Cates, Kimberly (36 page)

An eerie hush fell. The soldiers, Rachel, Adam and the other men, even the horses were still.

"Are you going to kill me?" Wells said, his voice quavering.

"No." Gavin stared down at his nemesis, and his mouth tipped in a grim smile. "I condemn you to
live.
Honor, stripped away, can never be returned, Wells. You'll be stripped of your rank, shoved to some obscure outpost where your presence can't embarrass your commanders. Everywhere you go, the stench of cowardice will follow you. I've lived with the loss of honor. No one forgets. No one ever forgets."

Gavin turned his back on Dunstan Wells and walked to where Rachel stood, her eyes filled with tears. And as she gazed at him, he saw a hero reflected in her eyes. "Oh, Gavin..."

"Gav! Watch out!" Adam's cry made Gavin grab Rachel, fling her down just as a shot split the air. He rolled over, then turned to see Sir Dunstan Wells, knighted for bravery, scourge of Culloden Moor, holding a smoking pistol in his hand.

Adam brought his own weapon to bear. "I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!"

"No!" Gavin grasped the pistol barrel, pushed it down. He didn't say a word, just pointed across the chasm where Dunstan's troops stood, silent.

Gavin could feel the revulsion shuddering through them, the cold, sudden shame.

They had just watched their commander attempt to shoot a man in the back, a man who had offered mercy when Dunstan Wells was at the point of his sword. Dunstan Wells had struck himself a death blow far more devastating than Gavin could have.

The knight scrambled backward, shouting at his troops across the chasm. "Shoot them! Fire!"

Gavin grabbed Rachel's hand, started to bolt toward where the unknown man stood, holding the reins of three horses. But he'd barely taken three steps before the first shot rang out.

"Gav, look." Adam stood, in full line of fire, staring back across the silvery length of the chasm. Gavin hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at Adam's bidding. What he saw made him stop and turn to face the sea of soldiers across the looming divide. One by one, the soldiers were firing their weapons, not at Gavin, but at the untouchable rim of the moon.

It was a tribute—one that made Gavin's chest ache.

They were his enemies, men who had been whipped into a ravening frenzy under the lash of Wells's hate. He could only pray that after what they had just witnessed, their thirst for blood would wane. Was it possible to already see that inner sickness fading? That sense of reason returning after madness? Was it possible that these fighting men would spend the rest of forever regretting what they had done? If they did, it was possible that the madness would end.

But Gavin knew with a sinking in his heart that he wouldn't be there to see it. There would be no more wild rides over the Scottish moors, no more bold schemes, no more children plucked from the flames by the Glen Lyon.

Gavin mounted his stallion as the Glen Lyon for the last time and lifted Rachel into his arms. Only one challenge remained. Could they reach the coast, the final ship that was to sail, before it was too late? Could they capture one last chance at freedom?

A hundred more soldiers, as thirsty as Wells for the Glen Lyon's blood, still waited in the darkness, hunting...

The Glen Lyon turned his back on the ruin that was Dunstan Wells, and spurred his horse into the night.

CHAPTER 20

They had ridden without stopping, a wild race with the sun, keeping to the labyrinth of twisted paths that Glen Lyon's band had used to escape the hunting soldiers a thousand times before.

Time was running out. Gavin could feel it with each shift of the sun across his wind-burned face, sense it with each thud of the horses' hooves against the ground.

He'd left strict orders that the ship was to wait for no one and sail without him. It was too crucial to the safety of the children and Mama Fee that the vessel leave with the tide.

Hell, what a bitter irony that would be if he'd snatched Rachel from the jaws of British justice, escaped the gallows himself, and managed to lose half the army on a moon-swept bridge, only to be stranded at the coastline by his own command.

Even the triumph over Dunstan Wells paled at the bleak prospect that they would be left behind. If that happened, Gavin would be hunted with a renewed fervor. But even more terrifying was the knowledge that Rachel would be hunted as well.

Cumberland would retaliate with a savagery that would make Wells' onslaught seem like the bumblings of a schoolyard bully.

Gavin shoved the thought away, and urged Manslayer to greater lengths. His aching arms tightened instinctively around Rachel. She curled into him, cradled against his chest, silent, uncomplaining, so trusting it broke his heart.

