Chapter Seven

Abby came awake abruptly with a yank of her hair and a hand over her mouth. She had no time to cry out before another hand fell over her throat and dragged her into the shadows.

She’d trained often with her cousins, male and female. She could wield a sword with skill, shoot an arrow, and fire a pistol with good accuracy, but she had never been abducted by men who meant her harm before, and this had happened so quickly. How many were there? She tried to think through her fear but then a fist made contact with her face and almost knocked her out.

She managed to hold on while the world went out of focus and voices around her sounded warbled. Something pinched her breast and caused her pain. She cried out. At least, she thought she did. She still wasn’t sure if any of this was real. If it was, then let her faint and never wake from it.

Nae. It wasn’t in her nature to give up. She had to conquer her fear and think.

“I’m takin’ her first. I carried her!”

Who the hell was that? She didn’t recognize the deep, menacing voice close to her ear.

Something pinched her again. This time on her thigh. “Hurry with her,” said another male voice, hot along her throat. “Me and the boys are hard to burstin’.”

Her heart crashed hard against her ribs. How many were there? How would she fight them all? Her father was at least a day behind. Where was Daniel? She tried to scream his name but her mouth was stuffed with a rag. The more aware she became, the more she realized how dire her situation truly was. Two men on either side of her held her wrists while another pressed his body against her. A fourth man, dark, even in the moonlight, grinned and pointed a pistol at her head.

Abby closed her eyes and fought to think clearly. She’d never been so afraid in all her life. This was real. These men were talking about raping her. With her wrists bound, she couldn’t get to any of their weapons. She struggled but was finally victorious over her chattering teeth.

She opened her eyes again. She didn’t want to but she had to in order to see what was happening. The man who pressed her to him came closer to lick her face. She waited with stilled breath until he withdrew enough for her to smash her forehead into his.

The other men shouted when their comrade fell limp in the leaves. The two holding her wrists let her go to aid their companion.

She needed only an instant to free a dagger from one of the men. She managed to ram it into its owner’s back and then yank it back out. If she was going down, she’d go down fighting.

The cock of a pistol halted her movements. She turned her eyes toward the dark man with the pistol. As he took a step forward Abby was certain he could hear her heart thrashing wildly in her chest. He swung his hand over his shoulder, preparing to strike her.

She stared at him. She was a MacGregor and she would die proud like one. She wouldn’t cower or close her eyes.

That’s why she saw the sword come out of his belly. He looked as stunned as she, and then fell to the earth, dead. Abby looked up at the knight standing in his place and had never been so happy, so utterly grateful and relieved, to see anyone in her life. He finished her first victim with a blade to the neck and a kick to his shoulder, knocking the man off his knees, where he slumped over dead like his friend.

Her rescuer didn’t wait while Lieutenant Hubert, Captain Andrews, and Lieutenant Ashley made an end to the last two.

He tugged her away a few feet, then stopped and smoothed his palm over her hair, swiping it away so he could examine her face more closely. Judging from the rage darkening his eyes, she suspected she had a black eye.

“It’s not as bad as it likely looks.” She tried to smile but her cheekbone hurt.

His eyes softened on her for a brief moment, then he shook his head. “It’s bad. Don’t try to make light of it.”

She might have scowled at the way he tossed orders around, but he was correct, it was bad, and she wouldn’t argue. “I think I was knocked oot fer a wee bit,” she told him, reaching her hand to her cheek. She’d never been struck so by a man before. She swiped away the tear about to fall from her eye and looked up to find General Marlow’s warm gaze there to meet her.

“Forgive me,” he said roughly.

He sounded utterly repentant, but for what Abby had no idea. What could he possibly be asking her forgiveness for? He saved her life!

“I won’t let you out of my sight again,” he vowed.

“Ye won’t?” She asked faintly, torn between enjoying the concern in his voice and terrified that being with him constantly would destroy her and her plans. What if she began to like him, an English general who hated and killed Jacobites? What would her kin think? What if she strangled him for being a stubborn oaf and the queen hated her for it?

“Did they hurt any part of you that I cannot see?”

She shook her head. “I’m all right, truly.”

He didn’t look convinced. In fact, he frowned at her. But at least he quit asking her. Silent while they walked back to their camp, about a half mile away, she thought about the violence of what had happened to her and what might have happened to her had General Marlow not arrived in time. She’d never been so frightened in her life. No practice could ever prepare her for the real, raw danger of the world outside Camlochlin. Her father had been correct when he’d warned them all that Camlochlin gave them a false sense of safety. Outside their nest in the mountains, folks were capable of doing terrifying things. Until tonight she’d never understood true fear and what it could do to a soul. Or what being saved from such terrors was capable of doing to the heart.

When they reached camp he set her beside him against the tree. She didn’t protest. Her muscles were still trembling and her teeth chattered freely when she thanked him.

“I heard them talking,” she told him when he draped his blanket around her shoulder. “They were going to rape me.” She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the flow of tears burning to be free. She couldn’t forget it. How would she ever forget it?

