Page 59 of Keeping Kate
“Just men from the western hills, they said—could be anyone. The dragoons said troops were going into the hills to look for Spanish arms. He accused Captain Fraser of knowing more than he lets on, and of protecting those who are hiding Spanish pistols.”
She caught her breath. “What did Captain—er, my husband say to that?”
“He was angry. It was around him like steam, I tell ye. But he were calm enough. Said he knew little about that kerfuffle and could not help their inquiry. Then he went looking for Jack MacDonald. Rode off like a hellhound.”
Listening, Kate shook her head. If someone had found the Spanish cache and distributed the weapons, the government would be after them in force. She remembered that Alec Fraser was intent on learning what she knew. Did he mean to join the search or help the Highlanders who had found the weapons, and either way—what was his intent?
Davey knocked on the door. “Mistress? Ye went quiet.”
“I am just...Davey, could you fetch some food? I am hungry. Thirsty, too.”
If he opened the door she might have a chance to get away and run to Duncrieff to warn her brother. She was already wondering if her kinsmen were among the ones who had been arrested over the Spanish cache.
“I will bring you summat. We have hot chocolate drink today—Jeanie made a pot if you would like some.”
“I would love that,” she said, still distracted by her thoughts.
“Fraser’s Fancies cocoa, it is.” He sounded pleased. “Is that our Captain Fraser?”
“That may be. Thank you, Davey. You are a gentleman.”
“I will be right back. Ye will stay here, Mistress?”
“How could I get past a locked door?” she asked sweetly.
Hearing his footsteps pounding down the steps, she dropped to her knees to examine the lock more closely, peering through the keyhole. She saw the shadowed upper hallway and a gleam of light from belowstairs. The sound of men laughing in the tavern came from below, too. Someone shouted for ale, and Jeanie called an answer.
The mechanism of key and handle was simple enough, she saw, but she had nothing to try the lock; she wished she had saved the fork from the previous night. Hearing footsteps, she stepped back as a key was inserted and the door swung open.
A lanky youth with a wild shock of rust-red hair stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He carried a covered dish in one hand, a cup in the other. He smiled, his fair skin blushing, his brown eyes sparkling.
“Och, Mistress Fraser,” he said. “You are younger than I thought. And bonny.”
“You are bonny yourself, Davey,” she said, accepting the cocoa. “Thank you.”
“Och, ‘tis nothing at all,” he sputtered. “Will ye have some mutton pie?” He held out the covered dish, but was clumsy as a colt, stepping on his own big boot and lurching forward as the dish toppled. Kate scooped it out of his hands before it hit the floor, setting it on a small table.
“I am sorry you must stay up here, Mistress,” the lad said. “Captain Fraser could appreciate his bonny Highland bride better than that. I could say something if you like.”
“Oh, I am sure we will clear up our spat soon enough,” she said brightly.
“Mistress, I want to say—I am a loyal Highlander, and I have the sense you are as well. I am for Jamie o’er the water m’self, Mistress. But I dinna say it often around here. I thought ye might like to know there was another wi’ that view of things here.”
“Thank you. It is good to have a braw Scottish lad looking after me.”
“Och, aye.” He watched her earnestly, with the innocence and guile of a puppy, big brown eyes watching her as he leaned forward.
She lifted the cup and sipped the chocolate. It was hot and thick, though bitter, with little sweetening added to it. She could barely swallow it, but did so, and smiled.
“Lovely. Thank you, Davey.” She knew she had him, could see it in the wide, limpid gaze, the slight drooping of his lower lip, the hot flush rising in his fair skin. He was very young, and she felt a small qualm.
But she had seen this before—she needed only to smile, be friendly, and many men, especially young ones, would swim like fish to the bait. She was partial to lonely puppyish sorts like Davey and took care to be kind to them. And she took care to avoid other sorts, men with a harsh edge and no need for affection, or men who wanted only to satisfy a primal hunger. She could charm them as well with a look or a tilt of the head, but she had learned to keep clear of that risk. Colonel Francis Grant had been not only harsh but hungry, and she had barely gotten away.
As for Alec Fraser—he had been neither yearning nor needy, and his solitariness and restraint were compelling to her. But she could not think of him now, must not.
She smiled again at young Davey MacLennan, saw him blink, redden. He was an adoring pup, an easy snare. She glanced away, tempted to tell him to leave, so that she could let him loose gracefully. Lads his age fell easily and quickly, and soon felt foolish, and she did not want to be the source of that.
But besotted Davey could give her a real chance to slip away from the inn.