Even if the ship was a hundred leagues away by now, he would find some way to get her to safety. Yet could he stand the agony of knowing Rachel was in danger the countless weeks it would take to hatch some other plan to spirit her away from Scotland?

No, he had to reach the ship. There was still the tiniest chance that they might reach it.

The salt tang of the sea stung his nostrils, and he drank it in, praying once again to God.

"Do you think they're still there?" Adam called out from his mount.

"I told them to sail," Gavin said hopelessly. Yet as the four horses carried their riders to the crest of the rise, Gavin's heart caught in his throat, disbelief and exhausting relief bursting inside him.

The inlet near Lochavrea spilled out below them, tucked beneath a sheer fall of cliff. A sheep path wound down to a narrow crescent of sandy shore that was all but invisible from above until one reached the very brink of the cliff. Gavin guided Manslayer to the stone edge and peered down at the ship that lay anchored below.

They had reached the ship in time. It was one more miracle to be grateful for. Gavin wondered if it wasn't a sign that fate was appeased, that his debt was paid, that he had earned the right to begin again. His throat tightened as he watched the children race about, the boys flinging seaweed at each other, the girls gathering pretty shells. The Highlanders strained to load a small dinghy with the few boxes and belongings that had been tucked in the Glen Lyon's cave. The first trunk being taken aboard was his own box of treasures, his manuscripts, illuminations, and the portrait of his family tucked inside atop the tattered remnants of the robes that had once graced a defiant angel garbed as Helen of Troy.

Only Mama Fee sat on an outcropping of stone, staring back at the land, her eyes still searching, forever searching for something she was loath to leave behind. The son who would never come home? Gavin wondered. Or the two brothers she'd ordered about, scolded, bullied, and loved the past year?

As Gavin dismounted, he vowed that he would fill the empty place in her motherly heart as best as he was able. She would have a place in whatever home he carved out for Rachel, be mother to Barna and the other orphans and grandmother to the babies he and Rachel would create one day. God knew, he loved the valiant, fragile Scotswoman even more dearly than he had the woman who had given birth to him.

"I'll be damned," Adam said, amazed, swinging down from his own mount. "We made it before they sailed! I bloody well can't believe we got here in one piece. But that at least settles one thing."

"Settles what?" Gavin asked.

"Since you haven't gotten your worthless head blown off during all this madness, I get the pleasure of murdering you myself!"

"Adam—"

"Don't even try making excuses, because I'll shove them down your blasted throat with my fist! I should knock you senseless, after the rotten trick you played me. When we were planting explosives on the bridge, the only question I was debating was whether to wait until you were
across
the bridge to blow it up, or light the fuse when you were
in the middle of it."

"I still don't understand." Rachel peered at Gavin, confused. "Where are the troops? The soldiers? Dunstan said the children—Mama Fee—were walking into a trap. Adam had gone to warn them."

Gavin chuckled as he lowered her to the ground, then dismounted himself.

"That's right. Laugh, you goddamn blockhead. You're so bloody clever, aren't you?" Adam's scowling gaze flicked from Gavin to Rachel. "I was nigh killing myself riding to Cairnleven when I met this gentleman," Adam explained in a long-suffering tone, pointing to the masked figure who was reining in beside them. "He informed me that I was going in the wrong direction."

"That may be." Gavin couldn't stifle a grin. "But I bet you were riding damn fast, Adam."

Fists on hips, Adam confronted him, dark eyes blazing. "The ship was never going to land at Cairnleven, was it, brother? You knew that even before we abducted your lady here. Quite a scheme you and our friend Nathaniel brewed up."

"Nathaniel?" Gavin heard Rachel's echo. She turned to stare as the man wearing the mask slipped it from his face. A wayward lock of dark hair tumbled across the man's brow and he shot Rachel a sheepish grin.

"Hullo, Rachel."

"Nathaniel—Rowland? How could you... did you—"

"He's secretly helped us for almost two years now," Gavin explained. "I met him on one of my first attempts at rescuing fugitives. I was bungling it badly. We'd taken a wrong turn and gotten trapped in a walled courtyard with no hope of escape. Nate guessed we were Jacobites, that the soldiers were hunting us. He opened the door to his house and hid us."

