Pain radiated through Craig’s body. But pain was good because pain meant that he was still alive, even if his existence had been relegated to a living hell.
He rolled over in his cell, one eye swollen shut, and stared through the slit of his other eye. The floor beneath him was cold stone. So he’d not been put into the dungeon, where the floors were dirt-packed and soaked through with God only knew what. And he was the only one in here, which was just as well, too. Then again, there would be no one to witness whatever it was Boyd had planned for him.
Alas, that might have been a blessing. Besides, none of them were getting out of here. Death was the only savior for them now.
Was this what being an officer had given him? A cell with a solid surface?
He tried to sit up, pain in his back and both sides. There were definitely a couple of ribs broken, he was certain, but his arms and legs appeared intact. He grabbed his ballocks, both of which were also still there. A man had to check, didn’t he?
Sitting up, or rather pushing himself upright and slumping forward, he studied the empty cell as best he could through swollen eyes. A draft blew around his legs. He still had his boots, but there was a large tear in his breeches by his knee. The cell was barren, no furniture, no hearth, no other inmates. Just Craig, his broken body, and his thoughts. The door was wooden with a small square cut out near the top and iron bars lodged in place, as if anyone would ever be able to slip through the small opening. Only a rat or a cat could do that. A wooden slat had been shoved across the hole so he couldn’t even see out, not that he was getting up to go look anyway.
Thinking of a cat only reminded him of Annie and her brother’s dreadful pet. What had happened to Pinecone?
For that matter, where was his Annie now? Had she escaped as he’d hoped? Was she up the mountain? Or had they decided to head for Skye? Wherever it was, he prayed she was far away from here, safe and sound where no dragoon could get to her.
Och, he was a fool. When had Annie ever run away from anything? The lass was determined to be in the fight. Maybe she would change. Except he didn’t want her to, had told her so when he’d lain with her in the garden. He closed his eyes, reliving those moments that they’d been together. Her soft smile, the flush of her cheeks, the way her lips grew rosier with each kiss. The passion in her gaze, her gasps of pleasure when he’d touched her.
Craig leaned his head back against the stone wall, intending to sleep and dream of her, but dammit, his head hurt something fierce. He let out a groan and rubbed the back of his head. There was a large knot at the base but fortunately no blood. His wounds from Culloden did not seem to have opened back up, thank the saints, but judging from the amount of pain throughout his body, he was covered in new bruises anyhow.
But he’d put up one hell of a fight. He’d likely blackened Boyd’s eye by the end, and he wasn’t the only one with a few broken ribs. He’d knocked one man unconscious and sent plenty of others howling for their mothers.
The bastards deserved every damn blow.
In the end they’d overpowered him, as he’d suspected they would, but the fight—it had been glorious. Craig grinned at the memory, wincing at the pain of a split lip. How furious Boyd had been that Craig had taken so long to fall. He might have lost in the end, but Craig still considered it a victory.
“Thanks, Da,” he said bitterly to the walls, his voice sounding distant and his lips stinging with every syllable. He touched his mouth, feeling the crust of dried blood.
“What was that?” The slat was pulled from the tiny window on the door, and a man’s face appeared in the small barred opening. “You want another round, savage?”
“Come in here, I dare ye,” Craig taunted, waving the man in. He tried to stand but stumbled back and fell onto his arse as the door swung wide.
The guard marched forward with purpose. “You’re an arrogant fool, and I’m going to teach you a lesson.”
The words would have sounded more menacing if not for the stuffy English accent. Craig laughed, full aware he sounded a bit mad.
“I’d like to see ye try,” Craig goaded. “I could take ye with my hands tied behind my back and your ma on my cock.”
That earned him a punch right in the broken ribs but also allowed him the moment he needed to reach for the bastard who’d dared get close enough. He grabbed his jailer by the ears, slamming the rascal’s head into his knee and relishing in the sound of nose cartilage cracking.
Blood spurted from the guard’s busted nose, and he screamed in pain, shouting curses that Craig couldn’t hear over his own laughter.
“You fool, what the devil?” Several other guards rushed in, pulled the whoreson out, and then dragged Craig back to the wall. There they shackled him to chains that hung just high enough to be uncomfortable, stretching his arms up and straining the sockets of his shoulders.
“Come back and see me?” Craig called after the men, one of whom spat on the floor of the cell in answer.
Craig grinned at the fresh blood on his knee, for once not his own. They thought to rule him in hell, but they had no idea just whom they were dealing with. Craig had grown up in hell, and if they thought to master him now, well, then the devil was a bloody fool.
