Wolf, Joan (24 page)

Edward sighed. "What happened next?"

The Campbell smiled slightly. "Hawley forgot about the dirks," he said. "The Highlanders simply lay on the ground, drew their dirks, and stabbed the horses in their bellies. The cavalry broke and ran for Edinburgh."

Edward was frowning. "But if it was such a rout, why didn't the pretender's army follow up their advantage? They could have retaken Edinburgh."

The duke looked cynical. "Dissension among the leadership, Linton. The pretender and Lord George Murray don't see eye to eye."

"The Highland army cannot afford to disagree among themselves," Edward said bluntly.

The duke looked pleased. "No, they cannot. At the moment the pretender is engaged in besieging Stirling Castle, a futile enterprise, I fear. The clans will never tolerate such tedious work. If he doesn't look out, half the pretender's army will be slipping off home to their glens."

Edward and the duke had another glass of wine together and then Edward walked slowly home to Linton House. He went around to the stables before he entered the house, however, and snapped at a groom who was sitting around doing nothing and set him to polishing an already-polished harness. Then he inspected the stalls and complained that the bedding wasn't deep enough. Two grooms jumped to fetch wheelbarrows and more straw.

When the earl finally moved toward the house, there was a general sigh of relief throughout the stable area. "I never seen his lordship so out of temper," one groom remarked to another as they forked straw into the offending stalls. "Something must have happened. Be best if we all keep busy until he calms down." His companion agreed fervently and both men went to get more straw.

The staff at the house was not faring much better than the grooms, and when the earl finally locked himself into the library, there was a universal letting out of breaths. Inside the closed doors Edward was sitting at his desk, a rather formidable frown on his face as he went through a pile of papers.

He was feeling helpless and it was not a feeling he was accustomed to. Images of Van danced through his mind and he knew that with every passing day she was getting farther and farther away from him. They had met last in the glow of Charles's triumphant occupation of Edinburgh. They had met as equals. The next time they met, one of them would be the victor and one the vanquished, and he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt which one would be which. He prayed to God that at least her father and her brother would not be killed. As it was, she would have enough to hold against him.

Edward gave up all pretext of reading the papers on his desk and stared grimly into the fire. He could not even write Van a letter, he thought bitterly. He had no idea where she was.

Van was at Stirling. Alasdair had sent for the women when he realized they were going to be stuck in the town for weeks trying to take Stirling Castle. He was as convinced as the Duke of Argyll of the fruitlessness of such a siege, but Lord George Murray had been overruled by the prince and consequently the Highland army was in Stirling.

The city, traditionally the gateway to the Highlands, was full of excitement when Van, Frances, and Jean arrived. Lord Strathallen had recently joined the prince with a regiment of Frasers, MacKenzies and Farquarsons. And, more interestingly, Lady Mackintosh had arrived, leading a contingent of four hundred Mackintoshes for the prince. Her husband, the chief, Mackintosh of Mackintosh, had previously come out for the government.

"Dhé," said Van with a laugh when she was told that piece of news. "That was courageous of her. But I would not like to live in that marriage!"

Frances thought of how implacable Alasdair had been at the merest mention of opposition to his decision, and shuddered.

"I cannot imagine how she ever brought herself to do it," Jean said, gazing with big eyes at Niall. She added hastily, "Although of course I am glad that she did."

The laughter had died out of Van's face. "We all do what we have to do," she said in a hard, abrupt voice. Jean looked bewildered and Frances compassionate. Niall took his wife's small hand in his own comforting grasp.

Of the three women gathered in the room with him, only his sister had it in her to do as Lady Mackintosh had done, he thought. His mother and his wife were too gentle, too feminine, ever to stand alone so defiantly. They would follow their husbands' lead, in war as well as in peace.

Van was different. Van might love a man, but that would not stop her from going the road she hersel deemed right. He looked at his sister's proud face. I was not that she was unfeminine, though. She was just... Van.

