Highland Sword Read online

  “I want you, Aidan.”

  With one sweep of his hand, he cleared the desk. Books and papers crashed and fluttered to the floor. He lifted her onto the edge.

  “Let’s go to my bedchamber,” she suggested as his teeth raked against her throat.

  “Marry me first.”

  “I am thinking about it. Someday, perhaps. But right now, I need you.”

  He pushed her knees apart and stepped between her thighs. His arousal pressed against her and she thrilled at the intimacy of it. He took hold of her ankle and raised it until it looped around his waist. He slid his hand upward along her calf and thigh … and higher. She bit onto his shoulder as anticipation rose as to what he would do next.

  A faint knock at the door threw them both into a panic. She scrambled off the edge of the desk. Aidan picked up a book and strode toward the window, pretending to be reading. Morrigan straightened her skirts. There was no point to telling the intruder to enter; the door opened, and Catriona poked in her head.

  “We’re playing hide-and-seek. Can I use your curtains?”

  Shouts ran out behind her. There was not enough time to hide. She was already discovered. She ran out, leaving the door to the library wide open.

  Morrigan bit her lip and made quick work of gathering up everything that had been scattered across the floor.

  Aidan joined her, helping. “Well, that was close.”

  Both of them tried unsuccessfully to hold back their smiles.

  She found the etchings. They’d gone under the table during the avalanche. As she picked them up, she remembered the second thing Madame Laborde had hinted at in the drawing.

  “Who knows that the Duke of Clarence is coming?” she asked.

  “No one. No one outside of the government hierarchy, anyway. They don’t want to bring any attention to this trip,” he told her. “Once he arrives, I assume there will be some public announcement of it.”

  She showed him what they’d found in the caricature. Beneath one of the arches of the bridge, two fishermen were hauling in a net, filled with their fish. Mixed in with the catch, cleverly hidden, was a lion, a unicorn, and a crown.

  “These wouldn’t, by any chance, be on the duke’s coat of arms, would they?”

  Aidan peered at the image and a smile stole across his face. “I believe they are.”

  “What if I wrote back to Sir Rupert and told him I’ve heard here at the castle that the Duke of Clarence is coming to Inverness?”

  “Better still, what if you wrote to the rogue and told him the duke is coming and that he’s going to meet with the son of Scotland?”

  “Why would we tell him so much?”

  “Because no one knows it, except the duke and his closest advisors.” Aidan paced the room a few times.

  She could already tell he was plotting. “Tell me.”

  “Entrapment. That’s the game Burney is famous for—tricking people into trusting someone they shouldn’t, and then getting them to do the exact thing he can use against them.”

  “Are you planning to turn that ruse on the fox himself?” she asked.

  Aidan nodded, closed the door, and told her what he was thinking.

  CHAPTER 31

  MORRIGAN

  They now knew why no one had been able to locate Madame Laborde after Sir Rupert took her away in his carriage from Barn Hill. He didn’t put the artist in a tavern or in some cramped room at an inn. He moved her into his own residence.

  Once Morrigan discovered the approximate location, Searc’s people were able to find the house Sir Rupert had taken on Huntly Street, a cobblestone lane that ran along the river. Searc knew the house. It had belonged to a successful old smuggler he’d done business with years ago.

  Looking out the front windows of the grey stone building, one would see the exact alignment of the Old Bridge and Castle Hill, just as she’d drawn them in her sketches. Searc’s people were also able to discern that no one went in or out of the house without Burney’s approval. A burly footman turned away all callers whenever a passing vendor happened to go knocking. Only the occasional glimpse of Madame Laborde at an upstairs window confirmed she was there.

  While they’d tried to find a way to meet with the artist, Morrigan sent a letter to Burney containing the information they’d decided on.

  The duke is coming to Inverness. He plans to meet with the son of Scotland.

  A letter had immediately come back to Dalmigavie addressed to Morrigan.

  Where? When?

  Morrigan responded with her own demand.