* * *
Dawn broke with a drizzle of rain, but Annie wasn’t going to let the weather deter her from her plan. Today was the day she was getting Craig back. And if she died trying, then at least her death would be worth it. She’d shout out her love for him until they stole her last breath.
Annie lined the bottom of her basket with the altered gown she, Eppy, and Lila had spent the night enlarging so that it would fit Craig’s frame. They’d also fashioned a special bonnet that could be pulled low over his brow and then wrapped it around the special bannock that contained a razor and a small vial of oil. They also included a scarf in case the shave did not go well, though muffling his face with it might draw more attention than a strapping Scotswoman with a slight beard.
On top of all that, the basket was filled with bannocks and jerky—food for the prisoners—as well as a pouch of coins that she could swipe from to offer any guards a bribe to clear her way forward. Tucked into her bodice was the jeweled brooch. The braid that curled into a bun at the nape of her neck was secured in place with pins she could use to pick any locks she needed to. She thanked the heavens for the training her da had given her and her brothers in lock-picking when they were young because she was fairly certain that today of all days, she was going to need that skill.
Beneath her gown she had hidden a pistol, wrapped in the folds of a cloak that she strapped to her waist that gave her middle some extra padding. She anticipated that getting a weapon into the garrison was going to be a lot trickier than it was to smuggle in a few bannocks.
Annie mentally checked off everything they’d prepared and then realized she was holding her breath. With a hand to her belly, she let it out. Everyone in the room was watching her, waiting. They’d been taking her lead, and she’d been dredging up every trick she could remember. This would work. If she started to think of all the ways in which their plan could go awry, then those events might actually occur. So all she had to do was believe in herself and their plan and be confident that soon she and Craig would be together.
No one dared voice their concerns, though she could practically hear their thoughts. They would support her in going forward, and they would support her if she chose to back down. The latter she would never do, but knowing how much they believed in her was enough to bolster her mood.
“Let’s go.”
Lila and Eppy were to remain at the cottage with Annie’s patients, though the women argued against staying behind. Both had even suggested that they could go into the garrison with her, that they could help. But Annie couldn’t ask them to put themselves in so much danger. It was one thing to help her prepare and be ready for the escape, but it was something entirely different to ask them to go inside a garrison full of the enemy and possibly get locked in forever.
Annie hugged everyone goodbye. Old Max had saddled up their aging nag so Annie wouldn’t draw attention to herself in town or near the garrison by riding in on a well-bred horse. He and his strapping lads took the wagon, two other horses hitched to it.
They rode for several hours but not together. If their plan didn’t work, they didn’t want anyone who might later be called as a witness to be able to identify them as having been together. When they reached the village outside the garrison Annie slowed her pace, trying to fit in with the other women headed toward the massive fortress. Dark clouds filled the sky, threatening to open up and pour. The fortress looked stark, unforgiving. It had been a castle once, home to an earl, and was still surrounded by high, imposing stone walls with a portcullis at the gate. It was designed to keep people in as much as it was designed to keep them out. Dragoons marched on the walls, keeping watch over the town, but not in a way that felt like the townsfolk were being protected. In fact, quite the opposite.
’Twas a wonder at all that they let womenfolk in to see the prisoners, but she supposed they didn’t want to waste their own coin feeding prisoners before they were executed, released, or traded. Thank goodness for that.
The closer she drew, the harder her heart pounded. Her palms were sweaty, making it difficult to hold the reins, and the old mare she rode flicked her tail with irritation every time Annie squeezed her thighs a little too hard out of nerves.
Halfway there, a slight figure caught Annie’s attention. He was dressed in trews, cap low over the face, and approached Annie quickly, slinking against the wall. Was she about to get robbed? Of all days! This was the last thing she needed. The figure drew closer, staying close to the shadows of the walls, and Annie halted her horse, reaching into her boot. She was about to bring out a knife to protect herself when she realized it was not a male figure after all but one she was quite familiar with.
“Jenny?” she muttered.
She urged her horse toward the slim form. It looked so much like her dear friend, her gait unmistakable, but what was she doing here?
“Excuse me, sir,” Annie asked.
Wide familiar green eyes met her gaze. It was Jenny.
“Have ye the time?” Annie kept her voice low, disinterested, and her face neutral.
Jenny made to pull out her pocket watch, coming closer to Annie’s horse. “What are ye doing here?” Jenny asked in a whisper. “’Tis too dangerous for ye to be here alone.”
“I’m going to the garrison.”
Jenny looked stricken. “Nay, ye canna.”
