An hour before midnight, Roderick arrived back at Finvreck after enduring the last three days in the company of the odious English captain and his men. Hunger and fatigue drove him to the castle’s kitchen where he found Morag and Angus alone, deep in muted discussion.
Angus looked up in surprise.
Roderick sank down onto a wooden bench. ‘No need to hold your tongues. If your whispers concern me, then I would know what you have to say.’
‘I’m relieved to hear that,’ said Morag. ‘First I’ll fix ye something to eat. Ye look about ready to fall off yer perch.’
Angus fetched a bottle of whisky and filled three glasses. He scuffed his chair closer and leaned across the table. ‘Do ye bring with ye good news?’
‘Aye. At last.’
Roderick took a long swallow of the fortifying brew and set the glass down. He thanked Morag when she set before him a plate piled with bread, meat and chunks of cheese. ‘’Tis done,’ he announced.
Those two words held his uncle’s and Morag’s rapt attention.
Morag shuffled to the edge of her chair. ‘Weel! Go on then.’
He made them wait until he’d taken a few mouthfuls of food to pacify his grumbling stomach. ‘Stokes insisted he and his men continue the search for Raibeart, so I made it as hard for them as I could.’
He took a bite of bread. ‘I led them over the most difficult ground. Cliff ledges and caves along the shore, and the steepest, boot-biting inland terrain.’
Angus leaned back, amused. ‘How did the Sassenachs fare?’
Roderick flashed a conspiratorial grin. ‘Three sprained ankles. One lame horse and several of their muskets lost to the ocean bed from men having lost their footing on the cliff’s face.’
Morag clapped her hands together and merrily spouted off in Gaelic.
Roderick topped each of their glasses with whisky. ‘I convinced the captain that their Jacobite rebel might already have slipped through our fingers, either on foot into neighbouring clan lands or an awaiting rowboat in any number of the coves.
‘I also mentioned I’d send the captain’s superiors a detailed, and glowing, report of his thorough investigations and conduct.’
‘A bribe to have him move on?’ asked Angus
‘Aye. You could call it that. I reminded the captain that my mother died at the hands of Jacobite rebels’—Morag and Angus crossed themselves— ‘and I exaggerated an intolerance for their cause.’ In truth, Roderick would have said or done anything to keep the arrogant Hubert Stokes away from Clan MacLeod.
And Annabel.
Her name caused a tightening in his chest. ‘The captain saw his retirement as the more attractive pursuit and agreed he was better off leaving me, and the Watch, to deal with the matter. They broke camp late this afternoon. I followed at a distance to be sure they headed south, but with only a few hours of daylight left they bunked down again for the night. I expect they’ll be on the move before dawn.’
Angus lifted his glass. ‘To ye, Roderick. The hope of our side. Slàinte!’
Morag echoed the toast.
Roderick raised his glass and gave them a crisp nod. ‘Do dheagh shlàinte!’
He chewed on a mouthful of meat, aware of the sudden awkward silence, and certain of its source. He’d apprised Morag and Angus of Annabel’s treachery the day he’d escorted her from the cave and back to Finvreck. They were aware, too, of her fate, whether she was pregnant or not, and though Roderick knew they shared his sense of betrayal, their opinion stayed strong in thinking Annabel’s seditious indiscretion should be overlooked.
What she did was for Scotland and her kinsmen, they’d said. In light of the brutal backlash to all Highlanders since Culloden, her actions, though risky, demonstrated great courage. Roderick could not argue with that, and, damn it all to hell, he’d admired her for it.
He could stand the silence no more and pushed the plate away from him. ‘If you’ve both something on your minds, say it.’
‘’Tis the mistress,’ said Morag.
‘So I gathered. Go on.’
‘She’s nae set foot outside her room in three days.’
That would be like a slow death for Annabel, given her love of the outdoors.
‘And what’s more,’ said Angus, ‘is that she seems to have lost her appetite. The food trays coming out of her room are almost as full as when her maid carries them in.’
