Page 103 of Keeping Kate
Hearing murmurings and shuffling about coming from the cell, she angled so that the two sergeants faced her, their backs to the prisoners. “It is getting dark in here,” she said, looking about.
“It is always dark down here. But you, Miss,” one of the men said, “you have a sort of glow all about you like candlelight. I have never seen anything quite like it.”
“Like a new lantern. We needed such down here,” his companion said.
“Thank you.” She smiled, touching the crystal at her throat. For a moment she felt its power in a new way, a stronger confidence. It was as if she could control this strange ability as never before. A smile, a word, a touch of the crystal seemed not nearly as powerful, now, as what came from within. What felt different, she thought quickly, was her own sense that she was loved, that she held a glow of love within her like a vessel holds water or a lantern holds light. And that feeling, she realized, could be shared.
As the soldiers talked on, and she smiled in response and encouragement, it occurred to her that perhaps the fairy-blessed among the MacCarran clan were simply those who could carry this love within themselves and impart that feeling to others. The thought almost took her breath. Could it be so? The fairy gift needed to be shared in kind and beneficial ways. Her ability was not intended to manipulate—that was not its best use, she suddenly knew. She could use her charm to make others feel seen, heard, acknowledged. Loved and special, if only in the moment.
Her breath quickened. All this while, when she had met the officers and men who had fallen into a sort of trance around her, whether slight or deep, she could have made them feel not just charmed, but better in the moment. She could have done that. From now on, she meant to try. Looking past the guards, she saw one and then another lady come out of the shadows of the cell. One walked past the guard, while the other turned and went back inside. Another lady walked past, weeping loudly, then two. One turned and ran back, sobbing, then a moment later ran past the others and down corridor, sniffling and moaning as if beset by powerful grief. Then another whirled with a sob and went back as if for a last embrace. Back and forth the women went, while Kate smiled at the guards and the guards smiled at her. No one counted the cloaked ladies shuffling and sniffling and turning about between the cell and the dark recess of the corridor that led outside.
“Oh, dear,” Kate said, looking past the guards. “They seem to have gone outside. My poor friends, all taken by grief,” she said. “I will go say my own farewell, if I may. Oh, no, stay here,” she urged, when one sergeant stepped back. “I must do this myself. But I thank you for your courtesy. You have both been so kind.”
She walked down the short length of the passage to the cell, with its planked wooden door set with a small barred window. Stepping inside the open door, she stood for a moment in the empty space.
They were all gone, all six men. She had to linger long enough to give them all time to get out of the castle dressed as six ladies, when only four had gone inside. Alec would escort them out of the castle compound and away down Castlehill in sedan chairs, with luck before anyone realized what had happened.
Then she left the cell, closing the door behind her, and walked back to the guards.
“Resting,” she said quietly, gesturing toward the cell. “That visit took quite a bit out of them. So sad. Leave them be.” She gave the men a tremulous smile.
Reaching into the small purse she carried tucked away in her pocket, she extracted two coins—this time, shining gold Spanish doubloons. She gave one to each.
“You have been kind to us. Take this for your trouble. They are quite valuable, I am told.”
“Indeed,” one guard said. “But this gold don’t shine near as brightly as you, Miss. It is like a magic about you.” He smiled, wide-eyed and boyish.
She smiled, and pressed each man’s hand with her gloved hand in farewell. “Gentlemen, I am a woman in love. That is the magic. Only that. I must go. My friends are waiting.” She glided away.
Rounding the corner, she picked up her skirts and ran.
Outside,as Alec ushered each lady—at least he hoped the lads had carried off their ruse—into the waiting hired chairs, he kept glancing back, watching for Kate to appear. The delay was deeply concerning.
“Here, you, keep that gear on for now,” he muttered, as Jack MacDonald began to strip off his bonnet. None of them wanted to keep the things on longer than necessary, although Ian Cameron, and Andrew and Donald MacCarran were more than willing to leave the esplanade wearing anything that helped them get away. Finally, they were all in the chairs and he was waving them safely away—but Kate had still not come.
Where the devil was she? This was taking far too long, he thought, frowning. As he turned again, he saw her at last, running through the vaulted tunnel gate and across the planked drawbridge. She picked up her skirts and hurried toward him, her cloak hood falling back to show her hair, shining Celtic gold in the sun.
He hastened toward her, and she reached out a hand. He shook his head. “No, love, though you are more beautiful to me than even the queen of the fairies,” he said. “But unless you can vanish or fly, we must find you a sedan and get you gone from here.”
Kate nodded, understanding the need for haste and caution. As Alec escorted her toward the outer gate, she gasped suddenly and set a hand on his arm to stop him.
A man was climbing the slope from the gate—Colonel Grant came toward them like a thundercloud, brow lowered, fists clenched.
“Fraser!” he yelled, his hand on the sword at his side. “Damn you to hell, Fraser, and that strumpet with you! What are you doing here?”
“Just visiting,” Alec murmured.
“You and this one here have been about some sort of mischief, no doubt. Let me give you some sport, sir, before you leave,” he snapped, and whipped his sword from its sheath.
Alec pushed Kate back and drew his own sword, advancing with such ease and sureness that the colonel stumbled backward. Recovering, Grant tossed away his tricorne hat and took a hanging guard stance.
Countering quickly, Alec knocked the blade as it came down, and began a fast series of lunges and parries. Grant proved a more skilled opponent than he expected. Alec found he had to watch every step, every move. The cobbled slope was treacherous as well. And he could not spare a glance for the soldiers gathering around, hands on swords, two or three with their fingers set on pistols.
Nor could he watch the lady who stood apart from the rest, beautiful and luminous, her hand raised to her throat.
Dance back, quarter guard, parry and thrust; Alec spun his moves out seamlessly, scarcely needing to think. He circled, all the while compensating for his injured arm, still in its sling, until he tore the cloth away and flung it aside. Extending his left arm to gain better balance, he ignored the pain that protested all along his forearm.
Rounding with his back to the sun over the castle’s walls, he saw Grant blink furiously as the light hit his eyes. Wanting to keep the man facing the sun, Alec moved within a shorter range, striving to maintain that advantage.
