Sarah Gabriel (6 page)

The scruffy man still watched her, and after a few moments came toward her in a half crouch. She had dreaded that, and glanced toward the corridor. No guards were in sight.

“Hey, lass,” he said, sitting down beside her. “Cold in here. Let me keep ye warm.” He slipped his arm around her, leaning heavily against her.

Kate pulled back. “Get away from me,” she snapped.

“
Och
, lassie. We need to watch oot for one another in this place.” His hand gripped her upper arm hard. “And Ah know they put ye in here because Ah’ve been cooperative, hey?”

Kate tried again to pull away, feeling dizzy and still
weak from her earlier ordeal. “Get off me,” she demanded, wriggling in his hold. He pressed close, smelling unwashed and vile.

“Oh, lass, ye’re a bonny thing, and it’s aye so nice to share me quarters. Ah heard them sayin’ ye like to share beds wi’ men,” he growled, and slid his hand into her hair, pulling so hard she cried out with the pain. His face moved closer, his lips grazing her cheek. Kate shuddered, braced both hands on his chest, chains clanking, and pushed against him with all her strength.

A
shadow fell over both of them, and Kate saw a pair of muscled, half-bare legs under a rumpled plaid. Just then, a huge hand descended to grab her assailant’s coat, lifting the man away and dumping him on the slate with a thud.

“Leave her be,” the Highlander said.

“
Och!
” The man half sprawled on the floor and came to a seated position. “Ah thought ye was dead!”

“I am not, and you will keep away from the lass.”

Kate gaped up at her rescuer—he was an unkempt, unshaven giant, face and hands dirty and blood-crusted, an altogether frightening appearance. She had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“
Och
, Highland Donald,” the man drawled. “She’s a wee harlot, this one. We’ll each get a turn.” He slid toward Kate again, though she writhed.

“Get—off,” the Highlander growled, leaning down to grab a handful of brown coat, hauling the man up in one great fist. He flung the Lowlander aside like a sack of beans. The man hit the wall with a dull thud, rolled over, and sat up looking dazed. Then he scuttled into a corner to glare at them in silence.

Kate stared upward. The black-haired Gael had taken a beating recently, for one eye was bruised and swollen, and his cheek and lip were cut. But his expression was calm, his jaw square and reliable, his mouth sober yet tender. In his blue eyes she saw weariness, gentleness, and no threat.

“Thank you,” she said again.

He grunted in reply and turned, walking over to the small man in brown, now bunched against the wall. “Stay there, you.”

“Just a bit o’ fun, lad.” He waved a hand. “Ah’m Jacobite, like you. Friends, aye?”

“I have all the Jacobite friends I need, and so does she,” the Highlander said. “Stick to your corner if you value your crop of lice and the head they’re living on.”

Kate stared at him in utter gratitude as he turned and came back toward her. He sat an arm’s length away, leaned his head against the wall, and closed his eyes.

Kate noted the bruises and the caked blood. “Are you badly hurt?” she asked in Gaelic.

“I’m fine enough,” he replied.

“I’m grateful for your help, sir.”

He nodded, eyes still closed.

“I’m Kate,” she said. “And you are Donald?”

He snorted. “Donald is a name some Lowlanders use to refer to all Highland men, lass. I am Ian Cameron.”

“Oh!” She gasped and scooted closer. “Ian Cameron—we’ve been looking for you,” she whispered.

He opened one eye. “And who would be looking?”

“My kinsmen.” She kept her voice low, though she did not think the Lowlander or guards would understand Gaelic. “I’m Kate. My brother is Duncrieff.”

Both blue eyes opened. “Robert MacCar—”

“Hush,” she whispered. “They might recognize the name, even in our tongue. We knew you were taken but did not know where you were held.”

“I’ve been here a few weeks.” He rubbed his head. “But how is it that Rob’s sister is here?”

“I was arrested for…helping my kinsmen.” She leaned closer. “We thought you might be in Edinburgh Castle.”

“Not yet, but they will send me there soon, I hear. Colonel Grant and his men took me down about a month ago. He’s a madman, that one. But at least I earned the right to be here.” He smiled in impish contrast to his bold size.

“Earned it?” She looked at him, puzzled.

“I slept too long that morning, and they found us—killed my two cousins and took me. But I wounded two red soldiers and made fools of the rest. Knocked some heads together and went down roaring like a bull.” He winced and touched his swollen eye.

“I am sorry about your cousins. And I’m not surprised to hear what you did. Ian, did you ever find…what you were searching for?”

He shook his head. “I know what you are asking. I have not found it yet, but I know where to look now. I was taken before I could get there and before I could send word to Rob.”

“Where is that?” she asked breathlessly.