  Give back my father’s letter.

  That left them at a standoff. Morrigan imagined that, despite her handful of good deeds, she wasn’t trusted. The man had to know she would never betray Isabella and her husband. All of this worked perfectly into their plans.

  When Morrigan, Aidan, and Sebastian left Dalmigavie with a contingent of men to accompany the carriage, a white blanket of snow still covered the ground. Before they even reached Inverness, however, she was surprised to find the countryside was frozen but free of snow.

  Their plan was simple. The back of Sir Rupert Burney’s residence opened out onto a lane that ran parallel with the river. On the far side lay a large field that Searc referred to as Fairfield Park. They’d discovered that Madame Laborde left the house nearly every day in the midafternoon and walked briskly around the park. They would approach her there.

  They waited for her at the edge of the park when she emerged for her daily jaunt. As she passed the carriage, Morrigan stepped out and approached her.

  The artist was immediately alarmed. “I can’t speak to you. They watch me. One of his men always follows when I go for my walks.”

  Morrigan already knew that. Sebastian was overseeing a diversion that coincided with Madame Laborde going out.

  “We know.” She motioned to the waiting carriage. “Come with me.”

  The artist looked back at the house. “I can’t. My money, my jewels. It’s all I have. I can’t leave it behind.”

  “Just talk to us. Here. We can arrange for a time to free you when you have your belongings.”

  “We?”

  “Mr. Grant and I.”

  “The barrister. I know of him.” Whatever doubts Madam Laborde had, they seemed to disappear. With another glance back at the house, she followed Morrigan to the carriage.

  Introductions were brief as they climbed in, and Aidan ordered the driver to walk on.

  “I can’t go far,” Madame Laborde told him.

  “I know this neighborhood.” He called up to the driver, “Go as far as Wells Foundry and turn around. And take your time.”

  “I knew you’d find me.” The artist turned to Morrigan. “I was certain you’d come.”

  “What happened that day at Barn Hill?” she asked.

  “I told him everything, but I had to in order to save myself. Your name, why you were there, your offer to help me. What I left out was that it was at my urging that you ran.” The gloved hand twisted the tassel of her reticule. “He ordered me to go with him immediately, that I was in danger. I had no choice but to go.”

  Morrigan had little doubt the relationship between Sir Rupert and Madame Laborde extended beyond her artwork. Aside from being closely guarded, she showed no signs of physical abuse. With the hat and gloves and heavy coat that she wore, of course, it was difficult to know for certain.

  She had learned from Wemys that Sir Rupert Burney was a widower. He didn’t know what caused the death of his wife, but Burney was not averse to occasional acts of violence, despite his calm demeanor in public. Wemys said the man took a particular pleasure in interrogating the poor souls who found themselves in his clutches. In the surgery on Infirmary Street, Morrigan had tended to the wounds of his tortured victims.

  Her mind flickered to Fiona. She’d been a prisoner of his. But Niall’s sister still refused to speak of what happened to her during those long months. Morrigan hoped nothing evil had befallen her. Perhaps fear of the lieu
tenant had been enough to keep her safe.

  “You have an arrangement with Sir Rupert that appears to suit you. Why do you want to leave?” Aidan’s question was direct. The kind, amiable gentleman had disappeared, leaving the serious man of law in their company.

  “I have no illusions. What I have now is not permanent. As I told you before, it is a matter of survival.”

  “Why not wait six months, a year? Certainly, what you’re being paid for your artwork should allow you to return to France a rich woman.”

  “Ah, but what if I don’t live so long?” She pulled at the collar of her coat, burrowing deeper into its warmth. “The day I met Miss Drummond, I had no choice but to go with him. Since I arrived at this house, however, I’ve been in his power. I am no better than a prisoner here. I’m told what to do, what to draw, who to entertain, when to smile … and…”

  She stopped and stared out the window. No one had to guess at her other duties.

  “We can help you get out,” Morrigan told her. “The offer I made before still stands.”

