Page 78 of Highland Crown
“Many lay sick with wounds that festered until they died in the utmost agony.” Carmichael tore the notice in his hand in half. “The minister Hay sent his bishop a catalogue of atrocities.”
“My great-grandfather, Murdoch McRaw,” another said bitterly, “was hanged by the road from an apple tree out on Haugh Brae. Them demons left his naked body out fer two days and a night… and whipped it fer their devilish amusement.”
Cinaed nodded. They all remembered. They were Highlanders. Inverness was their home. They never forgot.
“Are we to allow Hudson to do the same to us now?” he asked.
The answers came as one. “Nay!”
Cinaed looked at the faces around the room. They were few, but they all had sound hearts and courage enough. Attacking Fort George to free Searc would be impossible and foolish to try. They’d be cut down before they got over the walls. The Deputy Governor of Fort George and his staff had fattened their purses and built their reputations on keeping the Highlands quiet, thanks to Searc. They wanted no trouble and would get Hudson back in harness.
Cinaed needed a way to bring those commanding officers back to Inverness in a hurry, but if he could draw Hudson out and destroy him before their return, all the better.
He turned to Kenedy. “What English ships are in port?”
The deserted malt house across the lane from Searc’s house fit Isabella’s needs perfectly. The growing rooms were large and dry, and with some help cleaning the place up, it would serve a much greater purpose than sitting shuttered and empty.
She understood what Cinaed planned to do tonight and tomorrow. She worried, but she couldn’t chastise him. And she wouldn’t try to change his mind. A battle lay ahead, and she understood the value of strategy and preparation.
At the same time, she wasn’t about to keep herself locked away in the tower chamber, pacing the floors and feeling useless. No matter what Cinaed said, she still felt completely at fault for what was happening to Searc Mackintosh. She knew about the offer Hudson had circulated to encourage people to hand her in. But Isabella wasn’t afraid. She’d been in this situation before. She wasn’t going to be intimidated again.
Right now, they each had a task to accomplish. Hers was to get a temporary clinic ready, in case of reprisals for the attack on the prisoner escort and for what Cinaed had planned.
“We’re up to twenty-five lasses,” Jean announced as she ushered in two more women who’d come to help.
“And their children?”
“Told ’em to bring the bairns along. Cook is sending over food enough for all.”
“And you told them they’ll receive an honest day’s wages so long as they stay.”
“Aye.”
Isabella had seen enough hungry faces on Maggot Green to know Jean’s offer would be popular. Cleaning the large growing-rooms was the priority, and she’d arranged to have bedding and blankets brought over from Searc’s house and from Carmichael’s temporary clinic in the book warehouse later.
In the event of trouble, the clinic by the fields would have been an ideal place, but she knew Cinaed would be concerned about her safety if she decided to work that far away from the house. Also, by starting to renovate the malt house, she decided it might be a good place as a temporary shelter in the future. She’d seen a number of them in Edinburgh, and the need existed here as well. Too many women and children in the Maggot were wandering the riverbanks.
She rolled up her sleeves and was about to join her small army of workers when she saw Cinaed come in.
All work stopped. All conversation ceased. Everyone was openly staring at him. Isabella had seen the same reaction the night they’d walked into Searc’s reception. Even during the speeches, she’d watched the heads turn as he came through the crowd to her. Cinaed was impressive. More than impressive, she corrected herself. He was beautiful.
He filled the doorway, his shoulders blocking the light. He searched the low-ceilinged room until his gaze connected with hers, and then a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he took his time walking through. He spoke to the women, nodded at whatever they said to him, patted a child on the head. With every step he took closer to her, Isabella felt her heart beat faster.
Their time together felt like stolen minutes. Each time she saw him, kissed him, made love to him, Isabella feared it was their last. And every time they came together again, she thought of it as a gift.
He reached out and the tips of his fingers touched hers. “What would these women say if I lifted my wife off the ground and kissed her?”
“I’m not afraid of what they’d say, but what they’d do. You’re not like any man they have, if they have one at all. And if I’m your woman… well, jealousy is a terrible thing.”
“Then we need to be careful not to stir up such feelings in them.” He took her by the hand and pulled her out of the nearest door.
Drawing her past the ruin of the kiln, she followed him into a darkened hallway beyond, where he encircled her with his arms and crushed her breasts against him.
“Youaremy woman. My love, my wife, and all I hold dear.”
He kissed her, and she felt the hunger in the assault of lips. There was no hesitation on Isabella’s part. She moaned deep in her throat, and her mouth opened under the pressure of his.
He looked up and down the dark corridor and pulled her into a storeroom. He began to open her dress, and she helped him, wanting to feel his hands on her breasts.