“I have no choice. They took Craig.” God, saying the words still felt like a dagger to the heart.
“Who is Craig?”
“Remember that insufferable friend of Graham’s?”
Jenny’s lips thinned with sadness. “I’m so sorry about your brother.” Jenny had come with her to bury Graham, but still the pain cut deep for them both. Graham had often teased Jenny when they were children, and their friendship had continued into adulthood.
“Graham always said he’d die of heartbreak that ye wouldna marry him,” Annie offered, trying to lighten the mood.
Jenny smiled but quickly let it fall, glancing from the sides of her eyes at those who might be watching. “He was a good brother and a good friend. But what’s this about his insufferable acquaintance?”
“Craig MacLean…” Tears pricked Annie’s eyes. “I have fallen in love with him, and last night, Boyd took him.”
“Boyd.” Jenny spoke the name like a curse. “And ye plan to just waltz into the garrison and bring him out?”
“I’ve a plan.” She explained what she meant to do, and Jenny nodded, snapping shut her timepiece and shoving it back in her pocket.
“’Tis about the right time. I’ll create a distraction when they open the gates to allow ye in more easily.” Jenny’s brows rose and waggled slightly. “I do like to cause a distraction.”
“Thank ye, my friend. Would it be better for ye to cause the disturbance when we’re prepared to leave, though?”
“Hmm,” Jenny said thoughtfully. “Aye. And it would give me a bit more time to put the plan into action. But I’ll need a signal to know when to start.”
“I’ll give your bird call that ye use with your men when we reach the courtyard.” Annie handed Jenny a bannock so their exchange would not seem so odd to anyone watching. “Thank ye, my friend.”
“I would rather go in and get him myself.” Jenny had always been the fearless one. No doubt she could easily gain access to Craig and bring him out, but his rescue was something Annie needed to do herself.
“I know. And I love ye for it.”
Jenny took a bite of the bannock. “I love ye, too. Where will ye go?”
Annie worried her lower lip. “Fiona told me to meet her in Skye, but I’ve a need to see my brother and make certain he is all right before I rejoin the fight.”
Jenny nodded. “Aye, ye should. I’ll get a message to Fiona. Get yourselves to Nairn once ye’re free from here. I’ve a contact there with a fishing boat. Tell him I sent ye, and he’ll sail ye to Cluny Castle.”
“Thank ye,” Annie said gratefully.
“What are friends for?” Jenny winked, and then louder she said, “Garrison’s down the road. Use caution, my friend.”
Annie moved off, feeling more confident about her plan and the way of escape. Several horse posts stood outside the garrison, and other women were tying up their nags while they waited in line to get inside. Annie followed suit. She listened as the line of visitors gave their names to a man who was writing them on a list, ostensibly to make certain no one came out who hadn’t gone in.
She listened to the other names given, committing several to memory that she could use for Craig on their way out if needed. Though hopefully Jenny would be able to create enough of a distraction that a borrowed name would not be necessary. Greater miracles had happened before.
Annie got into line, sweat rolling down her spine. It took all her efforts to still the trembling in her hands. Craig was inside. She had to remain strong. Pulling up the memories of Craig being hauled away helped to steady her resolve a bit. She was going to save him.
When it came her time to be inspected, the guards sifted through the jerky and bannocks. They made lascivious eyes at her as they slid their slimy hands over her legs, arms, and back for weapons, bypassing the thickness at her middle and stupidly not even checking her boot, too busy playing with the silk garters of her hose to pay attention.
The guard stood too close, grinning, and Annie feared her experience was going to be different than the women who’d gone inside before her. “Name?”
“Mrs. Sullivan.” She thanked Mrs. Sullivan one last time for her help. There had to be a hundred Mrs. Sullivans in Scotland, and for the moment there was one more.
“Prisoner?”
“I believe ye brought in my late husband’s second cousin last evening.” She tried to put him at as much of a distance to herself as possible. “A Lieutenant MacLean. I hoped to bring him a last meal before he is executed.”
“Aye. Go.” The man looked completely disgusted and shoved her forward, hard enough to throw off her balance but not hard enough to make her stumble.
And that was it? That easy? She passed through the gate, heart pounding and mouth dry. How had it been that easy? She was inside the fortress walls now, and even the act of stepping beyond the guard suddenly left her feeling heavy and oppressed, as though grief tugged at her limbs, dragging her down to the ground. What unknown tragedies happened within these walls? Annie tried to keep her gaze down, not looking around, wanting to appear small and unimportant.
