The Beautiful Stranger (41 page)

Her heart skipped a beat. My barrister? But that was all she was going to offer, and left her cell, locking the door behind her. Kerry was at once on her feet. Her barrister? What did that mean? Had the justice of the peace come? She ran to the door, pressed her hands against it. Was her trial to begin, then? Was her life to end? The thought frightened her, and Kerry banged on the door, yelled for Mrs. Muir at the top of her lungs until she was hoarse. When she could yell no more, she turned and pressed her back to the thick, oak-planked door and slid down, like a rag doll, to her haunches.

This was the end of her life.

Sobs suddenly racked her body; she buried her face on her knees. She was only eight and twenty! She did not want to diethere were so many things she wanted to do yet, so many things she had not finished!

She had never had a child

The weight of her regrets threatened to bury her. With supreme effort, she forced herself to stop crying and lifted her head. There is naught to be done for it, Kerry McKinnon, she muttered and sniffed loudly.

Pray that justice will prevail, but you took the mans very life! And if they determine your life will be had for his, then you will meet your maker with dignity, you will.

She pushed herself to her feet, felt the swim in her head, knew that the lack of food was beginning to affect her. She wandered to the little table to look at the foul stuff in the bowl, pondering why she should eat anything if she were to die so soon.

When the door swung open behind her, she turned indifferently, expecting to see the old woman again, but her heart dropped and swelled all at once with great passion.

Arthur.

No, it was an illusion! An apparition! She glanced at the gruel againshe would force herself to eat it, for she was beginning to hallucinate, and shed need all her wits about her in the next few hours or days Kerry

The sound of his voice, so unexpected, so dear, drove her to her knees. She landed awkwardly, breaking her fall by catching the table with both hands. It was no apparition; it was him, her beautiful stranger. Arthur, she sobbed, and felt herself being pulled up, wrapped securely in his strong embrace.

She buried her face in his shoulder, inhaled his scent.

KerryLord God how I have missed you!

A fresh torrent of tears erupted within her, and Kerry sobbed with relief and longing, soaking his coat.

Dont cry, darling, dont cry now. Well get you out of this place.

How did you find me? she choked.

It was not easy. I found Thomashe told me you were somewhere nearby Thomas, is he all right?

Hes fine, considering the circumstance, he said soothingly.

Arthur oh, Arthur, I canna believe you have come!

He pressed his cheek to the side of her head. Of course I came! I dont seem to be capable of existing without you, Kerry.

The words curled around her heart, buoyed it. She lifted her head, gazed into his hazel eyes, saw the glistening of tears and the ravages of fatigue, and her heart went out to him. Please forgive me. Forgive me! I am so sorry for what I did. I thought

It doesnt matter, he interrupted, and kissed her cheek.

I would that I could go back and change it all

No, dont wish for that, my love, I wouldnt have you change a thing. I intend to stay here, with you.

That confused her; she blinked up at him. He couldnt mean You mean until the trial?

I mean forever, Kerry. I intend to stay here, with you, in Glenbaden.

Glenbaden. She had once dreamed of them there, living with one another, children But but Glenbaden is gone!

For the moment, perhaps, but you leave that to me. When I get you out of here, I am taking you to Glenbaden. And then I shall find a parson to marry us.

Marry? Her hands slowly slipped from his neck; roughly, he caught them.

Oh no, Kerry, you will not deny me again.

No, she muttered, shaking her head. You doona understand I understand that whatever our differences they seem only to exist in London, not here. I love you, Kerry McKinnon. I love you so much that London means nothing to me without youI am nothing without you. I would have your answer now, Kerry, do you love me?

More than my heart. More than my life! But she lowered her gaze, fixated on the perfect knot of his neckcloth. Arthur, I will hang for what I did.

Ha! he scoffed, and tightened his embrace. Over my dead body will you hang! And if I Or I will warm Moncrieffes bed, she muttered. That stopped him. Arthur put a finger under her chin and roughly forced her gaze to his. What did you say? She quietly told him everything with ragged breath, of how she had come to free Thomas, had confessed to what had happened, and how Moncrieffe had accused them of Charless death. She told him of Moncrieffes visit, how food had disappeared since then.