He studied her. “If I told you what I know, and they tortured you as they did yesterday, damn them all”—he spat in disgust—“you might speak of it.”

“I would not,” she said.

“Well, then, I’ll say this.” He leaned close, glancing past her, where a guard paced close to the cell door. “The hermit of the Highlands knows the secret.”

She blinked at him. “Hermit? But where?”

“That’s what my cousins said, when they found the weaponry,” he whispered in Gaelic, watching over her shoulder toward the door. “A hermit near Glen Carran, they said. They would not tell me more until we were closer to the place—caution on their part, but they did not think to be killed. I was on my way to tell your brother and to go searching.”

“They told you nothing else?”

“They died too soon, lass,” he said somberly. “If you see your brother, you must tell him this.”

“I will see him soon,” she said. “Somehow, I will.”

“They mean to take you to Edinburgh Castle, too, I have no doubt. Does your brother know you’re here?”

She shook her head. “I have not told anyone my name, so they cannot send word to anyone. It’s possible
one of my cousins knows, and he will tell Rob. If the red soldiers learned my name, they would go after the MacCarran and arrest him. The officers believe my kinsmen sent me to spy.”

“Did they?”

She lifted her chin. “They did.”

Ian dropped a shoulder toward her. “Listen to me, lass. You’re right to keep quiet. Whatever you know about Rob’s business, let it remain secret. Do not tell me anything more. If they torture me, I would tell.” His tone grew wry and teasing.

“You never would,” she said, her tone lighter. She felt suddenly glad to have found a friend in this dismal place.

“
Ach
, I might. I do not have your strong will, to survive what they did to you in there.” His expression darkened. “I heard it all. Making you stand for hours—brutal. I’d kill them for you if I had the chance.”

“I’m fine. An officer decided it was enough punishment and put an end to it.”

“Ah, the tall captain? I saw him. Good man.”

“I owe him for it…though he was the one who arrested me.”

Ian cocked a brow, an almost comical sight with his eye swollen shut. “But he relented? Ah, the fairy charm of the MacCarrans is at work in you, hey?”

She looked at him in surprise. “You know about that?”

“Your brother has mentioned his sisters, and he spoke of the clan legends.” Ian leaned close again,
waved a hand. “Can you get us out of here, lass? Spirit us away to a fairy hill?”

She shook her head. “It’s a useless gift if it exists at all. Here we sit, and I cannot help either of us.”

“Pity.” He grunted thoughtfully. “Well, if it’s real, it will serve its purpose one day, or so your legend claims. Now get some sleep, lass. Do not fret about that one there,” he added, indicating the Lowlander. “I’m your guardian here.”

“And I am forever in your debt.”

He smiled crookedly through the scruff of his black beard. “
Ach
, you’re like a bit of sunshine in this wretched place. Hush, now. The guards are coming back.”

Kate closed her eyes and tried to rest, but she heard heavy footsteps and male voices, with a new voice in their midst. She opened her eyes suddenly, all her senses alert.

She knew that deep, calm voice. Looking toward the door, she saw Alexander Fraser standing beyond the iron bars. She felt the shock as his piercing gaze caught hers. For a moment, he was all she saw, despite the other men in the corridor with him.

Colonel Grant emerged from the shadows followed by four dragoons in red and white. One of the soldiers produced a set of heavy keys and unlocked the cell door to pull it open. Fraser stepped back, and the dragoons came inside, crowding the cell. One of them held stout iron chains and a set of manacles.

She gasped and pressed her back to the wall. Beside her, Ian sat up, and the man in the corner did, too.

“Ian Cameron,” one soldier announced. “You’ll come with us.”

Kate looked at Ian in alarm. He regarded the men calmly. “Where is it I am going?”

“Edinburgh Castle,” Grant answered, stepping forward. “Your trial date will be set soon. Likely you’ll be executed.”

“A bit hasty, Colonel.” Fraser leaned against the doorframe. “Mr. Cameron, you’re to be interviewed by the Lord Justice Clerk and perhaps tried before the bar in the Court of Justiciary. You will have a chance to speak on your behalf. Execution is not guaranteed,” he added grimly. “You could be sent to the Tower of London and held for a length of time.”

“Thank you, sir.” Ian stood to his full height. Kate stood up with him, feeling small and insignificant in the crowd of tall and robust men. Her heart pounded with dread for her friend.

“Come with us, Mr. Cameron,” Fraser said, then sent Kate a quick, somber glance.

Two dragoons took Ian’s arms and placed manacles on his wrists, though he already had fetters on his ankles. He resisted the additional bonds, twisting hard, flinging one soldier aside, while another stumbled backward. The third dragoon stepped toward him, tripping over the other.

