The Heart Queen (29 page)

“Somewhere close, love,” Janet said. She had already decided that.

Samson came over and started to chew on her slippers which were, unfortunately, stiffened with mud from several stops along the way this day. Janet had tried to clean them last evening at the inn but they had been ruined and she had not wanted to destroy yet another pair.

She had changed her gown this morning, but it, too, was travel-stained, with mud clinging to the skirts, and had a distinct odor from where Colin had spit up. She knew her hair looked lank and plain and colorless and her eyes tired.

Janet closed her eyes and sat down on the huge feather bed.

Grace touched her hand. “Should I take Samson and Delilah out?” she asked.

“Can I see the horses?” Rachel added.

“Can I really have a pony?” Annabella chimed in.

Colin broke into a loud wail.

“Aye, aye, we will see about a pony, and yes, Colin, I will feed you,” she said, trying to answer all the questions at once.

Grace and Rachel ran out the door, Grace clutching Delilah’s basket and Samson nipping at Rachel’s heels.

“Clara, you go with them,” she said. “Lucy will help me with Colin.”

“Aye,” Clara said. She hesitated, then uttered traitorous words. “I think the marquis means no ‘arm.” It was a very long and profound statement for her. She was usually as quiet as her oldest charge, Grace.

“The marquis has his own objectives,” she said, “and it is best to remember that.”

Clara nodded.

Trilby entered. “Water is being heated,” she said. “I can show ye yer daughters’ room,” she said. “It is down the hall. The marquis thought you would prefer that rather than the nursery upstairs. We have tried to make it verra comfortable.”

Janet stared at her. “You knew we were coming?”

“Aye. My lord sent word when ‘e called away Jock.”

How long had Braemoor planned this?

Time enough, she thought bitterly, to handle the journey better.

But her daughters were excited at being somewhere beyond Lochaene. And their troubles along the way were travails to her but adventures to them. Even Colin had survived quite well.

In truth, she admitted to herself, so had she. Despite the mud and rain and cold, she had found she had a strength she did not know she had.

And now she was ready to do battle with Braemoor. She was not going to bend to his will. Not now. Not ever.

She would start with short rides, then expand them day by day. Before long, she hoped, no one would notice if she were gone six hours or more. And in that time, mayhap she could do what she must.

Neil rested a day. He was impatient, but he knew enough about his wounds to know it was necessary. There was so much to do. And with Jock gone, he would have to do most of it himself.

He had hoped that Janet might inquire about him, might even pay him a visit, but the day passed without either. He had asked Torquil whether he had seen the countess, but he had said nay.

There was no reason for it to be different. He imagined she was exploring the house with the lasses. They would be restless after so many hours in the close interior of the chaise. He dutifully partook of soup and bread and ale. Torquil had looked at his thigh and had stitched the edges, which had come loose.

He would have much preferred Janet’s gentle hand, but he had vowed he would not force her to do anything more than she wished to do. It was just as well, in fact, that she wanted to stay away from him.

He slept on and off. He was warm. Tired. He hurt nearly as much as when he was first shot. Or had he merely forgotten the intensity of pain? Finally dawn came, and with it renewed strength and energy.

He rose, shaved and dressed. He wondered how Janet was settling in, whether her daughters had been down to the stable. A pony would be his first business and then a visit to the new properties where he hoped Braemoor’s tenants were building crofts.

He went down to the large dining room.

The three young lasses looked at him from the table. Clara was there with them. The countess was not.

“I was feared you were dead,” Annabella said. “Like my father.”

“Nay, little one. I think it would take more than one journey to kill me.”

“Mama said you needed rest,” Rachel said. “I wanted to come to see you.”

“Me, too,” Annabella said.

Grace sat upright in her chair. “Mama said we could read your books.”

“Aye.”

“Our father never wanted us to have them. He said it would spoil us, like they spoiled ... Mama.”

He wished like hell that Campbell was still alive so he could kill him himself. It was not the first time he’d thought that, but the feeling was growing with fury inside him. Instead, he said mildly, “She is not spoiled at all, and reading is a fine thing.”

