3

August came and the days were warm, with the fleeting brilliance of the Scottish summer; the days were so lovely and so full of the radiance of sun and fulfilment that Katharine preferred the coolness and gloom of the Castle. It was impossible to control the traitorous comparisons between Kincarrig and the idyllic days which might have been, and the emptiness and tragedy of what had become her daily life. She had tried not to think of James, his name was forbidden; even Robert was no longer mentioned, though his tomb in the vault was covered in fresh flowers, the gift of the servants who had known and loved him, and she often searched in vain for her father, only to find him kneeling in the cold beside the new grave in the vault.

Nothing could bring her brother back, and all she could do was to try to bury the memory of her love and the man who had betrayed it until it was as dead as the companion of her childhood. News came to them through friends who passed to offer their sympathy, but they were on their way to join the Prince, for the banner of the Stuarts was flying once again in the Highlands and the clans were rallying to it and to the romantic symbol of their vanished independence, Prince Charles himself. It was the middle of the month and their last visitor, the young laird Grant of Glenmoriston, had left them after a stay of two nights to join the Prince’s army. The Castle was silent and empty. The Earl had gone to his rooms; he retired early, and often now Angus and his steward helped him to bed and took the empty whisky bottle out of his hand. The night was warm, and as Katharine sat on alone in the Green Salon, unable to sleep and unwilling to go to her room, the heat became oppressive to her. She threw her needlework aside and, opening the long windows out on to the terrace, she stepped through into the moonlit garden. There was no sound but the movement of a gentle wind that stirred the trees. Beyond the terrace there was an arbour, shaded by creepers and flowering shrubs. The smell of them was sweet and strong and she began to walk towards it. In the days of her engagement, James had often walked with her there and sat beside her on the stone seat, hidden from view of the house; there they had kissed and talked of their future.

She was in the shadow of the trees when someone sprang on her, and a hand covered her mouth, stifling her cry of fear, and then the arms which held her were familiar and the voice that whispered turned her to stone. Her body recognized him and her senses leapt in agony at the warmth and the touch which had been denied them for so long.

He turned her round and held her, still covering her lips with his hand, and then the hand was gone and his mouth met hers and took possession of it, demanding, desperate, and in that second she was lost and her lips opened. For a long moment they stayed still, the man and the woman, fused by his physical strength so that she was incapable of struggling free. His hold was so powerful that he hurt her, but the pain in her pinioned arms only added to the torturing delight of that wild savage kiss which denied her speech and breath until, at last, he raised his head and they were face to face.

“My love,” he said. “My love, my darling … I had to see you.” She pulled away from him, appalled at herself, her body trembling, her skin burning where he had touched her.

“You devil,” she spat at him. “You murdering devil …”

“Abuse me all you wish,” he told her, and she heard his voice break. “I knew if I could only find you, it would be all right again. Oh, Katharine, Katharine, whatever you say I know what happened when I held you in my arms … beloved, listen to me for one moment!”

“Listen to you!” Katharine backed away from him, but he had caught her hands and held them. “Listen to the man who took my love and my trust and then betrayed me? … You must be mad, Macdonald of Dundrenan, to come here and think that I would stand and listen to you! Are you so eager for death? Have you forgotten your servant who came here to give your lying message?”

“They said it was your doing but I did not believe them,” James whispered. “Even when I took the necklace from his neck, I didn’t believe that you had taken any part in it …”

“Then you were wrong,” Katharine answered, and now her voice was cold and level, and the moment of abandonment was gone. He stood in front of her, holding her hands in his until she dug her nails into him and he released her.

“I watched my father’s men kill your messenger,” she said. “And all I regretted was that it was him and not you … Do you suppose I have forgotten my brother? Robert, who loved me and whom I loved better than anyone in the world … he helped us, do you remember? He persuaded my father to receive you. And then you killed him, foully and vilely in an ambush!”

“I had no choice,” James said. “He wouldn’t join the Prince; the Prince’s emissary demanded his life of us as a point of honour. My father sent us after him, but I swear to God, Katharine, that it was not I who killed him. I fought him fairly and he might as well have killed me. My brother Hugh ran him through the back. And that’s the truth!”

“You’re lying,” she said. “There was a witness. One of our men was still alive and I heard his dying words as I held my brother’s body in my arms … ‘James Macdonald did it’ … you, James, not your brother, but you!”

“It was dark,” he countered. “The man must have been wounded to death. He didn’t see what really happened. Katharine, why should I lie to you now? I didn’t kill Robert – whether I meant to is not the point between us now. I didn’t kill him.”

He came close to her and fell on his knees.

“I’ve never knelt to God or man for as long as I can remember,” he said hoarsely. “But I’m at your feet now, and all I ask is that you will believe me and forgive me. Call for your father, let him revenge himself as he will. I’ll die contented if you will only say you love me still!”

His face was in shadow and she could not be sure, but from the sound of his voice she thought that he was weeping.

“I never loved you,” she said slowly. “As you never loved me. There was nothing between us but lust. And lust is all you’ve ever known. I am defiled from ever touching you.”

“I don’t believe you,” he said; he stood up and they remained still, close enough to touch but without moving. “If I took you now you’d submit. And I know it, and you know it. There may be blood between us, but if you truly loved me you’d forgive and come to me of your own will. I’m going to Perth to join the Prince tomorrow, but I couldn’t go without one word from you, one sight of you … and your forgiveness. Katharine, my only love, I beg of you. Forgive me.”

There was a moment when madness came upon her, a temptation so strong that she felt herself move and knew that in one more moment she would throw herself into his arms and swear that nothing mattered, neither Robert nor her father nor anything in the world but the overwhelming passion which had woken again when she believed it killed by hatred. Her only defence against herself was to attack him, and the hand which had reached out towards him now swung round and struck him a violent blow across the face.