"But Nate fought the Jacobites." Rachel flashed a befuddled glance at Rowland. "Nate, you lost your leg fighting them."

"That was war." Nate's eyes darkened, and Gavin could see the ghosts that stalked Rowland in the night. "What happened at Culloden Moor and after was slaughter. Not all soldiers are like Wells, Rachel. There are plenty of men—fighting men—who take no joy in killing, soldiers who are willing to give their lives for what they believe in. And after the battle is done, are equally willing to fight to heal the scars war left behind."

Gavin reached out, clasping Nate's shoulder with one hand. He hoped Rowland could feel empathy in the barren places that parched Nate's soul. "Nate has gotten us supplies we needed, made business deals we never could have, and helped with other secret arrangements. He's sheltered any stray Jacobites he stumbled across, and smuggled them to us so we could send them to safety. We'd never have survived without him."

Rachel gaped at Rowland. "Then you—
you
took me out into that garden on purpose! You
knew
they were going to kidnap me that night at the ball?"

"He was the one who suggested using you," Adam said, grousing. "Of course, he didn't bother to warn me that you'd fight like a blasted she-cat, and be piles of trouble in the bargain."

"Or
that she'd been shooting a pistol since she was eight years old," Gavin added with a chuckle.

"I knew they would never hurt you, Rachel," Nate explained, his cheek dark, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. "We had to come up with a diversion to distract Wells. He'd bottled up the coast so tightly, a boy's paper boat would've had a hard time getting through. Besides, I hoped that if I got you away from Sir Dunstan, maybe you'd see that he wasn't the man you thought he was. I've made a mess of my own life. I could see that you were heading for the same sort of disaster. I wanted something better for you."

Gavin had never been prouder of his lady than when she stood on tiptoe and kissed Nate on the cheek. "How can I even begin to thank you?"

"Be happy."

"I will be. Gloriously happy." She cast Gavin a smile, her cheeks flushing, and Gavin vowed in his heart that he'd give her all the joy she could hold. "But wait!" she protested suddenly. "Even if you did plan my abduction, there are things that still don't make sense. Gavin, you took me hostage to force Dunstan to allow the ship to land at Cairnleven. But you never planned to have the ship land there at all?"

Gavin felt a jab of crystalline satisfaction so pure and sweet, he grinned. "Let's just say I understand the way Wells's mind works. I knew he'd attempt an ambush, do all in his power to kill everyone on the ship. He was hungry for a glorious triumph. He needed one damn badly, what with the pressure his superiors were placing on him. All I had to do was to bait a trap for him, convince him that if he put all his forces in one place, he could capture us all at Cairnleven."

Understanding dawned in Rachel's features. "What better way to convince him you were leaving from that port than to hold me hostage, to threaten to kill me if he didn't leave that inlet open."

"Exactly."

"Brilliant. That was brilliant," Rachel said, the awe in her gaze a richer treasure than any medal for valor could be.

"Don't tell him that!" Adam groaned. "His head is swelled enough already. This time he was so damn brilliant he didn't bother telling
me
about the plan. Obviously, he was so bloody pleased with it, he had to keep it to himself. Or did you guess you'd be captured by Wells and need some leverage to get me to abandon you?"

"Even I'm not that brilliant," Gavin said. "The fewer people who knew about the plan, the less likely Wells would discover the deception. Besides, can you imagine how you'd have snarled if you knew that I was making you go to all the trouble of abducting Rachel when I knew using a hostage against Wells was futile?"

"Damnation, I—well, blast it, you still should have—" Adam crossed his arms over his chest and glared. "I don't snarl!" The words came out in a growl that would have sent a bear diving for cover.

"It all turned out for the best in the end, didn't it?" Nate observed. "Everyone will sail free, Dunstan will never hold rank again, and you—Rachel, I found you your hero, didn't I?" Rowland's voice was wistful, and Gavin's heart twisted at the knowledge that Nathaniel Rowland had given Rachel and him a life together, a future, while his own marriage was shattering.

Gavin sought to drive the shadows from his friend's eyes. "Perhaps you can be in charge of romance, Rowland, but what the devil were you doing at that bridge?"