In the evening, Annabel dined in the great hall and sat between Angus and Roderick at the high table. Albeit not as the laird’s wife, but as his guest.
Wife or guest, it didn’t matter. She’d secured for herself a life at Finvreck and a means by which to continue with her patriotic cause. But for how long? She’d not counted on having the castle’s laird stay in residence with the possibility of him stumbling on her seditious secret. Worse still, she hadn’t planned on developing an acute attraction to him or to engage in intimate relations with him.
To her side, Roderick busied himself in conversation with another, while she sat keenly aware of the curious stares from clansmen seated at the trestle tables. Was there one among them who saw straight through her treasonous heart?
‘’Tis all right, lass,’ winked Angus, picking up on the inquisitive glances. He leaned close and whispered, ‘’Tis the first time they see the two of ye seated together. They ken naught of what yer father and Roderick discussed about the proxy marriage and still believe ye wed to their laird.’
Funny how that had become the least of Annabel’s concerns and yet the old man’s observations surprised her. ‘If he hasnae already done so, I’m sure Roderick will soon tell all that I’m here as his guest and nae his wife. The truth will travel fast, as did news of his arrival.’
‘On the contrary, the morning after his arrival I did my best to force him to accept his responsibility as laird in front of a crowded hall. Although he announced his impending search to have someone replace him, he didnae publicly denounce his marriage to ye when clansmen offered a toast and congratulated him.’
It was a baffling revelation.
‘Even more promising,’ added Angus, ‘is that to my knowledge he’s done nothing more about finding his replacement as laird. What do ye make of that?’
It struck Annabel that Roderick’s great-uncle was in favour of the marriage. ‘Why do ye care?’ she asked kindly.
‘Och, lass, at first I was opposed to the marriage. I saw nae advantage to the forced union. But I’m beginning to see why the late laird, and yer father, believed yer hand destined to hold Roderick’s. Ye see—’
‘What yarn do you spin about me now, Uncle?’ Roderick interrupted.
Angus winked again at Annabel. ‘’Tis between the lass and me.’
Relaxed conversation between the three of them continued pleasantly enough until Roderick briefed Angus of today’s meeting with Captain Hubert Stokes.
Angus frowned. The lines on his face deepened with news of fugitives on the run. ‘That captain has a black heart and an even darker mind. Came poking around here nae long after we buried yer mother. Convinced he was that we were harbouring Jacobite rebels …’
Every muscle in Annabel’s body tensed.
‘... and ‘twas only when he learned it were Jacobite rebels who murdered yer mother that he spared Finvreck a ransacking. Just as well ye’ve a silver tongue, Roderick. Ye might have survived today’s chance encounter unscathed, but he’s a man nae to be stirred into action.’
Annabel suffered Roderick’s penetrating stare. She felt set to implode with guilt. He’d promised to protect her for as long as she lived beneath his roof. God forbid he discover her betrayal of him.
‘Ye’ve gone deathly pale, lass,’ said Angus. ‘Are ye feeling all right?’
Gillis and Darach made their timely entrance into the hall. Annabel seized the opportunity to deflect the focus of attention from her to them. She nodded their way and touched the laird’s arm. ‘Yer men look a little harried.’
To her relief, Roderick immediately stood and waved them to one side of the hall, where he engaged them in private conversation.
Angus slid his glass towards her. ‘Take a wee dram. Ye look like ye need it.’
‘’Tis been a long day is all.’ Annabel followed his advice, bolstered by the whisky’s honeyed heat coating her dry throat.
‘The laird eyes ye in the same way as when his father began courting his mother.’
So unexpected the comment that Annabel choked violently on her next swallow. Angus patted her back. ‘And if ye think to contradict me then see now how he’s abandoned his conversation and looks across the hall to ye with concern.’
Angus raised his hand and signalled to Roderick that all was well with their guest.
‘He’s nae courting me.’ Annabel whispered the terse words through gasps of air.
