In the Highlander's Bed (24 page)

Colster had been right. He had nothing to offer her, nothing save his heart. Or what was left of it now that he’d given her up.

Over the past months, years, he’d forced himself to believe that they could fight the English. He’d nursed every injustice—the clearing of the lands, his father’s death, Fiona’s rape—using them to keep his belief in the Cause alive.

Gutted by Constance’s loss, he faced stark reality. There was no way all the Highlanders together could fight the English. The clans were too weak, although that wasn’t the only reason. No, the times had changed. His countrymen had grown more English.

Always before, he’d taken pride in his rebel status. He was not afraid of death…or so he’d thought.

Constance had made him want for other things. To yearn for a family, for peace. He could see himself practicing law…coming home to a wife and child. These were visions his anger had barred him from seeing before.

But was it too late to have those things?

“What is eating at your mind, Gordon?” Thomas asked, trotting alongside him. He didn’t wait for an answer but said, “If it’s the woman, forget her. There are plenty enough women in the world. And more than a few anxious to climb into your bed.”

“It’s not like that, Thomas.”

“She hasn’t turned you soft, has she?”

Guilt pricked Gordon’s conscience. “I chose the sword, didn’t I?”

Thomas hummed his doubts. “What were you and Colster discussing when you had your heads together back there? You appeared close as mates.”

“He didn’t want to give me the sword,” Gordon said, fobbing the question off.

The giant frowned. “There is something wrong here. She’s changed you.”

Page 125

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Gordon made a half laugh, but he didn’t deny it. “Does it matter?”

Thomas’s gaze narrowed. “You wouldn’t be thinking of turning on us, would you now?” he suggested.

The charge shocked Gordon. “You know better.” Had he not just proved himself? But then an errant thought caught him off guard. Why would Thomas leap to such a conclusion? Gordon knew enough about men that they rarely accused someone of thoughts they hadn’t had.

“What an odd idea, Thomas.”

A dull red flush crept up Thomas’s neck. “What do you mean?”

“I would not doubt you,” Gordon said with a shrug.

“’Twas not loyalty I was questioning,” Thomas averred. He snorted his disgust. “And you’ve spoiled my good mood. I’mproud we have the sword.” His tone implied Gordon wasn’t.

Gordon could feel the men around them look at him askance. “Go to the devil, Thomas,” he answered, and kicked Tempest into a gallop, using speed and the wind in his face to clear his head of regret.

Immediately, everyone else followed his pace, and it was practically a mad run until horses and riders were exhausted.

Thomas didn’t make any more jibes at Gordon, and they managed to reach camp in some sort of harmony with each other.

Those who had stayed behind were gathered to greet the men as they rode in. Gordon immediately noticed Fiona and Grace standing together. They both searched the party with their eyes, and he knew they were hoping to see Constance.

His sister’s gaze met his. He saw her disappointment. Grace burst into tears when she realized the truth.

When Grace went running off, Fiona went after her.

Not even Tad greeted him, but lay with his head down.

Gordon dismounted. The sword weighed heavy at his side, especially with the added disapproval of his clan. He headed to the stables, the better to let everyone adjust to the idea of Constance’s absence and have their say among each other.

He had no doubt that they would discuss Colster’s offer. He’d just finished turning Tempest out when a group of the older men approached him. Old Rae spoke for them. “We hear Tavis has offered land.”

“Aye, he has,” Gordon said carefully.

“Where is it?”

Gordon shrugged. “I imagine in England. His father sold any Scottish land years ago.” That was a well-known fact about the Maddox holdings. “But best beware. He’s not Tavis any longer. You’d have to call him ‘Your Grace.’”

Page 126

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Rae considered this a moment. “I could. He was a good man.”

“A good blacksmith, too,” another said, referring to the profession Tavis had before he became a duke.

Heads nodded agreement.

Rae said, “It’s a good offer?”

Gordon wouldn’t lie. “A parcel of land and a roof over your head. I know no more than that, but certainly it is more than you have now.”