“That is my forgiveness! And I pray to God you find an early grave. Now go!”

He touched his cheek very slowly. The moonlight was on her now and all he could see was the beautiful face he loved contorted by loathing, and the hatred in her eyes was like a second blow.

“I was prepared for death,” he said at last. “I was prepared for you to call out and deliver me to your people. I offered it, if you remember. If you had loved me I would have been content to die. But now I see I was a fool to come. Your love was given lightly, as lightly as you gave your kiss only a few moments ago. Whatever you had done, Katharine, I would have followed you to the end of the earth and defended you against God and all the hosts of heaven. I imagined that you had that kind of love for me. Good Christ,” he said savagely, “the poor harlots in Edinburgh have better hearts than you! What a fool, what a besotted fool, to think that a Fraser could be generous and give back love for love. Now listen well to me, for it’s the last time you and I will ever speak … I didn’t kill your brother. I thought he was a coward and a traitor to refuse to fight for his Prince and I might well have killed him, but I didn’t. And now it doesn’t matter to me. Give this message to your father. When the war is over and we are victorious, he’ll know where to find James Macdonald of Dundrenan! And now you can scream for help without any hindrance from me. I wouldn’t put a hand on you even to save my life!”

“James!” She cried out his name before she could stop herself but he had gone, and there was nothing but the shadowed arbour and the sound of the rising wind. He did not look back; he ran through the garden and out through the little side gate whose lock he had forced to get in and see her. He did not look back and so he did not see her slowly sink down on her knees or hear the sound of desperate weeping. It was nearly midnight when Annie came down to the Green Salon and out through the open window and found her mistress kneeling on the damp path, crying as if her heart would break. Gently she gathered Katharine into her arms. And then her sharp instincts told her what had happened.

“He’s been here!” she whispered. “I know it. What happened, milady? Dry your poor eyes and tell me.”

“Oh God! I was out walking in the garden alone when suddenly someone sprang out on me … it was him, Annie. He said he’d come to ask me to forgive him. He swore he didn’t kill Robert.”

“And what did ye do?” the maid asked her quietly.

“I struck him,” Katharine said slowly. “I told him I hated him and wished him dead.”

“It’s as well you did,” Annie said. “He might well have abducted ye otherwise. Och, thank God no harm came to ye. It makes my heart stop to think what might have happened.”

“He wouldn’t hurt me,” she said. “I knew that. And at the end he scorned to put a hand on me. I could have called out and betrayed him to his death and all he did was turn his back on me and walk away.”

“But you didn’t call,” Annie muttered, helping her mistress to her feet again. “He’d have been caught in a few minutes and killed if anyone here had known …”

“I didn’t call,” Katharine admitted. “Because I couldn’t. Until this moment I thought I truly hated him; I thought of my brother and all I imagined was how happy I would be if only James were dead. But now I know the truth. Whatever he did, it makes no difference. I sent him away, Annie, and I know I shall never see him again … Let’s go in now. And swear to me that you will never speak a word of this to anyone.”

“I swear,” the maid said. “God help you, milady. Whatever he is, he must have loved you too to seek you here. Thank God,” she said suddenly, “that I don’t know what love is. Come, now.”

A column of men were marching through the hills, and they marched to the music of the Macdonald’s piper. There were nearly three hundred of them, and the majority were the tenants and their sons who farmed the bleak Macdonald lands, and they were dressed for the campaign in kilts and skin jackets lined with fleece, their chests and arms bare, the heavy broadsword swinging from a belt at their sides and the short dirk on the hip. Their plaids were wrapped around them, and in these they slept, rolled into them as if they were blankets, and some carried their crude cooking pots and packs of oatmeal for kneading into cakes and baking in hot ashes. The men were the same as their ancestors of centuries past. Primitive, hardy, bound only by the intense loyalty of the clan for its chief, they followed that chief and his sons who rode at the head of the column as it made its way slowly across country towards Perth and the army of Prince Charles.

Sir Alexander Macdonald was humming the piper’s rant under his breath. Peace did not agree with him; he had been bored for a number of years. Now he felt young and vigorous at the prospect of the war. His men smiled and murmured among themselves that the old lion scented a fight. It was a great pity, they said in the calm discursive manner of the Highlander, that the Chief’s son James was in such a black and bloody mood. James Macdonald rode beside his father but hours passed without a word being spoken between them, and after a few attempts even the mischievous and intrepid Hugh decided it was best to leave him alone. No one had dared to ask him where he had been the night before they set out, but his father and his brothers guessed.

He had come back to Dundrenan and thrust past them without waiting to answer their questions, and the door of his room shut with a crash that rattled the silver on the table where his family were sitting to dine. And that night Hugh heard him cursing, walking up and down in his room behind the door which no one dared to open, cursing and muttering to himself. And when he came down in the morning, the devil was back in him again; the old fierce light gleamed in his eye and the ugly, quarrelsome sneer was on his mouth again. As Hugh remarked, brother James was back to his old self, and life would be a deal less tranquil.

“James,” his father said at last. “We’ll halt at the Black Rock tonight. There are some crofts which can give us shelter and the men can camp and provide for themselves in the glen.”

“As you wish,” he answered. “I see no reason why we can’t march through the night. We’re not a lot of women that we can’t lose a few hours’ sleep!”

