Sarah Gabriel (7 page)

“Tonight I’ll call up a little madness from the other side of my family, how’s that,” Alec answered wryly.

“She must be quite valuable, this wee spy of yours.”

“She is. More valuable than the government even realizes, and I want her out of here before it occurs to them.”

Jack frowned. “What is it? Jacobite business, but what? Those missing weapons? I know you’ve had a letter about the rumors of those things from your uncle, MacDonald of—”

“I’ll explain later.” Alec lifted the satchel and tossed it to Jack. “Right. Off with you, then. And be quick about it.”

“If we’re set to rescue the fairy queen,” Jack said, “I’ll do whatever is necessary.”

“We’re not going to rescue her. We’re going to take her to justice in Edinburgh,” Alec growled.

“Hey, that’s not the gentlemanly thing.”

“Does that matter to you, with a lass in every county?”

“Ah, but only one of those has my heart,” Jack said. “I’m under the wee fairy’s spell, too, and I’m not ashamed to say it.” With a grin, he shouldered the pack and walked out the door.

Scowling, Alec followed in silence, not about to admit that he, too, had fallen a little under whatever magic Katie Hell exuded.

R
emoving his cocked hat, Alec shook the moisture off, then brushed raindrops from his sleeves. Standing outside the dungeon cell again, he peered through the iron bars.

The girl sat with her back against the wall, knees propped up, head tucked on her folded arms. Shuddering with the chill in the air, she looked forlorn.

When Alec and the others had escorted Cameron outside, a raw autumn storm had burst while they waited for a cart and horses to be brought round for the escort. Rain and wind delayed their efforts, but Grant ordered the dragoons to travel without stopping, regardless of the weather.

Overhearing Grant as he ordered one of the dra
goons to move the female prisoner later that night to be transferred under cover of darkness, Alec had slipped away at that point to pack his bag and make his own arrangements with Jack MacDonald, knowing that he had to get Kate away from here, and Grant, as soon as he could.

He stood by the cell door, yet Katie Hell did not glance toward him. Sheets of rain pounded the high, narrow window, and chilly air blew through the dankness. The girl shivered again.

“Kate,” Alec said, reaching into his pocket.

She lifted her head then. Disheveled and weary, she still retained an indefinable, enchanting quality. Her remarkable silvery eyes snapped anger as she looked at him.

He dangled the silver necklace from his fingers, letting it catch the light. Minutes ago, he had claimed it from the sergeant for a bribe of a few shillings. As it swung in his hand, he saw Kate’s eyes spark.

Oh aye, he thought, he could have no more doubt that this was the woman he had seen in London. He remembered that she had worn the silver and crystal bauble around her throat, beneath strands of pearls. The sparkling little necklace had suited her fairylike appearance: the pretty crystals, which could be plucked along many Highland slopes, were sometimes called fairy crystals.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

“I came to see how you’re faring,” Alec replied.

“You’ve seen. Now go away.”

“Come here.” He let the silver necklace swing.

She narrowed her eyes. “Leave it there and go away.”

“I must speak with you first.”

“We have nothing to say. You had me arrested, or have you forgotten?”

“What choice did I have, Kate?” he asked quietly.

She paused. “Though you wear a Highland plaid, you’re a red soldier all the same. A true Highlander would never have arrested me, nor would he take away one of his own.”

“You mean Ian Cameron? What is your interest in him?”

“Go away, unless you mean to open those doors and let me out of here.” She glanced uneasily at the other man in the cell.

Alec had already noticed that the fellow watched her in a way that made his skin crawl. He wanted to get Kate out of there as much as he suspected she wanted to go. “Come here,” he said.

By nature and habit, he was cautious rather than reckless. Yet tonight he found it rather easy to call up a little of the madness he hid inside himself, the wildness he had smothered for most of his life. It was there, waiting to be tapped.

The girl was indeed the beauty he had seen in London, and therefore was more valuable a prisoner than Grant or Wade even suspected. The woman hobnobbed with King George, yet had such interest in government documents that she disguised herself and went into officers’ tents at great risk to get them. She had some sort of intrigue in mind, no doubt of it. As things were, that meant Jacobite scheming.

And she was certainly no other than Katie Hell, yet she would admit to nothing more than her first name.

He meant to question her until he was satisfied—then he might just let her go. But he was not about to tell her that.

Dangling the silver chain as it caught the light, he tucked it in his sporran and turned away.

“Wait.” She came toward the cell door, the chains on her wrists chinking. Alec turned, leaned close to the bars, aware that the sentry was now approaching along the corridor. “What is it you want of me?”

