Page 25 of A Rogue in Firelight
“Once he leaves Edinburgh, his conspirators will be transferred to Calton Jail. MacGregor will soon learn that their wellbeing depends on his cooperation.”
“I do not recall ordering that,” Sir Hector said.
“Sir, you mentioned some details that I appended to the petition for safe warrant. You signed the papers. Busy as you are, you may have forgotten.”
Sir Hector frowned. “I would not forget a detail such as that.”
“The other two could hardly remain in the Castle dungeon once MacGregor was removed. Questions would be asked. Moving all three at once attracts less notice. You said MacGregor must understand that his cooperation is essential.”
“Ah. Well, if I ordered it.” Sir Hector looked perplexed.
None of this felt right, Ellison thought. “What consequences?”
“Just what has been done for centuries,” Corbie explained. “MacGregor will cooperate in exchange for the treatment of his accomplices.”
“Hostage for blackmail? It is medieval and despicable! Papa, you cannot do this!”
“Transferring the other two is sufficient, Mr. Corbie.”
“Sir, we have no guarantee—”
“You cannot betray the man when you need his help!” Ellison said.
“He benefits from this arrangement. And we must exercise caution.”
“You need me, but I will not be party to betrayal.”
“You are already part of this scheme,” Corbie said. “You must ensure its success.”
Without answer, she went to the door, taking the handle in trembling fingers.
“Ellie, stop.” Her father’s quiet use of her childhood name made her pause.
“Papa, I will not be art and part to betrayal.”
“All you need do is turn a frog into a prince,” Corbie said.
“Pity. I quite like frogs.” She shut the door firmly behind her.
Chapter Six
Freedom.He hadnearly forgotten the feeling.
Through the window of the rolling carriage, Ronan watched the morning fog lift away from buildings crowding the High Street. Two Regiment of Foot guards had escorted him from his cell to the castle forecourt and a waiting vehicle. Now the coach lurched along so quickly that he tilted on the cracked leather seat, hands and ankles bound with rope.
Where the devil were they taking him?
He gulped in cool summer air, enjoying the earthy scent of the cobbled streets, the tantalizing smells of bacon and new bread wafting from booths in the Lawnmarket where merchants were setting up for the day. Everywhere he saw farmers, merchants, women with baskets, children running, and a few soldiers of the Regiment of Foot in red coats, tartan trews, black hats. Overhead, the bells of Saint Giles rang out.
For them, an ordinary morning; for him, extraordinary.
The shabby vehicle was a hired hackney. Curious, he thought. A cart might mean he was headed for trial and hanging. A carriage meant a longer trip.
Earlier, MacInnes and Linhope had watched in alarm as the sentries removed him without explanation. He could not guess their fate now, or his. Whatever the day would bring, he must face it with fortitude.
Ahead he saw the rooftops of Holyroodhouse; to the left, the rugged incline of Calton Hill. Instead of heading there, the coach turned into a shadowed close and halted. Frowning, he recognized the building as the offices of the Constabulary. Dread punched through him.
Leaning to the window, he saw two guards walking with a portly gentleman in a black coat, his expansive chest draped with a blue ribbon, gold badge, silver whistle on a chain. An Edinburgh constable.