“We need food, and while you’re on horseback, the rest of our people have been walking the last twenty miles. We stop at the Black Rock,” his father snapped. He was suddenly so irritated with his son that he could have struck him. That damned woman, that redheaded bitch … She had ruined his son, his favourite son if he were honest, for he found David too stupid and brutish and Hugh too sinister. Sir Alexander was not deceived by James’s silence nor by the aggressive way in which he answered even the simplest question. He knew his son. He had been amused by his dissipations and his quarrels when he was a boy and proud of his ferocity and his courage when he became a man. But what he saw now was a man fighting the world and himself with it. And all on account of a woman. His patience suddenly came to an end.

“James, where did you go off to the night before last?”

He turned in his saddle to look at his father, and his black eyes were red-rimmed and burning.

“I went to Clandara, as you know very well,” he said. “There was something that had to be done before I could come with you.”

“I hope you did it,” the old man said dryly. “But from the misery in your heart, I doubt you had the sense. If you went to see her, as I know you did, I only hope you took advantage of the situation to rid yourself of the taste for her once and for all!”

“Father,” James answered him. “Rape is not the cure for everything. I’m surprised you haven’t learnt that.”

“It’s the best cure I know for an obsession like yours,” his father retorted. “There’s only one way to find out that one woman is much like another and that’s to try her. More fool you if you risked your neck for nothing. I’ve no patience with you!”

“I’ve asked for none,” his son replied. “I feel for her as she feels for me. And that’s an end to it.”

“Tenderly, I trust?” Hugh had ridden close up behind them and he grinned.

“You may be my brother,” James said very quietly. “But watch your tongue. You’re a bonny swordsman, especially when it’s from behind, but you’re no match for me!”

“Keep your fighting for the English,” the old Chief snapped. Hugh shrugged and dropped his horse back to a level with his father.

“You know, he’d draw on me,” he said. “He’s never forgiven me for killing the Fraser. Now there’s ingratitude for you, Father! If I hadn’t done it he might just as well have been killed. You never saw anything like him, dancing and dawdling about as if he were holding a needle instead of a sword.”

“He’s out of his head,” the old man said. “From the moment he saw that cursed girl, he’s been possessed. No women, no trips into Inverness any more with you and David. Good Christ, he lived like a monk for a whole year, and then he strips Dundrenan of its treasures to furnish Kincarrig for her. And what is the end of it all? Eh? What is the end? Her brother turns out to be a traitor and a coward and we have to put an end to him … not that it came very hard on you,” he added and Hugh made him a little bow from the saddle. “Then Clandara lodges a complaint against us and the wedding is off. That’s one good thing, at least. But Kincarrig burnt out – Bah, wait till this war’s over! What do you think happened when he went there?”

“I think she spat in his face,” Hugh said. “That’s my judgment of her. I also think she’s less bitter than he thinks or she’d have found some way to have him taken. They served poor Donal” a bonny turn when he went there. James was lucky to return at all.”

“He’ll recover,” the old man said. “All this is just the heat of the moment. He’ll cool. He’ll cool when he joins with the Prince and has a few women and gets the taste of battle. That’s all James needs. He’ll forget her then and be himself again.”

“Maybe,” Hugh said softly. “Maybe. I hope you’re right, Father, but I’m not so confident. He loves her still, whatever he says to the contrary. I doubt if he’ll forget her as long as he lives.”

Prince Charles Edward entered the city of Perth with one golden guinea in his pocket at the head of an army of Camerons and the Macdonalds of Keppoch, Tirnadris and Glengarry; and to the joy of his men the Prince wore the kilt and kept them company on foot. He was anxious to prove himself as hardy as they were, and he outmarched many of the strongest who had lived all their lives in the mountains.

His reception at Perth was a triumph. The people came out dancing and singing in the streets and the clan pipers played their ancient rants, extolling the glorious battles of the past, and everywhere the Prince looked the windows were full of women waving and throwing flowers down on the army as it marched below. For thirty long years Scotland had been subdued, and the memory of the executions and deprivations inflicted upon those who had rebelled for his royal father were still painfully fresh. History was not written in the Highlands so much as spoken and preserved in the songs of the clans, and children were brought up on the tales of the valour of their distant forefathers in the endless wars which ravaged the glens. The Prince spent the evening of September 4th in a house in the city and held what passed for a Court reception for the leading citizens of the town. By the end of that meeting his funds were increased by a promised five hundred pounds and every hour he received reports of men coming in from all over the Highlands to join him. On the following day Sir John O’Reilly brought the news that the Macdonald of Dundrenan and his clansmen were marching into the city.

James and his brothers walked behind their father as they entered the room which the Prince used as an audience chamber. It was full of candles, and a carved oak chair had been set up at one end with an improvised canopy of velvet hung above it. The room was full of people, all crowded round the young man who sat in the chair under the canopy, and, to the astonishment and delight of Alexander Macdonald, Prince Charles got up and came down the room to greet them. He was tall and slightly built with a rather round face, regular features and a clear, ruddy complexion; like so many of his ancestors he was a “Red” Stuart, with the deep brown eyes that sometimes accompany the colouring.

Father and three sons went down on their knees and Alexander kissed the hand the Prince held out to him and then presented his sons.

“Welcome.” Charles spoke with an accent so slight that it seemed like a lisp. It was already said of him that he was learning Gaelic and studying the ancient lore of his country. Generations of Royal Stuarts had given him his dignity and grace, but his mother, the Polish Princess, had added a touch of fiery temperament and extravagant gesture which escaped him when he was excited.

“My eldest son James, Your Royal Highness.” James met the younger man’s eye for a moment and was surprised to see that in spite of the gracious smile he was being shrewdly examined.

“I have heard much of you,” Charles said. “There are already so many Macdonalds at my side that I have trouble in distinguishing them. But none so dark as you, sir, and your family.”

