Page 8 of Keeping Kate
“Tha mi duilich,”she said in Gaelic.I am sorry.She wanted to tell him so in English, for she was truly sorry—that urge felt odd as well, in this urgent situation. Flustered, she turned to set the cup on the tea table. Noticing that tea still steamed in the pot, she refilled the cup as an idea suddenly occurred—a way to get the list Fraser was even now salvaging from the mishap.
When she had encountered other officers, she had only needed to let her magic do its work through innocence or allure, through smiles, flattery, a laugh, a touch on the arm or cheek. Most men had fallen into a dreamy daze, especially if they had been imbibing. If not, she added a little sleeping potion to their drink before searching quickly through papers, finding and taking what was useful, and slipping away.
Tonight, her laundress disguise had been a disaster—and now she could hardly try to seduce the captain. Not only might he recognize her from London, but she felt strongly that her fairy gift would not find easy pickings in him.
She had to get the pages and escape, but how? Slipping her fingers into her skirt pocket, she slowly extracted a little glass vial that held the herbal sleeping infusion that she had sometimes used in officers’ drinks to protect herself from their advances.
Slowly she pried open the little cork, and with her back turned, let two or three drops fall into the tea. She turned to offer the cup of tea as Fraser straightened, papers in hand. He shook his head and motioned quickly to dismiss her.
Kate looked away, heart pounding, and set the cup on the desk, fingers touching a certain page she wanted. Captain Fraser ignored her, sorting other pages.
One other choice remained to her, something she had heard about but had never tried. The very thought made her uneasy.
According to MacCarran family lore, those that inherited the fairy gift—including Kate and her sister Sophie—also had the power of theglamourie,and could call up a spell of enchantment to bedazzle someone with a moment that could suspend awareness and even time itself.
She had never consciously tried it, relying only on luck and natural-born charm. Honestly, she did not believe deliberate spellcasting was possible, despite clan legend. When she and her sister were young, their parents had explained that they had each been blessed with the fairy gift; they were each given pretty crystals to wear that would protect them—and enhance the engaging effects that went beyond the ordinary. Eventually realizing that she had a certain charisma, Kate had put that to good use to help her clan. Spellcasting was another matter entirely.
Years earlier, when her family still lived together happily at Duncrieff Castle before her father had been exiled for his politics and his loyalty, in her estimation—she had learned more about the family legends from her grandmother, who had cautioned both Kate and Sophie to only cast a glamourie when they understood its power. And so Kate, more pragmatic and bold than dreamy, sensitive Sophie, had scoffed at the notion. But she could not dismiss MacCarran lore. An old, enormous manuscript at Duncrieff contained the family’s traditions and the story of the fairy gift—but the book was a hefty tome and a daunting piece of scholarship. Sophie had loved its pages, but Kate had scarcely glanced inside.
Besides, spell knowledge or none, she was sure no glamourie would work on Captain Fraser. He was not the least bedazzled by her charm. In fact, he looked very annoyed, scowling under lowered brows as he sifted the pages on the desk. And that in itself was a reaction Kate rarely had from men. She frowned, too, standing near him.
She turned to pick up a small bowl of fine sugar and spooned a healthy serving into the teacup. Then she handed it to him, feeling uncomfortably like a spider spinning out its web to catch its unsuspecting prey.
“Tha mi duilich,”she repeated, and placed a hand over her heart to show regret. She truly did feel regret, and for more than spilling tea over his papers.
To her relief, he accepted the cup. “Thank you.Tapadh leat,”he translated.
His attempt at Gaelic increased her sense of guilt. Most officers she met just seemed like puppets in red coats to her, red soldiers, Whigs all. Her adored Highland father had died in exile, and she had good reason to dislike red soldiers, finding them easy to dislike or dismiss—or forcing herself to think so when they were kind or appealing, as some truly had been.
But Captain Fraser was different. She had seen him as a Highland warrior first, before seeing him as a military officer. Now he wore a red coat with the wrapped plaid of the new regiment some called the Black Watch. In military coat or Highland plaidie, he made her blood quicken—but she could never allow herself to respond to that pull. She wanted only to fool him and get away.
Oh, please drink it, she thought. Drink up and forgive me.
He raised the cup in salute. “You’re a clumsy wee thing, Miss Washerwoman, but a bonny wee lass for all that. I see you are sorry. All is forgiven. I hope you are better at laundry than housekeeping.” And he sipped the tea.
Heart pounding, Kate leaned down to fuss with the laundry in the basket. His discarded shirt smelled of him, traces of warmth, of manliness, strength, and comfort. Stop it, she thought. Picking up the basket, she went to the tent flaps and looked back.
He sat down, sipping tea again. Lifting a hand, he shoved his fingers through thick, wavy hair, gold threading through dark brown strands. He tipped his head to his hand as if he felt fatigued.
Quelling guilt, she stepped out of the tent and hurried through the camp in gathering darkness. Then a figure emerged from the gloom—a tall Highlander. Kate gasped, rushing forward as her cousin caught her arm and drew her into the shadows.
“What happened?” Allan MacCarran whispered in Gaelic. “I was waiting here—it took a while this time. Did you come to harm, lass? I will kill any man who—”
“All is well,” Kate whispered hastily. “I saw the list of arrests but had no chance to take it. The officer is still awake. Allan, listen,” she said urgently. “He saw me months ago in London. I gave him the herbal infusion just now, but it is too risky to go back now. He could easily connect the lady and the laundress. He is not a stupid man.”
“You can charm him like the others. That tincture will put him out cold. Go back, find that page, and get out fast as you can.”
She felt sudden panic, torn between the urge to flee and an inexplicable, sudden, strong yearning to go back to Fraser’s tent. He exuded a pull over her, rather than the other way around. “I cannot, Allan,” she said. “We must go.”
“We must have that list,” Allan whispered. “We have to know where they are keeping Ian Cameron. He never had a chance to meet your brother before his arrest, and only he knows where that Spanish cache is hidden. We have to rescue him before the English can force the information out of him.”
“I know, but if the captain catches me out and recognizes me, it is too much risk.”
“A moment, and you will be gone from there,” Allan assured her. “Cameron can lead us to the missing weapons before the red soldiers find them—or the insurrection will suffer. This means everything to your clan and kin, lass. To Scotland.”
Kate sighed heavily. Her loyalty to her clan, to her brother, to Scotland, was strong. She would do anything for her brother Robert, chief of the MacCarrans of Duncrieff. That was more than enough reason for her to work to help the Cause.
“Fine,” she whispered. “Wait here.”
