The Master Of Strathburn (26 page)

‘I promise,’ Jessie said with a solemn smile and moved over to make room. Robert climbed in beside her and pulled her firmly against his side. He liked the way her body immediately moulded to his; her cheek rested against his bare chest and her fingers curled around his shoulder. This felt so right to have her here in his arms.

As Robert watched Jessie drift into sleep, he prayed this would not be the last time.

‘The Invercauld Inn is just up ahead, Mr Grant.’

Simon slowed his exhausted horse to a trot and glanced back at the English dragoon that had addressed him. ‘Thank you, Captain Slater. I’m counting on our quarry being holed up here.’

Simon thanked God he’d had the foresight to post lookouts on all the roads leading south. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have known that Robert and Jessie had taken the longer route to the south-east along Caulfield’s Road toward Port-na-Craig. With any luck, they may have stopped in Invercauld for the night. The dragoons from the Braemar Castle Garrison had been most interested to hear that they might have a wanted Jacobite right under their very noses.

Even if Robert and Jessie weren’t at the inn, and had decided to seek shelter in a barn or crofter’s hut, the locals may have seen them pass through the village. With her blazing red hair, his Jezebel would have caught some man’s eye.

‘Per’aps we could change our horses here, sir,’ suggested MacTaggart as their sizeable party that also included Baird, three other Black Watchmen and the four dragoons, clattered into the inn yard. ‘It’s probably the only place wi’ decent mounts hereabouts.’

Simon hated to admit it, but MacTaggart was right. The sun had already set behind the Cairngorms several hours ago and all they had to light their way was a ponderous yellow moon. It would be foolish to travel any farther along the narrow, rutted Highland road on fatigued horses. Simon certainly wasn’t going to break his neck on Robert’s account.

The inn, although small, was still open at this late hour. Leaving the business of stabling the horses and questioning the stablehands to most of the Watchmen, Simon headed for the taproom with Baird, MacTaggart, Captain Slater and his men. To Simon’s annoyance he found the dimly lit room was nearly filled to overflowing with men who looked like off-duty soldiers, dusty travellers, local crofters and drovers on their way to the Edinburgh markets. He’d be hard pressed to find a table without having to spend a coin or two.

He scanned the room and noted the only women present were two comely serving girls waiting on the tables. There was no sign of Robert. He informed the dragoon captain who nodded and sent his men to question the taproom staff, the off-duty soldiers and other patrons.

Simon turned to address MacTaggart over the noise of the rowdy throng. ‘You can go and question the innkeeper about who has sought accommodation for the night. And be quick about it.’

MacTaggart’s eyes narrowed, but nevertheless, the insolent son of a bitch acquiesced. ‘Yes, sir.’

Once the Watchman had departed, Simon pushed his way to the bar. At least he could partake of an ale or two whilst he waited for news. He spied a buxom, red-headed serving girl passing by with a tray of food. He smiled to himself. If his Jezebel wasn’t here, he could always sample whatever the tavern wench had to offer.

Either way, he wouldn’t leave here until he was satisfied.

* * *

Despite his exhaustion, it didn’t take Robert long to realise that sleep would elude him as long as Jessie’s soft curves pressed up against him and her warm breath sighed gently across his chest. His body was already taut with desire for her yet again.

With a frustrated sigh, he gently eased himself away from her, then quietly rose from the bed and dressed. A wee dram or two of whisky would probably relax him enough to sleep. Although there was still likely to be plenty of patrons in the taproom, he was not concerned. His strategy of hiding in plain view had worked remarkably well over the years, and he had no reason to believe that it would fail him now. A decade after Culloden, Invercauld was hardly a hot bed of illicit Jacobite activity. And as he’d told Jessie earlier, the local Redcoats wouldn’t be on the lookout for him.

Aside from that, there was no way in hell that Simon would have had the stamina to travel this far south in one day, even if he’d thought to search along this route in the first place.

Robert would bet his life that both he and Jessie were safe for tonight.

As he eased on his coat, he noticed the slight crinkle of parchment in the inner breast pocket—his father’s letter of appeal to the Lord Advocate. After checking that it was securely in place, he glanced at Jessie, still soundly asleep. A soft smile curved his lips while he contemplated what it would feel like to be a free man; free to truly offer Jessie his hand in marriage. And how wonderful it would feel if she still said yes.

