Highland Sword Read online

  The fracture in Lachlan’s leg was below the knee, and Isabella set it with Cinaed’s help.

  Afterward, shifts were organized. The patient needed to be watched night and day. The laird was old and weak, and there was the worry of how easily his body would be able to recover after such an injury.

  It was hours later when Cinaed and Isabella were finally able to get back to their rooms.

  They held onto each other for the longest time. He told her about the journey through the Highlands. Isabella shared the news that Aidan Grant and his brother had arrived at Dalmigavie.

  “I think you’ll like him,” she said. “He will be a good candidate to represent Inverness-shire in Parliament.

  “Henry Brougham and my mother seem to think so.”

  “It’s a relief for me, knowing you’re pursuing a political solution instead of marching off to battle.”

  “It may not matter what I want.” Cinaed explained to her everything he’d heard regarding Whitehall’s desire for war. “Regardless of what I do, the Highlands are a powder keg ready to explode. And I don’t want you in the middle of it.”

  She pulled out of his arms. “Where else would I go?”

  “I’ve been speaking to Niall about it. He feels the same way. You and Maisie and Morrigan and Fiona and her family could go to continent. Perhaps Wurzburg. It’d be far safer for you there until some sort of—”

  “Stop right there,” she demanded hotly. “I’m your wife. I love you. And I’m staying beside you, wherever you are, whatever you do.”

  “You’re not listening to me.”

  “And I am also a doctor. Do you really think I would leave you, leave the Mackintosh people, just to be safer?”

  Cinaed shook his head. She could ignore it all she liked, but Isabella was still considered an enemy of the Crown. Like him, she had a bounty on her head. No one dared to come after her here, but their family continued to be a way for Sir Rupert Burney and the authorities to get at the two of them. If something were to happen to Maisie and Morrigan, Isabella would do anything to get them back, including handing herself in.

  “If Niall can convince Maisie to go, will you consider joining her? To look after them?”

  “Of course not,” she snorted. “And Niall knows better than trying to suggest such a thing to her.”

  Cinaed didn’t want to be apart from his wife, but he was worried and determined that she see the seriousness of the danger around them.

  “And what about Morrigan?” he argued. “The lass is planning on leading troops into battle. She trains like she’s in the king’s guard. She’s in Inverness only because Searc and Blair are watching her every minute. But she has a spirit that is hard to rein in. If the situation here becomes more perilous, she’ll be impossible to protect. Do you trust her to keep herself safe?”

  Isabella turned her face to the window as a breeze banged the shutter open.

  “Morrigan is smart and resourceful,” she said. “Of course, I trust her.”

  CHAPTER 15

  MORRIGAN

  To wait for Sir Rupert Burney would mean the end of two lives. His and hers.

  The ruffians in suits he had with him trailed a few steps behind. They sensed no threat. Just two women in a garden. As he approached, she could see he was curious. His gaze was fixed on her. But she had no doubt the mention of her name would be catastrophic.

  Morrigan thought of all the blood that had been shed because of this man. The arrests. The abuse of prisoners. All the people who’d suffered. The pain that Fiona and her children had endured.

  At the Infirmary Street house in Edinburgh, she’d seen the carts bringing those who were injured after protests. She’d helped her father try to bring some relief to the people broken by torture at this man’s command. The attack on the clinic last April had been ordered by the Home Office. Archibald Drummond was cut down in his own surgery. Dead at the hand of a hussar as he tried to save the lives of his wounded patients. An assassin most assuredly directed to their home by this man. Morrigan was there. She witnessed the tragedy, watched the blood pour from her father’s body while Isabella tried desperately to save him.

  Later, as Isabella forced her from the chaos, Morrigan was already planning her revenge. She would find and kill the person responsible for the horrors of that day.

  She watched Sir Rupert as he drew closer.

  Isabella, Maisie, and Morrigan had escaped through a back door with the aid of their housekeeper. In the alleyway behind the house, Morrigan killed a man to save Maisie’s life. But there’d been no premeditation involved. It was a matter of kill or be killed.

