The Gathering Storm (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 3) (10 page)

“Is there more than one?” asked Beth, who was equally tipsy. “A German idiot may be wearing the crown, but that does not make him the king.”

Mary raised her glass, slopping wine carelessly on the floor in the process.

“A toast to King James!” she cried. Across the room, Graeme also raised his glass, along with several others. His eyes flickered to Angus, whose hand had moved automatically upward, before he remembered where he was and disguised his gesture by pretending to admire the ruby glow of the wine in the candlelight. Graeme noted this, then looked closely at Sir Anthony. And then back at Angus.

Sir Anthony gently took Mary’s hand and straightened the glass.

“I think I will leave you to your toasts,” he said smilingly, and, making his way across the room, caught Iain neatly as he fell sideways off his chair, lowering him carefully to the ground. The remaining two competitors eyed each other across the table. Sir Anthony looked from Joseph’s drooping grey eyes to Angus’s lucid, wide-awake blue ones.

“Be gentle with him, Jim,” he advised, before leaving the room and making his way to bed.

By the time Beth decided to join her husband, Joseph was indeed settled under the table for the night, and several other men had joined him, a hard floor seeming a better option than the walk home in the rain. Graeme intercepted her in the hall, taking the candle off her before she could set fire to herself.

“Here,” he said gruffly. “I’ll see you to your room.”

She took his arm gratefully, aware that she had drunk more than was perhaps wise, certainly a lot more than she normally drank in mixed company. She stumbled on the landing, and he transferred his arm quickly to her waist, narrowly stopping her from falling on her knees.

“Thank you,” she said, giggling a little and regaining her balance with difficulty. “Goodnight, Graeme.”

“Beth, how drunk are you?” he said suddenly, seriously.

She tried to focus on him, vaguely aware that there seemed to be something wrong, and forced herself to concentrate, pushing away the alcoholic haze a little.

“Pretty drunk,” she admitted. “But not incapably so. Not quite, anyway. What’s wrong?”

“You’re leaving in the morning. I doubt I’ll get a chance to talk to you alone again. Are you all right, lass? Are you sure of this man you’re married to?”

“I have never been more sure of anyone in my life,” she said, enunciating each word with exaggerated care. The pattern on the rug shifted a little to the side, then back again. She blinked several times, but when she looked back at it, it was still moving. “Why do you ask?” she said, forcing her mind back to the subject in hand.

“He’s not what he seems, Beth. I don’t know what he is, and he seems nice enough on the surface, but…I’m worried about you, all the more because you’re so taken with him.”

She laughed suddenly, joyously, then hiccupped, putting a hand to her mouth.

“You’re right, I am.” She grinned. “And he’s taken with me, too. Don’t worry about me, Graeme. I’ve never been happier. Alex is the most wonderful man I’ve ever met. He’ll look after me, really he will.”

Graeme watched her as she weaved her way into the bedroom, and then watched some more. Then he made his way slowly to his room, where he sat sleeplessly until the morning, worrying.

“Are you angry with me?” Beth said to her husband as they clattered along the road the following morning. She couldn’t remember how she had got to bed last night, and her head was aching horribly, but at least she was not alone in that. Duncan and Maggie both seemed somewhat delicate, and Iain was positively green. Only Angus, damn his soul, was unaffected, smiling cheerily and leaping up onto his horse without giving the slightest indication that he had drunk more than any of the others the previous night.

“No,
a ghràidh,
” said Alex after a delay. He had been thinking about Graeme. On the surface his farewell to Sir Anthony had been friendly, normal, but there had been an obvious reluctance to part with Beth, and he had felt the gardener’s eyes burning into his back as he had climbed into the carriage. He dismissed Graeme from his mind, with an effort. “Why would ye think I was angry with ye?” he said. He couldn’t wait to get to Carlisle and be rid of this disguise. At least he could drop the accent, though, with Iain driving the coach.

“You know, drinking a toast to James, and calling George a German idiot. It was a bit indiscreet. I’m sorry.”

“Aye, but it didna do any harm. After all, all your friends here ken well that you’re a supporter of James. Now they think that I’m an indulgent husband, who doesna mind who ye support. It’s certainly enhanced Sir Anthony’s reputation in their eyes, and didna compromise me. That’s why I didna join you in a toast, much as I wanted to. Christ, I canna wait to be home!” he burst out suddenly.

