Wolf, Joan (30 page)

He and Alasdair MacIan, he realized, would not have had a thought in common.

He looked from the castle to the face of Alasdair's daughter. His plan for saving Morar and winning Van now seemed far more fraught with obstacles than he had previously anticipated. "It is magnificent," he said soberly.

"Aye," said Van. "You can beach the boat over there." She pointed, and following her instructions, he brought the boat to shore.

The front hall of the castle was a depressing room paneled in dark oak. Van spoke in Gaelic to a servant and then said, to the two men with her, "Mother is in the drawing room. Follow me." She led them up a set of narrow spiral stairs whose walls were covered with nails where once decorations had hung. Glancing around to see if Mr. Drummond were all right, Van caught Edward's eyes on the now-naked walls.

"The walls used to be hung with swords, claymores, broadswords, and dirks," she said flatly. Edward did not reply, but continued to follow her up the stairs, which curved upward in the traditional clockwise direction, he noticed. Stairs in old fortresses were always built thus so that a defender would have the benefit of the free right-handed swing of his sword arm against a mounting attacker.

At the top of the stairs was a set of large double doors. Van opened them and led the two men into a very large, very lovely room. A woman was seated at the far side of the room, near the largest fireplace Edward had ever seen. She put down her sewing as they entered, and Edward heard Van say, "Mother, may I introduce the Earl of Linton."

Edward smiled at Frances MacIan and saw her lovely face light with warmth at the sound of his name. "You look very like your father," she told him as he bent over her outstretched hand. Then, with a slight catch in her voice, "I am so very glad to see you, Edward!"

Much gladder than her daughter, Edward thought ruefully as he turned to present the Reverend Mr. Drummond.

"Mr. Drummond!" Frances cried, surprised. "Whatever are you doing here?"

"Do you know Mr. Drummond, Mother?" Van asked bewilderedly.

"Of course I know Mr. Drummond." Frances was on her feet. "My dear sir, you did not make that terrible journey on foot?"

"No, no, Lady Morar. His lordship was kind enough to lead my pony the whole way," the elderly man reassured Frances. He took her hands. "May I tell you how very sorry I am about your husband?"

"Thank you," Frances replied in a low voice. Then, with the genuine concern that was so large a part of her charm, "You look exhausted, Mr. Drummond. Would you like to be shown to your bedchamber to rest?"

The clergyman replied gratefully that he would, and Frances summoned Morag to perform this chore. "The blue bedroom, Morag. And then bring tea to the drawing room, please."

The door shut behind Morag and the three of them were alone. Frances smiled at Edward. "And how is your mother?" she asked.

"Very well, Lady Morar," he replied courteously. "But concerned about you."

"Dhé!" said Van, leaping to her feet. "This is not a London reception! For God's sake, Edward, what were you doing in Inverness?"

It was the first time she had said his name. He looked at her slender, vibrant figure outlined against the fire. The narrow stem of her waist and the slim lines of her hips and long legs were clearly visible in the close-fitting tartan trews. The long black braid that fell across her shoulder was as thick as his arm. She was looking at him as if he were an enemy.

"I went to see the Duke of Cumberland," he said calmly.

"Cumberland!" said Frances. Her voice trembled with loathing and fear
_:

Something flared in Van's eyes. "Were you bringing him messages from London?"

"No." She was still and taut as an animal at bay. "No," he went on, "I am no longer connected to the government, Van. I resigned my position after Culloden."

Her lips parted slightly but she did not reply.

It was Frances who spoke. "You are aware, then, Edward, of what has been happening in the Highlands?"

"Yes." He turned to the Earl of Morar's widow. "It is a policy that has been dictated from London, Lady Morar. I spoke against it, but no one would listen. England is going to make very sure that the Highlands never rise for a Stuart again."

"Disarm us, then!" Frances cried passionately. "That is fair, after what has happened. But to take vengeance on women and children! Did you know that women and children are being burned out of their homes and sent to roam the hills? In this weather! With no food and no shelter! My God, Edward, England has never made war on women and children."

