Highland Sword Page 13

  “This is why Wemys is so important to me. His offer to testify against the Home Office is the first time one of their minions will provide evidence against them.”

  She pulled her hand away and slid across the seat, creating some distance between them.

  “I don’t think you should come back to Inverness anytime soon,” he continued. “Burney now knows how close he came to getting his hands on you. He’ll be on the lookout. You may not escape a second time.”

  “Would they be bold enough to come to the Maggot?”

  “I doubt it. Searc has too many important connections for them to come after anyone in his house. Except perhaps Cinaed Mackintosh. And they’d need a battalion to take him.”

  Morrigan wasn’t in Inverness the night the hussars set the Maggot on fire, but Isabella had told her about it. The end result had been disastrous for them.

  After passing Maggot Green, the post chaise turned down the lane, stopping at the gate to Searc’s house. The carts being loaded by Mackintosh men renewed her confidence. Blair appeared, coolly eying the carriage.

  “You should go and tell Searc what happened,” Aidan suggested. “I’ll speak with Blair about keeping an eye out for Sir Rupert’s men, just in case.”

  Morrigan agreed. As soon as the chaise came to a stop, she climbed out, not waiting for him to assist her.

  Seen from the outside, Searc’s rambling house looked as dilapidated as the rest of the area. The place was actually a number of buildings joined together. A warehouse was attached on the river side. Set back a little from the main road, the buildings were surrounded by high walls. The narrow lane where Morrigan left Aidan and Blair talking ran past a gated entrance and dropped off into the Ness. There were rumors about tunnels leading off from the house in a number of directions—to the river and to a livery stable some distance from the house. But she’d never seen them, and Isabella had been quite tight-lipped on the subject.

  The area inside the walls included neglected gardens and a small stable. The Highlanders’ horses were being tended there in preparation for the journey back. As she went in, Morrigan glanced up at a round, tower-like structure with a square block of a room perched on top. It was a curious place, and she’d never seen a house like it, even in Edinburgh.

  Every time she came to Inverness, Morrigan spent some time inside the house. She was genuinely impressed at the way Searc used the run-down exterior to mask the shrewd and lucrative business dealings that he conducted inside.

  The housekeeper told her that Searc was meeting with Captain Kenedy. Morrigan had met the man and his wife at Dalmigavie. The ship owner was an enthusiastic supporter of Cinaed.

  She decided to wait in her favorite room in the house until the two finished conducting their business. Searc’s Clan Mackintosh room. She liked to refer to it as the Armory.

  Shedding her coat and tam, Morrigan walked along the dark, twisted corridors. Upon entering it, she closed the door behind her. Immediately, she felt better. All the lingering edginess of her escape from Burney and his men disappeared like a morning mist.

  Weapons adorned every wall. Muskets and swords and pistols were displayed in a series of starlike designs. She ran her gaze over the shields and crossed swords and wheels of daggers. Lines of spears with wicked hooks and axe blades caught the light from large windows high on the walls. A great deal of damage could be done with the armaments in this chamber.

  Above the fireplace, in a position of honor, hung the portrait of Bonnie Prince Charlie.

  Morrigan heard a knock on the door and turned as it opened and Aidan came in.

  “I knew I’d find you here.”

  “Did you guess how to get here, or did someone show you?”

  “I knew about this room. I’ve been in here a number of times.”

  She shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d been to Searc’s house before today. Aidan Grant appeared to be quite familiar with Inverness. And Isabella had told her the Grants would be staying here during the trial.

  “There are a few weapons on that wall that you still need to learn how to use.” He walked around the room and stopped in front of one of the more impressive displays. “This battle axe, for example.”

  Morrigan came to stand beside him. “It would take me no time to use it successfully.”

  “I’ll make sure I’m nowhere near when you pick it up.”

  “You’ll suffer no bumps or bruising, sir. Your death will be quite quick.”