Morag looked askance at Angus. ‘Those trays look verra empty when I see them.’
‘That’s because whether it be Gillis or Darach guarding her door, Jessie hands the tray to them. They told me so and said better they eat it than see the food go to waste.’
Confining Annabel within the perimeter of Finvreck’s fortress walls, and under constant guard was one thing, but Roderick would bring an end to her self-imposed exile in the bedchamber. He knew precious little about the workings of a woman’s body but he attributed the possibility of her being pregnant as the reason for her loss of appetite.
He rose suddenly. ‘Morag, prepare a tray of food. I’ll take it to her now.’
‘At this hour? She’ll be asleep.’
‘Then I’ll wait in the room. When she wakes, she will eat. Even if I have to force it down her throat.’
Morag raised her brows.
‘Not literally, Morag. But I will convince her to eat.’
‘As ye say.’ Morag left the table to do as he asked.
‘Uncle, I’ve yet to thank you for repairing the grandfather clock. You don’t know how happy I am to hear its tick and chimes. And Morag,’—she glanced his way— ‘your housekeeping has not gone unnoticed. You’ve done Finvreck proud with your efforts in keeping it clean and orderly.’
Roderick’s gaze shifted between them both. What had he said to render them both silent? ‘Why the blank looks?’
Angus shook his head. ‘’Twas nae me who restored life to the old clock.’
‘Nor did I lead the spring-clean charge,’ said Morag. ‘I simply oversaw it.’
Roderick raised his arms in supplication. ‘Then who?’
Morag placed the newly prepared food tray in his hands. ‘Who do ye think?’
Roderick’s breath stalled. ‘Annabel?’
‘Aye,’ said Morag. ‘’Tis she ye should be thanking.’
Roderick gave a snort of dismissive laughter. ‘What does she know about clocks?’
Angus shrugged.
‘She’s proved herself to be untrustworthy. Why would she do either of these things?’
Morag rolled her eyes. ‘To please ye, of course.’
‘Of course,’ he said with a cut of sarcasm. ‘Anything to get in my good graces.’
‘I disagree,’ said Angus. ‘The lass didnae ask us to tell ye about the clock or the cleaning. We could have taken credit for her initiatives and ye’d be none the wiser for it.’
Morag settled her hands on her hips. ‘Little wonder she didnae tell ye herself.’
And why didn’t she? The question nagged Roderick with every spiral step he climbed towards her room. He found it difficult to accept her actions were without motive.
Gillis sat on a stool on night watch in the corridor opposite the chamber door. On sighting Roderick, he stood, his gaze immediately lighting on the supper tray.
‘You’ll be eating none of this,’ warned Roderick. ‘I won’t leave that room till Annabel has eaten every crumb.’
‘Aye, weel, if anyone can persuade her to eat it’ll be ye.’ Gillis cleared his throat. ‘The mistress, she spoke with me today. Said there be nae need for me or Darach to stand guard here. Said she willnae try to escape our notice.’
‘I doubt that. How does she seem?’
Gillis scratched his beard. ‘Quiet-like.’
‘Don’t let that mislead you either.’
Gillis shook his head, unconvinced. ‘Her maid, Jessie—now she might be as timid as a mouse and as bonnie as a—’
‘Your point, Gillis?’
‘She’s worried about her mistress. Said the light in her eyes has been snuffed out.’
The news came as a blow to Roderick, but mistress and maid had conspired against him before. Did they behave in such a way as to fool him again? Were they taking steps to plan an escape? He’d determine that now. Gillis opened the bedchamber door and closed it quietly behind Roderick when he’d stepped inside.
The room was bathed in firelight. Annabel lay on her side in bed and beneath the covers. Long, red tresses spilled over the pillow and down her back. Despite his ill-feelings towards her, Roderick longed to thread his fingers through the long silken mass. He could hear soft sounds of slumber and her face, calm and serene, made her look like she could do no wrong. He knew better.