“And none so brave.” O’Reilly came up to them and bowed. “The Macdonalds of Dundrenan are rightly famous for their warlike spirit, Highness, and for their hospitality, as I know,” and his thin lips smiled at Sir Alexander.

“My heart is touched,” the Prince said gravely. “Believe me, gentlemen. I came home with nothing but my faith in Scottish loyalty, and within a month I have an army which grows greater every day. I hope to keep you close about my person. I am your Prince, but on the day we shall all stand together as soldiers, and we shall confer as soldiers, all men having a voice.”

The Macdonalds joined the crowd of people, while Charles went among them.

“He’s a fine prince,” Sir Alexander said. “Fine manners and a real way with him. Look yonder: he’s got the merchants and their wives simpering and blushing with contentment!”

“More than the merchants,” James remarked. “Lord George Murray is here; that means all the Atholls will be with us, and there’s the Duke of Perth standing over there. The Prince has got the charm of the devil. I only hope he’s got the devil’s luck as well!”

“He’s the Prince,” David Macdonald snapped. “That is enough for me and all loyal Scotsmen. How long must we stay here, Father? The Prince has done with us now …”

“You must stay while the Prince stays,” O’Reilly answered, “It is the custom to remain until Royalty leaves. This may not be Holyrood Palace yet, gentlemen, but this is the Court of the Regent of Scotland.”

“It’s as well the Prince came,” Alexander Macdonald said. “The King would have less sway than this bonny prince with all the promise of youth to his advantage. If he stays on as Regent, that will be acceptable to all of us.”

“There are quite a few women here, I see.” Hugh had not spoken before. Of them all he was the least impressed. His natural cynicism accepted the gracious manners and flattering words of Royalty with reservations; all men are pleasing when they seek favours, and in his view the Prince was seeking the greatest favour from them all. He wanted their lives, their fortunes and the future of their estates in order to secure a throne. He could well afford to come a few steps to meet them, and speak a few soft words. He nudged James.

“Look over there, that’s a bonny female! The blonde in the green dress …”

As if she knew that he was watching her, the pretty young wife of one of the city’s most prominent lawyers glanced away from her husband, and seeing the handsome young man staring impudently at her, blushed and looked away.

“If you’re looking for lechery, this isn’t the place for it,” James said. “These are respectable women. What of Fiona Mackintosh? I thought you were quite taken by her; you’ve been over there visiting often enough in the past two months.”

“There’s nothing like choosing a rich wife when the time comes to marry, and nothing better than finding a pretty one as well,” Hugh grinned at him. “We’re not all fools like you, James, to lose your soul over one woman and then have her spit in your eye! As for lechery – what else are we to do before the fighting? Excuse me. I’m going to introduce myself.” He was gone before James could answer him, and within a few minutes James heard the sound of his brother’s mocking laugh as he talked to the rather apprehensive lawyer, watching the lawyer’s wife with the intensity of an animal stalking its prey.

James turned away and began a short conversation with O’Reilly about the number of their men and the arms they had brought with them. He was not really listening; he heard the Irishman’s enthusiastic account of the strength of the Camerons and the petition which was still being pressed on the powerful chief of the MacLeods to join them. He answered mechanically, while the pain and anger grew in his heart at the mention of Katharine and the jeer with which Hugh had left him. To lose his soul over a woman. All through the long march to Perth, through nights spent sleeping in wretched crofts where the only light was from a smoking fire of peat, or lying wrapped in a plaid on the heather, Katharine’s image had tortured him, driving away sleep, or filling what rest he got with dreams of savage sensuality and nightmare caricatures of that last meeting.

He believed that he had killed his love for her. He believed that he hated her, and for that at least he was grateful, but he could not rid himself of his desire, and that desire grew worse now that all sentiment for her was gone. His father had mocked him for not taking her, but not nearly as bitterly as he had mocked himself. His faith in her love had been destroyed by the blow she struck him. And yet the memory of her lips and the response which she had been unable to control in the garden at Clandara tore at him until he felt as if he would go mad. Lechery. The word stung him and brought him round so abruptly that he left O’Reilly in the middle of a sentence. “What else are we to do before the fighting?” Hugh was right. Hugh would seduce that simpering woman and climb into bed with her under her pompous husband’s nose, while he remained alone, with nothing but his memories and his terrible regrets to warm him. He had not touched a woman except his perfidious love for more than a year. His taunt returned to him, as bitter an insult as he could offer her. “The poor strumpets in Edinburgh have better hearts than you …”

He walked over to Hugh and bowed curtly to the two startled members of respectable Perth society. He did not even trouble to address them. It was unlikely the woman would have heard him if he did; she was gazing at his brother with large, excited blue eyes. In vulgar soldiers’ parlance, she was ready to lie down if he took off his hat.

“Brother,” James said, “I don’t know your plans for this evening, but when we are dismissed from the Prince I have a mind to see something of the city!”

Hugh looked at him and a slow smile spread from his lips to his green eyes.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said softly. “I thought you would be bored after a while, but not so quickly … Mistress Macpherson has very kindly invited me to dine. With Mister Macpherson, of course. I’m sure, madam,” he said, turning to the young woman, “you will excuse me if I decline so as to keep my brother company?”

“Oh, but your brother’s more than welcome too.” Margaret Macpherson spoke so quickly that her husband, who did not wish to entertain one and certainly not two of these overbearing aristocrats, had no time to accept Hugh’s excuse. She knew perfectly well that dull, stuffy Donald, with his law books and his tedious attitude to everything, resented their intrusion; but there was something very flattering and fascinating about this young Highland gentleman and the way in which he looked at her without caring whether Donald noticed it or not. She was determined not to lose him, even if it meant entertaining his ferocious-looking brother. There was nothing to attract her about James. She felt quite nervous when those black eyes were turned on her; they seemed to burn as if there were a light behind them.