  He gave her a side look, a spark of amusement dancing in his grey eyes. “And this is what I get for saving your life.”

  “You didn’t save my life. But I’ll grant that you rescued me from a troublesome situation.”

  “I beg to differ. You simply enjoy disagreeing.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “This morning, I gave you gift, a lovely sgian dubh, and you quibbled over its ownership.”

  “That was not a gift. The dagger was rightfully mine.”

  Aidan said nothing, but his hand reached toward her face. She froze, not immediately realizing what he was doing. He pulled a bit of leaf from her hair that she must had picked up running from Barn Hill. He offered it to her and she took it.

  “I see that you’re not going to give me any credit until I produce a proper gift.”

  “I want no gift from you, sir, except your continuing friendship.”

  His gaze was piercing, and Morrigan felt her body go warm.

  “Our friendship, you can count on, Miss Drummond.”

  He’d left the door ajar, and she now heard footsteps coming down the hall. Morrigan stepped away from Aidan.

  A moment later, one of her two Mackintosh escorts looked in at the door. “Relieved to see ye back here safe, mistress.” The fighter, hat in hand, stepped just inside and told her how they’d seen the Englishman’s carriage come up to the house at Barn Hill. They saw the five men enter a gate by the gardens.

  “We thought ye were in the house. That’s why we saw no need to follow ’em. We didn’t know ye were missing until the lad Mr. Grant sent came to fetch us.”

  She was relieved how it had worked out. The consequences of what could have happened bothered her. They could have been hurt on her account.

  “Did you see anything else?” she asked. “Did they leave finally?”

  “Aye. Sometime later, we saw the old man come out of the gardens with just one of ’em louts. And he had a woman with him.”

  “What did she look like?”

  “A wee thing, mistress. Thin as a stick. Wore a hat with a brim wide as a Quaker’s. Wore a blue coat.”

  “They took Madam Laborde,” Morrigan told Aidan. She should have convinced the artist to come with her when they had the chance.

  “Was she struggling?” Aidan asked. “Did they force her to go?”

  “Nay, Mr. Grant. The woman was willing. Thick as thieves, they were. Chatting all the way out of the garden. I heard her laugh as she climbed into the carriage.”

  CHAPTER 16

  AIDAN

  They arrived at Dalmigavie late and were immediately told that Cinaed and the others were back. Aidan knew the first order of business the following morning would be an introduction to the son of Scotland.

  Aidan left his bedchamber early. On his way to the laird’s study, he stopped to see Wemys. The cur’s health had been continuously deteriorating, and the best time to converse with him was early in the day, before his medication was administered.

  As Aidan had hoped, Wemys was sitting up in bed when he entered. The air in the room was close and smelled of sickness. He pushed open the window and a cool breeze wafted in.

  “Are you trying to kill me with the chill?” the sick man snapped, pulling a blanket up to his chin. “You’re not the face I’ve been looking to see.”

  “Too bad for you.”

  “Go on your way, why don’t you? Send the doctor. She’s the only one worth talking to.”

  Aidan sat in a chair near the bed
and handed him the list. “I saw the Chattan brothers yesterday. It took some persuasion, but they shared these names with me. Do you know any of them?”

  Wemys stared at the paper.

  The brothers thought they were among friends, sharing with fellow workers and members of their reform committee their frustration about what was happening in their town, in their country. As was the case all over Britain, however, their circle of trust had been infiltrated by a spy, a provocateur. They couldn’t have been further from safe.

  “Fourteen names,” Aidan pressed. “I doubt the Home Office had every one of them in their pocket.”

  “You’re right. And the man’s name is here.”

  Aidan was relieved. Knowing the identity of the informant would be a tremendous help. He could send someone after him. He’d go after him himself. Perhaps the man would be cooperative if they offered money. If not that, maybe a threat would make him more agreeable. He and Sebastian were not above using the persuasive methods of the Home Office.

