Island of the Swans (42 page)

“T-Thornton, m’lady,” he stammered, suddenly tongue-tied. “C-Christopher Thornton.”

“Three cheers for Corporal Christopher Thornton and the brave Fraser Highlanders!” she shouted happily, and the crowd roared with delight.

Buoyed by the success of her impromptu ploy, Jane turned toward Alex and held out her hand.

“Come, m’lord… will you not dance for such a noble endeavor?” she asked, expecting him to take her cue enthusiastically. Surely a dancing duke would bring in many more recruits than her own modest efforts had produced.

Without responding, Alex swung off his horse and strode into the circle of bystanders. The crowd began applauding their local laird and his daring duchess, and the piper squeezed his instrument, summoning up another rousing tune.

“Why, certainly, Your Grace,” Alex said brusquely, bowing perfunctorily as he began the dance. “Since you’ve found the 71st Fraser Highlanders
such
a worthy cause, how could I refuse?”

The piper wailed the tune and Alex began the hornpipe “Jack on the Green,” a strenuous jig that simulated the fertilizing spirit of spring. Alex’s calf muscles bulged as his feet cut in and out in the complicated, suggestive steps. The dance pantomimed the planting of seeds and the plucking of fruits of such labor. The duke’s eyes bore into Jane’s as he whirled faster and faster, his kilt spraying out in a circle, revealing his sinewy thighs. When, at last, the pipes skirled to a climax, the cheers from the crowd were genuine and rousing. Staring straight ahead, Alex strode over to Jane in the midst of the tumult and bent low to whisper in her ear.

“Are you pleased your husband plays lickspittle to Fraser’s kin?” he hissed, unmindful of several more men who’d stepped up to accept the King’s Shilling. “You are perfectly welcome to put yourself on exhibition if you wish, dancing like a strumpet on the green, but in future I’ll thank you to leave me out of such patent pandering to Fraser and his ilk!”

Ignoring Jane’s look of astonishment, he stalked inside the Star Inn without another word.

The sound of shouts and hoofbeats and creaking harnesses outside her coach roused Jane from an exhausted slumber. A week of touring had brought her and the recruiting party, at last, to within six miles of Inverness where, mercifully, their carriage had met them. Their toil had been more than repaid, however, thanks primarily to Jane’s inspiration to offer to dance with any lad willing to enlist in the 71st Fraser Highlanders. At Hamilton’s urging—and despite her husband’s scowls—she continued to perform her favorite Highland dances, and her brother continued to sign on his full complement of men. As a result, the more Jane danced, the less the duke participated in the recruitment effort. Nevertheless, eighty-nine lads had followed them to their present destination—Culloden House—on the banks of the River Nairn where all the new companies making up the 71st Fraser Highland regiment co-mingled in the chilly December dusk.

“I doubt John Forbes has a footman to spare, by the looks of things,” Jane heard Alex grumble as she pulled herself upright and peered outside the carriage window at the mass of confusion reigning in front of the large Georgian structure she knew to be Culloden House.

A small tent city had been erected on the frozen ground, which comprised a portion of the forty acres of parkland surrounding the mansion. The dark red brick of the imposing house was trimmed with white sandstone. Its high roof and balustraded facade had a slightly raw look, since it had been built only three years previously, in 1772. The stately manse had replaced an ancient, fortified castle that, nearly thirty years earlier, had housed Clan Fraser and Prince Charles on the eve of the disastrous Battle of Culloden Moor fought on the soggy heath a mile away. Today, Jane couldn’t help but note the irony that the hundreds of newly enlisted soldiers bivouacked outside their coach wore the Fraser colors now, as King’s Men. Political necessity had certainly made strange bedfellows, Jane thought to herself as she stared across the frozen expanse of the huge estate.

Some of the soldiers were tending their horses, others were cooking their supper over small open fires, and still others were bundled up inside their tents catching the last solid hours of sleep before commencing the training of hundreds of green recruits. In a few months time, they would all march to Glasgow where they would meet the other battalions of the 71st Fraser Highlanders and, in May, sail from Greenock, at the mouth of the River Clyde, for America.