  “But you don’t understand. Sir Rupert is cunning. He has his ways. He’ll find me. I know so much more about him now than I did when I was at Barn Hill. I’ve heard things. He is dangerous. And he is driven by revenge.” Her eyes moved from Morrigan to Aidan and back. “I want to leave, but I am also fearful he’ll find me. And when he does, he’ll kill me.”

  “Not if you destroy him first,” Aidan suggested.

  “That’s impossible. He’s too strong. Too shrewd. What can I do?”

  “To some extent, at least, he trusts you. You can use that. As you say, you’ve heard things.”

  Morrigan took her hand. “You already know that the Duke of Clarence is coming to Inverness. You gave us the clues in your caricature.”

  Madame Laborde’s look showed her approval. “I knew you’d discover the clue.”

  “What is Sir Rupert’s reaction to this visit?”

  “He is furious about it. He offered to provide for the duke’s security, but he was flatly refused. He feels slighted, snubbed. This is the most important visit to Scotland by a member of the royal family in a hundred years, and the director of Home Office operations in the Highlands has been excluded entirely.”

  No doubt Morrigan had added fuel to the fire when she informed him the duke was meeting with the son of Scotland.

  “What if you were to help us, without jeopardizing your situation as it is?” Aidan suggested. “What if we worked together to eliminate Sir Rupert?”

  “Eliminate?”

  “With your help, we shall expose him to the wrath of his own masters. We shall make him look like a traitor. He will suffer the consequences, and you will be amply rewarded.”

  “And free,” Morrigan added.

  Madame Laborde’s gaze shifted from her to Aidan, where it lingered adoringly. She didn’t blame the woman. She felt exactly the same way when he had explained his plans to her at Dalmagavie. She felt that way when they weren’t making any plans.

  “Is it possible?”

  “Absolutely. He has already fallen out of favor with Lord Sidmouth. He failed to stop a meeting from taking place between Queen Caroline and the son of Scotland. Their confidence in him is nearly gone. He’s teetering on the edge of an abyss. With your help, we can give him that final push.”

  Madame Laborde sat forward in her seat, her eyes flashing with excitement. “What can I do?”

  “Two things, to start.” Aidan glanced out the window. They were turning around. “You must pass on to him, in a very casual way, a rumor that you learned from one of the servants. The cook perhaps. Or your maid. Something they heard on market day.”

  “I decide on the menu. I speak to the cook every day. What shall I tell Sir Rupert?”

  “Tell him there’s a dinner and reception being given at the home of a Captain Kenedy,” he told her. “The captain has a fine house down river, not far from here. Sir Rupert knows him. The dinner will be taking place next month, on the second Friday of February. Mention that the party is being touted as the event of the winter, so grand that one might think the king himself is attending.”

  “The second Friday.” She thought about it. “But that coincides with the Duke of Clarence’s visit.”

  Morrigan exchanged a look with Aidan. “Exactly.”

  “Is the duke to attend?”

  “One would assume so.”

  “I know that Sir Rupert Burney has not been invited. And he won’t be. He is never asked to attend such receptions.”

  “The Mackintoshes, however, will be attending.”

  “The son of Scotland, as well?” she asked.

  “Perhaps,” Aidan suggested.

  “Oh, that will destroy him. He’ll be so angry.” She cringed. “He’s so preoccupied with arresting and prosecuting Cinaed Mackintosh. If Sir Rupert thinks that deals are being made behind his back, he’ll lose his mind.”

  “That is when we hoist him on his own petard.”

  Madame Laborde smiled with satisfaction at the thought. “That would be lovely, Mr. Grant.”

  “Tell me, madame, how good an actress are you?”

  “Proficient.” She gave a casual shrug and looked at Morrigan. “I was able to let you walk away unharmed, and I’m still alive. That says something.”

  “Do you have any influence with Sir Rupert?” Aidan asked.

  She colored. “To some extent.”