The smile was still on his face as he pushed his way toward the bar. The crowd had thinned a little and aside from a few off-duty soldiers, there was no sign of the Watch or anything or anyone else he’d consider untoward. With whisky in hand, he was about to turn around to find a dark corner in the taproom when someone grabbed his shoulder in a tight almost painful grip. Then something hard and metallic, possibly a pistol muzzle, was thrust into his lower back in the vicinity of his left kidney.

A low male voice hissed in his ear. ‘Well, well, Robert. If it isn’t the prodigal son himself.’

Fuck. Simon.
There was no mistaking his half-brother’s venomous tone. Robert froze, inwardly cursing himself for being too cock-sure and letting his guard down. He had seriously underestimated his opponent.

Robert carefully placed his whisky on the counter and turned slowly, palms upraised in a gesture of surrender. Sure enough, a smirking Simon stood before him. He noted with a small degree of satisfaction that his brother was only able to manage a somewhat crooked grin given that his left jaw was empurpled and swollen with a rather impressive bruise.

‘Fancy meeting you here, dear brother,’ Simon taunted as he pushed the pistol into Robert’s stomach. Robert quickly scanned the room and swore under his breath again when he took in four dragoons standing at the ready near the doorway and another three Black Watchmen hovering behind Simon. He’d been well and truly ambushed. There was no way he could take on that many men, even without a cocked pistol pressing into his abdomen.

Bloody, bloody hell
. What a blind fool he’d been. The stakes were high and he had made a grievous miscalculation about Simon’s capacity for vengeance.

And now Jessie was in danger
. Fear, like nothing Robert had ever experienced before ripped mercilessly at his gut. If Simon found Jessie upstairs, alone, asleep …

Simon’s gloating face reclaimed his attention. ‘Don’t even think about making a break for it. As you can see, there is no way that even a legendary Jacobite such as yourself can escape this time.’

‘I’m afraid this will all come to naught, Simon,’ Robert replied smoothly. ‘Father will be lodging an appeal for clemency with the Lord Advocate. Any hope you had of seeing me executed for treason is dead.’

Simon’s snort approximated a laugh. ‘Well, I have to admire your optimism, if nothing else.’ His expression suddenly turned sly. ‘Or perhaps there is something else of your I admire … something that is actually mine.’ He glanced meaningfully toward the ceiling.

Robert’s gut twisted with a potent combination of cold dread and white-hot anger. ‘What do you mean?’ he ground out, clenching his fists, envisioning the pleasing sight of pounding the lascivious smile from Simon’s face.

Simon’s gaze returned to Robert’s. His eyes glittered with malicious intent. ‘I know which room she’s in, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me having her.’

* * *

Jessie started awake, her heart pounding. What had woken her? For a moment she was disorientated. She sat up and awareness came rushing back. She took in the four-poster bed, the washstand, the dying fire. And the fact that she was alone again.

Why had Robert left and for how long had she been asleep? A rising wave of panic was exacerbated tenfold when there came a knocking at the door. It couldn’t be Robert—he had a key.

The knocking halted and a gruff male voice called out. ‘Miss Munroe, ye must wake. My name is MacTaggart. I am a Captain with the Black Watch and I work for Lord Strathburn. I must speak with ye urgently.’

Oh God, something had happened. Please let Robert be all right.
Her heart crashing against her ribs, Jessie slipped silently from the bed and threw her gown over her head. As she frantically tried to tie the laces of her bodice with trembling fingers, the man’s voice came again. ‘Miss Munroe, I have with me one of the innkeeper’s daughters, Mary, to show you I mean ye no harm. I ken ye are frightened but please, ye must believe tha’ I have nothing but honourable intentions for yer safety. Please let us in.’

A young woman then spoke. ‘’Tis true what he says miss. I’m Mary. I served ye earlier.’

Ignoring her protesting ankle, Jessie crossed to the door as fast as she could. Even though a maelstrom of thoughts and questions whirled about her head, she was not ready to open the door yet. She spoke through the heavy wood.

‘MacTaggart, you say?’ The man’s name was vaguely familiar for some reason. But did this man really work for Lord Strathburn or was he in the pay of Simon? Could she trust him? ‘What is going on? Why exactly are you here?’