Jean's fingers curled within his. The man who loved Van would never feel for her the overwhelming protectiveness he felt for Jeannie, he thought. Or the intense possessiveness. Van was too strong a spirit to be loved like that. Niall had a brief vision of the Earl of Linton's splendidly tall figure and hard blue eyes. A man very different from himself, was Edward Romney. Niall looked into Jean's great brown eyes and smiled. He loved his sister, but he decidedly preferred marriage to someone like his Jeannie.

Alan was in Stirling as well and he came to see Van the day after she arrived in the city. They had had only a few brief hours together in Glasgow before he had had to leave for Lochaber, so Van was delighted to see him when he called at her mother's lodgings in the Stirling High Street. When he asked her to ride out with him for the afternoon, she accepted with alacrity.

They went to Bannockburn, the field where Scotland had won its independence from England five hundred years since.

"Impossible to imagine this peaceful place as the scene of a bloody battle," Van murmured. They had dismounted and were standing on the winter-hard ground, their horses' reins in their gloved hands. There was no one else in sight. The cold January wind whipped their plaids but, true Highlanders that they were, Van and Alan ignored the weather.

"The Bruce had six thousand men, Van," Alan said. "Six thousand Scots against the King of England's twenty thousand. And we won."

Van stared up at the boy beside her. Alan's jaw was set—hard. Not a boy, she thought. Not any longer the boy she had grown up with. Alan was a man now. As was Niall. And she—God knew the heart she carried was no longer that of a carefree young girl.

Alan was looking around him with narrowed eyes. "We won because our cause was just," he said. "On this field we became our own country, with our own king." The eyes that met hers were slits of green. "We will do it again, Van. I know we will do it."

His face was grim, dedicated. For all its youth, it most definitely was not a boy's face anymore. These last months had changed Alan. If he had been like this before... If she had not met Edward...

"Alan." Her voice was not quite steady. "You have the heart for it, of that I have no doubt. But..." He was the first person she had said this to. "What if we should lose?"

"If we should lose... His reddish hair was blow ing in the wind. "Then we will have the Sassenach in our glens once more. The chiefs will have to flee to France. They will take away our arms and our pride and our dignity." His Hps smiled. "A good reason to win, is it not?"

"Aye." She too looked around the field. Pride flooded through her, pride in the men of her blood who risked so much in the face of such an enemy. "I wish I were a man!" she said fiercely. "Do you know how hard it is to sit and wait?"

"Ah, Van." There was a new note in his voice. "Do not ever wish that, m'eudail. There is no man who knows you who would have you other than you are."

She lifted suddenly shadowed eyes to his face "Alan..." she began uncertainly.

He gave her a warm smile, with his eyes as well as his mouth. "Do not worry yourself over me. If I still keep some hopes over you, that is entirely my own affair."

She laughed, and the guilty feeling vanished. He was the dearest man. "Is that true?" she retorted.

He looked down into her beautiful face. It was the first time all day that he had seen her smile. Her great light eyes were regarding him with undisguised affection.

Aye, Alan thought as he playfully pushed her bonnet down more firmly on her head. I can wait. She said something, ducked her head, and laughed again. The Earl of Linton was a long way away, he thought comfortably, and on the wrong side. All he needed was a little patience. Patience would come hard, but the prize was worth the effort. More than worth it. He grinned and said, "Come along. Your mother invited me for dinner and I do not want to be late."

"I'm starving," Van agreed 'Then, wonderingly, "It's the first time in weeks I've been hungry."

"You need more fresh air," he replied easily. He gave her a sidelong look and there was the faintest trace of a satisfied smile in his eyes. He took her hand into his own as they walked toward the horses and her fingers curled intimately around his. They made it back to Stirling in time for dinner.

The chiefs advised Charles Edward to disband the army for the winter. Many of the clansmen were sick, most had not seen wives or children for months, all hated the dreariness of laying futile siege to Stirling Castle. The men had fought long and faithfully for their prince, Alasdair argued. They needed time to rest and recover.

Charles Edward was horrified at the suggestion. "My God! Have I lived to see this?" he exclaimed, and absolutely refused to disband the army.