For the first time since he had met her, Grace favored him with a smile. Its very rarity made it extraordinary. It lit a face that was usually plain. Or mayhap not plain. Just too somber to shine.

She quickly bent over her plate as if embarrassed.

“I read, too,” Annabella said, obviously displeased at not being the center of attention.

“She does not,” Rachel interjected indignantly. “She is just a bairn.”

Grace ate faster. Any discord obviously bothered her. Something shifted inside him. These children touched him as nothing else had. He had not expected it. He had thought of children as, well, something to be avoided. But he had also thought people were something to be avoided, small or large.

Especially women.

He looked around the dining room and thought how much it had improved since his cousin had so reluctantly married. It had not taken long, he discovered later, for both the bride and groom to discover they had something between them other than Cumberland’s whims. But Janet would never allow anything to develop between him and her, and neither would he.

Ride out today. Stay away until you can find a way to send her safely back.

But first a pony. He had promised.

He enjoyed a big breakfast as he answered the girls’ questions. All kinds of questions. Did he have a mother? Did he have a wife? He had already told them he had no children, but they obviously thought it strange that he had no one.

Not even a friend, come to think of it.

He had never thought that a loss before. Now he did. Now it filled him with a bleak emptiness.

Too soon, Clara came for them. Their mother, he said, was with Colin in her room and had already had breakfast there. Trying to avoid him, no doubt.

The large dining room seemed extraordinarily empty without the sound of childish voices. He looked around the room. The tower house was more than two hundred years old. Some Forbeses had honored it; others had not.

Rory probably had done it more honor than any predecessor, and even that was partly because he hated it so much. Neil remembered how much he had despised Rory, how much he had envied him, how much he had resented him. Those feelings had been so strong that he had not been able to see anything decent in the man. He’d told himself then that he resented Rory because he cared nothing for the tenants.

In truth, neither had Neil. Oh, he cared about order. He’d cared about doing things well. He’d cared about improving the yield from the land because that seemed to make his life worth something, and he had nothing else.

It wasn’t until he discovered what Rory had been about that he started looking closer at people, saw what he had never seen before. Selflessness in Rory, integrity in Jock; honesty in Tim, innocence in the children.

Gallantry in Janet.

He was actually beginning to like people. Or at least appreciate them. Some of them.

His uncle had made him distrust everyone. Donald, his cousin, had reinforced that opinion. And Rory, Donald’s brother, had always taken great pride in allowing everyone to believe the worst of him.

Bloody hell, but he was becoming maudlin. A ride would shake away those remnants of memories. He needed to check on Braemoor, then tomorrow he would ride up to the new properties. It would take him several days. Several days away from Braemoor, away from eager questions. Away from Janet’s tempting presence.

Neil dropped by the village, passing the vacant blacksmith shop. He would have to employ a new farrier. He wondered what had happened to Alister Armstrong, the former farrier. He had disappeared when Rory had, but only one body was found.

Since then he’d had to send for a farrier once a month to keep his horses well shod.

He rode by fields that were nearly ready for harvesting, then continued down a road that led to the property adjoining his. An Englishman had taken the property and was raising horses. He might have some ponies or know where Neil could find one. Otherwise, he would have to go all the way to the town of Fort William, which would take several days.

He nudged his horse into a canter. He thought of Lochaene as he passed fields growing high with wheat. There was not much chance for any kind of crop for Lochaene unless winter held back. The tenants would need a great deal of help this winter.

He was suddenly aware of another rider well behind him on the path. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts that he’d paid no attention, but now he wondered how long the rider had been with him. After the incident with Will, he should be more careful. Well, this time he would plan a little ambush of his own.

Thank God he had his pistol with him. He vowed he would never be without it again.

He spurred his horse into a canter. There was a turn just ahead where he could leave the path, ride up ahead and look down on whomever may be following him. If they were.