He set the food tray down on a small table situated between two chairs in front of the fire. He sat, waiting for her to wake, and used the time to replay precious moments spent with her in this room when they’d joined as one. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt so utterly content. When mind and body had reached the pinnacle of happiness and harmony. Nothing had seemed insurmountable and a sense of peace had filled his heart.
If he could repair the friction keeping them apart, then perhaps Roderick could oust the dark emptiness plaguing him. She’d betrayed him, yes, and he’d exposed her treachery, but there was a sense of only scratching the surface of her secrets, that there was more to unveil.
Twists and turns. Life is complicated. Roderick heard her words as if she’d repeated them aloud. He could not deny he cared for her enough to dig deeper into her life and find answers to sensitive questions he’d not yet asked. She’d said her father despised her. Why so?
A log in the fire broke in two on the grate in the hearth. It hissed and popped, spraying red embers upward.
In that same moment, Roderick turned his head to see Annabel appear wraith-like at his side. His heart lurched, then thumped as if he’d run to save his life. He caught her scent and breathed her in. Golden firelight penetrated her nightshift to show off the curves of her naked body. He hardened in an instant and suffered an unbearable longing to reach for her and have her straddle him. Crossing one knee over the other didn’t help deaden desire. She stared into the fire, not once glancing down at him.
‘Annabel.’
‘Roderick.’
‘Won’t you sit?’ His heart thumped at least ten times before she accepted his invitation. ‘I’ve brought you something to eat.’
‘I’m nae hungry.’ She kept her eyes on the fire.
‘If not for you, then please, eat to nourish my child.’
She looked sharply at him as if stung by a gadfly.
‘Our child,’ he conceded.
‘Perhaps I’m nae pregnant after all.’
‘Time will tell.’
‘So will Morag. Must ye really have her inspect my bedsheets and shift every day?’
‘Aye. If your menses return, then I trust Morag to tell me the truth of your condition.’
Annabel’s chin dropped to her chest, but not before Roderick noticed the telltale dark shadows under vacant eyes. She reached for the tray and set it on her lap. She eyed the food and selected a wedge of cheese.
Just as she brought it to her mouth, Roderick said, ‘I’ve spent the last three days with Captain Stokes and his men.’
The cheese fell from her hand onto the tray. She paled and sat up straight, shoulders tensed. ‘And?’
Roderick didn’t reply. When her gaze met his, he glanced at the food tray and back at her. A silent bargain. Eat, and I’ll continue. She nibbled the cheese.
He repeated what he’d told Angus and Morag. ‘So you needn’t worry. We all are safe. The captain and his men will march south tomorrow and no longer pose a threat to you, Raibeart or the MacLeods.’
Roderick would have expected Annabel’s eyes to close, or for her head to fall back with relief. Perhaps even to hear her sigh, make the sign of the cross or sag into the armchair. Instead, she sank her teeth into the cheese and chewed with noticeable force. Her free hand twitched, fingers curling into her palm.
Roderick clenched his jaw, certain there existed a disturbing connection between herself and Hubert Stokes. Not knowing drove him to near-madness, tearing him in two.
‘Thank ye,’ she said, staring into the fire. ‘I remain in yer debt.’
‘No debt exists between us.’
In the ensuing silence, Annabel continued to eat. Roderick sat, helpless to understand what she was thinking or feeling. He obsessed over replaying in his mind every moment and conversation spent in her company, and anything the captain might have said in the past few days, which might point to the nature of their association. Nothing of importance stood out.
‘I want to thank you,’ he said.
She looked up and held his gaze for a long instant. ‘For what?’
‘For fixing the grandfather clock and rallying the servants to return Finvreck to its former glory.’
She turned her beautiful face towards the fire again and bit into a slice of bread.
‘Why did you do it, Annabel?’
‘To repay yer kindness for allowing me to stay here. For giving me lessons to read and write.’
‘Kindness need not be repaid.’
‘I believe it does.’
‘Then tomorrow, and with each new day, I wish for you to leave the confines of this chamber. Take some fresh air in the courtyard and present yourself in the great hall for the midday and evening meals. I’ll arrange to accompany you to the coast or woodlands should you wish it.’
