Thirty-Nine

The thing she hoped for couldn’t be. Jamie had seen it in her uncle’s eyes and the slight shake of his head, no. He’d never really expected it. He’d made his bed. He’d known what he was doing when he’d ruined his chances with James. There was no future left for him in Ireland or Scotland, and now, by going after Catherine, he’d destroyed any future in England as well. He’d taken everything William had given him and thrown it in his face. If he showed himself in London, he’d be branded a coward and deserter, or a traitor to the crown. The best he might hope for was to be taken for dead, one of the first casualties of a Jacobite war. At least then, his lands might pass to Kieran—if the fool could mind his business and get himself a son.

That’s all that remained now. He’d make sure of the arrangements, send the O’Sullivans on to London, and after that… France? Portugal? The East Indies? Spain? There were mercenary companies who weren’t too particular about a man’s past, so long as he knew how to handle a sword.

Catherine had a home, people who cared for her, and a place where she belonged. She was safe. It broke his heart to leave her behind, but the only places left to him were dark and dangerous—the battlefields of Europe, or those places between the cracks where hunted men hide. He had no intention of taking her there with him. He’d never expected anyone to love him, never guessed he’d had so much to give. He’d always survived by taking care of himself. He’d never apologized to anyone, never said a prayer, never asked for help, and never truly cared until he’d met Catherine. He’d warmed to her attention like an eager puppy, making what lay before him that much harder to bear. It seemed ironic that her love, the very thing that gave him faith and hope, was what forced him into exile. If you do exist, you twisted bastard, I bet you’re having a hearty laugh at my expense right now.

He left before she could return. He left knowing that if he saw her he’d beg her to come. He left thinking that maybe, if he’d asked her to, she would have, but a man put what was best for those he loved ahead of what he wanted for himself.

Jamie arrived at Castle Carrick in the midst of noisy celebration. It seemed that Catherine’s girl Maire had finally made Kieran a man. He could expect to be a father soon. At least something was going well. The happy news had led to hurried nuptials, and Jamie arrived in time to kiss the bride and congratulate the groom.

Three nights later, the festivities over and guests long gone, Jamie sat by the fire with Kieran. “Dismal Jimmy’s holding court in Dublin, backed by Talbot’s army. There’s been a Jacobite victory in Scotland, and the French king stirs the pot. William can’t afford to ignore them anymore. There’s going to be fighting, Kieran. You’ve got the girl with child. I want you to stay out of trouble. I want you to take your people and go to London.”

“Abandon my family’s lands? Turn my back on my king? You’re right, milord. Dick Talbot has raised an army and King James sits atop the Irish throne, and any man who loves Ireland knows it’s time to stand tall. For the first time in years, we’ve the chance to reclaim what’s been stolen and make our ancestors and our children proud. There is going to be a war, for Irish independence, and the O’Sullivans won’t be hiding behind an Englishman’s fancy coat. Join us, Jamie. You may be English but you’ve an Irish soul. The king will forgive your betrayal if you return when he needs you. He’s a better man than you think. He’s passed an act that grants religious freedom to all Catholics and Protestants in Ireland. Isn’t that the kind of toleration you’ve always advocated?”

“I won’t join you in the killing of my fellow countrymen, Kieran. The idea doesn’t sit well. As for James, he has his moments. I don’t deny it. But I know him and you don’t. He’s politically inept and he’ll botch the job. He’s cruel when he should be forgiving, weak when he should be resolute, and he puts his pride before his people. I can’t forgive him that. William will crush this rebellion. He’ll land an army the likes of which you haven’t seen since Cromwell, and sweep away anything that stands in his path.”

“He crushes us now! The English turn us into slaves, take our lands, and strip and sell our forests and our fields.”

“It needn’t happen to you. I’ve made arrangements. Go to London and keep clear of this mess. You can keep your bloody lands, Kieran. Christ! You’re executer of my estate, You can have mine as well, if they take me for dead! Think of your mother, think of the girl and your unborn child.”

“I am thinking of them! I want to give them a past and a future that makes them proud. One that belongs to them and hasn’t been lent them by somebody else. How can I do that? How can I face them with pride and honor if I don’t fight for my freedom, if I don’t protect my religion and my king?”

“Maybe you should be more concerned with protecting your family.”

Sullivan jumped to his feet. “And what do you know about family? You don’t even have one. Your own father disowned you! What do you know about having your rights and your dignity abused? You’re one of them. An English occupier! A conqueror! How can you understand honor when you betray your king and country and sell your loyalty for a price? My honor means everything to me, milord, even if yours means nothing to you.”

Jamie felt it like a blow. He’s right. They’re not my family. They never were. That’s just something I made up to keep me warm when I was cold. It took him a moment, but when he stood, his movements were steady, and when he replied his voice was cool. “Aye, Kieran, you may be right. Perhaps I know nothing of loyalty or honor, but you can’t deny I’ve shown both to you and yours. I’m sick of honorable men with their honorable intentions, honorably killing as they lead their innocent families to grief and ruin. May your precious honor comfort you when your village burns and soldiers lay waste to your fields.” He bowed, and left without a backward glance.