  Today was different. She’d been planning this moment for months.

  A touch on her arm startled her.

  “Why are you standing here?” Madame Laborde’s face had grown pale, her eyes wide with concern. “Pay no attention to what I said before. You’re young. You have a future that awaits you. Go!”

  “You have nothing to fear. My business with Sir Rupert is personal.”

  “I don’t fear for myself,” she said with growing urgency. “Do not be fooled by the appearance of age. He is a fox, as keen and cunning as he is ruthless. He wears his age like a cloak. He is a true predator.”

  “And these are your friends?” Morrigan asked, her voice cutting.

  “Not a friend,” the artist admitted. “I have few choices in this world.”

  Burney slowed his steps and said something to one of his entourage.

  “You see? He already senses danger. He won’t kill you here. He’ll take you to use for his own purposes. Think of your family. Is this what you want?”

  Madame Laborde’s words slapped her with the reality of her situation. Morrigan met the woman’s eyes. She might be able to kill him, but what if she failed? She’d nearly been bested by Aidan in the alley near Maggot Green. He hadn’t expected her to fight, however. She couldn’t be sure about this man. Or the bruisers accompanying him.

  She wasn’t invincible. What if they did take her prisoner?

  “Come with me,” Morrigan said to the artist.

  “Not now. I’m delivering new drawings to him today. He’ll be on us in a moment if we both try to run. Neither of us will have a chance.” She hesitated and then whispered, “I’ll delay him. Come back for me later. Go now.”

  Twenty yards separated them.

  “Please let me know, Madame, what you decide about the tutoring,” Morrigan said loudly. With a quick curtsy, she turned and walked down the path to the gate at the bottom of the garden. Inverness and freedom lay beyond, if the artist could stall Sir Rupert.

  She had no option about which direction to go. The Mackintosh men were waiting for her by the stables, but she had no way to get back to them. To reach the house, she’d have needed to pass the villain and his men.

  She went through the gate and glanced back. Sir Rupert was standing with Madame Laborde. The woman was waving her hands as she talked. His eyes locked on Morrigan as he snapped an order at his men. Three of them immediately started down along the garden path after her.

  Morrigan began to run.

  This was exactly what Isabella had warned her about, keeping her wits about her. But she’d nearly committed an act that would have had disastrous repercussions. She’d nearly failed all of them. And she wasn’t clear of the danger yet.

  Morrigan lifted her skirts and ran hard. The cattle market lay directly ahead. As she reached the crowd, a shout came from behind her to stop. She ignored it. The open market was busier and noisier than when they passed through it earlier. She thanked the stars. She crossed through, mingling with the throng of buyers, sellers, and drovers herding their animals into and out of pens. She cut around a dozen men inspecting an enormous bull and darted around the corner of a shed. A muddy lane wound down a short hill and passed between a stone building and a tall fence enclosing a livery yard. She hurried to the end of the lane. A moment later, she reached the corner at the head of Inverness’s High Street and gla
nced back. One of Sir Rupert’s men appeared. He shouted over his shoulder for the others, and then started to sprint after her.

  The cobbled street was jammed with pedestrians, carts, and carriages. As she threaded her way past vendors hawking their wares to small clusters of customers, a gang of ragged children ran past her, two dogs barking and nipping at their heels. A trio of British officers in scarlet coats stood outside a milliner’s shop, talking with three well-dressed young women. Their attention turned toward her as she pushed by them.

  Moving in the direction of the river, Morrigan kept her eye on the stone spire of the Tolbooth, which housed both the courthouse and the jail. She prayed that Aidan was still there. If she could elude the men behind her long enough, perhaps she could get word to him, at the very least. Aidan was far too public a figure for Sir Rupert or his men to interfere with. He could go back to Barn Hill and warn the Mackintosh men waiting there. Together, they could bring Madame Laborde back.

  The block directly across from the Tolbooth was lined with shops. She stepped into the recessed doorway of a stationer’s store. Peering back up High Street, she saw them. The three bruisers were moving toward her, one on either side of the street and one in the middle. They were looking into the shop doors and studying the faces of women walking by.