  “Who was it?” he asked. “Which name?”

  Wemys let the list lie on his lap.

  “Tell me, by the devil, or so help me—”

  “Today is the thirteenth day I’ve been here in this infernal castle. Nearly a fortnight. And my own niece hasn’t seen fit to come see me.”

  Temper sharpened Aidan’s tone. “I didn’t bring you here to visit with your family. Our agreement was for you to help me with the trial. In return, I’d save your miserable life.”

  “Well, as we both know, you haven’t done too well with that, now, have you? I’m dying.”

  “Not for lack of care.”

  “Dying, all the same.”

  “I could have just turned you over to the weavers in Inverness. They’d have known how to handle you.”

  Wemys gestured toward Kane Branson, looking on from the door. “I’ve asked your clerk. I get no satisfaction. I’ve begged the doctor to take my request to her. Nothing. All I wish for is to see my niece once more before I close my eyes. I have some things I should have said long ago.”

  “She doesn’t care to see you.”

  Regardless of her denials, Aidan knew what Morrigan intended to do in that alley in Inverness. Her reaction to seeing her uncle in the cottage here later confirmed it.

  Feuds between families were common in Scotland. Aidan’s own family had suffered greatly from them. In the Jacobite rebellion of 1715, Grants fought on both sides. It was the same at Culloden.

  “Forget about Miss Drummond,” Aidan ordered. “Look again at that list and tell me the name.”

  “Put me out in the glen for the wild boars to feed upon. Drag me back to Inverness and let the weavers drown me in the Ness. Or let Sir Rupert’s henchmen skin me alive. It makes no difference.” He threw the list back at Aidan. “The doctor says I’m to die. Very well. Let’s get it over with.”

  Aidan realized if, by some miracle, Wemys lived until the trial, his testifying would depend on whether Morrigan would see him or not.

  The sick man turned his head away, but quickly looked back, pleading. “Ask her, Mr. Grant. Ask her yourself. Tell her that her uncle has a weight sitting on his chest that’ll never be lifted until he’s lowered into his grave. Tell her I’m begging her to let me say what I need to say.”

  A series of painful coughs overtook him. When he could speak, his breaths were ragged and labored.

  “Afterward, I’ll be yours. I swear to you. I’ll give you the name you want. I’ll tell you where they sent him. God willing, I’ll stay alive long enough to stand in that courtroom and testify for those lads.”

  Aidan left the room and descended to the keep’s main floor. He didn’t know how he was going to convince Morrigan to speak with Wemys. She was more passionate than reasonable, and she’d made her feelings perfectly clear. Perhaps if he told her more about Edmund and George Chattan. They were fine young men. Unfortunately, they were as hotheaded as they were naïve. It was their good heartedness and simplicity of spirit that made them the perfect gulls in this entrapment scheme.

  Standing before the door to the laird’s study, Aidan realized he couldn’t think about it right now. Cinaed was waiting.

  Once he entered and their introduction was complete, the two men sat in chairs by the hearth. A small wood fire crackled on the hearth, taking the edge off the chill morning. The son of Scotland had requested that they meet alone.

  As they talked, Aidan was surprised at how at ease he was in the man’s company, and he sensed that Cinaed felt the same way. He thought they were roughly the same age, and it was as if he’d known him his entire life.

  “Right now, Sir Rupert is using every means at his disposal to make you look like a Highland Sawney Bean, living in a cave by the sea and eating children whenever you can take them.” Aidan could tell this man was not one who smiled much, but that comment caused a momentary pull at the corner of his lips. “That serves several purposes. The folk of the Highlands will doubt you, and the city folk of the south will fear you. And he wants to anger you enough to draw you out.”