“How long has it been?” Beth asked.

Alex thought.

“Over a year, now,” he said. “I paid a flying visit there just before I proposed to ye, but I havena had the chance since. Sometimes the hardest thing about being Sir Anthony is having to be away from Scotland for long periods. I’ll be so happy when this is all over, and I can go back to stay. D’ye think you’ll feel at home in Scotland?” he asked. His tone was casual, but she knew how important her answer was to him. Nevertheless, she would not insult him by lying.

“I don’t know,” she said. “But I’m willing to give it a chance.”

“Would you rather live in Manchester, d’ye think?”

“How can I know that until I’ve seen the alternative?” she pointed out logically. “But even though most of my friends live in Manchester, and I’ll want to visit them regularly, I still have a powerful incentive to like Scotland, and to want to make my home there.”

“Your mother’s blood,” he said.

“No, you fool,” she answered, looking askance at him. “You. And all the rest of my MacGregor clan, if they’re as wonderful as the ones I’ve met so far.”

The fool grinned like one, and leaned across to kiss her, thoroughly.

“And if you tell the swollen-headed Angus that I said he was wonderful, I’ll deny it, and kill you,” she finished a little breathlessly, her face liberally smeared with white paint.

After Carlisle, although Beth was still in severe danger of being kissed regularly by her increasingly buoyant husband, there was no longer any risk of being daubed with makeup, as Alex had finally and ecstatically abandoned both Sir Anthony and his coach, neither of which would be seen again for some six weeks, the latter being stored safely away, and the former now riding at Beth’s side in plain woollen breeches and shirt, and a well-cut, but sober coat. His wife and companions were similarly attired in practical clothes, as befitted a gentleman of modest means and his family. Beth’s memorable hair was decently covered, her dress, thankfully, comfortable rather than fashionable.

This was the transitional stage. Although no longer the foppish Sir Anthony, Lady Elizabeth and servants, neither were they the MacGregor chieftain and his family. That would have to wait until they actually arrived in MacGregor territory. Their plaids remained safely tucked away in their saddlebags. But the anticipatory mood of elation that infused all the Scots once they crossed the border did not leave Beth unaffected, although as they picked their way along roads and then lanes, and then finally across narrow tracks, she became increasingly nervous.

“What have you told them about me?” she asked without preamble on the third day in her mother’s native land. The scenery was lovely, the mountains purple and yellow with heather and gorse, the slopes thickly wooded. They were not far from Loch Lomond now, Angus had said merrily on waking that morning, unknowingly striking fear into his sister-in-law. That was where the MacGregors were currently making their home, in the thickly wooded terrain on the northern side of the loch.

“Nothing,” said Alex, knowing to what she was referring. She had been unusually quiet and thoughtful all morning.

“Nothing?!” she echoed.

“Well, they ken your name, and that your mother was a MacDonald of Glencoe.”

She waited, until it became apparent he wasn’t going to add any more.

“Is that all?” she said.

“Aye. I want them to make up their own minds. But they’ll be inclined to like ye anyway, as you’re my wife. Dinna fash yourself, Angus and Duncan like ye well enough, there’s no reason why the others shouldna.”

“He’s right,” agreed Duncan, reining in beside Beth. “It’s hard no’ to be impressed by a lassie who dirks ye the first time she sets eyes on ye, and throws herself wantonly at ye the second.”

“So what you’re suggesting is that on arriving at the MacGregor enclave I should lay waste to the clansfolk with a broadsword, and then seduce all the survivors?”

Duncan considered her suggestion with due gravity.

“They’d no forget ye for a long time, anyway, an ye did that. And ye’d certainly be accorded a reception of some sort, that’s for certain,” he said.

“Aye, and if the cuckolded wives didna finish you off, I would,” said Alex. “Just be yourself, that’s all.”