“You must come with me,” he murmured.

She scowled. “Where?”

“Elsewhere,” he said, and glanced over his shoulder. “Sergeant,” he called, “I’ll need the key, if you please.”

“Begging pardon, Captain, but Colonel Grant gave new orders concerning the wench.”

“I know. I’ve spoken with the colonel. He’s tending to other business now and asked me to supervise this.”

The sergeant nodded. “Aye, then.”

“It’s all arranged. As it happens, I have a vehicle waiting, since I plan to travel to Edinburgh myself. I’ll see to her transfer. Discreetly, just as the colonel wanted.” Alec removed Wade’s preliminary orders from his pocket and waved the page without giving the sergeant time to look closely. “It’s an awkward matter, and we’re pressed for time, as you know. Unlock the cell, please. And I’ll need the key to her fetters. Keep this to yourself, sir, as long as you can.”

Reaching into his sporran, Alec produced a shiny guinea, which the soldier snatched before relinquish
ing a small iron key. The sergeant opened the cell door with a larger key.

“I’ll see to this, Sergeant.” Alec stepped inside and took hold of Kate’s arm while she gaped up at him.

“Where are you taking me?” She pulled back. “I do not want to go to Edinburgh with you.”

“Go there with me,” he murmured, “or Grant.”

“I’ll go with neither,” she snapped.

“Very well. Good luck to you, then. May you be safe and well,” he said—but he said it in awkward but sincere Gaelic as he turned away.

“I’ll go with you,” she returned in rapid Gaelic.

Alec released a breath and turned to take her arm and lead her through the door. He was glad the exchange had been brief. His scant Gaelic would not have stood up to the challenge.

As they moved into the corridor, the other prisoner rose from his corner to grab the bars as the sergeant shut and locked the door. “Hey! Ye took the Highlander away, now the wench. Let me out, too!”

“You don’t want to go where she’s going,” the sergeant growled.

“To her death, is it? She’s a witch, that one. Ye’d best burn her if you take her to that place.” He laughed.

Kate gasped as Alec pulled her along. “Could they do that? Try me for witchcraft?”

“Have you turned anyone into a pig lately?” Alec muttered.

“I’m thinking about it,” she snapped. “Do not pull so hard. I’m not a sack of wool to be dragged about!”

“You’ll not be burned as a witch—they no longer do
that in Scotland, fortunately for you. But we must hurry.” Alec drew her past the sergeant’s post.

“I could hurry if these chains were off, and if I had my shoes.” She stopped short and lifted her bedraggled hem.

Alec looked down at her stockinged feet and the heavy chains around her ankles. He sighed. “Be damned. I forgot about the shoes.”

“I will have my shoes and buckles, too. And my good plaid, and my silver necklace, which you have stolen from me.”

Frowning, one hand on her elbow, he led her back to the guard. “Sergeant, fetch the rest of her things, please.”

While they waited, Alec crouched to lift the hem of her dress. Seeing the manacles around her slim ankles, he felt a jolt of anger. Her slim ankles and the torn fabric of her stockings were crusted with blood.

He brushed his fingers over her ankle. Then he took the small key from his sporran, unlocked the cuffs, and skittered them and the joining chain away over the stone floor.

He glanced up. Her eyes looked beautiful, sad. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I did not realize.”

She shrugged. “Hurts mend.”

“Do they?” he murmured, thinking of hers, and his own, layers deep and invisible. He stood.

She held out her hands, where another set of iron fetters and a swag of chain linked her wrists. “And these?”

“Not yet.” He dropped the key back into his leather purse, buckling it shut.

She huffed in annoyance, then turned as the soldier
returned clutching Kate’s plaid and shoes, leather brogans with silver buckles and stout soles.

Sturdy shoes to run off in
, Alec thought as he took them, and the plaid, and slipped another coin to the sergeant. He handed the shoes to Kate and draped the plaid over her shoulders.

“And I’ll have the necklace, too,” she said.

“It’s safe. We’ve no time. Put your shoes on.”

She stooped and tried, her hands clumsy with the manacles on her wrists. Alec bent and took her foot in his hand to slip one shoe on, then the other. She balanced a hand on his shoulder as he buckled the shoes.

“That’s too tight,” she said.

He adjusted them impatiently, then stood and tugged her toward the stairway. As they rounded the corner, he headed for another staircase not used regularly. He had no desire to meet anyone else just now.

“Where are you taking me? Did you bribe that soldier?” Kate yanked futilely under Alec’s sure grip.

“Outside, and aye,” he said curtly, and guided her to a dim stairwell, where stone steps circled a central post.

