He couldn’t be dead. Surely she would know it?
Then, just before nightfall, Jeannie saw the white standard of the Chief of Grant crest the hill from the east. And riding not far behind, her father.
She said a prayer of thanks for his safe return and raced down the tower stairs, through the great hall, and down the forestairs into thebarmkinbelow, her heart pounding like a drum. The victorious expressions on her clansmen’s faces as they rode under the iron yett answered her first question: The Campbells had lost.
Now, all she could do was wait and hope that if Duncan lived—and she could not bear to contemplate anything else—he did not blame her for her father’s treachery.
The triumph over the death-defying rescue of the Mackintoshes was short-lived. Duncan fought alongside the MacLean until the bitter end, but eventually they were overwhelmed and forced to retreat. No matter how bravely or fiercely they battled, Huntly’s cavalry and his cannon proved insurmountable. Had the Campbells not lost half their vanguard in the first hours of the battle, they would have had a chance. As it was, they could claim a small victory to have lasted as long as they did. Though he supposed his cousin would not see it as such.
Argyll’s flag would fly over Strathbogie Castle this night as he’d promised, but in defeat not in victory. Though it had taken three spears to bring him down, Robert Fraser, Argyll’s standard bearer, had fallen to the enemy.
The last whisper of daylight had just faded when Duncan rode through the gates of Drumin Castle, numb and exhausted from the day’s events.
They were waiting for him in the laird’s solar. The chiefs and chieftains who’d made up the War Council last night appeared changed men—somber, pride in tatters, an air of stunned disbelief permeated the painfully quiet room. These were men not used to losing. And though none would ever give voice to their thoughts, ever present was the knowledge that what many had warned against had come true. But no one could have anticipated Grant’s treachery.
Perhaps they should have. Perhapsheshould have.
Duncan took one look at his cousin and could see that time had not dulled his rage. He was in a dangerous temper. Mouth pulled back in a snarl, eyes narrow and hard, with his sharp, Gallic features he looked like a half-crazed wolf, ready to take a bite out of the first person to look at him the wrong way.
But appeasing his cousin’s wounded pride was not what Duncan was thinking about right now. “Our father?” he asked Colin, relieved to see his brother had followed his orders and returned to the castle.
Colin’s face was pale and streaked with dirt and blood, his eyes unfocused. He appeared in shock by the events of the day. Duncan couldn’t blame him.
“He lives,” Colin replied. His relief, however, was tempered by his brother’s next words. “But he has not woken since we left the battlefield.”
“Where is he? I must go to him.”
“In the laird’s bed chamber,” Argyll said. “But I will have your report first.”
Duncan recounted the events after his cousin had left the field, emphasizing the courage and fortitude of the MacLeans and their chief.
“Where is MacLean? Why is he not here to tell of this himself?” Archie demanded.
“He took a pike in the arm and is having it tended.”
“Our losses?”
Duncan met his gaze. “At least five hundred men.” He didn’t need to mention the thousands of untrained rabble who had deserted at the first cannonade.
“And Huntly?”
“Far fewer.” Duncan would guess no more than a score—he and his men had been responsible for half of them.
Archie’s gaze hardened, his eyes shone black as onyx. “They knew our positions. They knew our battle plan.”
A murmuring of agreement went around the table. Campbell of Cawdor spoke up. “Aye, they may as well have had a map, so well did they anticipate our movements. ’Twas probably Grant’s doing.” He shrugged. “He must have sent a man after our meeting last night.”
The mention of Grant seemed to unhinge his cousin. His face flushed crimson. “The filthy, lying viper.” He banged his fist on the table. “He will pay for his treachery.” He motioned to one of the guardsmen who stood by the door. “You there. Go, find out who was seen leaving the castle last night.”
Duncan swore silently, hoping that no one had taken note of his departure. He’d rather not have to explain his meeting with Jeannie. Especially now.
“If that is all, cousin, I should like to go and see my father.”
“Go,” Argyll said, waving him away. He was almost to the door, when he stopped him. “Wait. Before you go, leave the map.”
Duncan opened his sporran, pulled out the parchment and handed it to his cousin. He turned to leave again, when Argyll said, “What’s this? A note?”
Damn.In his haste to see his father he must have accidentally handed Archie Jeannie’s note.