He took the turn and guided his horse off the road. He then wound around a lowlying hill and dismounted, taking a pistol from the saddlebags. After tying the horse to a tree, Neil climbed the hill that overlooked the narrow path below. The rider was not good at either riding or stealth. Neil recognized him.

It would be incredibly foolish to ask him to halt from this distance. Pistols had no accuracy at this distance, and he had but one shot.

The man would backtrack when he discovered he’d lost his prey. Neil decided that he would wait for him to return, just as Burke and his master had waited for him. The poetic justice appealed to him.

He went back and mounted his horse, then waited in the shadow of the hill.

It did not take long. Within minutes, Burke was backtracking.

Neil heard the sounds of hoofbeats and loud cursing. The man would have to learn to be more quiet if he were to remain a live bandit.

What in bloody hell was the man after? Did he want to finish the job he’d started days ago?

Neil himself felt oddly reckless.

Hell, he had never been reckless even one day of his life. He had always stood back, uninvolved, weighing the advantages and disadvantages of a situation. The one time he had been reckless—the early days with Janet—had turned disastrous. Even at Culloden, he’d tried to be detached, protecting a bully of a man as he’d been taught even as his stomach turned at the killing ...

So why not be reckless now?

Dammit, he was tired of being cautious!

Pistol in hand, he moved his horse out of the shadows of the hill and onto the road. “Burke!”

The man stopped, looking startled. He started to go after his pistol, then raised his right hand in a gesture of surrender. “Ah, my lord,” he said. “Ye got me rightly, you did.”

“What do you want?”

“Ah, to see how ye were farin‘. I was the one who took ye tae Lochaene,” Burke said.

“You just wanted to see after my general welfare?” Neil replied dryly.

“Aye, my lord.”

“ ‘Tis very kind of you, but I doubt that was your sole reason. This is well-patrolled land. Give me one reason I should not turn you over to the English.”

“A debt ye owe to Will?”

“For nearly killing me?”

“Fer saving yer bloody life. I would ‘ave taken it.”

“You have to do better than that. ‘Tis no good reason for not turning you over to the magistrate.”

Burke shifted in his saddle, his lank brown hair falling around his face. One hand was still up, the other holding the reins. He shrugged. “We knew ‘twas possible, but Will thought ye a better mon than tha’.”

“How nice. And how very wrong,” Neil said. “Now tell me why you were following me or we go to the magistrate.”

Burke looked uncomfortable. “Will is callin‘ in his debt. He wants to see ye. I told him ye were naught but another nob doin’ the king’s bidding.”

“Then why did you come if you believe that?”

Burke shrugged. “I do as he tells me.”

“Why?”

The bandit looked uncomfortable but did not answer.

“And what does he want with me?” Neil asked, even as he felt he already knew. Pursuing the matter might well be the worse decision he’d ever made, but that feeling of recklessness persisted. And he was impressed with a man who would risk his life for another. It said a great deal about the enigmatic bandit in the mountains. God knew he did not know a soul who would do the same for him.

“He needs money,” Burke said after a slight pause.

“How much?”

“Enough tae get passage to France fer twelve people.”

“For Jacobites?”

Burke just stared at him with hard eyes.

“And he trusts me no‘ to betray him?”

“Nay, but he has no one else,” Burke said, adding darkly, “ye will die if ye betray him.” It was obvious he did not share Will’s opinion of the master of Braemoor.

“You do like threats, even when you are in no position to make them,” Neil said, even as he lowered his pistol.

Burke shrugged carelessly. “There are some ready tae kill if anything happens tae me.”

Neil doubted it. There was only Burke and his master. Still, he found himself responding in a perfectly irrational way. “I will bring you money tonight. You can take it yourself. ‘Tis no need for me to go.”

Burke did not look happy. “He wants ye tae come.”

Neil studied him for a moment. Taking money into a bandit’s lair would indeed be a reckless thing. And yet something about Will intrigued him. “I will meet you at midnight,” Neil said. “I have something to do first and it is best we travel at night.”