Annabel replaced the now-empty tray on the table. ‘I have all I need here in this room. I’ll eat every meal brought to me. Ye have my word.’
He studied her pensive profile. ‘What are you afraid of?’
‘Afraid?’ She blew off the notion as if it were a speck of dust on her shoulder. ‘What I feel is bitter disappointment in myself for thinking I could continue to outsmart the English without repercussions or being caught. I’m disappointed in myself for involving Jessie, and for having betrayed ye.’
She turned her gaze back to the fire. ‘I’m an unwanted guest at Finvreck and I should think neither ye nor anyone among yer clan wish to set eyes on me. So here in this room I’ll stay until it’s confirmed whether or nae I’m with child.’
She’d spoken with honest conviction, but Roderick would prefer she face the consequences of her wrongdoing. ‘Regardless of what they think, no clansman would dare touch or harm you, but you must stand before them and be accountable for your actions. It’s the least you owe them.’
After a long pause, she said, ‘Aye. Ye’re right. I’ll nae be thought of as a coward.’
Annabel pushed herself out of the chair. Roderick caught her wrist as she stepped past him. Her skin felt cold beneath his hand and yet a burning jolt shot right through him. He sensed there was still a part of her that needed rescuing and he wished only to put her needs before his. ‘Annabel, I’ve secured your safety and freedom. What more would you have from me?’
‘I would have yer forgiveness, instead of yer anger.’
‘As I would have your trust, instead of your silence.’
Their eyes remained locked in a stand-off where it seemed neither was prepared to give in to the other. She tried to pull away. He tightened his grip on her wrist. At the risk of further damaging their already strained relationship, he asked, ‘What soul-destroying secret do you still hide from me?’
A sudden change came over her, darker than the day was long. She swallowed. ‘That secret …’
Roderick was certain he read in her eyes the desperate need to share a heavy burden. He uncrossed his legs and shifted to the edge of the seat in anticipation of her taking him into her confidence.
She looked all at once more fragile than the petal he’d once lifted from her hair. ‘That secret,’ she whispered, ‘... is nae mine to tell.’
In letting her go, there was nothing Roderick wouldn’t give to secure from her the staunch loyalty she’d pledged to another. The keeper of the secret. If she wouldn’t discuss it with him, then tomorrow morning he’d journey to seek out the one person who might. Her father. William MacDonald.
With one hand on the door latch and the empty food tray in the other, Roderick glanced over his shoulder at Annabel in bed. He found it in his heart to grant her what she’d asked of him. ‘Annabel?’
‘Roderick.’
‘I forgive you.’
* * *
The next day, Annabel made her way through the castle’s corridors as if in step with a funeral procession. She did her best to settle frayed nerves over joining the clan for the midday meal. Perhaps by now the majority would have eaten and left the great hall to resume whatever their daily activities required of them. Word of her Jacobite connections would no longer be a secret. She wished not to suffer the shame of their scrutiny, however much she deserved it.
The din of conversation grew louder on approach. Her mouth went dry and her stomach churned. All at once the scornful voice of her father crowded her head, telling her she could do nothing right. His cruel eyes judged her as he always did, finding fault in her appearance, abilities and intellect. Her confidence caved in just like the corridor walls seemed now to close in on her. She reached out a hand to steady herself against the cold stone wall. Panic left her legs weaker than if she stared through the eye of the hangman’s noose.
‘’Tis all right, mistress,’ said Darach following at her back. ‘Ye’ve nothing to fear.’
‘I’m nae so sure.’ She closed her eyes in an attempt to still her mind. Roderick had forgiven her. She drew strength from that. It would not have been an easy thing for him to do. She’d been mindful of the strain on his face and what the last three days had cost him in brushing off Captain Stokes and securing her safety and that of the MacLeods. It was only fair she did as he’d asked of her and stand before his clan. ‘Ye can do this,’ she whispered to herself. ‘Ye must do this.’