“We would be delighted,” Hugh said gaily. “How charming of you both to entertain us. Have you perhaps a sister, madam, who could make conversation with my brother? He’s a man of genial taste and he delights in the company of charming ladies …”

“A sister-in-law,” Margaret Macpherson murmured. “She’s there, wearing a red gown, talking to Colonel O’Sullivan, the Prince’s Quarter Master General.”

“Enchanting,” murmured Hugh, and the remark was accompanied by a look which assured Mistress Macpherson that the honours were still hers. James glanced across at the woman with O’Sullivan, and what he saw made no impression on him. He had never liked women of his own colouring, and this woman in her scarlet silk dress was very dark. She was tall and handsome in a curiously patrician way. She resembled her brother the lawyer a little; both had rather pronounced features, but as she came towards them he could see that her eyes, unlike Macpherson’s, were brilliantly blue.

“James Macdonald of Dundrenan, his brother Hugh, my sister-in-law Mrs. Douglas. These gentlemen are dining with us tonight.”

Janet Douglas gave James her hand to kiss and smiled slightly without speaking. It was a very cool hand and steady. She did not appeal to him at all, but at least she possessed some air of distinction, however accidental, and he far preferred her to the fluffy creature Hugh had marked out for himself.

“If you will excuse us,” James said, “we must speak to our father for a moment. We will rejoin you here.”

As soon as they had moved away he turned angrily to Hugh. “What the devil have you done, inviting me to these damned people’s house for dinner! Go and lay that stupid wife of his if you want to, but don’t ruin my few hours this evening!”

“My dear brother, keep your temper. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“And how do you propose to do it, with her husband looking on?” James demanded.

“Leave that to me,” Hugh said pleasantly. “But we shall have an excellent dinner for which we shan’t pay a penny, and then I shall have her and you shall have the sister-in-law if you have a mind to.”

“And if I haven’t a mind to, or she hasn’t?” James exploded. “What then?”

“Then we will go down to the stews and you can take your pick of the whores,” his brother answered. “But it will cost you money and you will probably catch the pox from one of them; this place has been full of men for the past two days. Try my little plan first. Mistress Douglas looks likely enough; I’m not sure I wouldn’t sooner have her than my little eager chicken … But we will see. Perhaps we’ll try it turn and turn about.” And he laughed.

James did not join him, but before his inner eye he saw himself with Katharine in his arms, so tender and eager and completely within his grasp. In the heather by the Loch, and again on the night of the Ball on the Ladies’ Walk at Clandara. And himself, so wild with chivalrous love that he had put her from him. Turn and turn about. First that tall, self-possessed bitch with her shrewd blue eyes, and then the other, all fluttering and full-bosomed. Why not? He had done as much before, and sat down laughing with his brothers and comparing notes. Anything, anything, to drive the thought of Katharine from his mind.

“Why not, indeed?” he said. “But we may have to kill the husband and that would hardly endear us to the Prince.”

“We’ll kill nobody,” Hugh said. “We’ll take two clansmen with us and they can keep Macpherson company while we dine. He won’t protest, I promise you.”

“Some more wine,” James said. “Hugh, pass it here, damn you!” The meal was already finished, and the four of them, the Macdonalds and the two women, were sitting at the table still, propping their elbows on it, finishing off another bottle of the absent Macpherson’s best claret. As Hugh had promised the dinner was excellent, and under a firm pressure on each arm from the two Macdonald clansmen who had escorted them through the streets, their host had been removed to an upper room where James informed him curtly that his men had orders to cut his throat if he called out. And once the position was established, their hostess had abandoned herself to the enjoyment of a situation for which she could not possibly be blamed, and her sister-in-law, Janet Douglas, had made no comment whatever but began serving James with meat and wine. He ate less than he drank, and he drank with furious intent, not savouring the good claret but pouring it down his throat as if it were whisky, while his brother sat with his arm around Margaret Macpherson and grew bolder as he received encouragement. She leant back against him, a little tipsy herself, and her dress slipping from her shoulders.

“Poor Donald,” she sighed. “He must be so terribly frightened for me. I hope your men won’t hurt him?”

“Of course they won’t,” Hugh said. “They’re just like Iambs. I told you he wouldn’t make a to-do about it.”

James looked across at the woman, her eyes heavy, pressing herself against his grinning brother, and, suddenly irritated, he said coldly: “Would you like us to look, madam, in case our lambs have cut his throat as I directed? Maybe that’s why he’s silent.”

“Knowing Donald,” Janet Douglas said suddenly, “I’m sure he gave them no cause. What a remarkably clever plan; which one of you gentlemen thought of it?”

“I did,” Hugh grinned. “We were so enamoured by the sight of you that we couldn’t allow a mere husband to stand in our way. Come, come, sweetheart, you’re yawning.” He whispered in her ear, and Margaret giggled. “Excuse us.” Hugh got up and made a bow to the two left at the table. “Take care of my brother, my dear lady. He’s in need of comfort.”

When they were alone, James up-ended the last bottle and cursed to find it empty. Janet looked at him. “How much do you need?” she asked him. He raised his head and looked at her. His eyes were bloodshot, but though he had drunk twice as much as Hugh, he was still sober.

“What the devil do you mean?” he said. Janet went to the cabinet and came back to the table. She carried a decanter of whisky.

“You know very well what I mean,” she said. “Here, try this. Why did you come here, when you’ve no stomach for any of it?”

“I was invited,” he said sarcastically. “What’s the matter, madam, can’t you wait? If I don’t oblige you, have a little patience and my brother will when he’s finished with your sister-in-law.”