Jane descended from the carriage and gathered her cloak tightly about her shoulders to ward off the chill winds blowing toward them from the Moray Firth. She clasped her daughter Charlotte’s hand as the welcome warmth of Culloden House’s front entry greeted the weary travelers.

“Your Grace! How delighted we are you’ve arrived before dusk!” boomed their host, John Forbes, advancing to greet them in the entry way. “M’lady, a light supper has been laid and a fire is already crackling in your chambers upstairs,” he said kindly, perceiving the fatigue written on the tired faces of his guests. “You should have time for a sound nap before the evening’s festivities begin!”

“How very kind,” Jane said, rallying from her exhaustion to convey her appreciation for her host’s hospitality in the face of such frantic activity.

“We’re a wee bit cramped, as you can see,” apologized John Forbes, nodding toward a group of officers ascending a sweeping staircase in the hall, “but I hope you find the guest quarters we’ve reserved for you satisfactory.”

“I’m sure we’ll be more than comfortable,” Alex said, taking Jane’s elbow.

“Oh, my lady Duchess… an old friend was asking after you this afternoon,” Forbes said, halting their progress toward the staircase. “A Captain Thomas Fraser of Struy. Tells me the two of you were neighbors in Edinburgh and used to race pigs down the High Street when you were wee bairns!” Duncan Forbes slapped his thigh and gave a hearty laugh. “I’d heard that tale before, but ’twas like a breath of spring air to have the truth of it confirmed!” he teased. “Are you sure you’re not a Highlander, born and bred?”

“No, I’m a Lowlander for sure,” she replied faintly. “The part about racing pigs… ’Tis true enough…”

Jane felt as if an invisible hand had clutched her shoulder and instinctively, she reached for the banister to prevent herself from pitching forward down the stairs.

“If you see Captain Fraser before we do,” Alex intervened smoothly, “I beg you to congratulate him for us on his promotion and please convey our pleasure at the prospect of this unexpected reunion. Now if you will excuse us…” he added, taking Jane’s elbow in a firm grip.

In a daze, Jane allowed herself to be led upstairs and down a darkened corridor to their rooms. A maid assigned to Charlotte took the little girl to the nursery at the end of the hall. Jane soon found herself alone with her husband in the ornate bedroom, festooned with bloodred brocade curtains and matching silk-upholstered furniture. She felt Alex’s eyes boring into her back as she sank to the small stool facing the mirrored mahogany dressing table.

“Fatigued, my dear?” he asked in a soft voice whose edges curled in unpleasant sarcasm.

“I’m utterly exhausted,” Jane breathed, shutting her eyes against the world that seemed to be closing in on her.

“A bath and a nap should restore your spirits,” he replied. “That, and the anticipated pleasure of seeing old friends.”

Slowly Jane opened her eyes and gazed up at Alex’s reflection in the looking glass.

“I fear the journey has made me feel unwell,” she said, her eyes sliding away from his face. “I don’t believe I’m up to coping with those hordes tonight, Alex. I shall have a tray and go to bed.”

“I doubt that mere fatigue has put you in this unhappy state, my dear Jane,” Alex answered, his face darkening dangerously. “Could it be you are feeling rather giddy at the prospect of seeing
Captain
Fraser after all these years?”

He had emphasized Thomas’s promotion in a voice laced with bitter mockery. Alex’s next words overrode her feeble protests.

“Any fool can see you are shaken by the effect of our host’s announcement, so let’s not perpetuate your little masquerade. No, my dear wife, ’tis
I
who shall take ill this night, and you must represent the Gordons in my place!”

“Alex, do not
do
this!” Jane pleaded in a low voice. “Don’t put more trouble than need be in our path! Try to understand… ’tis true… ’tis…
unsettling…
to have Thomas appear in our lives so suddenly, after all this time, but you are my true husband, and I your wife. We have four children… five, counting Geordie, and I do count the lad! We’ve been happy! We mustn’t let anything destroy what we’ve built!”

