Highland Soldiers: The Betrayal (6 page)

Duncan’s anger was slow to subside.

“Please, Duncan, help me.” Elspeth took in the stares from onlookers.

Without a word, Duncan hooked his arms under his father’s and pulled him to his feet.

“Come Brodie, it’s time to go home,” said his wife. She took one side, and Duncan took the other.

“I’m sorry,” said Brodie.

Duncan cast a dark look at his father. “Try to walk to those trees over there without disgracing your wife. It’s too late for me, but at least have a care for Mum.” He turned toward his mother. “Wait over there, out of sight. I’ll bring my horse, and he can ride while we walk home the rest of the way.”

As he walked past, people turned their attention back to the horse race, but Duncan did not notice. His mind was on how they would now pay the rent that was due.

He had to walk past some overgrown brambles to untether his horse. Muted moans caught his attention. Thinking someone was hurt, he glanced toward the sound.

With her palms to the tree, Rose’s skirts were hiked up, and a man gripped her hips. Her breasts slapped against her ribs as he thrust himself into her. Rose stared blankly ahead as the man lifted his chin to suck in air and exhale. It was Tavish. Duncan turned away and led his horse past groups of people dancing and talking. Through the dancers, he caught glimpses of Jenny on the opposite side. She was alone.

Duncan’s father lay snoring when Duncan left the next morning. On his way to the door, his mother awoke.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I’ve something to do.” His terse answer discouraged further questions. At the door, Duncan turned back with a softening look. “Dinnae fash yourself, Mum. I’ll take care of us.”

He closed the door and started toward the byre, as he muttered, “But I dinnae know how.”

*

A few miles from the cottage, Duncan arrived at a burn with steep banks lush with foliage. He tethered his horse by the water and walked along the bank, soothed by the sound of rushing water. As a child, he had come here with his father. Brodie had told his young son that he came here for the aqua vitae, but the words meant nothing to young Duncan. All he cared about was the fun he had climbing the banks of the burn and playing pirate of the high seas. Large boulders were ships. He had many adventures while his father was busy. The tall trees lining the burn made for exciting adventures. Duncan paused to recall and then walked on, pulling branches out of his way.

Since he had returned, his father had disappeared during the days, and returned in his usual staggering condition. It was a familiar pattern, but now it would stop. Duncan spied a familiar tree and the rocks that had served as his ships. There it was. Inside the cave’s entrance was the same old homemade distilling equipment: a brick still with a tube that led to a condenser. Attached to that was a pot to collect the distilled whisky. Behind that was a sight Duncan had not expected. In the back of the cave, there were dozens of barrels, each one marked with the date in black charcoal numbers. So this was what his father did instead of working the farm to ensure that his wife had a roof over her head and some food to eat. Duncan’s first impulse was to take an axe to them. Since he did not have an axe, he picked up a barrel. It was heavy, but Duncan was strong and angry. At the mouth of the cave he heaved it onto a sharp-edged rock. Some splashed on him. He now smelled of whisky, but that was the least of his cares. Duncan sniffed the scent of smoked peat and oak from the barrels. His father might be a drunk, but he made a good whisky. His anger now spent, Duncan sat down not feeling nearly as satisfied from his anger as he had hoped. He could smash every one of the barrels, but he still had no money for rent. He had lost his love and would soon lose his home.

Duncan looked to the future, and it was bleak. He could get by on his own, but his father would be more of a burden than he was now. Most of all, he worried about his mother. The years with Brodie had been hard on her. She did not move without pain. How would she manage to wander from town to town on foot? They would need to find lodgings and money for food before the cold weather set in. But to do that, they would need work and wages. Duncan buried his face in his hands. “If bloody whisky were money, we’d be rich.”

Duncan sat up straight and glanced back toward the cave. “But it could be.” He got up and went to the broken pieces of barrel. A small bit of whisky was pooled in a curved wooden piece. Duncan lifted it to his lips for a taste. He looked back at the barrels. By the time he was finished counting them, a broad grin lit his face. “Well, Da, perhaps you’re not entirely useless after all.”