The result was exactly as Alasdair had foreseen. By the end of January nearly half of the army had deserted.

On January 31 the Duke of Cumberland reached Edinburgh, where he replaced Hawley as commander-in-chief of the government forces.

The prince gave up his siege of Stirling Castle and marched north to Inverness, which surrendered to him without a struggle. The castle, called Fort George and a symbol of English rule, was gleefully blown up by the Highlanders. Charles Edward and his followers settled into the town, the traditional capital of the Highlands, and made themselves comfortable.

The social scene in Inverness soon became reminiscent of the prince's first glorious occupation of Edinburgh. There were dances and receptions and social gatherings of all sorts. But the mood in Inverness was different from the mood in Edinburgh, Van thought. The high-hearted excitement had gone. The Duke of Cumberland was in winter quarters in Aberdeen, and with the spring would come what might be the decisive confrontation between the Jacobite and English armies. Van often felt as if they were people dancing and laughing and talking on the edge of a smoldering volcano.

She spent all of February and most of March in the company of Alan MacDonald. It was to Alan alone that she was able to open her heart and talk about the fears that weighed on it. Niall had gone south with Lochiel to try to take the two English fortresses of Fort Augustus and Fort William, so he was not around. Nor could she talk to her father. He was as worried as she, Van thought, but he was putting so much effort into keeping her mother happy that she had not the heart to put any more strain on him. For almost the first time in her memory she could not talk to her mother. Frances was looking like a girl again, her blue eyes unshadowed, her brow smooth and serene. Van could not intrude between her father and her mother now. And Jean was carrying a baby and looking forward happily to Niall's return. Van was extremely thankful for Alan those long weeks in Inverness.

Alan was not unmindful of the problems that beset the prince's army, but still he felt that, given a fair battle, the Highland army would prove the victors. It gave Van heart just to be with him. She said as much one evening as they were talking together at a reception at the home of the Dowager Lady Mackintosh, where the prince was residing during his sojourn in Inverness.

Alan looked at her soberly. "I am glad to hear that." He hesitated, then went on. "I am leaving tomorrow, Van, for Lochaber."

Van felt her heart sink. She had become very dependent upon Alan these last weeks. He was a shield between her and her own thoughts—a shield between her and Edward. "Why?" she asked.

"To recruit," he responded briefly. She needed to ask no more. Desertions had been heavy this winter, and with the coming spring the Highland army had to increase its strength. A number of chiefs had gone home to raise more clansmen to the standard.

"I see." She looked up at him and made herself smile. "I shall miss you."

He did not smile back. "Will you, m'eudail?" His voice was as grave as his face.

Van felt a flash of fear. She had been living each day as it came this winter, trying desperately not to look ahead, and even more desperately not to look behind. She had found Alan useful in this struggle, and so she had used him. But what had it meant to him?

His eyes were very green as he looked down at her. He was looking splendid himself tonight, in his dress kilt and his velvet jacket. He wore his hair unpowdered and it glinted richly auburn under the sconce that hung above them. She did not just find him useful, Van admitted to herself. There was more between them than that.

"I said I would be patient," he was going on, "and I have been trying to be. But, Dhé, Van, it is hard going!"

"Alan..." She searched his face. "I care for you, you know that. But I don't know if it is enough."

He took her hands and drew her closer to him. Their faces were very near. They might have been alone in the crowded room for all the notice they took of those around them. "Let me be the one to worry about that," he said.

The temptation to give in to him was tremendous. Edward was so far away now. In her mind she had given him up. Yet still she hesitated. Don't do anything rash, he had said to her. Marrying Alan was exactly the thing he had been cautioning her against; she knew that well. But they were at war, and Alan might be killed.... "I need a little more time, Alan," she said breathlessly. "I don't know." She made a resolve. "When you come back to Inverness, I'll answer you then."

His eyes began to turn from green to gold. He was the closest he had ever been to getting what he wanted, and he knew it. He was not fool enough to push her now. "All right, m'eudail," he said gently. "I can wait until then."