Women hurried along to the main entrance, and Annie did, too, ducking her head in case any of the guards might recognize her from the night before. Once she was inside, another guard directed her to Craig’s cell, where he opened a small viewing window high on the door and pointed for her to look.
“That him?” the guard asked.
Annie peered through the opening. Craig was there but chained to the wall, his head slumped against his chest. His clothes were torn, bloodied, and covered in filth. What had they done to him? Her heart skipped a beat, and for a fraction of a second, she feared she was too late. Her belly soured, and she swallowed hard against the bile that rose in her throat.
“Aye,” she whispered.
“Five minutes, not a second more.” The guard shoved the key in the lock, cranking it open, and it made an ear-piercing screeching noise.
Five minutes? That was all? She needed more than five minutes to shave his face and pick the shackle locks, and who knew how long it would take to get him in disguise and out of the blasted building? Annie reached into her basket, pulling out the first bribe she’d had to use.
Annie held out the flask of whisky toward the guard, fearful that he wouldn’t be the type of man who accepted bribes. Take it. Take it. Take it. “For ye, sir. I know it gets a bit nippy in here for ye poor gents, and we dinna want ye to suffer.” She offered a modest smile. “I willna tell, I promise.”
The guard grinned and opened the flask, taking a large swig and passing her an appreciative smile. “Ten minutes,” he amended, and Annie could have dropped to the floor to kiss the bastard’s feet. He didn’t leave her quite yet. The man remained at her back, and she had the sudden panic that he would shove her forward and lock the door behind her. Neither of them moved.
Craig stared at her from his one good eye, unmoved as if he didn’t recognize her. If he didn’t, she’d chalk that up to the brutal beating it looked like he’d taken. His gaze slid to the guard, anger slicing across his bruised and swollen features. He opened his mouth, and she had the distinct gut feeling that he was going to demand she be taken away, so instead, she cut him off before he could speak.
“Are ye Lieutenant MacLean?” she asked.
He just stared at her, and she turned toward the guard. “Are ye certain this is he?”
“You don’t recognize your own kin?” The guard took another long swig of whisky.
Annie shook her head. “I thought I did, but his face is…”
The man rolled his eyes. “It’s him, all right. If he makes any sudden moves, holler.” He exited the cell, leaving the door open a crack, placing too much trust in the locked shackles and his naive assumption that Craig would not be able to escape.
“I was married to your cousin,” she said, in case the guard was still standing outside. “Though ye’re a traitor, I wished to visit ye and give ye a last meal. Fresh-baked bannock.”
She pulled the bonnet-wrapped bannock from the basket. As she stood on tiptoe to hand it to him, she whispered, “There’s a razor and oil inside. I’ll pretend to be feeding ye as I shave your face.” Then louder, “Eat up, dinna argue, ’tis my mother-in-law’s recipe, and she’d roll in her grave if ye insulted her by no’ eating it on top of being a traitor.”
Craig grunted but said nothing, which was probably best. Annie popped a piece of bannock into his mouth. He chewed as she smoothed the shaving oil gently over his face. With every glide of her fingers, she flinched in fear of hurting him, but Craig made not a sound. In a panic she glanced behind her to make certain the guard wasn’t watching through the small window in the door, but the slat was firmly in place.
When she was finished with the oil, she paused, her hands on his cheeks, desperate to lean up and kiss him, to confess her love, to tell him everything would be all right, but she dared not say anything, and she certainly dared not kiss him. Not with the guard possibly right outside.
Their gazes locked, and she tried not to read the pain in his questioning eyes. He wanted to know why she was here, why she hadn’t saved herself. And those were answers she couldn’t give him right now.
Annie touched the blade to his face, scraping softly, the hair coming away with ease and revealing another bruise along his jaw. She wiped the blade on the towel in her basket and went in for the second line. As she worked she kept up a string of boring, nonsensical chatter about the family, about their loyalty to King George, and when she finished shaving him, proud of the smoothness of his face, she stroked his cheeks, his lips.
How much time had passed? Five minutes? Seven? She glanced behind her, finding the doorway clear of the guard, and then she plucked two pins from her hair.
“Bend your knee, I’m going to need a leg up to reach the shackles,” she whispered. “I’m sorry if I hurt ye.” She bit her lip as she stepped onto his bent knee and hoisted herself up into the air. “When I was a wee lass,” she murmured as she worked the pins in the shackles, “this was my favorite game.”
