The Wild Rose of Kilgannon (3 page)

Mar still expects men to leave their homes to aid us. He is a fool but I may yet be proved wrong. We are alive for the moment and healthy and I suppose I should take comfort In that, but, lass, howl miss you.
I am
not a man meant for warfare, lam so very angry over the mismanagement of this campaign that I can barely be civil. It is a disaster. If we are truly lost then Kilgannon may come under siege. If the news is worse when you get this or if you do not hear from me soon, then take the boys and go. Leave at once if you hear of troops moving west. Do not try to fight them or to defend the castle. Tell the clan to take to the heather and you take the Mary Rose and go to England. Do this, Mary. I must know you are safe. I will come to Kilgannon as soon as we can. Gannon's Lady is here in Perth and we will come home on her.

I miss you every moment, Mary Rose, and I will love you until I die. Keep yourself and my sons well and safe. Use whatever resources you can find and get yourself to safety with Will or Louisa and Randolph. The writing changed then, the last of the letter written in haste. Worse news again. There's talk of surrender of Mar turning over a number of us as hostages, to ensure no further rebellions. If that's true then I may not come home at all. I suspect
I'd
be among the first to be handed over, for Mar dislikes me greatly. If they take us I will be tried here and God only knows what a Jury of Lowlanders loyal to the Crown would do. lam mindful of my peril and will do whatever I can to return home alive. I have no wish to die In Edinburgh. Forgive me, Mary. Take care of yourself and my sons and know I remain your loving husband, Alex.

The days passed very slowly and I feared that the winter would never end, that we would always be imprisoned by the rain and snow, waiting. I tried to keep spirits up and keep everyone busy, but I was not Alex and I was not the leader that Kilgannon needed. I had never realized how effortlessly he led the clan, and how difficult it was to make the many necessary decisions with the sure skill and good humor that came so easily to him. Nor had I realized how

invaluable Angus was. Alex's first cousin was Alex's war chieftain, responsible for the training of the men. Angus was several years older, but they acted like brothers, for they'd grown up together. Alex trusted Angus more than any of the other clansmen, and Angus, gruff, loyal, and a man of few words, returned the trust. Both had lost their wives in the last five years, Angus his Main to childbirth and Alex his Sorcha to illness, and both had been left with sons to raise alone. Angus's Matthew, grown now, was off at war with his father, and Alex's boys were with me. With both Alex and Angus gone, our lives could not hope to be normal. Dougall tried to fill the void and he did well if one did not look too closely. And none of us was looking too closely.

The news from the east was not good. The Loyalist forces far outnumbered the Jacobites now, and Mar's troops had retreated to Montrose. And then, the last day of January, Thomas MacNeill, Alex's factor, came home.

They arrived on Gannon's Lady and for a few splendid moments I thought Alex was with them. Thomas's son Liam burst in with the news of a ship in the loch, one of ours, and we all ran to see. Gannon's Lady came around the last bend, her rail in the water in the stiff wind, her decks crowded with men. A cheer rose from those behind me as we waited for her to land, and when she came closer the boys strained to see their father. Or Angus. Or Matthew. Ellen stood at lan's side, her hand to her throat. As she drew to the dock we all realized who was missing.

"Da's no' there," said Ian, his tone hushed.

Dougall, standing on my left, let out a curse and then apologized as I looked at him. "I feared this would happen, Mary. Ye ken our Alex. He'll no' come home until everyone's safe. He's probably making sure the Clonmor men got home aright."

I nodded, understanding the words but not the reason why Alex would not let them go home with Malcolm. We waited in silence while the ship docked and the men poured from her, washing past me like a stream, flooding into the arms of their wives and children. The boys turned to me, their faces grave. Their father had not come home. Nor wee Donald, and at my side Ellen sobbed. I put an arm around her and waited. Thomas found me after only a few moments.

"Mary," he said, his tone quiet. "I must talk with ye." I nodded up at him, noting how Alex's factor had aged, his face now lined. He met my look with weary eyes.