“But you stopped them.” He reminded her in a whisper against her cheek.

“I didna’ stop them,” she insisted, leaning her lips up to his ear so he would hear her. “Ye did. Thank ye fer finding me.”

“I would have gone mad if I hadn’t.”

She lifted her head to look at him, wondering what he meant. His expression went soft. “Thank God, I did.”

“Why?” she asked softly, looking into his fire-lit eyes. “I’m a Jacobite. Why thank God that you found me?” She didn’t know why she was asking him such a bold question. Mayhap she wanted to break through the shield he seemed to wear around himself. Had killing so many men created it? Or was it there to guard him from something else?

“Because I vowed to my queen and to your father that I would protect you.”

She looked away, unsure of why his words stung a little.

“And because”—he cleared his throat but his voice sounded even deeper when he continued—“I’ve come to… you’re not at all what I thought you might be… what I mean is…”

She smiled at him, thinking how handsome he was dressed in humility. She’d seen it worn by some of the men at Camlochlin, but she hadn’t expected General Marlow to wear it. He was her clan’s enemy. She didn’t want to thank God for him tonight because if he hadn’t found her when he did… She didn’t want to like him. It felt too much like betrayal.

He didn’t have a chance to continue, since his men rushed to her side. After patiently answering their queries regarding her well-being, she thanked them for coming to her aid and bid them good night when Daniel ordered them to sleep. He would keep watch until the morning.

When they were alone again, Abby glanced at him, then looked away. She’d never felt so vulnerable in her life. She hated it, but she was glad she was with him during it. What was he trying to tell her before his men interrupted them?

“You’ve been through much tonight.” His heavy voice filled her ears. “Try to get some sleep. You have about four more hours until daylight.”

“Ye sound angry with me.”

He shook his head. “Not you. With myself. Now sleep.”

She couldn’t. She didn’t like sleeping outdoors in the first place. Now, after being attacked in the dark, she doubted she’d ever sleep again. “And what about ye? Will ye sleep too?”

“No, I’ll keep watch.”

She nodded and leaned against the trunk, thankful for his blanket, and closed her eyes. Voices invaded her thoughts almost immediately. Men, fighting over who would have her first.

She sat up again. “I’m not sleepy. I think I’ll keep watch with ye.”

He didn’t argue with her and she was thankful for that too.

“Tomorrow,” he said instead, staring into the flames, “we will begin training.”

“Fer what?”

“Staying alive.”

She’d thought she already knew how to do that, but she’d been wrong. “I know the principles, so I hope to be a quick student.”

“I share your hope. I’m your escort, not your teacher.”

“Of course.” That was all she wanted him to be—her escort. She didn’t expect him to like her and she certainly didn’t like him. He’d saved her life and she was in his debt, but that was all.

“Besides,” he added a moment later, “we’ll be back in England in a little over a se’nnight. You don’t have time to be slow.”

“Why can ye not continue to teach me when we get there? Are female warriors frowned upon at court?”

He didn’t answer her for so long she assumed the answer was yes and he didn’t wish to tell her. She wouldn’t push the issue. Not tonight. She would learn what he wanted to teach her quickly.

“I was verra afraid,” she admitted, needing to get it out of her. “I know I’m unharmed, but I canna’…” She laughed at herself. “I canna’ seem to shake it off.”

She felt foolish for saying it, but she didn’t know what else to do. This fear was new and unfamiliar to her. She didn’t know how to harness it. Or if she even should. Aye, she needed to control it. Home was far away and her father might as well have been in France. She couldn’t ask his advice. Daniel would have to do. She didn’t know General Marlow well, but she found that she actually didn’t mind showing herself to him a bit. He’d already seen her scared out of her wits and he hadn’t laughed at all her claims of protecting herself. Hell, but he’d raked down those men with a heavy, merciless arm. What could her sword ever do against him? He was a wee bit haughty and arrogant, but he hadn’t been brash or crude with her. He’d proven he would and could protect her. He made her feel safe. “I’m afraid I will have to live with fear for the rest of my life.”

“Learning to protect yourself will help, I vow it.”

His voice was like a blanket, covering her. The warmth of his body close to hers made her nerves feel raw and sensitive. She smiled, even though she knew he couldn’t see it.

“Ye dinna’ mind a lass knowin’ how to fight, then?”

So close to him, she could feel his every elongated breath. “I’d prefer she not only knew but could keep herself alive.”

Goodness, she was thankful he couldn’t see her grinning at him like a fool. She was sure she would hate herself in the morning, but she wanted to thank him with a kiss.

“D’ye think I’ll ever know enough to stop four men from killing me?” she asked him instead.

He turned to look at her, his breath warm along her brow. “Yes, you’ll know enough. I’ll make sure of it.”

She moved an inch closer to him. She was no stranger to freezing nights. Body heat was the best way to keep warm. When he stiffened beside her, she almost moved away.

“Fergive me, General,” she said, turning to the fire, mortified by her own boldness. “I was only trying to get warm.”