  “Does he listen to suggestions you might make? Your ideas?”

  “He thinks I am very clever. He enjoys my caricatures immensely.”

  Aidan leaned forward, his voice a soft caress. “Could a casual suggestion be made about how horrible, how unnatural it would be if the duke were attacked while he was visiting Inverness?”

  He paused, letting his words sink in with their new ally.

  “Perhaps while he was dining at an event like the one at Captain Kenedy’s house,” he continued.

  She brought a hand to her chest in shock. “Highlanders attacking the brother of the king? It would mean war.”

  “Precisely.”

  Madame Laborde looked at them in silence as she pondered this. Finally, a smile pulled at her lips. “I understand. If Sir Rupert were to thwart such an audacious plot, he would emerge as the hero. He would save the duke and seize Cinaed Mackintosh in one fell swoop.”

  “Can you do it?” Morrigan asked.

  “I can play this part.” The artist pursed her lips. “But I have one condition. I must be taken from here the night of Captain Kenedy’s reception.”

  CHAPTER 32

  AIDAN

  ““El amor y la guerra son una misma cosa,” Aidan said to Morrigan as she stormed into the library. He rose from his chair by the desk as she came across the room.

  “What did you just say to me?”

  She was an open book to him. He knew all her moods now. He knew the difference between the blush in her face when she was angry and the blush when he kissed her or whispered all the things that he’d do to her once they were married.

  Right now, she was definitely angry.

  He read the passage from the book he held open in his hand. “‘Love and war are all one. As in war it is lawful to use sleights and stratagems to overcome the enemy, so in amorous strifes and competencies, impostures and juggling tricks are held for good to attain the desired end.’”

  “I just spoke with Isabella,” she told him. “You can’t do this.”

  “Thomas Shelton’s translation of Cervantes’s Don Quixote.” He closed the volume and offered it to her. “It is a wonderful tale. Life changing. You should read it.”

  “I’ve read it.” Morrigan took the book from him and put it down on the desk. None too gently. “She told me that Charles Forbes has decided to give up his seat in Parliament earlier than planned. The election will take place in early spring.”

  “I heard the same thing.” He picked up the book. “Did you know Cervantes is Sebastian’s favorite author? I think it has
to do with both of them losing an arm in battle, though I believe the author only lost the use of his left arm, ‘for the greater glory of his right,’ or something.”

  Morrigan was not to be deterred. “But you went to Cinaed this morning and withdrew your name as a candidate.”

  “It’s true, mi amor. What else can a man do when the woman he loves refuses him?” He laid the book gently on the desk, touching the leather binding. “I’ve decided that my brother and I shall give up the law and travel the world. I shall be the noble knight-errant, Don Quixote, and he’ll be my Sancho Panza, though I think he might be too tall.”

  She placed herself between him and the desk. “I never refused you. We talked about this.”

  “We never settled anything.”

  “I need to get my father’s letter back first.”

  “We’ll keep trying. But what happens if we can’t retrieve it? And none of Sir Rupert’s threats are about the letter. He is weaving his own tales.”

  Morrigan paled. “I know.”

  “Think of everything that is being circulated about Cinaed. Is any of it the truth? Is there any document that justifies all the lies? None. If their plan is to ruin me because I’ve been fortunate to make them look like fools in court, they’ll come up with all kinds of falsehoods about me, anyway.”

  She hugged her arms around her middle. “I refuse to give them a scandal they can use to ruin you.”

  “Nothing they know about you can ruin me. And we’re talking about Parliament. Public life,” he reminded her. “To pursue that as a career, we have to be numb to the gossip. We can’t run away and hide. Instead, we have to show them we’re not afraid of whatever obstacles they hurl our way.”

  “So you are standing for the election,” she said, sounding relieved.

  “Not without you at my side.”

  “We’ll talk about this later.”

  “I’ll not be put off again. We are not talking about it later.” He caught her elbow before she moved away from him. “I want an answer now.”