Highland Sword Read online

  “Tell her I’ll see her later, if you please. I need to change out of these wet clothes first.”

  Morrigan ran off before Searc could argue.

  As she left the yard, others were emerging from the keep to help unload the carts.

  Over the past month, this was the third trip they’d made to Inverness. By all accounts, Searc had his hand in dozens of businesses, but he’d also used the opportunity to bring back supplies. Morrigan knew the “supplies” consisted mostly of weapons, shot, and powder. It was no secret Dalmigavie was in danger of attack by troops stationed at Fort George and Fort Williams.

  Before those regiments were prepared to attack the Mackintosh stronghold, however, there needed to be a build-up of troop numbers in the forts. And so far, Searc’s spies confirmed no additional reinforcements had been sent north.

  The noises from the Great Hall became muffled in the stairwell as Morrigan hurried up to her bedchamber. Safely inside, she dropped the latch in place and lit a candle. She peeled off her coat, tossed her hat on a chair, and moved to the mirror.

  “Blast,” she murmured, cringing at the sight of her reflection in the glass. Her bottom lip was the size of a fat mouse. Dried blood clung to the corner of her mouth. Her forehead and chin were marked, red and rough, and a shadow stained her puffy cheek and jaw. She prayed some of it was dirt that would wash away, but she wasn’t particularly hopeful.

  “Morrigan?” Maisie called, knocking sharply. “Unlatch the door and let me in.”

  Too soon. Too soon. She looked around her in panic. The dried blood made everything look worse than it was. If she could only wash her face.

  The rapping on the door grew louder and more persistent. Over the years, Maisie’s sweet demeanor and beautiful face had fooled many into thinking she was quiet and docile. But they were so wrong. Kicking this door open was not beyond her. Morrigan needed to act quickly.

  “You didn’t have to come after me. I’m changing into a dry dress.” She moved the candle to a side table where it would shed less light in the room.

  “Open. Please. Now.”

  “Just a moment.” Morrigan pulled open the wardrobe and grabbed a clean shift and the first dress her fingers brushed against. She tossed it over her shoulder, hoping her face was partially covered and unlatched the door. She turned away as Maisie stormed in.

  “What happened today?”

  “Nothing. I just returned.”

  “Morrigan?”

  “I went to Inverness. It rained.” She hurried to a screen standing in the corner of the room. “I need to change out of these wet things.”

  “I knew it. Searc was right. Something did happen.”

  Morrigan hid behind the partition. “Searc? I spoke to him a moment ago. I told him I had to change.”

  “Searc sent me up here.”

  Undoing the fasteners on her dress, she winced as she bumped her jaw. Maisie was moving around the bedchamber, and Morrigan heard her lighting the fire in the hearth.

  “What’s wrong with him? I didn’t give him a single reason to complain about me today.”

  “Exactly. You gave him no reason to complain, and that alarmed him. On the way back, not once did you ride ahead or wander off on your own.”

  Maisie fell silent beyond the screen. Morrigan peeked over the top and found the younger woman inspecting her coat and hat.

  “He’s certain something must have happened in Inverness that he doesn’t know about.”

  Damn that Searc. Such a meddling busybody. Morrigan shoved the wet dress down over her hips and was startled when Maisie appeared beside her, holding the candle up.

  She gasped. “Who did this to you?”

  There was nowhere she could go. It was useless to turn around. Morrigan was trapped. “No one.”

  “Were you attacked?”

  “Not attacked. It was an accident. I stumbled. Fell on my face. It’s nothing. Really.”

  Maisie tried to reach up and touch her face, but Morrigan pushed her hand away.

  “Where did you fall?”

  “In Inverness. Where else?”

  “I don’t believe it for one instant. I’ve never seen you trip and fall. Not once.”

  “Well, you have proof of it now.” She exchanged the dry shift she’d draped over the top of the partition with her wet dress. “Let me change. I’m getting chilled.”

  “You’re lying.” Maisie wasn’t budging. She lifted the candle closer to Morrigan’s face, inspecting every bump and scratch.