Darach gave her an encouraging nod when she opened her eyes. ‘Press on,’ he said.
She came to a jarring halt at the hall’s entrance. It was packed with people, every bench, chair and stool occupied.
The sea of faces turned towards her and the hall fell deathly quiet. Serving maids stood as if frozen in time, food trays and wine jugs in hand. Annabel swallowed the dry lump in her throat. The feeling of being watched turned her stomach rock hard. She looked down the length of the hall in search of Roderick, in need of his moral support.
Angus was seated at the head table. Roderick was not. Her heart sank. It lifted marginally when Angus sent her a reassuring smile. She followed his gaze to where Morag stood beside a trestle table. The housekeeper nodded to her with kind eyes.
Before taking another step forward, Annabel threw her shoulders back and held her head high, steeling herself against the hardened stares of Clan MacLeod’s jurors.
There was not one sound save for the scuff of her leather soles on the floor and the swish of her skirts. Annabel was sure her heart thumped in everyone’s ears. Her nerves drew tighter than a medieval longbow and beads of sweat trickled down between her breasts.
It seemed an eternity passed before she reached the table. Her skin prickled from the dagger-like stares at her back. Just before she could take her seat beside Angus, the sudden horrendous scraping of chairs made her jump. She looked up to see everyone on their feet. They stared back at her with a tightness in their eyes. Some bared their teeth, others inched closer. Knuckles cracked and the rolling up of sleeves showed muscles flex.
Annabel backed away from her chair in fear of being mobbed. Jessie’s prophesy was about to come true. The thought of them both being torn limb from limb caused her heart to thrash in her ears.
‘Angus?’ She looked first at him and then at the savage stares. ‘What’s going on?’
He rose from his chair and limped towards her. ‘Dinnae fash yersel, lass. The clan only wish to let ye ken what they think of yer treasonous exploits.’
Annabel stared at him in disbelief. She saw nothing in his expression to calm her. ‘They look set to kill me.’
‘Maybe they will.’
She stiffened at once and the chill of imminent death swept through her. Dear God. Spare Jessie!
Roderick had lied. She’d been tricked. Set up. Deceived. Forgiveness be damned. She snatched from the table a knife and braced herself ready for the clan’s attack.
‘And maybe they willnae,’ said Angus.
He winked at her and then cast his gaze over the hostile-looking Highlanders. At his nod, they relaxed and erupted into raucous cheers and laughter. They focused on Annabel, applauding her.
The sudden ease in tension left her relieved and confused. Still wary, she gripped the knife tighter. ‘I dinnae understand!’ Her eyes flitted between the people and Angus. Upon his signal, the clan quietened and remained standing.
‘Weel now,’ he said with humour in his voice and loud enough for all to hear. ‘Mistress, ye didnae think ye’d get off that easy now, did ye? Ye brought danger to Finvreck’s door. That disnae sit weel with the MacLeods. We trust ye understand the full ramifications of what ye and yer cause might have cost us.’
‘Aye. I understand that and …’ she addressed the crowd, ‘I’m verra sorry for it. But I make nae apology for believing in what I’ve done or for the clansmen’s lives I’ve saved.’
She jumped back when Angus reached for the knife in her hand.
‘Easy, lass. Nae one here means ye harm, but I dare say ye’ve learned yer lesson.’ He turned to the clan. ‘Scared the shite out of her, didnae we?’
The clan fell about laughing again. It was at her expense. If public humiliation was her punishment, then Annabel gladly bore it. Only now did she feel it safe to relinquish the knife and rest it on the table.
Darach yelled from the back of the hall, ‘Mistress. Ye’ve nae shortage of courage, that’s for sure.’
Gillis broke through the throng of people to add, ‘Even in thinking to defend herself against us with that wee table knife!’ His teasing started another round of laughter. ‘The laird will be proud when he hears about it!’
Only when Annabel drew out her chair and sat heavily upon it did the clan reseat themselves. Their laughter soon relaxed into casual conversation and they turned to their meals without further fuss.
