He turned stiffly from the high stable window where he had watched the past half hour’s proceedings: the promotion ceremony, the curt farewells, the march from Mhor Manor. His gaze met Madeleine’s. “They must be on their way back to Fort Augustus. They dinna take the road into Farraline but turned south toward Aberchalder.”
“Aye, ‘tis probably so,” Madeleine said tonelessly. She looked away, leaning her head against the stall. She winced from a sudden, throbbing ache but chose to ignore it. At least it had dulled from the piercing pain that had plagued her until a few hours ago.
She glanced back at Angus. He was staring at her strangely, as if he was surprised she hadn’t thrown some sharp-tongued barb to send Garrett and his men on their way. She couldn’t tell him she felt too numb and paralyzed by Garrett’s betrayal even to mention his name.
Angus would never understand. He had no idea of what had passed between herself and Garrett—nor would he. It was her own private pain, her well deserved punishment for having trusted a redcoat, for having ever entertained the notion that she loved him. Aye, she was truly a fool.
“I dinna care where the major is bound, Angus,” she said dully. “I think we should be more concerned with what’s to happen to us now.”
It was true enough, she thought, pushing the dirty straw on the floor with her boot. She didn’t want to think about Garrett any longer. He had gotten what he had come for, and left. It was as simple as could be. He was gone from her life forever.
“I heard the guards talking outside the window,” Angus said, easing himself down beside her. He grimaced, his body bruised and sore from last night’s ambush. “They said something about Edinburgh Castle.”
Madeleine nodded slowly. “Ye know what that means, Angus. There’s a prison in the castle. ‘Tis where our Lord Lovat’s son, Master Simon, is being held.” She smiled grimly. “‘Twould not be so bad to share a cell with our future chief.”
When Angus did not readily answer, Madeleine turned slightly to look at him. He was staring straight ahead, deep concern etched on his ruddy face. She followed his gaze to where Ewen sat, his eyes closed, Duncan sleeping beside him, then over to Allan, who was wiping the feverish sweat from his younger brother’s brow.
She sighed heavily, besieged by despair. Kenneth was very ill, maybe dying. It was not so much the bullet that had felled him, but the surgeon’s disinterested and incompetent care afterward which placed his life in jeopardy.
It had been a terrible scene. Kenneth’s agonized screams were the first thing she had heard when she regained consciousness. The removal of the ball from Kenneth’s thigh had been accompanied by a great loss of blood, the surgeon’s clumsy knife having only made things worse. Kenneth had fainted from pain, his hands still desperately clutching his brother’s.
After the surgeon had staunched the bleeding and bandaged the ravaged leg, he had left the stable and never returned. The others could only tend to Kenneth as best they could, tearing strips of their clothing into rags which they soaked into their drinking water to soothe his raging fever.
Now it was clear their efforts had been in vain. Kenneth was deathly pale, his breathing raspy and shallow. Madeleine feared he would not survive the journey to Edinburgh, or even the next few hours. Dear God, when would the horrors end?
She was suddenly overcome by everything that had happened and by her own wretched helplessness. Her chin trembled, tears tumbling down her cheeks. She could not have stopped them if she tried, and she was forced to break her vow that she would never let her kinsmen see her cry.
“Och, Maddie,” Angus crooned gently when he heard her sobbing. He put his arm around her shaking shoulders. “‘Tis not yer fault, if that’s what ye’re thinking. Kenneth knew the dangers when he chose to ride with us. We all did.” He hugged her tightly. “We fought a good battle, Maddie Fraser. For a few months we helped our kin to survive.”
“Farraline is gone, Angus!” Madeleine cried, her tears flowing unchecked. “Burned to the ground!” She shuddered, remembering last night’s flames and the curling black smoke she had seen that morning when she peered from the stable window. She could well imagine the smoldering ruins. “How can ye say we’ve helped our kin when we brought this upon them? Now they’ve no homes, and the winter is coming—”
“Hush with ye!” Angus chided, giving her a firm shake. “Think, Maddie. Think of all ye’ve done! Aye, ye gave them food, but dinna forget ye gave them hope, too. Do ye think ‘twill die so easily in their hearts?”
She sniffed, not answering him.
“Clan Fraser is a hardy lot, lass,” he continued fervently. “They’ll rebuild long before winter, ye can be sure. And there’s food on Beinn Dubhcharaidh, plenty of food to last the winter. Ewen saw to it last night that his good wife knows where to find the cave, and so does Flora Chrystie. Ye dinna have to worry for the Frasers of Strathherrick, Maddie. Ye saw to that.” He swore under his breath. “They’ll prove that Hawley wrong. A Fraser wishing himself dead—’twill never happen!”
Madeleine sobs gradually quieted. She found comfort in Angus’s words, though she had no idea what he’d meant by his last statement. She rested her head on his broad shoulder, wiping her face with her jacket sleeve. “Aye, I told Glenis to let Meg Blair’s father know about the cave, too,” she said. “I hope she’s all right.”
Angus’s tone was reassuring, though his expression was somber. “Dinna fear for yer Glenis,” he replied. “I’m sure she had the good sense to take refuge on the moor when she saw the redcoats coming. Remember what I told ye last night, soon after ye came out of yer faint?”
“Aye,” Madeleine said softly. “Ye said ye had overheard General Hawley talking to Major Marshall, telling him he would spare the villagers’ lives.”
“That I did,” Angus said, nodding gravely. “I thought ‘twas important ye knew that, so ye wouldna worry. ‘Twas bad enough ye were in such pain yerself, without fearing what was happening to yer kin. And ye shouldna fear for them now. Ye accomplished what ye set out to do.” He paused, drawing a deep breath. “I was close enough to General Hawley to overhear a few other things, Maddie, but I wanted to wait ‘til ye were feeling better to tell ye the rest.”
Madeleine looked up at him. “What did ye hear, Angus?” she asked, puzzled.
“I believe I misjudged Major Marshall,” he said quietly. “Ye were right to trust him, Maddie. I’ve never seen a more coldhearted bastard than General Hawley. He came to Farraline looking for Black Jack, just as Major Marshall warned he might. ‘Twas by divine chance we came along when we did. If we hadna, ‘twould not have been enough for Hawley to burn the village. He would have taken every life in Farraline without blinking an eye.” He shuddered visibly. “I dinna think that bodes well for us in Edinburgh, lass.”
Madeleine was shaken by his admission. She’d never have dreamed Angus Ramsay would ever say a good word about an Englishman. Sudden indignation seized her, sweeping away her chilling numbness.
“Aye, I trusted him, Angus,” she said heatedly. “But Major Marshall lied to me. He said Hawley wouldna come to our village at all if Black Jack was found—”
“I think ‘twas as much of a surprise for him to find General Hawley in Farraline as ‘twas for us, Maddie,” Angus interjected. “Major Marshall received quite a tongue-lashing for saying the whole matter could have ended peacefully, if only Hawley had been more patient.”
Madeleine stared at him openmouthed, too stunned to speak.
“Major Marshall ordered the soldiers to stay the torches, Maddie. I heard him admit as much to the general. ‘Twas Hawley who set his men upon the village once more, saying ‘twould be a lesson for the rest of Strathherrick.”
