The Wild Rose of Kilgannon (41 page)

"Here they come, Alex!" a man shouted from the foot of the drive. "All four of them!"

"Aye," Alex said softly and muttered something to himself. Will moved to one side of Alex and I to the other. I could feel how rigid his body was and wondered as I looked from his tense face to the dark entrance who he was preparing to meet. MacGannons were moving forward with torches, their greetings loud in the night air.

Matthew was the first into the light and I breathed a prayer of thanks. Matthew's expression lightened as he nodded at me, and he turned to the man behind him. My uncle Randolph. I was astonished that Randolph would be part of this, but I smiled at him as he drew closer. Randolph
grinned
at me and waved.

The third man was Malcolm, his hands tied together and his face bruised. I watched him approach, remembering his brother coming home to me in Kilgannon in much the same condition. I glanced at Alex, but he looked at his brother without expression. And then Gilbey came into the light and I took a deep breath. All accounted for, I thought. But what now? Everyone watched

Alex. He stood
silently
, the flames lighting his hair into a glow around his head, his arms at his sides. Matthew and Gilbey helped Malcolm to dismount and then the three of them faced Alex.

"Malcolm," said Alex tonelessly.

"Alex," Malcolm said. No one else spoke as the brothers looked at each other. Around me the men moved nervously.

Randolph broke the silence when he dismounted in front of me. "You're all safe and sound,
Mary
? And the babe?" I embraced him and he kissed my cheek and shook Will's hand. "Thank God. We've been terribly worried. Your aunt hasn't slept in days."

"I'm sorry ..." I began, but Randolph waved my words away.

"Not your fault," he said. "And never fear, we'll take care of Webster. Duke John has already started. And so, I see, has Alex."

"We have to go, Alex," Dougall said. Alex nodded, at last shifting his gaze from his brother to his cousin.

"Aye," he said, his voice flat. "Put him with the others."

We were ready to leave in just a few minutes. Alex sat atop his horse next to me, watching the first of the clansmen file out the drive. He looked back at the men still tied up on the gravel, then climbed down from his horse. I watched in horror as he walked toward them, drawing his sword. Behind me Matthew and Gilbey were suddenly still and Dougall exclaimed but did not move. Malcolm watched Alex approach without expression. Will and Randolph exchanged a look. Alex stopped in front of Malcolm, the sword glinting in the light from the flames. Malcolm looked up at his brother and Alex raised his arm. I closed my eyes, but there was no sound and I opened them to see Alex stick the sword into the gravel between Malcolm's legs.

"I should kill ye, Malcolm," Alex said. "If our positions were reversed, ye would kill me. But I willna. No' because ye dinna deserve it, or because I'm afraid of retribution from the English. I willna kill ye, Malcolm, because ye would dirty my hand and my name. And my soul, but that's something ye'll never understand." He kicked gravel onto Malcolm's lap with a toe. "I am taking Clonmor back. Dinna
try
to go there. And never ..." He leaned over his brother. "Never come to Kilgannon. Never come near my family. Or I will kill ye with my own hand. Do you understand?"

Malcolm nodded and Alex turned, grabbing his sword as he strode away. He climbed into the saddle and nodded at us. "Let's go," he said.

The crackle of the flames was the only sound behind us.

W
E GALLOPED AWAY FROM WEBSTER'S HOUSE so rapidly that there was no time to speak. At last we paused at a crossroads to make plans, our conversation hurried while clansmen stood guard for us. Will and Randolph would return to Mountgarden, taking Henrietta and the men who had aided us with them. And then they'd return to London. They were confident that this night's escapade could not be traced to them.

And we, I was told, were off to the Mary Rose and then to Scotland. I did not argue, knowing it would be foolish to stay in England. But I did remind Alex that our luggage, and all the Kilgannon papers, and Margaret's jewels, were still at Mountgarden. If my brother's home was searched and they were found, it would not go well with him. Alex nodded and frowned and at last it was determined that Matthew and Gilbey would take a few men with them to retrieve our possessions.