Annabel looked from Gillis to Darach. They both gave her an approving nod, and settled themselves at one of the tables. Angus filled her cup with wine. She couldn’t gulp it fast enough.
Morag brought a tray of food to the table. ‘Are ye all right?’
‘Another cup of wine to settle my nerves, perhaps.’
Angus obliged. He shook his head and chuckled. ‘My word, lass. I’ve ne’er seen such a fierce battle stance. And on a woman, nae less!’
‘Ye’ve a right to laugh at me, but it was Jessie I held fears for.’
Morag lay her hand over Annabel’s and gave it a squeeze. ‘She’s in the kitchen and she’s safe. As are ye.’
Annabel let out a huge breath. ‘I’m so sorry. I hope to one day repay yer kindness and acceptance of me and Jessie. I should ne’er have put yers and the clan’s lives in jeopardy.’
‘Truth is,’ said Angus, ‘as long as the Redcoats continue to patrol the Highlands, none of us are safe. Look at what their deserters did to puir Thomas and his parents. ’Tis those random acts of unprovoked violence that so enrage us.’
‘Which is why,’ said Morag, ‘an innocent Scot on the run who escapes capture is a victory we all share. ’Tis yer courage and the risks ye’ve taken in assisting their passage to freedom that has earned ye respect.’
Humbling words, but Annabel felt no less guilty for her treachery. ‘Nae everyone considers a Jacobite fugitive innocent, and I had nae right to endanger yer lives.’
‘What’s done is done. Eat something, lass. I’ll let young Jessie ken the clan have had their fun and that ye’re nae worse off for it.’ Morag bustled her way out of the hall.
Angus loaded his plate with boiled pork and vegetables. ‘’Tis nae secret among the clan that Gillis and Darach fought at Culloden against the late laird’s wishes. There be others among us but they each were open and honest about it. We’d be hypocrites if we considered yer loyalty to the Stuart Prince any different to theirs. Just as weel ye pointed that out to Roderick.’
‘Was it his idea to scare the shite out of me?’
‘Nae,’ said Angus, through a wide grin. ‘That was my idea. With good reason.’ He grew suddenly serious and leaned closer to Annabel. ‘What ye did was behind the laird’s back. An affront to Roderick, to us.’ His eyes indicated those in the hall. ‘They ken Roderick will deal with ye on his own terms, but what just happened here allowed these people to retaliate without spilling yer blood, or inflicting any broken bones, cuts or bruises.’
His brutal honesty made Annabel shudder. She was lucky to have been dealt a light blow. Roderick, on the other hand, had handed her a life sentence. One she felt ill equipped to survive. Bairn or not, he’d detached himself from her. How would she cope without him in her life?
‘Where is he?’ asked Annabel.
‘Roderick?’
‘Aye.’
Angus hesitated, then took a swallow of wine. ‘He’ll be gone for several days.’
‘Gone? Where?’
‘Nae need for alarm, lass. Eat something before it goes cold.’
How could she not worry? Either Roderick instructed his great-uncle not to tell her, or the laird simply chose to avoid his inconvenient guest. Perhaps Morag, if asked, might be forthcoming with the truth.
Annabel helped herself to a little pottage and bread. Her thoughts danced over days and dates, calculating when next her monthly flow was due. In just over a week she should know whether or not she carried Roderick’s child.
She sat staring at her food, contemplating the bleak outcome of either scenario, when she sensed a sudden shift in the atmosphere, a tension more palpable than when the clan had looked ready to murder her. The hairs on her arm stood on end. She heard chair legs scrape hard and slow against the floor and the merry buzz of conversation died as quickly as a gust of wind extinguished a candle.
When she looked up, the clan were again on their feet. She followed the direction of their stares and froze in shock.
Captain Hubert Stokes stood in the great hall entrance, flanked and backed by four armed soldiers. This time, it wasn’t terror to strike at Annabel’s heart, but raw hostility. A single-minded focus to do whatever it takes to remove the stain of the monster in their midst and purge him from Finvreck’s sanctuary.