marsden’s voice faltered, and he pressed a clenched fist to his mouth. Eyes closed, he paused for what looked like a painful moment, then took a deep breath and turned back to face her with a forced smile. “But I shan’t trouble you with the delicate details of the matter.” He stood taller and cast a disparaging glance up the hillside where Janie and the others milled about the wagons, tending to their duties. “But I will help you both however I can—although I would be most appreciative if we could avoid anything treasonous.”
“Ye can start by telling us the duke and king’s reactions to the reports. Anything they might have told ye regarding Lady Mercy and m’self,” Graham said. “Battles are won with information.”
Captain Marsden frowned at the suggestion. He clasped both hands behind his back and walked near the water. “The Duke of Edsbury seemed elated at the news. Actually said that all was going according to his plan. A plan with which he’d never thought Lady Mercy would comply.” Marsden turned and studied her as he continued. “But the king seemed quite…” He stopped, brow furrowed as he stared at her as though he’d never seen her before.
“Quite?” Mercy wished the man would spit it out but no matter how hard she glared at him, he remained silent. “Quite what, Marsden?”
“More than a little disturbed,” Marsden replied. “What puzzles me is His Majesty’s agitation appeared more directed at the Duke of Edsbury rather than toward either of you.”
“What makes you say that?” Marsden’s observation made no sense. Surely the man had it wrong. Mercy wished she’d been at court observing her father and the king when they received the news.
“Because your father was immediately dismissed from His Majesty’s presence and advised not to return unless summoned.” Marsden gave Mercy a knowing nod. “Such a dismissal from His Highness is never good. Your father required assistance leaving the room.”
Graham scowled, picked up a smooth round rock from the ground, and skipped it across the water. Staring at the point where the rock sank, his eyes narrowed. “King William didna go into detail as to how Edsbury displeased him?”
Marsden shook his head as he stood alongside Graham and joined him in staring out across the loch. “His Majesty merely cut off the duke’s ill-timed bragging about how once again, he’d proven himself the pride of the court.” Marsden shrugged. “The king then ordered the duke escorted out and not granted admittance again unless he so commanded it.”
“When were you told of the betrothal?” Mercy couldn’t even bear to say the unknown man’s name she’d been slated to marry.
“That same day. Right after they led your father from the room.” Marsden bent with a huffing grunt, selected a rock, and attempted to skip it across the water. It failed, sinking a few feet from shore with a disheartening plunk. Marsden frowned and bent to find another stone. “Although, come to think of it…” Marsden stood. “Your intended’s name was not mentioned at that time.” He frowned and gave Mercy a confused look. “In fact, I’m not certain the king even knew who your intended might be at that particular moment. The way he acted was quite peculiar for His Majesty. I wasn’t made privy to your betrothed’s name or status until the day I left London to return to Fort Smith and gather my men to intercept you. I was instructed to ride hard and fast and make the trip in record time. In fact, it was stated that the success of my future in His Majesty’s guard depended on it.”
Graham turned from the water and faced her, a grim knowing making his dark features. “Sounds as though the king is doing his best to protect your honor and recover you from this situation unscathed. After all, who in society would dare sully the name of a woman given in marriage by the king himself.”
“But that would foil his plot to destroy your clan. How could he sanction Campbell’s onslaught by having me safely married to some Dutchman allied with his family?” Mercy hugged herself against the cool wind coming off the loch. “None of this makes sense. My father explicitly stated the king was quite interested in a more subtle massacre of yet another Highland clan.” The thought sickened her and made her swallow hard against the bitter bile rising at the back of her throat. “Father will be enraged by the king’s dismissal.” She clamped her mouth shut. “He will blame me,” she whispered. Mercy had no doubt her father would attempt to do her harm.
Graham strode forward and took her in his arms, embracing her safe and tight to his chest. “The bastard willna hurt ye. I swear it.”
His protective words rumbled against her, filling her with a comforting warmth, a fleeting sense of possibilities. Could they survive this unscathed? She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek against the rough weave of Graham’s jacket. She breathed in the consoling scent of the man dearer to her than life. How could she fear anything with his strong arms around her? “I can’t have you or your family hurt,” she whispered. “Father will not fight fair.”
Graham’s laugh shook through her as he kissed the top of her head. “I dinna fight fair either when it comes to those I cherish.”
Chapter Eleven
“I willna rest easy until we reach Tor Ruadh.” Graham rested his hand atop the butt of his pistol as he scanned the surrounding land.
Every tree, every rock, every towering crag could hide an intruder intent on hurting Mercy. Every sound from the group’s movement seemed magnified in the tunnel-like pass through the silent mountainous sentries of Scotland. Horses clomped and thudded across the packed dirt. Harnesses rattled with their twisting and shifting. Wagon wheels creaked and groaned with the rhythm of every bump and turn. Christ Almighty. They couldn’t announce their presence any louder if they shouted it from the mountain tops. The place made them easy targets, slow-moving and open to ambush.
Graham had no doubt the Duke of Edsbury had dispatched someone, and this was the perfect place for them to strike. He wished Marsden had seen fit to share the report of the duke’s expulsion from court earlier. More time to plan a suitable defense and a different route.
“I’m torn betwixt riding ahead to warn Alexander and staying here.” Duncan rode beside him on the road that was little more than a tramped down path. He twisted in the saddle and hurried the men forward. “Keep the wagons closer behind us, aye? No straggling through here.”
Doughal and Percy March complied, urging the draft horses to pull at a faster clip. Cook’s wagon swayed from side to side behind them, driven by the sour-faced cook herself with Janie sitting beside her clutching hold of the guardrail around the seat.
“I need ye here, brother,” Graham said with a backward glance at Mercy. “I wish yourself and Marsden to flank Mercy through this pass. I’ve an ill feeling about this place.”
Steep, rugged cliffs cradled the lon
g stretch of overgrown woodland, walling in the towering trees and moss-covered boulders lining the narrow roadway. Instinct and experience bade him hasten them to the open glen on the other side. At least once they reached open land, he’d be able to better see around them.
“Someone watches us. I can feel it.” Graham nudged his horse into a canter. “Stay together and keep up,” he called back to others.
Suddenly, something whizzed past him, followed by another. Arrows from higher ground.
“Halt and take cover!” With the heavily laden wagons there was no outrunning the attack but by damn, they would hide and bide their time, and strike back when the marauders got within range. “Women, inside Cook’s wagon. Now!” He thanked God when Mercy complied without argument. She dismounted and hurried back to climb inside the wagon.
“Bolt the doors and windows! Open them for no one!” he shouted after her.
She paused long enough to send him a fearful, longing look, then disappeared inside.
Graham, Duncan, Marsden, and the rest of the men took cover between the two flatbed wagons the men had steered off the sides of the road so Cook could draw her wagon up between them.
Pulling a pair of rifles out from under one of the wagon’s benches, Graham motioned Wills and Robbie forward. “Crawl under and guard the back of Cook’s wagon and see that none breaches it, aye?” he said as he handed each of them a rifle.
“Yes sir,” Wills said, eyes wide as he stared down at the rifle Graham thrust into his hands.
“I wish we’d brought our bows,” Duncan remarked as the rest of them crouched between the sturdy bodies of the draft horses and waited for the attackers’ next move.
The Age of Knights and Highlanders: A Series Starter Collection Page 65