“I don’t care for your brother,” she said quietly. “I think he and that worthless woman are well matched. But don’t underestimate her; he won’t be back as soon as you think. Be kind enough to pass me a glass; I’ll have a little whisky myself.”

She poured out a measure and began to sip it slowly. James watched her without speaking. In the candlelight she seemed very handsome; her pale, chiselled face was strangely composed. She might have been sitting at any dinner-table in Perth with a sober company instead of drinking with a man she had never met before, whose followers were holding her brother prisoner while his wife was being seduced in his own bed.

“What manner of woman are you?” he said suddenly. “You can’t be related to that poltroon upstairs.”

“As it happens I am,” she said. “But brothers and sisters don’t have to be alike. Witness yourself and your own brother. You look alike and so do Donald and I, but you’re quite different from each other. What ails you, Macdonald of Dundrenan? Do you find me ugly?”

“Not ugly, no. But unpleasingly bold. I don’t care for it.”

“Oh, dear me,” she smiled, and her eyes flashed at him with genuine amusement. “Don’t tell me I’ve shocked you! I know all about you, sir. Your reputation has gone before you. Long before,” she added. “Don’t tell me you prefer women to be hypocrites?”

“What do you know of me?” he demanded. She disturbed him when she was silent; he had never met anyone like her before. When she talked she made him extremely angry, but angry as if he were dealing with a man.

“I know that you have a very bad name,” she said gently. “Friends of mine had cause to curse it. A particular friend; Alice Gannock, to be precise. Do you remember her at all?”

“I do.” He looked at her, his eyes slowly and insultingly considering her, from her shining black hair to the line of her breasts above the neck of her red dress. “But I was drunk, and she was unwilling. Things are different this time. Are you still eager to find out if what she said was true, madam? There must be another bedroom in the house and I’m damned sure you’ll know where to find it.”

Janet rose. Her pale face had not altered. Instead she watched him with an expression that was full of curiosity and quite without fear.

“Alice Gannock never told me anything,” she said slowly. “I heard of it from her mother. She is safely married now to a man who thought more of a large dowry than virginity. She is quite happy. Before we find that bedroom, Macdonald, let me tell you one thing. At seventeen I was married to a man who was so much in love with my money that he killed himself spending it. I have spent all my time since then searching for a man who is a man. I believe you are such a one. In any case, I would like to find out. Come, then.”

They went to a room up the first flight of stairs, and for a moment they stood facing each other, hesitating like two combatants before the final challenge is accepted. Then Janet came to him and stood against him, not moving, not putting her arms around him, just watching his face. James looked down at her and, putting both hands on her shoulders, he tore the red dress off her back. In the furious encounter which followed he was astonished to hear her laughing.

He must have slept because he found that she had covered him, and when he opened his eyes she had lit a candle by the bedside and was sitting up beside him. She had a beautiful, voluptuous body, feminine and yet superbly strong. The sight of it left him so cold and so sickened with rage and disappointment that he turned away from her.

“Cover yourself,” he said brutally. “You look like a whore.”

“As you wish. I’m sorry, Macdonald. I should have gone and left you sleeping.”

James did not answer her. He did not know how long he had slept, but sleep had engulfed him as if he had stepped over a precipice.

Now his mind was clear, and with his memory came the most acute revulsion for himself and for the woman so close to him that he could hear her breathing. He had made love to scores of women, including some of the lowest drabs who gave themselves to any drunken young gentleman for a few shillings; now he felt unclean and full of despair. He had escaped from nothing.

“I am sorry,” Janet said again. “I found what I wanted, I only wish that you had too. Please look at me; I’ve done as you asked.”

He pulled himself upright and jumped out of the bed. He began dressing, still without speaking or looking at her. It was incredible that he could have embraced and possessed one of the most passionate women he had ever encountered and yet remained horribly aloof and empty, as if he were outside his body and critically watching the empty manifestations of his own lust. When he was ready she came up to him; she was wearing a long silk-and-velvet robe, and, as if she could read his mind, she said quietly: “This is mine. This is my room; I live here with Donald and Margaret. I think I can hear her and your brother stirring. It will be daylight soon. You had better release my brother and be gone before anyone sees you. I will persuade him to accept the inevitable. He’s a cautious man and inclined to be greedy. He won’t want to lose his good standing with the Prince by complaining against his officers.”

“It’s of no consequence to me,” he said roughly. “I’ll stand any paltry lawyer’s accusation and make him eat it!”

“I’m sure you would,” she said gently. “But it’s better not to have to do it. Before you go, tell me one thing.”

He turned unwillingly and looked at her. “What is it?”

“Will you see me again? I have a house of my own here in Perth.”

“I doubt it,” he said. “There’s been little profit in our meeting.”

“Then I shall seek you,” she said. “She must be very beautiful.”

“Who? What do you mean?”

“I mean the woman whose name you called when you were making love to me. Good night, Macdonald of Dundrenan. We shall meet again.”

The rest of the week was spent in assembling the Prince’s army, checking and storing the ammunition and holding councils of war with the chiefs. The day after their encounter with the family of Macpherson, the Macdonalds were present at one of these. The Prince was at the head of the table and on the right and left of him were Lord George Murray, brother of the Duke of Atholl, and the thirty-two-year-old Duke of Perth. Lord Nairne was there, and Lord Ogilvy, a new arrival. The news Colonel O’Sullivan gave them was encouraging.