He regarded her with compassion. "It was the invasion, Lady Morar. England was terrified. The king was ready to flee to Hanover." He looked back at Van. 'The measure of our vengeance," he said slowly, "is the measure of our fear."

"Niall was right then," Van said. "The retreat was a mistake. They should have gone on."

Morag brought the tea tray in and Frances began to pour. Edward accepted a cup from her hands, sipped it, and then put the cup down on a rosewood side table. He looked into the fire and said very quietly, "Where is Niall?"

He sensed rather than saw the look that passed between Frances and Van. They did not answer.

"He must be got away to France," Edward continued as if he had noticed nothing amiss. "I can arrange for a boat to take him out of Loch Morar if you wish."

There was dead silence. Then Frances spoke, her voice trembling.
"Thank you,
Edward. You are very good. But he is not in Morar at present."

Edward looked at her. "Can you get word to him?"

Frances shook her head. She looked unspeakably distressed. "He is somewhere in the Outer Isles," she said. "With the prince."

He heard the sharp sound of Van's indrawn breath. He turned his head to look at her. "Cumberland knows the prince is in the Outer Isles," he said slowly. "The hunt is up in earnest now. The seas around Skye and the Long Isle will soon be full of navy ships, if they are not there already."

"Oh, my God." It was Frances' low voice.

Van stared back at him, and her light eyes were full of challenge. "How would you get Niall away?" she said.

"I have a yacht." Her eyes widened slightly and he went on, "The
Sea Queen
was not ready to sail when I left London, but I left orders for it to be brought to Morar as soon as possible."

"The navy would stop and search it," Van said breathlessly.

"Not if I were aboard." His golden brows rose slightly. He had never looked more like a prince himself.

"Perhaps we could get word to Niall," Frances said suddenly.

"I can get him away for you," Edward replied. "But if he is taken there will be little I can do. He is a traitor under the law and the mood at court is not for leniency. I have some influence, but..."

"Yes," said Frances. She was very pale. "I understand." She drew a long, unsteady breath. Her hands were tightly clasped in her lap. They had met for the first time only minutes ago, but they spoke in the low, quiet tones of intimacy. They were both acutely conscious of Van's taut, silent figure, although neither of them looked at her. "Will the soldiers be coming to Morar?" Frances asked.

"Cumberland just sent three battalions to occupy Fort Augustus. They have orders to do to Locaber what has been done to Inverness. After Lochaber they will be in Morar."

"Dear God." Frances looked at him pleadingly. "Edward, if they drive off our cattle, the dan will starve."

In answer he looked from Frances to Van. "You asked before what I was doing in Inverness," he said to her.

Her light eyes were bright and wary. "Aye."

"I went to see Cumberland with a plan to save Morar."

The light eyes narrowed. "And what is that?"

"Marry me," he said simply. "Marry me and the duke will regard Morar as loyal to the crown. There will be no punishment exacted here. The clan will be safe."

Van's whole body seemed to quiver. Beside him he could hear the sharp intake of Frances' breath. "There will be an Act of Indemnity one day," Edward went on, "and when it comes, Niall can resume the title. Until then, Morar will be safe under my protection."

"And Cumberland agreed to this?" It was Frances' voice.

"Yes." He still looked at Van, who had said nothing. "Van?" he asked. His voice was very soft, very deep. Van looked at her mother.

Frances rose to her feet. "This is something for you two to discuss privately," she said. Then, to Van, "I'll be in my sitting room, darling, if you should want me." She moved soundlessly across the Persian carpet to the big double doors. They closed behind her with audible finality.

Edward and Van were alone.

CHAPTER 24

They stood facing each other, separated by only six feet of space. Once he had been all the world to her, Van thought. Once all she had wanted out of life was to marry him. But that was before.

"Sweetheart." His voice was deep, caressing. "Don't look at me like that. We are not enemies, you and I."

Dhé. How she remembered that voice. Her nostrils flared and she straightened her already straight shoulders. "Perhaps not," she replied. "But too much blood lies between us, Edward. Too much has happened for us ever to be to each other what once we were."