They all rode along quietly for a time, Alex, Beth and Duncan side by side, Angus directly behind, and Maggie and Iain bickering good-humouredly at the rear. Everyone seemed happy and carefree. Except Beth. It was ridiculous to be so worried, she told herself. She’d met kings and princes and all manner of important people without more than a slight qualm. But she hadn’t cared about them. She did care about these people who were Alex’s family, his life. No, she amended, she had been nervous when meeting Prince Charles, had wanted him to like her. And look what a mess she’d made of that, losing her temper and slapping the guard in the face. It had all ended well, though. Even so, she was far more nervous now, knowing that if Charles hadn’t liked her, it wouldn’t really have mattered that much, not in the long term. She was unlikely to meet him again, after all. But if Alex’s clansmen and women didn’t like her, it could have enormous repercussions. And if Alex was forced to choose between her and his clan, who would he choose? His clan, of course. Oh God. She realised she was making herself more nervous, brooding like this.

“Did you write to tell them we were coming?” she asked.

“No,” Alex replied calmly. “I thought we’d give them a wee surprise.”

A wee surprise?

“I would think it’ll be one hell of a shock, surely, if the chieftain, after a year’s absence, suddenly appears in their midst without warning?”

“Oh, there’s nae danger of that,” Angus said cheerfully. “They’ve kent since at least yesterday that we’re on the way. I’m hoping they’ll have something good tae eat waiting for us. I’m famished.”

“I thought you said you hadn’t told them we were coming,” Beth said, thoroughly confused.

“No more I have,” said Alex. “But we passed wee Davy yesterday forenoon, and, being able to cut across country, he’ll have arrived home in the evening.”

“Dinna forget young Jamie this morning, either,” added Duncan.

“Jamie?” said Alex, with surprise. “I didna see him. Where?”

“Shortly after the eagle, remember?”

“Aye, well, he’s getting bigger now, and cannier, I suppose. Even so, I’m impressed. I didna mark him at all.”

Beth remembered the eagle. She also remembered thinking how sparsely inhabited the countryside seemed to be, because apart from themselves she had not seen a living soul in two days. Not even an innkeeper. The weather being fine, they had slept under the stars, which Beth, uncomfortable though it had been, with every sharp stone and twig seeming to migrate under her restless body, had nevertheless seen as a great adventure. There was something extremely romantic about being safely nestled in the loving arms of a large warm man, while staring at the stars.

“I didn’t see anyone at all,” she remarked. “Not Davy nor Jamie either.”

The three men looked at her.

“Well, no, an ye had’ve done, ye being used to the Sasannach ways, I’d have had a word to say to their fathers, and them, about it,” Alex said. “The whole point is no’ to be seen. No’ by strangers to the clan anyway,” he added with an unusual lack of tact. “I’m sorry,” he said, seeing her expression. “But you’re no’ used to our ways yet. Ye dinna ken what to look for. Give it time. The next time we come home, ye’ll be able tae spot a MacGregor hiding in the heather half a mile away. And dinna forget, forbye,
I
didna see Jamie, either.”

She was not reassured.

The sun was low on the horizon when the MacGregor settlement first came into view. At first Beth didn’t see this either, from a distance, but that was because, in spite of what she’d been told by her husband and his brothers, she had still been expecting houses in the English sense, brick or stone-built affairs; whereas what she was confronted with was a series of turf huts with thatched roofs, which being scattered among the trees and made of unpainted natural materials, blended in very well with the surrounding landscape. In view of the MacGregors’ lifestyle, this was probably a great advantage. One of these, slightly larger than the others, and which was not only built of stone but boasted a rudimentary chimney, was their house, Alex pointed out with pride. A thin spiral of smoke drifted lazily from the roof, telling her that he had been right. They
were
expected, and someone had taken the time to light a fire to welcome them home.

As they rode down the final slope to the settlement, figures started to emerge from the huts. There were a couple of men, dressed in shirts and plaids in muted shades of green and brown, but mainly, as far as Beth could see, the clan MacGregor seemed to consist of women and children, the women clad in patterned woollen dresses belted at the waist, and the children in an assortment of ragged bits of tartan cloth. Most of them were barefoot.

They surrounded the horses as their chieftain and his entourage finally arrived amongst them, laughing and chattering in a Gaelic so rapid that Beth could follow little of it, other than that they were glad to see him home, and that the menfolk, apart from Kenneth, Dougal and Sandy, who had remained behind in case of trouble, were mainly at the droving, but should be home from market tomorrow, which explained the preponderance of women, at any rate.