Page 34 of Highland Crown
Isabella raised his head and pushed a travel bag beneath it. As the cart rolled past the kirk, she covered him with her cloak.
“So you do believe in revenge, Captain Mackintosh.”
His face was grim. “I’m missing three longboats filled with my men. I have no idea if they’re dead or alive. But if any of them came ashore at Duff Head, I know their fate. Those villagers almost killed me. They deserve what’s coming to them.”
“They’d have killed us all, to be sure,” Jean said sadly. “The sea provides, and the sea takes her due.”
Isabella was about to say something more, but the words withered in her throat as the sound of hooves drew her eyes back along the road. In the distance, a detail of mounted British soldiers was thundering toward them.
At the head of the line was a rider taller than the rest. Lieutenant Hudson.
CHAPTER10
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can,
Come saddle your horses, and call up your men;
Come open the West Port, and let me gang free,
And it’s room for the bonnets of Bonny Dundee!
—Sir Walter Scott, “Bonny Dundee”
A half-dozen men were bearing down on them along the coach road, and Cinaed knew there was no point in trying to outrun them with a single horse pulling an old cart. Their pursuers were coming hard on fresh horses.
He forced himself into a sitting position. Escape was impossible. A stone’s throw from the road, long stone walls and ditches enclosed large flat tracts of land that had once been farms. Now flocks of sheep grazed unperturbed around the ruined walls of ancient cottages. Across the fields, a grove of tall trees stood like an island of deep green, but they’d never reach it in time, and it offered little protection. They had nowhere to hide and nowhere to run to.
Behind him, Jean was muttering curses under her breath, and Isabella was sitting with her back straight as a mainmast, cool disdain on her face. She was a goddess of composure in the face of grave danger.
No matter how sick or injured one might be, he thought,nothing was more jarring than knowing one could die at any minute. Forcing himself to ignore his pain and exhaustion, he focused on the soldiers.
“Hudson and his bloody skip jacks made good time.” He drew a deep breath as he flexed his shooting hand. “Where are the pistols?”
“Jean has one in that bag beside her. The other is here,” Isabella answered, taking it from her travel bag and quickly sliding it under the edge of the cloak.
His fingers closed around the handle, and he left the pistol where he could reach it when the time came. He pulled his knife from his boot and placed it beside the firearm.
Unless Hudson had ordered them killed on sight, which was unlikely, they had two choices. They could fight—and that would be a brief skirmish, at best—or they could allow themselves to be taken. The end result would be the same. They’d be dead.
Isabella was drawing a scalpel from her bag and secreting it in her dress.
She shrugged. “I plan to fight them. I’ll die before they arrest me. If they take me, my death will be far more dreadful.”
Their thoughts were sailing on the same tack.
As the Hussars rode up and came to a halt, they formed a half-circle around the cart. Cinaed placed his hands where they’d be seen.
“I’d like to thank you for ringing the bell. It certainly worked in my favor,” Hudson said as he nudged his horse forward. His pistol was pointed directly at Isabella. Davidson lagged a few judicious steps behind him.
Cinaed would put his bullet into Hudson’s brain and,before being cut down by the others, make sure his knife found Davidson’s heart. What happened after was out of his hands. His fingers inched toward the edge of the cloak.
Hudson was still crowing like the cock of the roost. “Unlike your cowardly Highlanders, who no longer have the heart to show up to do battle, my men responded to the sound of the bell. Davidson and I were met before we’d traveled far.”
“Terribly embarrassing, was it not,” Cinaed taunted, “to have your own men find you running back to the barracks with your tail between your legs?”
Hudson reined his horse to a halt not fifteen feet from the cart. Davidson moved to the side where he’d have a clear shot at Cinaed.
“A very impressive performance on your part,” Hudson said, ignoring the insult. “As fine as any actor in London. I’m quite curious to know just who you are.”