Craig watched her with those intense eyes, not a single word leaving his lips. When she heard the click in the lock, she whispered, “Dinna move your hand, in case they peek into the cell before I’m done with the other.” Of course they’d notice her on his knee and all would be over, but maybe there’d be enough warning for her to jump down.
As she worked the second lock, she told him of her process for drying jerky, which was just as boring as it sounded. Fortunately, the second lock popped quicker than the first. Success! Annie stepped down from his knee, wiping at the smudge of dirt she’d left behind and realizing just how ridiculous that was given his state.
“Let me tell ye about my second cousin Louisa and her four daughters’ rabbits.” She started on another long nonsensical story as she tugged the pistol out from beneath her gown.
Craig’ eyes widened on the prize, his gaze glittering with merriment.
“They tried to get them to race a neighbor’s bunnies, but all they kept trying to do was chase each other. If they’d let them win, they’d be in for a surprise a few weeks later when another litter arrived.”
She shoved the bonnet over his head and then pulled the gown over his head too. “Make haste,” she whispered and then, unable to stop herself, she brushed her lips over his. It was quick, not enough in the least, leaving her wanting so much more.
Even as bruised as he was, Craig managed to tug the gown over his clothes quickly. Annie wrapped the scarf around his neck to hide the thickness and then swung the cloak around his shoulders, tying it just beneath the scarf. Using some of the flour in the basket that had fallen from the bannocks, she gently patted his face to try and cover up some of the bruises. While it dulled some of the purple, it didn’t work completely. He’d have to keep his head down and not make eye contact with anyone if this was going to work.
She walked over to the door then, still keeping up her inane chatter. She ran out of thoughts about rabbits and switched to chickens. A peek out into the corridor showed that two guards stood all the way at the end. They looked to be chatting and sharing the flask of whisky.
She closed the small slat that covered the iron bars, jammed a pin into the lock, and with the butt of the pistol broke it off to keep it there. She pulled the velvet pouch from her bodice. If the guards took note of two women coming out of the cell when only one had been let in, that would be the time to offer them a treasure they could never hope to afford in their lifetimes. The loss would be worth every bit if it were to save the two of them.
“Now,” she mouthed to Craig, heart pounding. When he got closer to her, she gave him the basket, their fingers brushing. Somehow that simple touch gave her some reassurance. “Stoop like an old woman.”
Which he did, somehow managing to make his bulk look nearly half the size. They exited the cell, and Craig hurried to the shadows and out of the line of sight of the guards who’d not yet noticed them. Annie closed the door as quietly as she could and jammed another pin into the lock, breaking it off as well. They’d not be able to see into the cell or get in, and that was just as well for her. But she still needed to stall them for time. If they didn’t mark her leaving, they might go down to check and discover her handiwork with the cell door. No, it wouldn’t do at all if they cried a warning to the other guards before she and Craig had a chance to effect their escape.
With Craig out of sight, she called down to the guards, “Thank ye, lads!”
Too busy with drink they raised their hands in dismissal, and she and Craig made their way silently down the stairs and out into the courtyard. They paused there for a moment, she to catch her bearings, and likely he needed to allow his eyes to adjust to the light. Even with the clouds looming overhead, it was brighter outside than it had been in that cell.
The courtyard was lined with soldiers, a few women coming and going here and there. Every eye felt like it was on them, boring into them, waiting for her to make a mistake. The guard by the gate turned to watch her, and his eyes narrowed at the sight of Craig. The air whooshed from her lungs, time suspended in air. Annie’s heart did a flip. She needed to make the bird call to alert Jenny, but if she did it now, they would all see it come from her.
Annie pretended to trip and then looked down, acting as though her bootlace had come untied. She bent down, her head ducked, and pretended to lace it back up, making the bird call as she did.
On cue, a loud commotion began outside the gate, which turned all the guards’ attention away from her and Craig.
“Come along, Granny,” she muttered for the benefit of any passersby as they hurried through the courtyard and skated through the open gate, dragoons running past them. When they reached the old nag, she indicated for Craig to mount, but he shook his head. Annie stomped her foot. “Get on the damn horse.”
“Ye really are my angel,” Craig whispered as he climbed into the saddle and hunched over to make himself appear smaller. His large boots stuck out from the cloak, very obviously male, and she prayed Jenny’s distraction lasted long enough for them to get to the edge of town where Old Max and his lads waited.
She glanced behind her to see the dragoons collecting in a massive horde, but fear propelled them forward. No time to see what brilliant plan Jenny had enacted—this was their only chance to escape. And they still weren’t out of the woods.
Walking close to Craig’s side, trying to hide his massive feet, she hurried them down the road and out of town.