“’Tis not I who destroy what we have!” Alex replied, his voice rising angrily, “But your
love
for him! Don’t think I can’t read your thoughts at times, Jane, when the expression on your face tells all! Don’t bother to deny it! You dream, while we make love, of
him
lying at your side! You wonder what our babes would have looked like, had
he
been their sire. You—”

“
Stop it
, Alex!” Jane cried, jumping up from the dressing table seat and whirling around to face him.

Her skin was flushed, and her voice shook slightly. She was shocked by Alex’s uncanny perception regarding the feelings and thoughts she had tried hard to suppress for so long. Stunned by the murderous look he gave her, she quickly turned her head to avoid his gaze and walked toward the bedroom window. The heavy damask curtains were drawn shut against the icy winds whistling outside.

“We should never have raised a company for Hamilton…” she despaired, holding back tears. “We should never have
come
here!”

“You think by merely avoiding Thomas Fraser, you can play the loyal, dutiful wife?” Alex snarled, following her. From behind he grabbed both her shoulders with his hands and dug his fingers into her flesh.

“Alex, please… stop!” she said weakly, wincing at the pressure his hands were exerting against her arms. “I could see you’ve been upset all week long, and there’s no need! You know how much I care for you… this jealousy of yours is… well… ’tis unhealthy…
I am your wife!
” she cried.

“Well, let’s see how convincing you are in that role, knowing he’s here, at Culloden House, mayhap in this very
wing
!” he hissed into her ear.

“Alex, please—” Jane stammered, twisting out of his grasp. When she turned to face him, she was frightened by the unnatural glitter in his eyes.

Ignoring her pleas, he crushed his lips against hers, bruising her mouth roughly with his own. It was not an act of passion; it was an act of rage. Jane’s body stiffened with alarm. Releasing her briefly from his embrace, Alex led her swiftly to the canopied bed, richly appointed in red brocade. She stood, paralyzed, while he held on to a newel post of the four-poster for support and yanked off his boots.

“Undress yourself, lass,” he commanded harshly, peeling off his coat and waistcoat and tossing them across the room.

“I will
not
!” Jane replied defiantly, staring at him as he continued to divest himself of his clothing.

“But, Jane, my dear,” he said, his voice low and slightly menacing, “I only wish to gauge the degree of affection you truly hold for me, your husband. ’Tis a matter of trust, you see. I don’t know for certain if I trust you. I wish you to
demonstrate
the affection for me you claim is in your heart.”

Alex shed his breeches, kicking them into a heap on the floor. His white linen shirt could not conceal evidence of the heat coursing through his body. He took several paces toward Jane and smiled grimly.

“No words of love? No heartfelt preliminaries?” He took her chin between his tense fingers and stared stonily into her eyes. Jane willed herself not to flinch from his gaze. At length, he shrugged. “Suit yourself. Since I know in your heart that you long to behave like Fraser’s slut, you shall be treated like one!”

Before she could protest, he roughly forced her face down on the bed and savagely pushed up the hem of her traveling gown with both hands. With one violent motion, he ripped off her undergarments, leaving them in shreds.

Jane reeled from the shock of Alex’s sudden assault, appalled that their years of passionate lovemaking could degenerate in the space of an instant into this repugnant act. Her fingers clutched at the bedcovers as she tried to escape from under him, but Alex’s sheer strength and weight made that impossible.

At length, she stopped struggling and lay silently beneath him, a numbness supplanting her feelings of outrage. He entered her quickly and without concern for her comfort, pounding the message of his furious jealousy to the very core of her being.

At length, Alex’s jagged breathing returned to normal and the silence permeating the room was palpable. His weight was oppressive, but Jane forced herself to remain still. A cold knot of rage, centered in her chest, began to spread throughout her body and even seemed to fill the room. Floating in Jane’s memory, the drowned corpse of her old Edinburgh friend Matilda Sinclair rose before her. The woman stared at her with lifeless eyes, another victim of another husband’s fury.