“Sending me to Edinburgh is unfair. I’ve heard no charges yet, no judge has interviewed me, and I have not seen a lawyer.”

“You’re seeing one now.” Alec pulled her up another step.

“You’ll take me to a lawyer, then?”

“I
am
a lawyer. Blast it, will you pull us both down the stair?” He stepped down behind her to lift her by the waist, setting her on the next stair tread to hurry her along.

“You? My case is lost for certain, then. You’re prejudiced against me,” she muttered irritably.

“I’m not
your
lawyer. I am
a
lawyer. A Writer to the Signet, trained at the University of Edinburgh and Leiden, and currently employed by the army to review documents. You reviewed some of those documents yourself, as a matter of fact.”

She looked back at him, began to speak. He hefted her up yet another step. She was lightweight and no trouble to lift.

“A pusher of papers and a wretched turncoat. Why would I want you for my lawyer?”

“Be damned,” he grunted, urging her upward again, “I am not your lawyer, as I said, and will you keep silent?”

“I will not. Look what you did to dear Mr. Cameron.”

“Dear Mr. Cameron has knocked more redcoat heads together than you or I could count. Though you seemed quite eager to kiss him,” Alec added, not sure why he mentioned it.

“A kiss of friendship. You’d wait an eternity for the same, I promise you,” she snapped, stopping on the step above him, so that her face was near on a level with his.

“Would I?” He stared at her in the darkness. The memory of the kisses they had already shared flooded his mind, seeming to fill the small space between them with palpable tension. His body pulsed, and he was sure she was affected, too, for she glanced away in silence.

He gave her a gentle shove up another step or two
with a hand at her lower back. She drew a breath, clearly in pain.

“What is it?” Alec asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just that every muscle aches, I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I do not care to hurry to my trial and execution though you are in a rush to get me there.”

“You can rest and eat later. Up you go.”

Kate took the next steps, reached a landing, and turned. “What sort of law do you practice, and what do you charge for your services?”

“Hire me later,” he answered, a hand at her waist.

“Are you worth hiring? I probably cannot afford you. Most long-robes charge absurd fees. Stop that,” she said, when he urged her upward again. “I will be climbing by myself.”

“Then please do so,” he said between his teeth. She had a way of speaking, he realized, that was as wholly charming as the way she moved, the way she looked, her scent, her kiss—

Stop that indeed,
he told himself.

“If I could afford to pay you, would you swear to the military that I’ve done no crime?”

“I was the arresting officer. I cannot defend you.”

“Tell them you made a mistake. After all, you did.”

“Shall I lie for you, and benefit by funds from your bank account, if you have one? That’s
criminis particeps,
my dear, which is Latin for—”

“I know what it means. I can read and understand Latin, French, and Italian.”

“Excellent. An accomplished lady. Then what the devil were you doing sneaking about a military encampment, dosing my tea, and stealing my papers?”

“I gave you a soothing tonic. You looked tired.”

“How kind of you. At least you admit to that much. This way,” he said, when they reached the top of the stair.

“I did not intend to steal anything that night.”

“Did you just intend to memorize it?”

“You surprised me with that pistol.” She turned, mere inches away, and rested her hands on his chest, heavy iron links banging against him. “Captain Fraser, please let me go. Leave me here, and I’ll slip away,” she pleaded quietly.

Somehow his hands found the sweet curve of her waist, and his fingers settled at the small of her back. Her eyes held some kind of magic, beautiful eyes of pale gray, extraordinary in shadows. He stared down at her, frowning slightly.

He could indeed release her. For a moment, he felt as if he had captured a fairy creature whose innocent allure had cast a net about him, drawn him into her spell. She was fascinating, unpredictable. He wanted, blast it all, to help her, though he would risk a great deal if he assisted her to escape.

For a moment he was deeply tempted to do just that. He had not cared about helping or pleasing anyone in a long time, he realized. Still he did not answer.

“Please, Captain. I must be free,” she whispered.

She glowed, this girl, vibrant and exciting, shining like a candle flame on that dark landing. His body
throbbed as memories of delights he had shared with her rushed through him.

He had never known anyone like her. Even Amy, who had once possessed his foolish, pining heart, had not been so enticing as this girl. With Kate, a mere smile, a sweep of those dark lashes over silvery eyes, made his body pulse, his thoughts blur.

The rain pounded outside the doorway ahead, and the rainy light illumined her upturned face. Inappropriate to the time, the place, the situation, he felt increasing desire. Reaching out, he brushed a hand over her cheek, could not stop himself.