Fraser came inside the cell to help, shouldering past Kate to take hold of Ian’s arm. She went to Ian’s side, too, her own wrist manacles and chains jangling as she took hold of Ian’s broad arm and pulled.

“Let go, Kate,” Fraser growled. “This is not your matter.”

She ignored him. “
Iain mo caran,
” she said:
Ian, my dear friend.
“What can I do?”

The Highland brigand looked down at her, while the dragoons, with Fraser’s assistance, clapped the irons around his thick wrists and added another length of chain to join the ankle and wrist bracelets together.

“Get away from here however you can,” Ian answered in Gaelic. “Get word to your brother. Tell him about the hermit. Hurry, get word to him before I am dead.”

“Ian!” Kate sobbed out, and grabbed for him.

“Get back,” Grant snapped, shoving her against the wall, so that she struck her shoulder.

Fraser growled something and pushed Grant out of the way just as Ian lunged for the colonel. The dragoons grabbed hold of Ian and yanked him forward. Stepping through the commotion, Fraser calmly took Kate’s arm and pulled her aside.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, looking down, his hand on her arm.

She shook him off. “Leave me be.
Ian!
” She ran forward.

Cameron turned. “One kiss before I go, my dear, a little touch of magic,” he said in Gaelic. Quickly, he leaned down, and touched his mouth to hers in a fast, poignant farewell kiss.

“Ah, the magic is there.” Ian gave her a little smile as the soldiers hauled him toward the doorway.

“
Ach Dhia,
Ian,” Kate moaned.

Cameron glanced back at Fraser. “You watch after her,” he called. “She can trust no one else here. I give you charge.”

Fraser nodded, standing just at Kate’s shoulder. He walked past her as the others led Ian away—and as he went past he touched her elbow, a gentle, subtle reassurance. The contact sent shivers through her, and she stared after him, but he did not turn back. One of the guards clanged the door shut and locked it.

Kate stood in the middle of the cell, listening to the footsteps as the men walked away. The shivers continued, subtle and pleasant, as if his touch lingered, a sense of safety with it. Closing her eyes, she took a long breath.

When Ian had kissed her, she had felt no magic—it had been like kissing her own brother. And in all the kisses she had shared, heartfelt or not, the only true magic she had ever known had been in the arms of the officer who had just left to escort Ian to his probable death.

“Hey, lassie,” the Lowlander in the corner crooned. “Ye’re a right witch, to buss that Highland Donald when ye refused me. But now it’s thee and me again.” He grinned.

“Stay where you are,” she snapped, sending him a dark glare, “or I’ll cast a spell you’ll never forget.”

He gaped at her and did not move.

Kate sat against the opposite wall, pulled her knees close, and covered her face in her hands, chains clinking.

“The fairy queen?” Jack stared at Alec.

“The very one.” Alec opened a canvas satchel and crammed in a clean shirt, tartan stockings, and a thick sheaf of papers tied with string, documents he still needed to review.

“And just where are you taking her?” Jack was still gaping. “She’s a spy? Why did you not tell me before?”

“I wanted to be sure,” Alec muttered. “She hasn’t confirmed it herself, but I would not be surprised if she is.”

“She has to be,” Jack said. “So she’s a clever wee fairy.”

“It seems so, at least the clever part. I’m to escort her to Edinburgh to see the Lord Advocate.”

Jack snorted. “Your uncle, Lord Hume? He’ll chew her to bits and wash it down with your uncle Walter’s hot chocolate.”

“Aye well. That may be, unless I can intervene.”

“Oh, I just now remembered—the post rider brought this for you from Edinburgh.” Jack handed him a packet. “I suppose if we ride along with the dragoons, ’tis better than the lass going alone with ’em.”

“We’re not riding with ’em,” Alec said, slipping the package into a coat pocket. “I want you to go into Fort William tonight and hire a carriage and horses. Do not charge it to the army’s account. Pay coin for it—use this,” he said, taking money from his sporran.

Jack accepted it. “Why not use one of the vehicles in the stables here?”

“I cannot get one of those until morning.”

“So we’re off tonight, then? On our own, I presume?”

Alec nodded, closing the satchel. Jack leaned a shoul
der against the wall, studying him. “I wondered why you were packing in haste. This isn’t like you, man, being the staid sort of Fraser and all. I’m shocked.” He said it teasingly, but his gaze was serious.

Alec shrugged. “I’m a bit shocked myself. Nonetheless, it will be done, before anyone has the chance to interrogate her any further. Francis Grant cannot be trusted.”

“I could have told you that. But there’s something else at stake here. You are not the sort to go snatching women in the dark of night.”