Page 46 of Highland Sword
She watched Sir Rupert as he drew closer.
Isabella, Maisie, and Morrigan had escaped through a back door with the aid of their housekeeper. In the alleyway behind the house, Morrigan killed a man to save Maisie’s life. But there’d been no premeditation involved. It was a matter of kill or be killed.
Today was different. She’d been planning this moment for months.
A touch on her arm startled her.
“Why are you standing here?” Madame Laborde’s face had grown pale, her eyes wide with concern. “Pay no attention to what I said before. You’re young. You have a future that awaits you. Go!”
“You have nothing to fear. My business with Sir Rupert is personal.”
“I don’t fear for myself,” she said with growing urgency. “Do not be fooled by the appearance of age. He is a fox, as keen and cunning as he is ruthless. He wears his age like a cloak. He is a true predator.”
“And these are your friends?” Morrigan asked, her voice cutting.
“Nota friend,” the artist admitted. “I have few choices in this world.”
Burney slowed his steps and said something to one of his entourage.
“You see? He already senses danger. He won’t kill you here. He’ll take you to use for his own purposes. Think of your family. Is this what you want?”
Madame Laborde’s words slapped her with the reality of her situation. Morrigan met the woman’s eyes. She might be able to kill him, but what if she failed? She’d nearly been bested by Aidan in the alley near Maggot Green. He hadn’t expected her to fight, however. She couldn’t be sure about this man. Or the bruisers accompanying him.
She wasn’t invincible. What if they did take her prisoner?
“Come with me,” Morrigan said to the artist.
“Not now. I’m delivering new drawings to him today. He’ll be on us in a moment if we both try to run. Neither of us will have a chance.” She hesitated and then whispered, “I’ll delay him. Come back for me later. Go now.”
Twenty yards separated them.
“Please let me know, Madame, what you decide about the tutoring,” Morrigan said loudly. With a quick curtsy, she turned and walked down the path to the gate at the bottom of the garden. Inverness and freedom lay beyond, if the artist could stall Sir Rupert.
She had no option about which direction to go. The Mackintosh men were waiting for her by the stables, but she had no way to get back to them. To reach the house, she’d have needed to pass the villain and his men.
She went through the gate and glanced back. Sir Rupert was standing with Madame Laborde. The woman was waving her hands as she talked. His eyes locked on Morrigan as he snapped an order at his men. Three of them immediately started down along the garden path after her.
Morrigan began to run.
This was exactly what Isabella had warned her about, keeping her wits about her. But she’d nearly committed an act that would have had disastrous repercussions. She’d nearly failed all of them. And she wasn’t clear of the danger yet.
Morrigan lifted her skirts and ran hard. The cattle market lay directly ahead. As she reached the crowd, a shout came from behind her to stop. She ignored it. The open market was busier and noisier than when they passed through it earlier. She thanked the stars. She crossed through, mingling with the throng of buyers, sellers, and drovers herding their animals into and out of pens. She cut around a dozen men inspecting an enormous bull and darted around the corner of a shed. A muddy lane wound down a short hill and passed between a stone building and a tall fence enclosing a livery yard. She hurried to the end of the lane. A moment later, she reached the corner at the head of Inverness’s High Street and glanced back. One of Sir Rupert’s men appeared. He shouted over his shoulder for the others, and then started to sprint after her.
The cobbled street was jammed with pedestrians, carts, and carriages. As she threaded her way past vendors hawking their wares to small clusters of customers, a gang of ragged children ran past her, two dogs barking and nipping at their heels. A trio of British officers in scarlet coats stood outside a milliner’s shop, talking with three well-dressed young women. Their attention turned toward her as she pushed by them.
Moving in the direction of the river, Morrigan kept her eye on the stone spire of the Tolbooth, which housed both the courthouse and the jail. She prayed that Aidan was still there. If she could elude the men behind her long enough, perhaps she could get word to him, at the very least. Aidan was far too public a figure for Sir Rupert or his men to interfere with. He could go back to Barn Hill and warn the Mackintosh men waiting there. Together, they could bring Madame Laborde back.
The block directly across from the Tolbooth was lined with shops. She stepped into the recessed doorway of astationer’s store. Peering back up High Street, she saw them. The three bruisers were moving toward her, one on either side of the street and one in the middle. They were looking into the shop doors and studying the faces of women walking by.
The stationer’s shop wasn’t large enough to hide in. She could set out on foot and run for the river, but she doubted she could get clear of them. They were drawing closer by the minute.
“Blast,” she murmured. She had no choice.
Keeping her head down, she walked across the street to a small doorway with a stout gate of wood and iron. The entrance to the jail. A smaller door was set into the gate and a guard leaned against it. He tipped his cap as she approached him.
“Help ye, mistress?”
“I was supposed to meet the barrister, Mr. Grant. Is he still here?”