“I’ve never run from a fight in my life,” Old Reivers said, curling his hands into fists. “I’m not a coward.”

“No one says you are,” Gordon answered.

The older man’s eyes were grave as he said, “Then there will be a good number of us leaving. Emma and I will take in Mad Maggie. We’ve become accustomed to her wild ways.”

Gordon struggled with the right answer. He told himself it was all right. It was fighting men he needed.

Robbie came running up to Gordon’s side before he could speak. His step slowed as he saw the older men. “You’d best come to camp,” he said in a low voice to Gordon. “There is a good number of our clan leaving. They want to take Tavis’s offer. Thomas says you need to come talk to them.”

Gordon picked up the Sword of the MacKenna and went marching into camp to see the truth of Robbie’s words.

Everything appeared as it usually did this time of day. Most were gathered around the cook fires, although no one would meet his eye.

For a second Gordon stood transfixed. This was the way the camp had been before Constance.

Resentment, selfishness, a lack of confidence and belief in their own dignity as a people. His captive had rallied his clansmen better than any sword ever could.

The realization hit like a blow from the Almighty.

Gordon looked down at the sword in his hand…and wondered what he had done.

The sword had no power. It was their bond as a clan that had kept them going, that made them stand together. Yes, there would be hotheads drawn to his leadership because of the sword, but did he really want an army of Thomases?

“I want you to listen to me,” he shouted, calling his clan together. He hopped up on a chopping block, balancing himself on the log so all could see him. “Come closer,” he ordered.

They came, their faces solemn.

“You’ve heard about the Duke of Colster’s offer. I’ll not lie to you, it’s a good one. He’s in a position to help, and he will.” He held up the sword so the afternoon light caught rubies on the hilt. “This is cold metal. Nothing more. With it, we’ve been successful in battle, but that is becausewe have heart, not this sword. If you wish to leave, you have my blessing. Those of you who wish to fight, I’m here.” He spread his arms to show he had no tricks. “I have no choice,” he admitted. “’Tis my head the price is on. Not
Page 127

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

yours.”

Fiona, with Grace by her side, had come to stand at the edge of the crowd. There had been a time when Fiona would never have lowered herself to associate with the likes of Grace. Nor would Grace, with her resentments, have given a minute of time to Fiona. That, too, Constance had helped.

He should never have let her go.

“So there you have it,” he said. “An opportunity. Wise men take opportunities.”

“I have a question,” Willie MacKenna asked, but before he could speak, a sentry came running.

“English troops,” he shouted.“They are almost upon us.”

As if giving truth to his words, there came the crashing sounds of men attacking the camp. A party of some twenty armed redcoats came charging out of the forest.

“Run,” Gordon ordered his people as he pulled the Sword of the MacKenna from its scabbard, ready to protect his clan.

But instead of scattering, they closed ranks around him. His clansmen picked up whatever was close at hand to defend themselves. Tad was barking. Some of the women shepherded the children to the safety of the trees, while others joined their men, picking up buckets and cooking utensils and using them as weapons.

And above all the confusion, standing out and away, separated from everyone else, Gordon saw Thomas. The giant waved to the English, pointing in Gordon’s direction. “There he is. There’s Gordon Lachlan, just as I promised you.”

Thomas had betrayed them. His earlier notion, Gordon realized, hadn’t been a flight of fancy, but a sense of the truth.

The officer turned, the sunlight bouncing off his metal helmet. For a moment his eyes met those of Gordon, who recognized him as his rival for Constance’s attention that night at Madame Lavaliere’s.

The man pulled out a pistol and took aim. He would have fired except that, with a vicious snarl, Tad attacked his shooting arm. The wolfhound sank teeth into the man’s sleeve. The officer screamed, dropping the pistol, at the same time that Grace grabbed Gordon’s arm, saying, “Come, you must escape.”

“Where’s Fiona?”

“Fighting.”