  The stationer’s shop wasn’t large enough to hide in. She could set out on foot and run for the river, but she doubted she could get clear of them. They were drawing closer by the minute.

  “Blast,” she murmured. She had no choice.

  Keeping her head down, she walked across the street to a small doorway with a stout gate of wood and iron. The entrance to the jail. A smaller door was set into the gate and a guard leaned against it. He tipped his cap as she approached him.

  “Help ye, mistress?”

  “I was supposed to meet the barrister, Mr. Grant. Is he still here?”

  “Aye, that he is.”

  “May I wait for him inside?” She glanced meaningfully at a couple of watermen sitting against the building, passing a flask back and forth.

  “No better inside, mistress.”

  “I’d prefer it, if you don’t mind.”

  With a shrug, the guard knocked on the door. A face appeared at a peep hole, and then a bolt slid on the other side. The door creaked open. The guard ushered her through and pointed to a bench just inside. Beyond the entrance, she saw a small dark courtyard surrounded by high walls. Windows of the courthouse and city offices looked down on the open area. A gallows sat ominously at one end. Just above the cobblestones on the far wall, a row of tiny, barred windows ran the entire length of the enclosed space. The sounds of the street were muted here.

  The guard explained the situation to the gatekeeper, who bolted the door before disappearing into the building.

  “You can sit here and wait, mistress,” the guard said. He went into a small office space beside the gate, and the smell of tobacco immediately drifted into the courtyard.

  She didn’t have long to wait. A moment later, Aidan came out of the building with the gatekeeper. His expression upon seeing her inside the jail was murderous. He took her elbow and led her a few feet away. The guard went back out onto the street, and the gatekeeper bolted the door.

  Aidan spoke in a hushed voice, but his anger was evident. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “They’re outside, looking for me on the street. They chased me down from Barn Hill.”

  “Who?” he asked, sending a cautious glance at the gatekeeper. “Who is looking for you?”

  “Sir Rupert Burney’s men.”

  His grey eyes met hers, and a hand wrapped protectively around her upper arm, leading her a few more feet away. She talked fast and told him everything—from finding out from Mrs. Goddard that the artist was living at Barn Hill to meeting the woman in the gardens.

  “Sir Rupert arrived while I was speaking with her.”

  She left out her momentary impulse of putting a knife in the heart of the spymaster.

  “I had to escape on foot. They came after me, searching in every shop along High Street. This was the only place where I thought they wouldn’t look.”

  “No doubt, she told him who you were.”

  “She had no choice. She would have come with me if she could. I want to go back for her.”

  “You’re going nowhere near Barn Hill,” he ordered. He thought for a moment before leading her to the bench. “Stay here and wait for me. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  She didn’t argue. Morrigan watched Aidan approach the gatekeeper. A few words were exchanged before the man opened the door and let him out.

  She sat on the bench, but she was too restless to stay there. She stood again. Twice, the guard’s knock came on the door and the gate opened to admit visitors. Long minutes passed. The bells in the Tolbooth steeple above her ran the hour. Two in the afternoon.

  While she waited, Morrigan studied the courtyard and the row of cell windows.

  Perhaps there was once a time when she assumed only bad people were kept in jail cells. Murderers. Thieves. Brutes. Even those who were not violent. Frauds. Debtors. But assisting her father and Isabella in their clinic in Edinburgh had changed that assumption forever. She now knew citizens were being arrested and charged—or simply held indefinitely by the authorities—for their beliefs or opinions, for gathering in groups, for protesting against unjust laws. Those people now languishing behind barred windows all over Britain and Ireland were fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, even children. They were people like Fiona. Like John Gordon.

  Anyone could be robbed of their freedom, tortured and killed, even though they’d never stolen a ha’penny nor lifted a hand against anyone.

  This was the new justice. Morrigan lost track of how long she sat there, deep in thought. She was startled at the sound of a knock at the gate. The door opened. Aidan appeared.