Angus showed his discoloured teeth behind a wide grin. ‘His eyes court ye. And I’ll be so bold as to declare ye’ve been doing the same. I might be getting old, lass, but I’ve still the sight of an eagle. Ye two will one day wed. Of that, I’m sure.’
She humoured him with a smile. ‘Ye’ve the sight of a seer, have ye?’ The old man’s prediction was as flawed as Annabel. ‘I think I’ll retire for the night.’ She didn’t know how else to respond.
Angus stood out of respect when she excused herself from the table.
Annabel’s hurried strides carried her halfway through the hall when a hand closed around her wrist. She recognised the strong touch even before she swung around to face Roderick. Angus was right. Concern for her lay bare in his blue eyes.
That he should care for her wellbeing, even if she’d suffered no more than a coughing bout, flipped her heart. ‘I’m fine,’ she said before he could ask, conscious of the many eyes watching them. ‘Weary, is all. Nothing a long sleep willnae fix.’
‘That’s not what disturbs me.’ His grip tightened before letting go.
Annabel shot a glance at Gillis and Darach. ‘What news from yer men?’
Worry clung to Roderick’s brow. He leaned close and spoke beside her ear. ‘The captain and his men are camped but half an hour’s ride from Finvreck.’
Annabel pulled back in alarm. ‘Why?’
‘I mean to find out.’ He watched her closely.
‘They should be long gone by now.’
‘Aye.’ His jaw ticked. ‘But something, or someone, keeps the captain here. On my land.’
Annabel saw the accusation in his eyes. It pained her to lie to his face. ‘I cannae think what keeps him here.’
He lifted a single eyebrow. ‘Think harder, Annabel. And when you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen without prejudice.’
If only she could believe his quiet, steely words. She fought off debilitating guilt. ‘What should be done about it? The Redcoats, I mean.’
‘I’ll send men now to keep watch through the night and have them report back should anything untoward occur. Tomorrow morning, I’ll pay the captain a visit. Depending on the outcome, I’ll continue my rounds in meeting the cottars and aiding those in need. I expect to be gone all day. Gillis and Darach will accompany me. Do not, under any circumstance, leave the safety of Finvreck.’
That, she couldn’t promise. ‘I understand.’
‘In the evening, you and I will proceed with your lessons.’
‘Lessons?’ News of the captain’s whereabouts had set Annabel’s mind awhirl.
‘Reading. Writing. In the library.’
‘Oh! Aye, of course. When?’
Roderick stared at her mouth. ‘After the evening meal.’ His eyes lifted to meet her gaze. ‘Perhaps, during the day, you’ll find time to practice what I’ve taught you thus far. We’ll begin the lesson with revision.’
There was a switch in his tone of voice. Something that said he wasn’t referencing lessons in literacy. Her heart lurched with the memory of his mouth between her legs. The desire to experience again that pleasurable release robbed her of speech. She merely nodded in lieu of saying goodnight. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know the laird’s gaze followed her upon exiting the hall.
She followed the passageways, distracted by Roderick’s disturbing news, when suddenly a hand smothered her mouth and an arm snaked around her waist, dragging her into the shadows of a lesser-used corridor. She struggled to no avail and her screams went unheard.
‘Be still, lass. I’m nae here to harm ye.’
Annabel needed more reassurance than that and so continued to fight her captor. She stomped on his foot, vindicated by his grunt.
There came a low-key growl. ‘Ye’re supposed to hide me, nae disable me.’
Annabel ceased her struggle.
‘We fight for the same cause, lass,’ whispered the man at her back. ‘Like ye, I would assist in the escape of fugitives but now it’s me the English hunt. I need ye to hide me in a secure location, there to meet a ship with the next full moon.’ He sounded desperate enough.
Annabel tried unsuccessfully to pull his grimy hand from her mouth.
‘Promise ye willnae scream?’