*

Jenny glanced back at her house to make sure no one would see, and then followed a footpath into the woods. It was shady and peaceful. A twig snapped and leaves rustled. Fearful, Jenny turned. “Duncan!” She smiled in relief, but he did not smile back.

“What are you doing here, Jenny?”

“I might ask the same.”

“I was on my way home when I saw you.”

Jenny hid her disappointment. She had thought he might have come here hoping to see her on the path they had so often walked together.

“It isnae safe nor right for a young lady to walk alone in the woods.”

She could not disagree. All that she could offer was a weak defense. “I wanted some time to myself.”

Duncan stiffened and gave a curt nod. “Aye, well I’m sorry I intruded.” His voice dropped off at the end. Sorrow was the last thing he felt.

Realizing that he’d misunderstood her, Jenny reached out to touch his arm. “You are not intruding.” He shot a look at her hand on his arm. Jenny pulled her hand back. She had touched him without thinking, as she once might have done. She went on talking to cover the tension between them. “I needed to get away from everyone at home. All they talk of is–” Jenny caught herself. He did not need to hear of the wedding.

Duncan watched her squirm. “Go on.”

“It’s blether.” She could say nothing now to dispel the tension, so she exhaled and stared at the ground. In truth, she felt alone and adrift. Her once beloved home stifled her now that the wedding drew near. She had to get away so she could breathe. But she could not say that.

Duncan’s tone softened. “May I help you with that?” Without waiting, he took her basket and gave a nod. “Shall we?” He smiled the same smile that had filled her with warmth for as long as she could remember. “It might help if you told me what we’re looking for.”

“Pine roots.”

“Aye?” He nearly smiled. They were surrounded by pines.

“To burn as candles,” said Jenny.

He smiled as he glanced about. “I suppose we might find one or two.”

From there, they lapsed into the easy manner of past times. But as the basket grew full and the time came to part ways, they could no longer pretend things were as they used to be. They arrived near the edge of the woods and stopped.

“I should go home,” Jenny said.

“Aye.” Duncan took a step, but Jenny did not follow. “What is it?” asked Duncan.

Troubled, Jenny softly said, “I should go on alone.” Her expression softened. “I’m sorry.”

Duncan forced a smile. “No, you’re right. We’d best not be seen walking together.” Gently, he slipped the basket handle over her arm and let his hand linger with it for a moment. His fingers brushed the inside of her elbow.

Jenny looked at his hand, strong and marked with scratches and scars, some of which were new to her. She touched one gently.

A moan escaped. He tried to conceal it by clearing his throat, but the pain showed in his dark look, and it made her heart ache. The next instant, it was gone, his eyes blank. Jenny opened her mouth to say something. She did not know what.

Duncan looked at her parted lips. Abruptly, he turned and walked back into the woods. There he would wait, as he always had done, until he could emerge without anyone linking him with her.

Jenny walked home, her eyes shining with tears that she would not let spill. She had nearly told him the truth. Had she done so, she was sure that he would have swept her into his arms. He would have taken her back and thought later of how he would care for his parents. Jenny wished that he would, but she knew from having dreamt of it so many times, that it never could be. They might be happy for a time, but the burden of merely surviving would weigh them all down. Then the guilt would set in, and soon after, resentment. She always arrived at this impasse. It was hopeless unless she could persuade her father to change his mind.

*

Jenny stood outside the door to her father’s study. She had postponed this all day, for she knew that it would not be easy. But there was nothing else to be done, so she took a deep, fortifying breath and walked in.

“Jenny?” He smiled, but his lined face looked strained. She could see that this was not a good time, but there never would be for what she had to say. She stepped inside and quietly spoke. “Father.”

His quill remained poised in his hand as he stared expectantly at her.

With tentative steps, Jenny walked to the desk. She sat down across from him and thought through the words she had practiced. She recalled Duncan’s face watching her dance with Tavish. Her betrayal had burned beneath his dark brow. She could no longer bear it.

“Jenny, if you’ve something to say, please be done with it. I’m busy, and haven’t the time.”