MacTaggart’s next words struck a cold hard blade of fear through Jessie’s heart. ‘Miss Munroe, Simon Grant is downstairs and is at this verra moment, apprehending Lord Lochrose. He has several dragoons and some of my men wi’ him. I have grave fears for yer safety.’

Jessie slumped against the door, barely able to breathe.
Simon was here. He had Robert.
She must be in a nightmare. Any moment she would wake up and find herself nestled with Robert in the bed beside her.

‘Miss Munroe, I believe Mr Grant will shortly be paying ye a visit. Open the door and let Mary help ye get dressed.’

MacTaggart was right. If Simon came upon her in her current state of
dishabille
… the situation didn’t bear thinking about. With shaking hands, Jessie unlocked the door to reveal a tall, heavily built man in a Black Watch plaid. A quivering Mary stood beside him.

The Watchman gave a small bow. ‘Thank ye, Miss Munroe. I will wait outside whilst Mary assists ye. I suggest that she remain with ye for the rest of the night.’

Jessie nodded. MacTaggart’s face might be battle scarred and ferocious looking at first glance, but he had kind brown eyes. She was inclined to take him at his word. ‘Thank you for yer kindness, sir. I am verra grateful. I will be sure to commend you to the earl an’ to my father.’

MacTaggart bowed his head. ‘
Tapadh Leibh
.’ Thank you.

Before Jessie closed the door she had one last question. Her throat was so tight, the words barely came out. ‘Where will they take Lord Lochrose?’

The Black Watchman met her eyes directly. ‘To the barracks here and tomorrow, to Edinburgh … and the Tolbooth. I will do wha’ I can to help him, but now there are dragoons involved, I’m verra afraid tha’ it willna be enough to save him.’

And that’s what Jessie dreaded too.

* * *

After Robert had been taken away by the dragoons, Simon impatiently scanned the taproom for MacTaggart. No doubt the man was still upstairs locating Jessie for him as he’d instructed. Robert had denied that Jessie was here at all. In fact, he’d insisted that she’d taken the public coach from Grantown-on-Spey. But Simon knew it was a lie.

Jessie was here, he sensed it. It was only a matter of minutes before he would have the girl all to himself.

He downed Robert’s discarded whisky in one gulp and headed for the inn’s upstairs rooms. Gaining the head of the staircase, he spied MacTaggart standing before one of the doors.
Excellent
. The Watchman had found her. Simon’s balls grew heavy and tight with anticipation.

‘That’ll be all, MacTaggart. I’ll take care of Miss Munroe from here.’ Simon held his hand out for the key to the room but instead all he received was a stony-faced glare from the burly Black Watchman.

Impatience spiked. ‘MacTaggart. Give me the damn key.’

The Watchman stared back, clearly unfazed. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Grant. Miss Munroe has retired for the evening. Her attending maid informs me that she willna be available to meet with ye until tomorrow morning.’

‘Damn you to hell, MacTaggart. What are you playing at?’ roared Simon. ‘Step aside and open the fucking door.’

The door to the bedchamber suddenly cracked open a fraction and a timid mouse of a maid slipped out. ‘Mr Grant, M-Miss Munroe says she will receive ye … as long the door stays ajar and Captain MacTaggart stays close by.’

‘I’ll have you stripped of your rank for this, MacTaggart,’ Simon uttered savagely under his breath as he pushed roughly passed the captain and the serving girl, into the room beyond.

Jessie was seated in a wing chair before the fireplace. She sat ramrod straight and fully dressed, her chin upraised, eyeing him with defiance. Oh, how he would enjoy wiping that look from her face. He raked her with a deliberately lewd gaze before casting a meaningful look at the rumpled four-poster bed. ‘Shame you’re not still abed, Miss Munroe. But no matter. I’ll soon have you back there.’

She didn’t respond, just raised her chin a little higher, her eyes glittering.

Anger flashed through Simon, hot and fierce. He threw himself into the armchair opposite Jessie, leaning back with his legs extended, his booted feet crossed at the ankle. He rested his chin on his steepled fingertips and through narrowed eyes, studied her. Her face was pale except for two flags of bright colour across her high cheekbones. Good. Despite her outwardly holier-than-thou manner, he had rattled the little bitch.

But he wanted to cow her even more. When he spoke, he imbued his voice with soft silken menace. ‘I have a proposition for you, Miss Munroe. Spend the night with me and do my bidding … or I shall have you arrested by the dragoons and thrown into a cell for aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive.’