  “I recall a story about another cave, told by a minstrel passing through here when I was just a lad. It was about the Black Douglas taking refuge in one during a tempest. He and Robert the Bruce had been taking a thrashing from the English. The Bruce was on the run as well. All their hopes for Scotland seemed to be lost. As he waited, he saw a wee spider was trying to weave a web, but the creature couldn’t swing far enough to attach his silken thread to a wall. After trying six times, he made it. The Douglas took it as a sign. He and the Bruce eventually beat the English at Bannockburn.”

  “I recall that story. Do you plan to wage war for the next eight years?”

  The son of Scotland shook his head.

  “Our people in the Highlands were broken after Culloden,” he said. “A new war would destroy everything that is left. All that will be left is empty moorland and English sheep.”

  Aidan agreed. “The Crown would love an excuse to crush the clans once and for all. The people in the cities in the Lowlands would see it, and any thought of protest or reform would shrivel and blow away like so many autumn leaves.”

  “Since we cannot destroy the empire, then my thinking is that we need to build our spider’s web stronger. The more the Crown leans on the reformers, the more entrenched the desire for change becomes. We need to improve the laws. We need the right people in Parliament to increase the number of people who can vote. That’s why I’ve been keen to meet you.”

  Since the end of the war against Napoleon, Aidan knew this was the direction he was going. Politics. He knew that many wanted the son of Scotland to wage war and fight for justice. They wanted him to finish what his grandfather had started. But Aidan knew that even more, people were tired of war and fighting. Times were changing. And as for him, Aidan had lost too many kin to support any kind of military campaign.

  He was relieved to hear Cinaed’s view. They had the same understanding of the political and economic nightmare the nation was facing. Although Cinaed was a warrior at heart and had spent many years sailing the seas, his vision of what needed to be done was the same as Aidan’s.

  “As you know, Charles Forbes holds the seat in Parliament for Inverness-shire,” Cinaed continued. “But he has already indicated to Searc privately that he’ll be stepping down next summer. Would you be interested in that seat?”

  “Scotland’s members in Parliament are still controlled by the large landowners and a powerful group of merchants and manufactory owners. I’m hardly popular amongst them.”

  “You can leave the campaigning to Searc and me, if you’re interested.”

  Aidan thought of his father and the two brothers he’d lost on the fields of Belgium. They always believed that he’d someday rise to this position. He’d be good at it. He also thought of Sebastian. They could still work together if he stood for election.

  Suddenly, Morrigan’s face came into his mind’s eye. Aidan wondered what she would think of Cin
aed’s offer. Would she even consider dividing her time between Inverness and Edinburgh and London? She would be so much safer from the machinations of people like Sir Rupert Burney if she were the wife of a member of Parliament.

  He caught himself. The direction of his thoughts caught him off guard. He cleared his mind.

  “I would,” Aidan answered. “I’d be very much interested.”

  * * *

  The next morning, after looking in at Wemys, Aidan was surprised to run into Morrigan on the landing of the tower stairwell. Both of them stopped and exchanged a brief greeting.

  He’d looked for her the night before. The folk filling the Great Hall had been loud and boisterous as Lachlan was carried in a chair to the room to join the festivities. All were happy about the return of the travelers, and the added announcement by Searc and Cinaed that Aidan would have their support in standing for election to Parliament only added to the noise and celebration. Many approached to congratulate him. Countless words of encouragement were directed toward him, along with a few teasing remarks from Sebastian. He’d wanted to see Morrigan, to speak to her, to find out her opinion of this new change of plans. But she never approached, and the only time he saw her was as she left the hall.

  Aidan noticed her gaze was drawn to the door of the room he’d just left. Perhaps it was the dim light of the hallway, but she looked pale.

  “Would you care to go in?”

  She frowned and shook her head. “I’m on the way up to the top of the tower.” She stepped around him.

  Aidan began to follow her. “May I join you?”

  “I don’t know why you ask, Mr. Grant. You always do what you want.”

  She nearly ran up the stone stairs, but Aidan kept pace with her.

  “Dealing with you, Miss Drummond, I know it’s better to ask first.”