The British garrison had left Edinburgh and was on its way to Stirling to give battle to the Prince’s forces. Its commander, Sir John Cope, was not optimistic about his chances of success, and his force of English troops was already depleted by desertions. Rumours of the terrible barbarians from the North were terrifying his men, who numbered only two thousand five hundred and imagined themselves being cut to pieces by a force ten times that number. The size and ferocity of the Highland army gathering at Perth was joyfully exaggerated by those Scottish civilians who gravely advised Cope to escape them while he could. And not one man had answered the English call to volunteer, while more and more small chiefs and their tacksmen tenants came in by horse and on foot to Perth, some armed only with scythes lashed to long poles, others equipped with basket-handled sword and the small buckler which was the standard equipment of the Highlander in war.

Very few carried muskets compared with the regular soldiers in the Lowlands and across the border, but this did not dismay the company present in Perth that day.

“My last accounting of our forces was about six thousand,” Colonel O’Sullivan announced, “and more are coming every hour.”

“But there is still no word from Macdonald of Sleat or MacLeod of MacLeod,” Lord George Murray interposed.

James nudged his father and said quietly: “The new Joint Commander-in-Chief of the Army. The Prince has divided the appointment between him and the Duke of Perth. I don’t like his looks.”

“You like nothing and no one,” his father snapped. “There’s nothing wrong with the Murrays.”

He was irritable and profoundly disappointed to find that James was unchanged by the encounter of the previous evening, of which he had received a full report from Hugh. He had found himself a woman, and a rich and handsome one according to his brother, and slammed out of the house without a word, as dour and quarrelsome as ever. He had already insulted one of the junior officers of Glengarry’s men and a duel between them was prevented only by the summons to the Prince. The itch to fight was on him; the old man could see it in his son’s eye. James reminded him of some tethered beast of prey, straining at the chains which kept it from leaping off and flying at the world. Murray was still speaking.

“I hope you realize, Highness, how important these two chieftains are; they can call up hundreds of men and their money would be vital to us at this moment. I must advise you that their neutrality is a serious blow to us.”

“There is no serious blow which can’t be parried,” the Prince remarked. “Personally, gentlemen, if the Macdonald of Sleat and the MacLeod don’t have the courage to join me, then I prefer to fight with a few brave men rather than any number of cowards. Let these two remain aloof, we shall not need them.”

Lord George bowed and sat down. He was not impressed by the bravado of the young man sitting beside him, so full of belief in himself and his own power to charm that he could dismiss the defection of two of the most powerful men in the Highlands as if it were a trifle. Lord George had joined Charles because his family had risen for the Prince’s father in the ’15, and the rightful Duke of Atholl was an old man who had come back with his young master after an exile of thirty years. Lord George had a brother sufficiently venal to accept the dukedom when it was withdrawn from the rebel holder, but this brother had fled before the Prince’s advance. There were moments even after two days when Lord George began to wish he had gone with him. It was all very well for Prince Charles Edward to set out on the conquest of Scotland, but it horrified the older man to hear him talk of marching into England.

He leant back in his chair with an expression of disapproval and listened to Aenas Macdonald, the sober-minded banker who had also come from France with Charles. Like most men with financial connections he had contacts everywhere, and the information he gathered through dealings in London and Paris was the best source of information the Prince had on how his enemies were reacting to him.

Aenas was a pleasant man with a streak of fierce fanaticism, a passionate attachment to his country and that country’s rightful ruling family. He told the Prince that his finances were good and would be better when a full accounting of the gifts of plate and jewels from sympathizers were converted into sterling. And then he put his hand up to his mouth and coughed; it was a gesture which James and all those men of war who sat around the Prince were to know very well in the long months to come.

“Your Royal Highness. I have one item of bad news. I have heard from an impeccable source that the Duke of Argyll and the Earl of Breadalbane and all the Clan Campbell have declared for the Elector of Hanover.” There was a moment of silence, broken only by the whisper of one of the young chiefs who enquired of his neighbour who the Elector of Hanover was, and was told angrily that this was the correct title for the German Prince illegally known as King of England. Old Macdonald of Keppoch was the first to speak.

“Well, sir, I say what of it! There’s not one of us could sleep easily at night with the most treacherous ruffians in the Highlands among us. Let them fight for England! By God, there’ll be enough Macdonalds ready to march in and punish them for it when Your Highness is victorious!”

“Let them march with the Hanoverians.” James sprang up. “They’ve always been the scum of Scotland. There’s no place for any Campbell here!”

“One moment, sir.” That was a Fraser, younger son of one of Lord Lovat’s cousins. “It’s all very well for you and Keppoch to dismiss the Campbells. I, for one, would rather have them with us than ready to fall on our backs on the march. We’re not all Macdonalds, remember.”

In the long, cruel history of the clan wars, no deed of savage treachery surpassed the murder of the Macdonalds at Glencoe by John Campbell and his men. They had broken the sacred laws of hospitality by falling on the Macdonalds who gave them shelter and putting men, women and children to the sword while they slept.

James glared at him; he seemed unaware of his surroundings or of the presence of the Prince as he faced a distant kinsman of the Frasers of Clandara, and all his hate and bitterness boiled up in him.

“The murder of our kinsmen at Glencoe, when those swine of Campbells ate their bread and then fell upon them in the night, may seem a trifle to you, sir,” he said slowly. “No doubt the Frasers would do the same if there were any clan fool enough to turn their backs upon them!”

“Repeat that plainly, sir!” the young Fraser shouted, and now he was on his feet, his hand on his sword. “Repeat it and be ready to give satisfaction for it!”

“Gentlemen!”

Lord George Murray cut across them with a roar of anger. He pointed at James.

“Apologize! You’re here to fight for the Prince, not for any private grievance. Apologize, sir, or leave the Prince’s presence.”