"Thomas, tell me. Is he alive? Is he well? Is he freer"

"Aye. Alex is alive and free and Angus and Matthew as well."

"And wee Donald? And Gilbey?"

"Aye. They are all well." Ellen took a ragged breath.

"And together?" I asked.

His eyes met mine. "Aye, Mary. They are together."

"Where are they?"

He shook his head. "I dinna ken. We saw them last at Montrose, standing on the dock as we left."

"I see." I took a deep breath. "Thank you. Go and see Murreal and your family, Thomas. It is enough for now that I know he is not with you. I know you will soon tell me the rest."

"Aye, Mary, and I thank ye." He pulled a ragged letter from his plaid. "From Alex. I will come to ye soon."

It was scrawled on the back of a map, filthy and torn. I took the letter and held it to my breast, then opened it there on the dock.

My dearest Mary, Alex had written.
I am
sending this to you with Thomas as we part. I pray it finds you all well. We are truly lost here and I am trying to save as many men as I can. Take the Mary Rose and flee now. Go to safety in England if you can or Skye if ye cannot and ask
Morag for
shelter. Please forgive me for this disaster. Take care of my sons and tell them their father loved them. Flee now, before the English descend on Kilgannon. I love you, Mary.
If I'm alive I'll find you.
Alex.

I will never ask Morag Maclean for shelter, I thought, remembering her lingering glances at Alex during our wedding celebrations at Kilgannon, and the furtive caresses she'd thought I'd not seen every time they'd been together since. Alex had not responded to her, but he'd have noticed. And no doubt had remembered what had once been between them. Morag, then Morag MacLeod, had been the girl Alex had fallen in love with when he was sixteen and she fifteen, the girl he'd been willing to defy his parents for and abandon the

arranged marriage with Sorcha
MacDonall
. Morag was the girl he'd been sent to France for a year to forget. The first woman he'd made love to. And Morag had waited for Alex even after he'd married Sorcha, not marrying Murdoch Maclean herself until Alex had made it abundantly clear to her and to the world that ours was a love match and a happy one. But Morag had never forgotten their romance. Nor did I.

I read Alex's letter three times, holding the paper against the wind that threatened to tear it from my hands, then looked at the wedding ring gleaming on my finger. No, I would not ask Morag for shelter, and I would not go to safety in England. I would stay at
Kilgannon
despite Alex's instructions. We'd argued about it enough before he'd left. "This is my home," I'd told him when he'd asked me to go to France with his aunt Deirdre and the MacDonalds. "If you need me, Alex, I will be here. I can come to you. Anywhere in Scotland," I'd said, and then tried to explain that he was not the only one who felt responsibility for the clan. I had been raised with a strong sense of duty toward the people I'd known at
Mount garden
, and in the short time I'd lived here I'd assumed the role of Alex's partner. The mantle of leadership was not one I could shrug off when it suited me. I would stay at Kilgannon as long as I could to be with its people. And to be as close to Alex as I could, for as long as I could.

BERTA
OUR CAPABLE HOUSEKEEPER WELCOMED EVERY one inside with whisky and food. I sat on a bench with the boys and Ellen while the greetings continued around us. I comforted them as best I could, stilling the questions that flooded my mind. I had thought Thomas and I would talk
quietly
while he told me the news, but the men were full of stories and I sat with the others and listened.

"Well," one of the men said, answering a question, "I dinna think much of our James Stewart the now, not after he left us to fend for ourselves." At the outcry he looked around the room. "Have ye no' heard? James Stewart and his special friends stole away to France in the middle of the night. I canna believe the word has no' come to ye yet."

"Aye, it's true." Thomas spoke quietly from behind me and heads swiveled toward him. He moved to the fireplace and sank down on a bench while the people gathered around. "We never saw the king after the first few days, and then we retreated once more, this time to Montrose. Alex had us take Gannon's Lady there or we wouldna be home the now." Thomas shook his head. "We waited in Montrose while most of the Highlanders walked to Aberdeen. Alex told us no' to leave with the others. He and Angus attended meetings that lasted half the night, and he was more angry e
very
day. And then early one morning, in the wee hours, I heard all sorts o' noise from downstairs in the house we were staying in."

