Chapter Eighteen

Abby’s heart broke for Daniel while she stood beside him over his friend’s bed.

Hubert was dead, along with Lieutenant Ashley. Only God knew what had happened to Captain Andrews. She understood the weight Daniel bore on his shoulders for his men. She felt it for her kin. Losing even one would devastate her.

She waited quietly while he confirmed what Nora had told him. Hubert had left them. She watched Daniel’s features shift with emotion, mostly anger—but everything else made her throat burn.

She wanted to comfort him, but listened instead while he spoke to Cam MacPherson about burying Hubert before he left.

“Of course, General, ye’re welcome to stay as long as ye wish. Ye’ll have whatever ye need.”

If MacPherson was lying, Daniel didn’t seem to care.

When all the arrangements were made, Daniel left the room, with Abby close behind. When he saw her, he looked so pained she nearly choked on her tears. He’d lost two friends and the third was missing.

“Daniel, I’m so—”

“Your father wants you to return to Skye,” he said abruptly, interrupting her without looking into her eyes. “I think he may be correct. The dangers to your life are too great to ignore. I’ll deal with the queen.”

Then he had been considering it. When she’d heard him with Nora earlier, she suspected that he was rethinking his duty. It had frightened her, but he’d convinced her that she was wrong. But now…

“She will send an army to Skye if I dinna’ go to her,” she told him, risking much. “I canna’ let ye stop me.”

He stared at her, looking for the truth. “Why you? Why not…”

“Nora?” she provided. It was a logical question and she hadn’t thought of a believable answer. None of her kin had anticipated General Marlow. How much truth could she tell him without his guessing the rest on his own? Did she dare risk it? If she didn’t, he wouldn’t take her to England and the queen would send her army anyway.

“My faither knows someone close to the queen.” A truth. “Making peace with my clan first almost guarantees her success with MacPherson.” Did that sound believable? Damn it, there was nothing she could do about it now. She decided quickly that changing the topic was best.

“Ye mentioned wanting to keep me safe from yerself. I would like to know what ye meant and how ye think ye’re going to hand me over to my faither, yer duty undone.”

“Your father wants to keep you safe, as well.”

“What aboot what I want?”

“You want peace for the Jacobites. We can accomplish that feat with Nora.”

She closed her eyes and prayed for a direction to take. She wanted to tell him the truth. She wanted to make him understand what this meant to her. What it really meant. Of course, she wanted peace between the throne and the Jacobites, but she wasn’t a fool. She knew what Cameron had said was true. There would be no peace until James Francis took the throne. But none of that mattered anymore because Anne knew about her sister, Davina. The stakes had changed. Everything was personal now. Whatever danger she was in was worth the risk. She wasn’t giving up and going back now. “I want more than that, Daniel. I want… I want time to convince the queen to… to lift the proscription from my clan.” She felt ill suddenly, not telling him everything. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him… “My motives are selfish, I admit.” She tried to stop the moisture from pooling in her lids, but her words, though they were not about her mother’s true identity, were sincere. “I’m doing this fer my kin more than my country. It needs to be me, Daniel. If ye stop me it could cost the lives of those I love when they are arrested and hanged without trial simply because of their name.”

“You’re on a crusade for your name.” He lifted one corner of his mouth into a smile that made her kneecaps burn. “I recall hearing tales about a MacGregor chief who went to war with the Campbells because of his name.”

“Aye, my grandsire. Take me with ye and I’ll tell ye about him. Please, Daniel. Miss MacPherson will likely try to kill Queen Anne an hour after she arrives.”

He stared into her eyes, tearing away her defenses. But his seemed to desert him as well. “It will be just me and you. Your father worries that you—”

She took a step back. “My father will see it my way. Come, let’s find him.”

She hurried ahead of him down the stairs to find her relatives. She believed that her father had voiced his concerns about her safety because Daniel was escorting her alone now. She was no longer a babe. She was going to be chief one day—it was time she made her own decisions.

She found her kin in the Great Hall and sat at the table with them. She didn’t care what anyone made of it. She had to speak to her father now. She wouldn’t wait.

“Alas, Hubert has died in his sickbed”—she waited while the Highlanders lifted their cups to Hubert and gave honor to his memory—“therefore we have no more reason to remain here. General Marlow and I will be leaving tomorrow, after Hubert is properly buried.”

“Abigail.” Her father took her hand and pulled her down gently to sit beside him.

“Aye, Faither?”

She watched his sapphire eyes rise to Daniel. “General Marlow and I have decided that ’tis safer fer ye to return to Skye. Is that no’ correct, General?”

Both men avoided her gaze and missed her blazing cheeks.

“It’s correct,” Daniel admitted, his large green eyes finally settling on her. “But your daughter has put your clan’s safety above her own.”