  “Come with me.”

  He took hold of her hand, and the two of them walked out onto the street. As they passed the guard, Morrigan saw Aidan place some coins discreetly in his hand.

  A hired post chaise was waiting, with Aidan’s horse tied to the back. The postilion sitting on the lead horse tipped his tall hat.

  Morrigan barely had a chance to look up and down the street for the men who were following her. Aidan quickly ushered her in and climbed in after her. They set off without another word.

  Instead of continuing down Bridge Street toward the river, the driver turned the carriage and went down Church Street. They were heading north toward the Maggot. They’d not gone two blocks before she spotted two of her pursuers looking onto a tea shop window. Morrigan pointed them out to Aidan as she sat back in the seat, hiding her face until Sir Rupert’s men were behind them.

  “When I hired the carriage,” Aidan said, “I sent a messenger to Barn Hill to tell the Mackintosh men that you’re with me.”

  Morrigan hoped the two hadn’t gotten involved in any altercation. Her escorts had been waiting by the stables. She thought back to when she first saw Sir Rupert coming along the path in the gardens. Nothing had seemed amiss. They were not on their guard. Perhaps they hadn’t seen the Mackintosh men waiting by the stables.

  “What about Madame Laborde?” she asked.

  “We’ll need to act with caution. You said she’s employed by Burney and seemed happy with the arrangement.”

  “At first, that was the impression she gave me. But that wasn’t the case before I left. She was quite nervous. I think she would have come with me if the situation were different.”

  “Then we’ll leave it to Searc to send someone back there. He can make whatever arrangements are necessary. Inverness is his town. He knows where he could put her that would be safe for everyone.”

  Morrigan understood that it was not up to her to offer shelter at Dalmigavie Castle to someone like Madame Laborde. The artist could hardly be considered trustworthy at this point. Her mind immediately turned to Wemys. He was even less so, but the blackguar
d was dying.

  The post chaise hit a hole in the road, and she was jostled into Aidan. She tried to slide away, but he reached over and took hold of her arm. He looked into her eyes.

  “As angry as I was at the sight of you in the courtyard at the jail, I am glad about what you did. It was a smart decision. And it took courage, I’m sure, to go there. You acted responsibly getting away as you did.”

  Morrigan felt herself grow warm at his praise. Those moments in that garden when her desire for revenge nearly blotted out reason were still fresh in her mind. It was a weakness she needed to overcome. She’d done the same thing when she saw Wemys near Maggot Green.

  She had to be smarter. Less hotheaded. She somehow had to make herself slow down and think before she acted.

  “There is no bounty on my head. And even though I’m wanted for no crime, I know they would have taken me, anyway.”

  “And they would have kept you until they had Cinaed in chains,” he agreed.

  Morrigan frowned, thinking of Fiona. She was safe at Dalmigavie with her children now, but last spring she’d been taken by Sir Rupert’s henchmen in Edinburgh. At the time of her arrest, she had damning letters and protest flyers in her possession. She told Aidan about that now. “I know it wouldn’t have mattered that I had nothing but some of their own caricatures in my reticule.”

  “Lack of evidence means nothing to them. Lack of a crime means nothing. They’d hold you, and when the time came that they’d need to, they’d charge you with crimes that carry the maximum punishment. Knowing full well that you’re innocent, they’d say you were conspiring against the government, abetting known traitors. They’d heap a dozen other charges on your head. It would be your word against theirs. But I can tell you one thing, if you were arrested today, Madam Laborde would never have testified on your behalf against Sir Rupert. She would have disappeared.”

  Morrigan shivered at the thought of the calamity she’d escaped. “You’ve seen these situations.”

  “Unfortunately, I have. I’ve been involved in a number of such cases.”

  Morrigan stared at their joined hands. His grip was firm, his actions back in the Tolbooth courtyard were confident. He didn’t panic. He knew what to do. She watched the play of his thumb over her skin. A delicious twist gripped her belly. He was staring ahead, his thoughts on something else. She doubted he was aware of what he was doing.