I wrote a hasty note to Louisa, and then it was time to bid my brother and uncle goodbye. I embraced them both fiercely. "Thank you," I said to each, and each waved my words away as though this sort of adventure were commonplace to them. I was overcome then, realizing that I might not see them for years.

Randolph embraced me, his eyes full of unshed tears. "Hush, Mary," he said. "We love you. What else would we have done? Thank God you are all safe." He glanced at Matthew and I knew we both were thinking of Angus. "Well, almost all." He squeezed me to him again. "Go with your husband, my girl, and be safe. Write to us when you can."

I turned to Will. "No sad goodbyes," my brother said with a smile. "This is the time to applaud, not cry. We'll come to see you if you send one of your ships to get us. I'm the best first-footer Kilgannon's ever had and you won't want anyone else. In fact, you can't have anyone else. I claim it as my right and I'm a duke now, so you can't say no. What's the use of being a duke if one cannot have one's way?"

I laughed and embraced him. "Dear Will," I said.

He squeezed me. "Go, Mary," he whispered. "Go and be safe in your home with your family. Just keep him out of England, for God's sake!" I nodded and turned to Alex.

"My love," I said. "Take me home."

"Aye, Mary Rose," Alex said. "I will."

We arrived at the Mary Rose without incident and the boys fell on us with delight, grumbling that they had not been allowed to rescue me and the baby. They'd wanted to accompany their father on what they considered to be an adventure and complained that wee Donald had not even let them go on deck. Alex ruffled their hair and picked them up, turning them upside down until they giggled, then left them with me and the baby to
settle
into the big cabin. The Margaret was already sailing offshore, waiting for us and Gannon's Lady to join her. We'd wait for Matthew and Gilbey, then all meet at sea and head for Kilgannon.

When Alex returned to me he talked with his sons, holding the sleeping baby while they sat with him. And then he sent them off to wee Donald's care again, and turned to me with a smile.

"I'm thinking this one should be abed as well," he said and I reached for Robbie, thinking Alex was right. He put a hand on my arm. "Lass, I dinna mean that bairn. I meant ye."

I met his eyes over our son and felt the stirrings again. This man never failed to rouse me and now was no exception. We laid our sleeping child safely on another berth, then fell into each other's embrace. I tore his clothing from him and he mine from me in our frantic haste to be together. Our union was swift and joyous and I submerged into a sea of sensations. His whiskers were rough on my skin, but his lips soft and his hands
gentle
, and when he paused above me I pulled him to me with a throaty laugh.

"Alex," I said. "Come to me."

"And two shall become one," he said, then glanced at the baby. "Or three," he laughed, then concentrated on his task.

I heard some of Alex's story later that night as we lay entwined in our berth, and more in greater detail when we talked together before dawn. Alex made light of his fear and anger during his trial and how after being beaten unconscious at the verdict, he'd been kept isolated in the Tower, but the timbre of his voice had changed when he told his story, and I studied him, noting cheekbones that were much too prominent and lines now
permanently
etched around his mouth. He'd noticed that DeBroun was missing during the last of the trial, of course, and suspected Angus had made a move, but since he saw Angus in the courtroom every day, he did not know what it was.

And he'd brushed over his escape from the transportation ship, explaining that Webster had lied. The ship, a former East India Company merchant ship, now used as a prison transport, had not set sail. The Hammer of Scotland was still moored in the Thames, just off the Tower, and Alex had escaped late one afternoon while being rowed out to it, throwing himself and several of his companions into the water with those guarding them. The other men had grabbed for the boat, but Alex had struck out for the south shore. They had pursued him, searching for him with a flotilla of small boats, shooting at everything that broke the surface of the water. Blocked from land by their pursuit, he'd headed east down the river and had been rewarded at last by the approach of a merchant ship that had hindered his pursuers just long enough for him to reach the shore, half drowned and exhausted. I closed my eyes but the vision his words had brought was too evocative of my dream, and I opened my eyes again. He'd huddled under a dock until nightfall, then he'd started walking westward in the dark.