  “Why should I lie?”

  “So you don’t lose your freedom. So you can continue to come and go as you please.”

  “You’re reading far too much into this.”

  “Am I?” Maisie scoffed. “We’ve been here before. You and I had this same conversation in Edinburgh. Except it was you questioning me. And we promised each other there’d be no more lies. Remember?”

  Maisie was right. Morrigan had confronted her in the stairwell of the house on Infirmary Street after one of the reform protests this past winter. They’d had a very similar conversation because she was concerned about the bloodied condition of the other’s clothing. She’d been ready to tear apart whoever was responsible for hurting her. Maisie looked ready to do the same for her now.

  “We vowed to be sisters and be honest with each other. Have you forgotten?”

  It was more than her face that was bruised right now. Morrigan wanted to tell her the truth. But she couldn’t. Her past was complicated. The years—and her father—had taught her that silence was the best path. In order to heal, she had to forget. But Maisie wasn’t going anywhere unless Morrigan could concoct a better story.

  “Very well. I didn’t just fall. I was chasing after someone when I fell. But Searc can’t know. You have to promise me.”

  “You chased after someone?” Isabella’s dismayed cry came from the far side of the room. “Where was Blair? You were to stay with the Mackintosh men the entire time.”

  Morrigan closed her eyes and shook her head. She hadn’t heard the bedroom door open again. Of course, both women would come up here. Here was a lesson learned. From now on, regardless of what kind of day she had, she’d be certain to torment Searc.

  Isabella poked her head around the edge of the screen, holding another candle.

  “For the love of God!” Morrigan exploded. “Why don’t we invite everyone up from the Great Hall?”

  She pushed Maisie toward her older sister.

  “The two of you will have to wait until I change.”

  They followed her order, but that wasn’t the end of the inquisition.

  “Is she hurt?” Isabella asked Maisie.

  “I’d say!”

  “No, I’m not!” Morrigan denied loudly. She draped the wet shift over the screen. Quickly, she began pulling on the dry one.

  “You’ll see, as soon as she comes out of hiding,” Maisie retorted. “Her mouth is bruised, and her lip is badly swollen.”

  “You’re exaggerating.” Morrigan tried to make less of it.

  “I’m not,” Maisie contradicted. “I think her nose is broken. It looks quite crooked to me.”

  “My nose has never been straight, thank you.”

  “There was nothing wrong with your nose before,” Isabella replied, her tone rising with concern.

  “I think she may have lost teeth, but the swollen lip makes it difficult to tell.”

  The wet dress disappeared over the top of the screen.

  “This is ridiculous. I didn’t lose any teeth.”

  “Whom were you chasing?” Isabella demanded.

  Morrigan shoved her arms into the sleeves of the clean dress. She knew she had only one chance at an explanation. It had to be believable. Would she chase after a child trying to pick her pocket? That wouldn’t do. There were too many hungry children on the streets who would do anything to survive. Was she accosted by a sailor or a tradesman? No, that would simply get Blair and Searc in trouble.

  “Look at all th
e blood!” Maisie exclaimed.

  She must have found the handkerchief in the pocket. Morrigan had to face these two. There was no avoiding it. She stepped around the divider as she buttoned her dress.

  Isabella stood staring for a few moments, speechless. Her anger was evident in the scarlet rash spreading from her throat into her cheeks. Unlike Morrigan, the young doctor used to be adept at controlling her temper, but she was a different woman from the one she once was.

  “Who did this to you? By heaven, I’m going to make them suffer. They were supposed to take care of you. Protect you. Watch you every minute.”

  Morrigan imagined Isabella rushing down to the Great Hall in search of Blair and Searc and the other men with every intention of thrashing them soundly.

  “It looks far worse than it is,” Morrigan said calmly. “Let me wash my face first and you’ll see.”

  It took a few moments for the young doctor to quiet her temper, but after inhaling a few deep breaths, the protective tigress in Isabella subsided slightly, allowing the physician in her to surface. She sat Morrigan in a chair by the hearth and held the candle closer. “Tell me what hurts.”