She’d agree to that if only to be set free. A single nod secured her release. She spun on her heel and stepped out of his reach. The darkened corridor made it difficult to see the stranger’s face but his rank, unwashed odour hung in the air. ‘Who are ye and what makes ye think I am any one to help ye?’ Annabel had to be sure this wasn’t a trap.
‘My name is Raibeart Ramsay. Here. Take this.’ He held in his hand a folded piece of parchment. ‘There’s nae other at Finvreck to fit the description.’
Annabel unfolded the parchment and walked towards the light from a lit wall sconce in a connecting corridor. She recognised the familiar hand of the sea captain who’d sketched a woman in her likeness and had inked her hair red. The image of a white Jacobite rose was drawn on her skirts. An outline of the western coastline pinpointed Finvreck.
She recalled the sketches on the paper she’d tossed in the fire. There was precious little time to interrogate this man, especially where they stood and at risk of being seen, but the safety of her own life demanded it. ‘Are ye alone?’ she said in hushed tones. There were supposed to be two men.
‘Aye. There was another but he’s now dead.’
‘What happened?’
‘Redcoats spotted us some ten miles from here. We ran. He was shot.’
‘And now they’ll search for ye!’
‘Aye. I suppose they will.’
It would explain why Captain Stokes and his troops were camped close by. Good God. And Roderick would learn of it when he visited the captain early tomorrow morning. It was only a matter of time before the captain would demand to search Finvreck. Unless Roderick convinced him otherwise.
Annabel stood paralysed with fear. There was no end to the possible scenarios and how each might play out. Roderick’s suspicions of her would be further roused, of that she was sure. She’d never come even remotely close to this kind of danger, of having her involvement in covert operations being discovered and exposed. There’d been no risk to anyone’s life except hers and the fugitives she helped set free.
Now, it wasn’t Raibeart’s life or her own for which she held grave fears, but rather for Roderick, for Jessie, Angus and Morag. Young Thomas!
Any member of the MacLeod clan would be considered guilty of harbouring a fugitive and there was no telling what means or methods the ruthless Hubert Stokes would enforce to ferret out and capture Raibeart Ramsay, dead or alive.
‘Lass! Lass,’ came the harsh whisper. ‘Someone approaches!’
Raibeart yanked her away from the light and into the dark. They watched as people shadows danced along the stone walls when rounding an adjoining corridor.
Annabel pulled herself together and waved the parchment in Raibeart’s face. ‘Did yer friend carry a similar note?’
‘Nae.’ He snatched it from her and shoved it into his coat pocket.
‘Destroy it.’
‘I will. When I’m safely aboard that ship.’
Annabel had no choice but to smuggle Raibeart from the castle tonight and lead him to the cave where she’d hidden her uncle. For that, she would need to wear her disguise.
Under cover of night, and with the castle hall and outer courtyard still bustling with activity, she’d smuggle her charge undetected through the postern gate and sneak back to her bed long before Roderick and his men would rise to front at the Redcoat’s camp.
Annabel issued Raibeart the stern warning, ‘Listen carefully,’ and detailed their plan of escape.
* * *
Before night gave way to dawn, Annabel hurried through the outer courtyard and slipped through a back door into the kitchen. Bread had been set to rise the night before, close to the banked fires. Embers glowed bright enough for her to make her way around several bodies sprawled out and snoring on the ground. Soon the cooks would wake their help and heat the ovens ready to bake the dough.
No sooner had Annabel left the kitchen and rounded a dimly lit corridor when she collided with a sturdy man, knocking her to the ground.
‘Watch where ye’re going, ye lanky gowk!’
Annabel sprang to her feet before he finished speaking the whisky-slurred words. She peered beneath the brim of her hat to meet the man’s bleary-eyed glower.
Gillis. Not again.
In her effort to dodge past him, he swayed and blocked her path. His bushy red brows met in a deep scowl before squinting eyes opened wide.
‘Ye!’ He shoved her left shoulder.