With a reflexive nod, she said, “Yes, well, the truth is...” Jenny paused. She should not have looked at him directly. With one glance, he reduced her to a timid young child. Jenny knew that he would. She had steeled herself for it, but beneath her strained confidence was a withering spirit. The strong declaration she had practiced came out as a muted woe. “I cannae do it.”

“Do what,” said her father, his mind elsewhere as he perused a few papers and then set them aside. With a sigh, he regarded her. “Cannae do what?”

“Marry Tavish.” When he was silent, Jenny repeated, “I cannae marry Tavish. I dinnae love him.”

“You’ll not be the first to marry and fall in love later.”

“No, but I cannae do it.” Then it all spilled out. “I willnae marry him, father. I love someone else. I love Duncan. I always have, and I always will. And if you put Duncan’s family out, I’ll go with them, with Duncan, if he’ll have me, which he may not after the pain I have caused him.” Jenny glanced down at her trembling hands and then back at her father. She clung to what was left of her courage, and softly said, “Either way, whether Duncan forgives me or not, I cannae marry Tavish, for I dinnae love him, and I never will.”

With complete attention, Andrew listened until she was finished. From his stern scrutiny rose an unsettling smirk. He got up and poured himself a glass of whisky. When he returned, he sat on the edge of his desk, facing her with a chilling smile. “My dear girl, you have grown into a lovely young lady.” With the pride of a father for his child, he lifted her chin and gazed. “But it’s time to let go of your childish notions. You dinnae have to love him.” His voice grew even quieter. “But you do have to marry him. And you will. I’ll hear no more of it.” With a kiss on the forehead, he took both her hands and drew her from her seat. “Come, let’s see where your mother is.”

Her protest came out almost as a whisper. “No.” She paused in the doorway. “It’s no use. I love Duncan, and I’m certain he loves me still.”

He stiffened. When he turned to face her, he showed none of the anger that Jenny expected. All he offered was a cold stare.

“The matter is settled.”

Jenny raised her voice. “No, it is not. I cannae live without Duncan.”

“Very well. If you must have him, be discreet about it. Go and roll in the hayricks with your cotter, but first you will marry Tavish MacLean.”

“I could not marry Tavish and be Duncan’s mistress.”

Her father had a look in his eye she had never seen before. “You’d be surprised what you can do.” Andrew turned and went back to his desk.

*

Jenny left the house. She could not bear to be in it or near anyone having to do with the wedding. Her father had never been unkind or harsh to her, so the thought of disobeying had never before crossed her mind. But she could not marry a man knowing that she loved another. Nor would she be anyone’s mistress. Even as she told herself that she would not, she knew in her heart that she loved Duncan enough to do anything that she could to be with him. If their love had not changed, she would fight for it, no matter the cost. If being his mistress was all that she could have, she would be that, but she knew it would not be enough.

She had no time to spare. On the morrow, the banns would be called for the first time. She would find him and force him to listen to her. There was nothing else to be done but to tell him the truth. He would know what to do. Even if her father cast out Duncan’s family, they would find a way to survive it together. They had to.

Jenny walked up to the door of Duncan’s cottage and started to knock, but a sound from inside made her pause. Duncan’s mother was crying. Jenny could guess at the cause. Elspeth had not drawn an easy lot in life, although few ever saw the burden she carried. Just yesterday, Elspeth had come out of the study and nearly collided with Jenny. Jenny had thought little of the muted apology when she had brushed past to slip out the door. But she must have been crying, as she was now. Jenny stared at the door. How many more tears would she shed after losing her home? Being with Duncan would come at a terrible cost. She should leave, she decided. With a turn, she found herself facing Duncan.

“Jenny?”

A sob from inside the cottage drew a dark glance from Duncan.

Jenny said, “This is not a good time. I’m sorry.” She started to brush past him, but he touched her shoulder to stop her. A rush of desire took her breath. From the way he pulled his hand back, Jenny saw that he felt it, too.

He glanced toward the door. “Come inside. It will lift her spirits to see you.”

He reached past her to open the door, but Jenny touched his arm gently to stop him. “I came to see you.” When she dared look up past his clenched jaw, sadness welled up within her.