And she told him, based on what she knew of Moncrieffes influence in the shire, that she would undoubtedly hang or be his whore. By the time she had finished, Arthur had turned a deadly shade of white; she could see the hatred burning in his hazel eyes.

You will not hang, nor will you step foot in Moncrieffes house, he said through clenched teeth. I will get you out. You must trust me on this, KerryI did not come here to lose you! Keep faith with me. When she did not immediately respond, he grabbed her by the arms and shook her once. Give me your word you will keep faith with me!

You have my word! she cried, but she could not put down the fear that the force of Moncrieffe was more than Arthur could combat.

Before she could tell him so, the door opened behind them; Arthur quickly let her go and stepped back.

He mouthed the words, I love you, and turned around.

Ye been long enough, Mrs. Muir said.

You will get Mrs. McKinnon some decent food, madam, or the justice will hear of it! he snapped, and strode from the room. The door swung shut behind him, the key turned in the lock. Kerry sank, unconsciously, to her knees, straining to hear his voice. When she could no longer hear him, she fell in a heap onto the mattress and sobbed herself to sleep.

Arthur walked into the courtyard of the ancient keep and looked up at the small window of the tower, his jaw working frenetically. He swung up onto the stallion he had brought from Yorkhe had no desire to

attempt to find a horse again in this countryand snapped the reins, sending the horse on a trot out of the old castle grounds, pointedly refusing to look at the half-constructed gallows.

It was a foreboding place; he had learned from a sheepherder that what was left of the old castle was still used for a variety of purposes, including a gaol in the rare circumstance one was required. But it was well fortified and virtually impenetrable. He had promised Kerry he would see her freed, and he meant it with every ounce of his being. There was only one small problem he had absolutely no idea how.

One thing was certainhe could not steal her away and escape to England again. No, this battle would have to be waged on Scottish ground. The first thing he had to do was find a barrister, and he spurred the stallion he had so prophetically named Freedom.

Freedom thundered through the countryside, chewing up the earth. They passed the old Celtic cross erected in the middle of nowhere for God knew what reason, past the crumbling remains of crofter cottages now overtaken by sheep, through the pines that towered so high as to almost block the sun.

These landmarks now seemed vaguely familiar to him, as if they were somehow a part of him. They were a part of himeverything he had become in the last few months had started here, in this ruggedly beautiful countryside.

When he had made the extraordinary decision to give up all that he had in England to come here, to be with Kerry, his friends and family had been shocked. Only Alex had smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

Julian had tried to talk him out of it, but in the end, he had clapped him on the shoulder, reminded him that it was his brilliant idea that he should go to Scotland in the first place, then pointed out to everyone gathered in his Mount Street home that the world had never known a greater sentimental fool than Arthur Christian. He had, at last, wished him Godspeed.

The decision had been the right one, his conviction strengthening every day as he moved north. It occurred to him, when the ship had set sail from Kingston, that he had spent his entire life treading water, working hard to stay in one place, never allowing himself the luxury of simply living. He thought of Phillip, how he had seemed to delight in skirting the edge of danger, pushing the limits of propriety, and ultimately living life to its fullest. In her own way, so did Kerry. She let nothing stand in the way of her beliefs; she risked all for the sake of those she loved.

Arthur had never pursued a conviction that he could recall, had never believed so firmly in anything that he would risk all for it. Until now.

Kerry had pushed him into the deep of life, had made him swim for the first time. This was the quality of life the vicar was speaking of at Phillips funeral; these last few months, complete with the unpredictable highs and lows, had enriched him beyond measure. Kerry had enriched his soul.

And he would do anything it tookhe would part the heavens, rearrange the stars, turn mountains upside down if that was what it required. But he would have Kerry to love and cherish the rest of his natural life, and he would figure a way out of his mess.