“Miss Campbell,” he responded in his clipped, English accent. “Regardless of how I feel about my enemies, I’m not some proper gentleman you have to put on airs to impress.” While he spoke he took up his blanket from around her shoulders and placed it around his, as well. “Tell me about your mother.”

“My mother?” Abby’s heart went from finally slowing to racing once again. Why would he want to know anything about her mother… the true queen of England? As he’d said, they were enemies.

“If you’re keeping watch with me,” he explained, his voice as smooth as the nearby flames, “talking will help you stay awake. Now, tell me why your mother wasn’t present at your departure. Does she live?”

Does she live? It was the question any one of her enemies wanted to know. Was he Davina Stuart’s enemy? She thought about it for a moment. Nae, he couldn’t be. It would mean he knew the truth about Davina’s identity. In order for him to know, Anne would have had to tell him. Abby doubted the queen would entrust the name of the true heir to anyone. Nae, he knew nothing.

She let her herself relax a little and snuggled closer into his blanket.

“She was verra’ ill last winter and it took its measure on her slight frame. She is still recovering.”

“That’s good news,” he said. “Her illness must have been very difficult for your father. Being the kind of warrior he is and not being able to help her…”

She knew what he was doing. He was averting her thoughts from the new fears that enveloped her and moving them toward the love of her kin. But how did he know how hard her mother’s sickness was for her father?

“He feared losing her,” she told him, wanting him to know he was right. “He paced before the door to their bedchamber hour after hour, day after day, while priests and physicians came and went. He prayed by their bedside every night and held her and whispered things to her during her fevered deliriums. He chased away her nurses and fed her tea and soup and kept her head cool with wet rags. Ye may laugh and mock such tender care and unshakable dedication to keeping her alive, but I believe that he did help her, General. I believe he fought for her and brought her back.”

His eyes lingered on her for a moment, reading her, taking in the depth of her words and snatching her breath away. “It would seem so,” he replied without the mockery she expected.

He remained quiet for a moment, seeming to ponder something in his mind. “That’s a mighty difficult memory to compete with.”

“Aye.” She smiled at him, liking that he understood. What could compete with watching her big, brawny bear of a father carrying her fevered mother up and down the hall and whispering close to her ear how much he adored her and needed her in his life? “ ’Twould be difficult.”

“You must resemble her.”

“Pardon?”

“Your mother. You must look like her. I saw your father and you don’t have his face or his coloring.”

She laughed. “My mother is beautiful.”

“Hell,” he said, “you don’t think you’re beautiful?”

She was glad for the shadows cast by the trees. They prevented him from seeing the flush burning up her cheeks. She also liked how the loss of vision honed her other senses. His scent of leather and metal and a hint of pleasant sandalwood went straight to her head like fine wine. The silken cadence of his voice that only she could hear. The width and strength of his shoulder against hers as they huddled beneath his blanket.

She knew she wasn’t homely. But out of all her cousins, she was the least attractive. Caitrina, stunning with her mischievous dimples; Mailie, with her fiery red waves; and Nichola, with her breathtaking golden, green eyes turned many heads. She was white like snow. Plain and drab.

“I dinna’ often think about my appearance,” she told him.

She was certain he moved a little nearer. “What do you think about then?”

She shrugged and liked the feel of his body so close. “I think about my clan and the best ways to protect and take care of them.”

“Isn’t that your father’s duty as clan chief?”

She could hear the smile in his voice above her. She wanted to see it. She looked up at him but it was too dark beneath the blanket.

“Aye, ’tis, but someday, ’twill be my duty as well.”

“You plan on becoming chief?”

She nodded and told him about her brother Adam and her plans, and her kin, careful not to tell him anything about her royal blood. He was easy to talk to, and soon she forgot all about other men and their dangerous ways.

“What are you doing serving the queen as a handmaiden if you intend on becoming your clan’s chief?” he asked her.

He didn’t know the true purpose of her visit to England. She wondered what her aunt had told him.

“She requested I come and to keep peace with her, I accepted.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Why d’ye scowl so much, General?” she asked him before he had time to ask her anything else.

He was silent for a moment, his breath falling faintly on her jaw. “I hadn’t realized that I did.”

“Ye never smile,” she assured him.

“Is that so?” The playful dip in his voice set her flesh on fire. “I’m smiling at this precise moment.”

“Prove it.”

He took her hand, and covering her fingers in his, he carried them to his mouth. “Do you feel it?”

“Aye.” She barely breathed while he traced her fingertips over his curved lips. “I feel it.”

“You can always trust my word, my lady.”

He wasn’t supposed to make her feel weak, and breathless, and he especially wasn’t supposed to make her feel like a fevered maiden anxious for his touch.

Why, oh why, did he have to be the damned Jacobite killer? Why did the most chivalrous stranger she’d ever met have to be the deadliest man alive when it came to her kin?

She couldn’t trust him, even if he’d just saved her life. Not ever.