“Och! Stop!” Abby sprang from her seat and glared at both of them. “I’m not going back to Skye. I’m continuing on the course I set fer myself and neither of ye will stop me!”

“What good will yer course be,” her father asked her softly, “if ye’re dead?”

She knew he was talking about her quest to win over the queen and convince her that her mother didn’t want the throne.

“The same good ’twill be when an army comes barreling over the hills of our home,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest. “Besides, I willna’ be killed with him guarding me.” She darted a glance at Daniel. “He took down fifteen men and could have easily taken fifteen more. Ye must stop worrying and let me do what I have to do. Fer I will do so with or without yer approval.”

Sitting in a chair next to her father, her uncle Colin laughed and patted his oldest brother’s back. “At least she’s not off on some bloody pirate ship, like my son and Connor’s only daughter.”

Hell, it was true, Abby thought. She was going to England, not the West Indies like her cousin Caitrina for goodness sakes!

“As I was saying, Faither. I’m continuing on to England with General Marlow. We are leaving tomorrow, after Hubert is buried. I wish fer ye to go on ahead, rather than make ye wait fer us in the forest. We will meet ye in England twenty-three hours after ye arrive. But we must stick with the plan.” She set her gaze on her uncles, then looked back at her father. “We cannot alert the queen to yer presence in England. Doing so will put General Marlow in a verra’ precarious position.”

“Abigail—” Her father lifted his palm to refuse her.

“Faither,” she cut him off gently, lovingly. “This needs to be done fer the good of our kin. I will not be stopped.”

He looked as if he wanted to say something, but he stayed his words with a quiet laugh and said, instead, “My blood runs through ye, daughter.”

He turned to his brothers and stood up. They followed. “We do as she asks and leave today. Gather the others.”

She couldn’t fling her arms around her father’s neck without drawing attention. She smiled at him instead and whispered her thanks as he prepared to leave her.

He trusted her and it meant more to her than any of them knew. She swiped a tear from her eye and turned to Daniel.

“They’re leaving without me,” she stated, looking up into his eyes. “Now ye have nae choice to bring me with ye.”

She moved to pass him and return to her room, but he caught her and pulled her back just close enough to say into her ear, “I already had no choice, my lady.” He leaned into her and pressed his mouth against her lobe before he moved away again. “My lord MacGregor!” he shouted across the Great Hall, stopping her father, who was about to leave.

“Nae! Please, I beg ye!” Abby clutched his arm. “Please take me, else I’ll have to find someone else who will. And ye are the only one I trust.”

His breath slowed and deepened and he swore softly enough that only she could hear. Then he called out to her father, “My previous promise stands.”

Her father nodded, looked at her, and then looked around and left.

“Thank ye,” she managed and rested her forehead on his chest when her kin left the hall.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he told her.

“I will handle whatever difficulties arise,” Abby said, sitting down at the table.

He sat next to her and didn’t return her smile. “And what about whoever just lured my men away from camp and slaughtered them without going back to loot the camp.”

“But someone was looting the camp when we got there,” Abby reminded him. “Then again, just because MacPherson was robbing the camp doesna’ mean he led the attack.”

“I know.” He nodded, agreeing with her. “There’s one other man who might have done it. But that Jacobite still tried to rob me.”

Abby looked away as their supper was placed before them. He hated Jacobites. How could she let herself forget that? How could she ever bring him to Camlochlin and anywhere near her mother?

“Why must you risk all and go?” he asked her, lifting his cup to his lips. “And what is this plan you spoke of with your father?”

She wasn’t prepared for his query. Weren’t they just talking about who might have attacked them?

“ ’Tis my duty to my clan to do all I can to keep them safe.” She truly believed that. “I have something to prove to the men, men, I remind ye, who have fought one battle or another.” She didn’t believe that. She had to deceive him. She had no choice.

He took her hand under the table and set her nerve-endings ablaze. “I’ll do what I can to help you.”

She smiled faintly. She didn’t want him to help her too much, but at least he believed her. For now.

Just then, MacPherson entered the hall, found them sitting where the MacGregors had been, and headed straight for Daniel. He held in his hand a folded parchment. Its broken seal revealed that he’d already read its contents. “General, a letter was just delivered into my hands from England. ’Twas penned by someone you know.” The leader of the Jacobite rebellion smiled and held the parchment away when Daniel reached for it. “I would insist first on ye agreeing to my request.”

“As I’ve already said,” Daniel told him, “for trying to help Hubert, you will have three months without me on your tail. I will extend to you another three months for this information. If you refuse my proposal and keep the letter to yourself, the first three months will stand, but after that I’ll find you and bring an end to your cause once and for all.”

Abby paled. MacPherson’s cause was hers as well. She was falling in love with a man who would always be a danger to her kin… to her.

MacPherson handed the letter to him and looked at Abby. “Verra’ well, then. ’Tis from Richard Montagu, Earl of Manchester.”