It took him a very long time to get to Louisa's, where Bronson, as only Bronson could have, had greeted him with the news that Louisa and Randolph had gone to Mountgarden, that Angus was dead, that I was being held by Lord Webster, and that London was buzzing with the news of his escape. But Bronson had sheltered and protected him, and he'd spent a safe night in Branson's own bed, safely hidden even when the house was searched in the wee hours by soldiers. I made a mental note to apologize to Bronson the next time I saw him. If, I thought, I ever did.

In the morning Alex had gone to Mountgarden to find his sons. And my family, about whom Webster had lied to me as well. Will, Louisa, and Randolph had been busy and, through
bribery
and forceful questioning of the judge's staff, had discovered my location. They'd been waiting for Matthew to return to put their plan in motion. When Alex had arrived at Mountgarden, Louisa, Randolph, and Will had told him all that had happened, and again of Angus's death. And Duncan's, which Bronson had not known.

Matthew had arrived that night and within hours Alex had assured himself of his sons' safety on board the Mary Rose, then had left for Webster's house where he had waited for the others to join him. It had been a simple matter, he said, to bribe the serving woman to get the sketch to me. It had been much more difficult to wait for the others, especially when Malcolm arrived, but Alex said he watched me through the window. And when Matthew and Dougall had arrived with the clansmen and the Macleans, and my family and the Mount-garden men, they had attacked immediately.

The Duchess, meanwhile, had arranged for Webster's treachery to be made public. The scandal sheets and gossips had loved it. Webster, it was rumored, had left for the Continent. But no one had heard any news of DeBroun.

And Murdoch, Alex said, was aboard The Hammer of Scotland.

I had not known Alex had been gone until he slipped back into the berth with me, his limbs cold from being out in the early morning air. I murmured as I turned and drew him against me, warming his skin with my touch. I snuggled against him, feeling his hand stroke my hip and thigh. When he did not speak again I raised my head and tried to sit up, but he pulled me
tightly
to his chest.

"My love," I said, "what's wrong? Where were you?"

He didn't speak for a moment and I listened to the rhythm of his heart, thinking that whatever it was could not be so dreadful if he was so calm. But when he took a deep breath his breathing was ragged and I tightened my arm around him, waiting. I was in our berth on the Mary Rose and my love was in my arms. What could possibly be wrong with the world?

"Nothing, lass," he said at last, his voice husky. "I just wanted to touch ye so I'd ken ye were real and no' my imagination working again."

"I'm real," I said, threading my fingers through the hair on his chest and feeling his heartbeat quicken as I moved my other hand down his side.

"Aye," he said with a throaty laugh. "That ye are, lass. That ye are." He buried his face in my hair. "Mary Rose, I love ye so. There were times I feared never to see ye more. Mary," he said, brushing my hair back and kissing my cheek, "there has never been a woman like you. God only made one."

He turned on his back and stared at the ceiling with a heavy sigh and I closed my eyes, remembering his earlier grief, at last expressed, at Angus's death. And Duncan's. He had been inconsolable and I knew the loss of Angus would affect us always. He felt responsible, which I told him was not reasonable, and then told him of my own guilt. He had shaken his head.

"Guilt? I see no guilt on your head for Angus's death, lass."

"I do," I'd answered. "He was protecting me, Alex, and our son. And he kept his response to DeBroun in check
partly
because of me, because I had argued so much against violence, and
partly
to prove that he was not the barbarian the world believed him to be. Angus wasn't the savage that DeBroun was, and that's why he died. Because of me." Alex had mulled this over and I had studied him as he considered. Thin and scarred now, he seemed older by much more than the weeks he'd spent away from me, and I wondered if my laughing Alex would ever return. At last he'd kissed my forehead.

"Mary Rose," he'd said, "Angus was the finest man I've ever known and the finest friend I'll ever have. We'll remember him that way, lass, and no' guess what could have been. Yer no' to blame for his death. DeBroun is. No ye. And if ye think Angus worried a minute about appearing barbaric or that ye changed his actions, ye dinna ken him as I did." He'd patted my cheek. "Put it out of yer mind, lass, and come here tome."