His eyes kindled. "I don't believe that."

"It is true." Her voice was steady but he could hear the effort it was for her to keep it so. "My father died at Culloden. Do you know that?"

"I know that. And I am deeply sorry, sweetheart. But he knew what he risked when he went into this rebellion."

Color flushed into her face. "It is not Culloden!" she cried passionately. "You are right. That was a battle and they all knew what they risked. Father and Niall killed English soldiers, I know that well enough. It was
after
the battle, Edward." For the first time the still, frozen look had lifted from her face. It was aflame now with anger and contempt. "Did you know that Cumberland would not let anyone go on the field to help the wounded or claim the dead? He posted guards, Edward, to keep us away! That is not war. That is something else altogether. We
always
gave medical aid to our wounded prisoners."

His eyes were very blue in his white face. "I know, Van."

"And now they are after us like beasts of prey. Murder. Plunder. Rape. Starvation. This is not merely the pursuit of rebels who were in arms against the government. This is extermination."

"I told you," he said. "The government is going to make very sure Scotland will never rise for the Stuarts again."

She took a step toward him. Her eyes were narrow and glittering. "You always told me that cruelty would never work on an animal. That you would only drive him into opposition. Does it work, then, on people?"

That reached him, as nothing else had. His own eyes blazed. "Christ, Van! Do you think I approve of what is being done here?"

She sustained that blue blaze for fully half a minute before she said, almost unwillingly, "No. I suppose not."

"You
suppose
not?"

"Well, then, why don't you do something about it?" she cried. "You are important enough. The government always listens to you."

"They are not listening to me now." There was a cold stillness in his voice that made her shiver. "I did my best, but it was no good. So I resigned."

"How noble of you," she said.

There was silence.

Van let out her breath. "All right, I'm sorry I said that," she flung at his grim white face. "But don't you see, Edward, how impossible a marriage would be between us now?"

"Come here and kiss me," he said. "Kiss me and then tell me that marriage between us is impossible."

"No!" she cried sharply, almost shrilly. She turned and walked away to the window and stood staring out at the loch. She was breathing rapidly. He saw the rise and fall of her breasts, the long slim line of her body, and his mouth hardened.

Van looked blindly out the window and tried to get a hold on her emotions. She could not marry Edward. It was impossible. Alan. She tried to think of Alan, whom she had heard was a prisoner now in Fort Augustus. She shook her head.

"If you do not marry me," he said, "I do not see how I can protect Morar."

Her head swung around. "There must be some other way," she said breathlessly.

"Not that I know of." His eyes moved to her throat, her breasts, to her waist and her hips. She felt the dark blood begin to throb in her veins. It was what frightened her most of all, this perilous attraction he had for her. Even now, with her country falling in ruins about her, she had only to look at his mouth to remember the feel of it on her mouth, on her body. She forced her voice to steadiness. "If I marry you," she said, "it will only be for Morar."

He was coming toward the window, his hair bright as a Viking's helmet in the light of the sun. He was so big. He stopped in front of her and placed his hands on her waist. "Then marry me for Morar," he said, and bent his head to hers.

It was as if a hood came down upon her mind. Her body arched up against his and her arms went up to circle his neck. The thick rope of her hair swung down past her waist, brushing against his hands as they slid caressingly along her hips. Her lips opened under the pressure of his. His body was so strong against hers.

He raised his head and looked down into her face. His eyes were narrow and brilliantly blue. "Marry me," he said imperatively.

"Yes," Van breathed, and he kissed her again.

Van closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into the hollow of his shoulder. It would be so easy to give in to him, she thought. So easy to lose herself in the physical bond that undeniably existed between them. But it was not as simple as that. He might not be an enemy, but he was still a Sassenach. A Sassenach and a Whig.

"Did you mean what you said before about helping Niall to escape?" she murmured.

She felt his lips in her hair. "Yes."

She filled her lungs with air, straightened her spine, and stepped away from him. "I can get word to Niall, I suppose," she said steadily, "but I know already that he will refuse to abandon the prince."