  “Nothing hurts.” She forced herself not to flinch when Isabella touched the side of her chin.

  “I know of no woman who is physically tougher than you, my love. But right now, I need to see how much damage was done.”

  Morrigan gave herself over to Isabella’s ministrations. Her head was moved from side to side. Her mouth was opened gingerly, her teeth checked. The bruise on her forehead touched. Maisie placed a towel and bowl of water at her sister’s elbow. The care continued. The cut on her lip was cleaned. She had a scratch on the side of her face that she hadn’t even been aware of, and there were other cuts and bruises on her wrist and hand, all from trying to control the fall.

  “You’re going to need to keep cold compresses on your face to reduce the swelling.”

  Looking up into Isabella’s focused and caring expression, emotions rose and filled Morrigan’s chest. There was so much she wanted to talk about and confide in these two women. But she couldn’t. Before they came into her life, she had only her father. He was a busy man, a dedicated radical and an activist who fought for the rights of common folk who were suffering from economic hardship. He pushed for reform and a voice for the people in government through assemblies, marches, and protests.

  When it came to issues of their own lives, however, he didn’t want any discussions. He wanted their problems buried, and Morrigan had followed his lead. She’d kept her own counsel and refused to wallow in past things she couldn’t change. But he was gone now, and she’d been left to deal with the squalid aspects of life. It had never been easy. But it was worse now, especially today, seeing that foul man standing a dozen steps away. Robert Sparrow. Knowing he still lived and breathed brought back the same anger and hurt she’d felt at Maggot Green.

  “You are hurting. And I’m not only talking of your bruises. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

  Isabella’s soft voice pierced Morrigan’s heart. She wanted desperately to talk about the past, but the tightness in her throat wouldn’t allow the words to form.

  Maisie’s voice cut into the momentary silence. “Are these the reason you were chasing after someone today?”

  The flyers she’d stuffed into her coat. Maisie was unfolding them. One trouble was replaced by another. Morrigan shook her head once at the younger woman, but it was too late. Isabella saw the pages.

  Ever since the first of these showed up in Inverness, Searc had ordered her and Blair and the men not to mention them to anyone at Dalmigavie Castle. Especially to Isabella. With Cinaed traveling right now, he didn’t want her to worry about this nonsense. Morrigan had seen the wisdom in his direction. It was too late now, however.

  Isabella glided across the room to her sister, and the two stared for a long time at each sheet of paper. Inwardly, Morrigan cringed, recalling the images. She thought how difficult it must be for Isabella to see these horrible depictions of the man she loved.

  “Where were these posted?”

  “By Maggot Green,” Morrigan replied. “Not far from Searc’s house.”

  “Does he know?”

  She nodded. “Searc saw them. He said he and Blair will find out who’s behind it all.”

  Isabella handed the flyers to Maisie and came back to the fire. Morrigan noted the rigid set of her shoulders, the fisted hands.

  “They’ll put an end to it. Trust them.”

  Isabella wrung the cold water from the towel. Her eyes were clear and her chin high when she went back to tending to the bruises. “The three of us know who is behind this. Sir Rupert Burney and his vile cronies. But I’d like to believe the folk these were intended to influence have seen enough English oppression to know it too.”

  Morrigan shot a quick glance up at her. Isabella had always kept herself so focused on medicine and her patients. She didn’t know how persuasive these satirical images could be. When people all over Britain thought of Napoleon, they saw Fores’s little “Corsican monkey” in a uniform, or Gillray’s jester-like figure in an oversize military bicorne hat.

  The public’s view was formed by these caricatures, and their opinion was shaped in the same way. Even in the days before Morrigan, Isabella, and Maisie left Edinburgh, Whig printers were carrying on a campaign against Queen Caroline, depicting her as a voluptuous, painted harlot chasing wildly after Italian men. Luckily, the king was being portrayed in “Queenist” caricatures as a haughty and lustful fop bursting out of waistcoats and breeches with his current mistress fawning at his feet.