Annabel set distance between them and dipped her head to ensure the hat’s brim partially concealed her face.
‘Ye’re the one what did this!’ Gillis stabbed the same finger on his bruised forehead with such force that in his drunken stupor he stumbled backwards. Annabel would have laughed had her predicament not been so dire.
In fear of him discovering her identity, and before he could regain his balance, she lunged forwards and kneed him in the groin. Remorse filled her for having done so. He groaned and doubled over. As she sprinted past him, he mustered strength enough to rise and take a clumsy swipe at her, knocking the hat clear off her head and exposing the linen cap concealing her hair. She didn’t stop to bend and retrieve it; to do so would put her at risk of being caught. She fled down the corridor out of sight and up the stairs in the direction of her bedchamber.
In her wake, a string of colourful slurred oaths singed her ears and shattered the pre-dawn silence.
She gave three quick taps on her chamber door. Jessie unlatched it from inside, admitting Annabel into the room and closing it swiftly behind her. Annabel slumped into the chair beside the hearth and heaved a sigh of relief.
Earlier, Jessie had voiced her staunch disapproval when helping Annabel change into her disguise and now proceeded to deliver another hushed, stinging reprimand. She suddenly stopped mid-tirade. ‘Where’s yer hat?’
Annabel pulled the linen cap from her head. When she explained the fate of her hat, the maid castigated her like a priest’s sermon to the sinners in a church. This time, her words rang true and the message sank in.
Annabel leaned forwards in the chair. ‘Ye’re right, Jessie, but tonight, even before my close encounter with Gillis, I’d realised I can nae longer continue with the cause. Nae while I remain here at Finvreck.’
Jessie flung herself at Annabel’s feet and hugged her close. ‘Mistress! A sane and sensible decision it is.’
‘What a fool I’ve been! A self-centred, self-righteous, ignorant, stubborn fool. I see that now.’
Jessie pulled back. Her lips moved in silent prayer as she crossed herself.
Despair had worked its way deep into Annabel’s soul. She took the maid’s hands in hers and squeezed hard. ‘Oh, Jessie! How could I have believed it possible to carry on the good of the cause without risk or consequence to innocent lives? Yer life! All who’ve welcomed us here at Finvreck.’
‘There’s yer life too, mistress.’
It was a grim reminder to Annabel that her own safety was never her consideration. She’d never had good reason to place value on her own existence, having been taught to think herself unworthy. Although of late, she’d dared to feel worthy of living for someone.
When had living for something become living for someone? The answer to that was simple. It was from the moment she’d met Roderick MacLeod.
‘I’ve a duty of care to Raibeart Ramsay and will fulfil my promise to see him safely from these shores.’
‘Please, mistress! Nae more night-time escapades. ’Tis dangerous enough without ye having to scale up and down those cliffs in the dark.’
‘Aye. He’s enough to eat and drink for a few days but I must somehow continue to deliver him food without anyone aware of it.’
‘Perhaps we can walk the cliffs under the pretence of enjoying a picnic. I could keep watch while ye pay him a quick visit. Tell him that we’ll hide food parcels in a dedicated place among the rocks or beneath the gorse. He could retrieve the parcels by night.’
‘But I must also devise a plan to facilitate his escape when the ship arrives at the end of the month. The ship’s captain willnae send a skiff ashore if he disnae first sight me.’
‘I’m sure that between the two of us we’ll think of something reasonable and safe.’
Annabel fell back in the chair. ‘Jessie! Ye surprise me.’
‘Aye, weel, anything to prevent ye from skulking in and around this castle at night dressed as ye are.’ Jessie stood up. ‘Take off those clothes and we’ll wash ye clean of dirt and sand. Ye’ll need some sleep or the laird will be wanting to ken why ye’ve shadows under yer eyes.’
If there was one thing to prevent Annabel from getting any sleep, it would come from thinking about Roderick MacLeod. Already she looked forward to her next lesson. That which required no book or quill.