He leaned forward. "When I went down the stairs, there was the MacDonald himself and the Maclean brothers, filling the room, and Angus and Alex

looking like murder. Mar had sent everyone on to Aberdeen and then he and the Stewart were about to sneak away to France. Someone told the
MacDonall
and Macleans and Alex, and they all went to see for themselves. I'm told that the
MacDonall
got on his knees and begged James Stewart to stay. But the Stewart wouldna stay. So off they went, James Stewart and Mar, in the dark of night. Sailed away, leaving us there. James Stewart sent a letter to be read to everyone waiting in Aberdeen: 'Goodbye, lads, fend for yerselves. I'm off to save my own skin. Thanks for the war.'

"Well, ye ken our Alex. He wouldna leave with the Stewart, though I would be surprised if Mar asked him, they were no' favorites of each other, especially after Alex all but called him a coward. Angus says he thought the two of them would end in blows and the king was just sitting in the corner, watching with a long face. Well, anyway, there we were, in that old house in the middle of the night, the
MacDonall
white-faced and furious and the Macleans screaming murderous things and Angus looking like he'd split someone. Then the
MacDonall
and Macleans took themselves off and Alex started waking our men, telling them to get ready. Alex thought he'd ride on to Aberdeen and warn those still on the road, and Angus thought he'd keep him company. They told us to leave and come home to be with ye here. And he was a mite forceful in his suggestions too." He smiled ruefully and laughed with the other men, who nodded. "He packed us off to Gannon's Lady and here we are. Argyll was moving into Montrose as we were leaving. We got out by a breath is all and I'm assuming the others got out as well." He took a long drink of his whisky. "The MacDonald's going to France, I'm told, and the Macleans took to the heather. Alex and Angus and the others are somewhere near Aberdeen, and the Clonmor men are with them. The land is full of English soldiers."

"How will they get home?" Ian's voice was loud in the pause.

Thomas's eyes met mine, then looked at
Ian." Yer
da will find a way, laddie. He's a bonnie leader. He'll find away."

"But you said the English soldiers are e
very
where."

"Aye, so I did," Thomas said. "But what are a few English soldiers to a Gael who kens his homeland? Yer da kens the land there. He'll ken ways to get home that the English dinna. Never ye fear, Ian, yer da will be here soon." Ian nodded, his face expressionless as he looked at me. Jamie followed his gaze. I tried to smile, but I could only see the harsh winter and a handful of men, dressed in red plaids, running from soldiers in the snow.

Our waiting was full of work. We were preparing
Kilgannon
for a siege and we toiled constantly. All the stores we could find were brought into the keep, and the tunnel was readied in case we should need it. The Katrine was anchored in the outer loch, and the outlying areas were warned. Most of the men had gone to their homes, but they patrolled the perimeter of Kilgannon lands and runners kept us informed of what each village was doing. When Alex first left I had gathered all the things that he had told me to take with me, and the bags still stood in the library. The boys and I had packed our clothes. And Alex's. And I had packed Alex's box of sketches. We were ready to flee, at once if necessary. And then we waited.

The winter crept slowly on, cold and wet, and we worked until we dropped. The boys were very brave but they were afraid, and I spent much of my time cheering them on or leading them in their lessons. I kept my fears to myself. During the daylight hours I held them at bay, but at day's end they would reappear and the nights stretched interminably. I still roamed the house in the dark hours, pausing each night to look at the portraits that lined the stairs, asking Alex's image where he was.

I was in the hall at daybreak the morning the news came that a ship was in the loch, and said a silent prayer as I waited. My spirits sank when the word came that the ship was not ours, but they rose again with the news that it was a MacDonald ship, with Sir Donald himself on deck. But Alex was not aboard.