There was a sharp yelp of pain. Gordon looked to see Tad fall away. One of the soldiers had stabbed him with a bayonet. The wounded dog struggled to his feet. Gordon took a step toward him and then sensed what must be done. “It’s me they want. They’ll leave after I make them follow me.”

“Gordon—” she started, but he didn’t stay to hear protests.

“See to Tad,” he ordered, moving in the direction of the horses.

Page 128

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Thomas saw him and shouted an alarm.“He’s going to escape.” The English were too involved to heed him. The clan outnumbered the soldiers by over five to one when women armed with cooking forks were counted. The soldiers were literally battling for their lives.

Seeing as much, Thomas, holding his pistol, started after Gordon. When they were apart from the others, Gordon turned, waiting until the traitor was close enough.

“Why?”he demanded of this man who had claimed to support the Cause.

“For the bounty,” Thomas said. “And because you interfered with my woman. Grace was mine.

Someone had to pay for my losing her. You knew I left the clan after Grace walked out on me. Or didn’t you? Well, it stands to reason you wouldn’t notice. From the moment Miss Constance Cameron came into the camp, she’s all you could think about.”

Thomas nodded back toward the fighting. “I ran into those officers. They were the ones who had been at Madame Lavaliere’s that night. They’d been looking for us, especially when they heard how high the bounty had grown on your head. As king’s men, any reward they receive would have to be shared with their superiors. So we struck a deal. There’s a share for each of us for turning you in. I told them to wait for the sword. There are men willing to pay a fortune for it. MacKenna down in Italy is one of them. I left a prearranged sign for them when we rode down the mountain. ’Tis one of the reasons I had to make certain we returned in good time. The best news is, the bounty will be earned whether you are alive or dead.” He raised the pistol and took aim at Gordon’s chest.

Gordon felt his temper snap. He swung the Sword of the MacKenna around his head as Thomas cocked the pistol. The huge broadsword made a graceful arc. Its heft felt good in his hands as he released the weapon and sent it sailing. The sharp blade hit Thomas full in the chest, running him through just as he fired.

The shot went wide.

For a second the giant was cognizant enough to look down at the sword sticking through him. “I’d not thought you would do that.”

“I’d not thought you would betray your clan.” Gordon walked over and pulled the sword from the man’s body.

Thomas fell to his knees. “I’d not thought you would do this,” he repeated, and fell forward.

Gordon turned and shouted to the soldiers. “Here, I’m over here!” He waved the Sword of the MacKenna at them.

They were receiving the worst of the battle and appeared almost relieved when Gordon gave them a reason to chase after him. They came running.

To give his clansmen a chance to escape, Gordon put distance between himself and them, bypassing the horses and running toward the Cliffs’ rocky, flat table over the cold water. Swimming was his best chance of escape…that is, if he didn’t break his neck in the fall.

Raising the Sword of the MacKenna over his head, he dove over the edge. His last thought as he hit the water was of Constance, and he cursed the sword that had cost him so much.

Page 129

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv
erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Seventeen

London

“Constance, may I come in?” Miranda asked from the other side of the bedroom door.

In response, Constance turned over in her bed, pulling her pillow over her head and pretending she didn’t hear her sister.

She’d been in London over a week and had yet to leave this room. But if someone had asked what color the drapes or walls were, she wouldn’t have been able to tell them.

For almost a fortnight she’d laid awake on her pillow, unable to sleep. Nor had she been hungry for food and drink. Her stomach couldn’t seem to keep anything down, especially in the morning.

She knew her sisters worried. Both Charlotte and Miranda had petitioned her relentlessly to eat and drink more. Miranda was always kindly encouraging, while Charlotte’s temper often found the best of her. She would plead, cajole, and then order.

Except, ordering didn’t work with Constance any longer.

The sister they had known had changed. She blamed them for playing a hand in turning Gordon away from her. Every part of her being wanted to reject the memory of him leaving. She couldn’t escape that terrible moment. It sucked her dry, stole her will to live, and destroyed the courage that had once been so much a part of her.

Even the duke’s wife, Francesca, had joined their entreaties.