  These images had shifted the favor of the people in the past, and they could do it now. But this was no time to worry Isabella about such things.

  “I saw no mobs marching in the streets, cursing the son of Scotland,” she said. “And yet, tens of thousands, in every city, are raising their fists against Crown rule.”

  Isabella nodded in agreement and caressed Morrigan’s face. “I don’t want you ever to do anything as foolhardy as this again. No chasing down rogues and villains. We don’t need another martyr in this family. Do you hear me?”

  Morrigan would gladly fight anyone who spoke against Cinaed and what he was trying to do for the Scottish people. Today wasn’t the day for that, however. Isabella and Maisie misunderstood what happened in Inverness, but she wasn’t about to enlighten them.

  “I shan’t,” she replied. “Unless I have you two beside me to chase down the blackguards.”

  CHAPTER 5

  MORRIGAN

  For two days, Morrigan had confined herself in her chamber to allow the bruises to heal. The swelling of her lip was much improved, but in its place, hideous patches of purple and green discolored the skin on her forehead, cheek, and jaw.

  If it were left up to her, she’d have stayed in her room for a week, but Isabella had other plans.

  The physician stood in her doorway, wearing her coat and hat and holding her medical bag. “I am going into the village to see a new patient. I need you to come with me.”

  “Can’t you ask Maisie?”

  “She already has plans for an outing this morning with her sister-in-law Fiona and the girls. Put on your coat. It’ll do you good to stretch your legs.”

  As a university-trained physician, Isabella was an anomaly everywhere, and not only in the Highlands. She was devoted to the art of healing. Since arriving at Dalmigavie, despite being Cinaed’s wife, she’d continued to treat the sick and the injured. Her reputation was quickly spreading, for she was quite good at what she did. Still, she was an outlaw in the eyes of the Crown, so the infirm traveled to her when they could. Some she saw inside the castle walls. Others she treated in the village.

  As a female doctor, she followed the same routine that she had in Edinburgh. Someone accompanied her when she tended to the sick. At Dalmigavie, her only options were Morrigan or Maisie.

  “Who is sick?”

  “I’ll tell you alon
g the way.”

  “A villager?”

  “An outsider.”

  Isabella motioned for her to hurry. Between the large, woolen tam and the high collar of her coat, Morrigan could keep at least some of the bruising hidden. After changing from her slippers into sturdy boots, Morrigan followed the other woman out into the corridor and down the dark stairwell.

  “Has anyone asked about me?”

  “Everyone. Auld Jean. Searc. Blair.” Isabella glanced back at her. “Fiona’s daughters get up early every morning just to sit at the window to watch you exercise in the training yard. This morning alone, a dozen people must have asked me what’s ailing you.”

  To know so many cared warmed her heart. She was accepted here, welcomed, liked. These people were her chosen family. “What did you tell them?”

  “The truth, of course.” Isabella sent her a sidelong look. “I should tell you, however, Blair and his men were highly entertained at the image of you stumbling over your own feet and giving yourself a fat lip.”

  “I don’t care if they laugh, so long as Searc doesn’t stop me from going in to Inverness with them.”

  “Well, about that … we need to discuss the topic a wee bit more before you step foot away from Dalmigavie again.”

  A maternal warning or a sister’s friendly word of caution? Isabella had the ability to shift her role easily, depending on what the situation warranted. But regardless of the part she played, she was always the lioness, ready to protect Maisie and Morrigan.

  Blair was waiting by the courtyard door to escort them into the village. The tall Highlander cocked his head to the side, assessing Morrigan’s face as she stepped out into the sun.

  “I never thought of ye as the clumsy sort, lass. Why didn’t ye tell us on our way back from Inverness that ye were hurt?”

  “What for?”

  “I’d have gone back and given the cobblestones of that street a pounding for tripping ye up.”

  “I couldn’t say anything. I was worried that you or Searc might faint dead away at the sight of a few drops of blood.”