As he and Freedom hurtled into the dusk, he prayed for a bit of divine guidance.

And then he prayed that the divine guidance might come in the next half-hour, if at all possible.

Arthur wandered the narrow streets of Pitlochry like a vagabond, poking his head in various establishments and inquiring as to where he might find a barrister, not caring that he appeared half-crazed. But the Scots were nothing if not unflappablehe received nothing but blank looks for his efforts, an occasional sneer from those who were not exactly accepting of the English, and one or two suggestions as to where he might look.

He refused to allow himself to think it was hopeless, but the anxiety was mushrooming in him. There was no time to go to Edinburgh where the best of the legal profession in Scotland was to be had. Every hour that passed was adding to his blossoming paniche was running out of time.

He was debating whether or not he should ride on to Dunkeld and search there when he happened upon an inn he had not previously seen. From the street, he could hear the loud commotion in the common room. It appeared to be a popular gathering place, and Arthur thought that he might try one last time.

At the very least, he could use a dram of good Scottish whiskey.

He walked into the common room, ignored the looks he inevitably receivedthe Scots, he had discovered, could sniff out an Englishman at one hundred paces and walked to where the innkeeper was standing.

Whiskey, he said simply, and tossed two coins on a scarred barrel that served as a counter of sorts. As he waited for the innkeeper to pour his whiskey, he glanced around, his eyes scanning the crowded tables. Laborers, mostly, one or two gentlemen in the lot.

Yer whiskey, sir, the innkeeper said, and Arthur swung around, reached for the heavy glass, was lifting it to his lips when he saw him.

Jamie Regis.

Arthur glanced heavenward, said a silent thank you to God for giving him this gift, and sauntered forward, a smile on his face.

There were times that Jamie Regis wished he could turn his cousin into a fish, or some other object that could not talk. Propping his head against his fist, he fought to keep his eyes open as his cousin droned on about something to do with the shoring of an old barn he had recently engaged in. Blair had begun the fascinating discourse on the exact size of the truss he had lathed himself, when Jamie was jostled awake by someone seating themselves at their table. Not that Blair would notice, he thought, marveling at how his cousin continued to talk, and lazily lifted his head to have a look.

He jerked upright when he saw the smiling Englishman. Good God! Here now, milord, I believe my work is done

And a good day to you, too, Mr. Regis, the insufferable Sassenach said, his smile broadening.

At the very least, his clipped English accent shut Blair up. All right then, how do you do, Jamie said testily. As I was saying, my work is done.

Naturally. And settled quite nicely, thank you. But Ive another matter about which I should very much like to speak with you.

Blair looked at Jamie. Aye then, who is e?

No one, Jamie muttered. A former client.

Ah, Mr. Regis, you wound me. A former client? And here I a sit, prepared to offer you a princely sum.

Jamie grabbed his ale and took a long swig, eyeing Christian over the rim of his mug. The one redeeming quality the man had was that he did indeed pay quite well. Jamie carefully set his ale down again, cocked his head to one side. And how exactly did you find me?

Now you see, theres the beauty of it. If you believe in divine guidance I doona put much stock in it

Well then, lets just say we have a situation of uncommon coincidence. I just happened to see you sitting here and could not believe my grand fortune

Grand fortune, Jamie repeated suspiciously.

nor your grand fortune.

Go on then with ye, Jamie. If es got the coin to spend, ye should at least listen to the man, urged Blair.

As he was in no need of the addlepated Blairs help, Jamie glared at his cousin. He shifted his gaze to Christian again. This was a bad idea, a very bad idea, he thought. All right then, lets have it.

And then he proceeded to question his own sanity as the imperious Christian explained what he needed.

While Christian did not give him all the details, Jamie surmised from his brief description of the legal services he required that a friend had inadvertently murdered a Scot in what Christian claimed was an act of self-defense. Right. The friends of Arthur Christian did not seem to make very intelligent choices.

I am not a barrister, sir, he said at once.

Really, Ive always wondered after the difference between a solicitor and a barrister, havent you?