James faced him and he began to smile. His voice was very soft and almost mocking when he answered.

“I’m damned if I’ll do anything of the kind.”

Charles had been silent while the quarrel developed, but he had been watching James carefully. He possessed a violent temper and he was on the point of losing it himself. Murray had already irritated him with his gloomy expression and gloomier remarks. Now he stared round the table at the men he had summoned to help him, two of whom were about to fight in his presence, and the rest arguing and standing up as if they were at a cockfight instead of a council.

“One moment! Sir Alexander Macdonald of Dundrenan, remove yourself and your sons since you cannot control them. And you, sir” – he glared at the Fraser – “leave us, and do not return until you know how to behave in my presence. If you want to fight so badly, make ready to engage Sir John Cope and the English. The first man here who risks his own life or takes another’s will be imprisoned at Perth until after the war. Now, my lords, perhaps we can resume our business!”

Without a word the Fraser bowed and walked out of the room.

“Come!” The old Macdonald rose and saluted the Prince. “My apologies, Highness. My son will earn your pardon for this by leading his men in the first rank of the first battle. We will retire as you command.”

As they left the house he turned furiously to James, who walked in silence beside him.

“I ought to break your skull,” he snarled. “You damned fool! You’ve brought disgrace upon us! What’s the matter with you? Can’t you see a Fraser without venting your spleen about that cursed woman at the expense of your Prince and your family’s honour! Don’t argue with me,” he roared as James started to reply. “Hold your tongue, sir, and listen to me. You may be my eldest son, but, by the living God, if you can’t behave like it I’ll send you back to Dundrenan to wait with the women and children!”

“I will see you and the Prince himself damned to hell before I stand and apologize to any man for speaking my mind,” James snapped at him. “And if I go back to Dundrenan, half our clan will go with me. If you think they follow you alone, Father, try them and see!” And then he turned and walked away from them.

“He’s mad,” his father said savagely. “God knows what’s to be done with him … Hugh, go after him. In this mood he’s likely to begin a brawl in the street and you heard what the Prince said. David, come with me!”

James walked on through the narrow streets and those who were in his path stepped hurriedly aside. He walked without seeing where he went and when Hugh caught up with him he turned on him with an oath.

“To hell with you! Stop following me!”

“I want a drink,” Hugh said. “There’s a tavern at the end of the street there. Come on.”

It was a small place, badly lit by guttering torches and roughly furnished with benches round the walls and stale straw on the uneven floor. It smelt of sweat and liquor, and there were a few men in it already drinking and talking in little groups. Most of these were members of the Prince’s army and a few called out to the Macdonalds as they entered, but James did not answer and Hugh only gestured, indicating that they wished to be alone.

James drank a cup of whisky down in one long draught and then looked round contemptuously.

“We’re in good company, I see,” he said. “This place stinks like a cesspit. You’ve had your drink now, brother. Get out and leave me alone!”

“Before I go,” Hugh said quietly, “let me tell you one thing. This is a war we’ve undertaken, not a gentleman’s game or a foray after someone else’s cattle. If you can’t take it seriously – and I mean this, James – you’d better to do as Father threatened and go back to Dundrenan. Or to Clandara, if you like, and finish your business there. Here, give me your cup.”

“I want no advice from you,” James said slowly. “Unless it’s how to kill a man by running him through from behind!”

Hugh grinned at him and filled his own cup with whisky.

“I told Father you had never forgiven me for that,” he said. “What a fool that woman made of you. How did she do it, James? How did she kill your love for your own family and still send you away like an outcast cur when you went to her that night at Clandara?”

“If you speak of her,” James told him, “I’ll kill you here and now.”

“As you wish.” Hugh shrugged. “But tell me one thing, brother, and then we’ll talk of something else. Did you tell her it was I who killed her precious brother?”

“I did,” James muttered. He did not want to talk to anyone of that last meeting with Katharine, least of all to the mocking brother sitting opposite and watching him with his pale eyes like a mountain cat’s. But he could not help himself. “I did, but she did not believe me. You left one of his men alive and he said I was the one. I made no pretence about it; I told her I would have done it if you had not, but that in fact I wasn’t guilty. But she wouldn’t listen.” He raised his head and looked at his brother. “You want to know what happened, don’t you, so that you can mock and jeer? … Well, so you shall. I went on my knees to her and begged forgiveness … yes, Hugh, I knelt, and I’d have died happy if she had forgiven me. But do you know what she did? She struck me in the face and wished me dead. And then I left her. Does that satisfy you, or must I tell you more? Tell you how I sprang on her and held her and how she weakened for a moment and responded to me? …”

“You love her still,” Hugh said slowly. “You were weak, James. You should have seized her that night and kept her at Dundrenan. She would have submitted in the end. Now there will never be peace between us or happiness for you as long as she lives.”

“Submitted!” James laughed bitterly. “It’s you who are the fool, my clever brother, with all your talk of women and your knowledge of their ways. I didn’t want her lust! I loved her; I valued her virtue because I loved her. I thought she loved me as much in return. But that woman yesterday, that woman who lay in my arms and gave me everything of herself in exchange for nothing but my insults, she was more true than Katharine Fraser ever was …”

“Then why not seek her out?” his brother suggested. “We’ve another day or two here before the army marches out to catch up with Cope and the English. You could do worse, James. You need company and not the company of men this time. I’m meeting my little Macpherson this evening; her husband has taken fright and gone off on a visit to his uncle. I’m afraid our men were none too gentle with him and he doesn’t care to complain or to stay here while we remain in Perth. I’ll give a message to Mrs. Douglas. She’ll expect you this evening. Come on now, we’ll go and find David and Father. Remember – we’ve got to fight a war.”