Kieran ran after him. “Wait! Milord! Jamie! I didn’t mean it as it sounded!” But Jamie was deaf to him. He kept on walking, and in a moment he was swallowed by the dark.

* * *

Two nights later he sat perched on a rock, high in the Galty Mountains. He’d finished his supply of whiskey, and the heavens were dull and sullen, shrouded in cloud. No stars, no moon, no family, no friends, no country, no mouse… nowhere to go. Shit! He hurled the empty flask over the side, leaning over curiously to watch its fall. It bounced and slid, breaking branches and dislodging pebbles before sliding to a halt. He knew he indulged in self-pity, but he felt entitled, and there was no one to see or know. The years stretched in front of him, bleak and lonely, though probably not too long. Men who lived by their swords didn’t tend to die from old age. Where do I go now?

A fat drop of rain spattered against his cheek, followed by another and another, and then several more. He wagged a finger at the sky. “You really don’t like me much, do you?” The wind picked up suddenly, as if in answer, and he had to slide off his perch or risk being dashed against the rocks below. It battered and pushed in powerful gusts, as if trying to propel him forward, but he squared his shoulders, jammed his hands in his pockets, and refused to be cowed.

By the time he reached the valley floor, his hair was plastered against his face and neck and water streamed down his back. The wind shivered through the trees with enough force to break branches and set his sodden coat flapping. It was almost September, and the rain fell hard and cold. He missed his flask with its honey-sweet whiskey, but he knew where there was more.

He was weary and distracted, and he’d had his share of drink, but years of experience drew him up short, several yards from the cottage. A wisp of smoke trailed from the chimney, so thin it was barely visible, swallowed almost immediately by the harrying wind. The windows were shuttered tight, but a small sliver of light escaped from the crack beneath the door. He drew his sword and advanced, silent through the storm.

The door wasn’t latched and he eased it open, his eyes scanning intently through the half-lit gloom. A low fire flickered in the grate, illuminating a figure slumped in a chair. It looked to be an English soldier. It was hard to see in the dim light. He looked to be little more than a boy, but a musket lay within easy reach on the floor beside him. Jamie entered noiselessly, creeping forward, coming to a stop with the tip of his sword resting against the base of the intruder’s throat. The lad yawned and stretched, turning his face toward the firelight.

Jamie’s sword clattered to the floor. “Sweet Christ! Catherine?”

Catherine gasped and jumped to her feet, leveling the musket at his chest. “Jesus, Sinclair! You scared the devil out of me! Where have you been? I’ve been waiting here almost a week.”

“I took the long way home, mouse. Are you going to shoot me?”

“I’m very tempted,” she said, putting down the weapon.

They stood, awkward and silent, two feet apart, neither of them sure what to say next. Then Jamie reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and she was in his arms. He moaned and pulled her tight against his length, his grip so fierce she winced in pain, but she made no protest, and her hold was just as tight as his.

“Catherine, Catherine, Catherine,” he whispered against her hair. “What are you doing here? I might have killed you.” He was the closest to tears he’d been since childhood.

“I feared if I let you go you’d wander too far and never come back.”

“You were right, love! Don’t ever let go of me. If you do, I’ll soon be lost.”

They managed to stumble to the cot, peeling off boots and breeches and wet clothes before falling in a tangled heap. Jamie was cold from the inside out, but Catherine wrapped him in a blanket of warmth, rubbing his limbs and covering his body with frantic kisses. He tasted like he had the first night she’d met him—heat and life, whiskey and rain—and her heart swelled. Thank God I found him before he slipped away. She was full of questions but she didn’t ask them now. They spoke without words, through heated caress and tender embrace, using the ancient language of lovers, gasps and murmurs and sighs at first, then low moans, animal sounds, and wild cries.

Spent, they lay in each other’s arms, hearts still pounding, slick with sweat, finally capable of speech.

“I could never love you enough, Catherine.”

“You’re doing just fine,” she said, giving him a tight hug.

“How did you know where to find me?”

“You showed me. Don’t you remember? You said it was where you came when you needed a place to hide. When I found you gone, I decided if you were here, then you wanted me to find you. You did, didn’t you?”

“God yes! With all my heart. You can’t imagine… your love, it’s the only thing that means anything, Catherine. You’re all that matters to me.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“I knew what your council would say. I could see it clearly in your uncle’s eyes.” His fingers trailed absently through her hair as he talked, and one hand stroked her back. “I’ve betrayed or abandoned two kings and their causes. I’m done. Finished. I can’t go back to the life I knew, and I can’t live here anymore. You still have a home you can return to. I couldn’t ask you to come with me, but I knew if I waited and saw you, I would. You should never have come, love. I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore. I’m not sure of anything except what I feel for you. I don’t think I can let you go a second time.”

Her hands had begun to wander and her lips fastened on his nipple.

His hips jerked and his chest expanded on an indrawn breath. “Catherine, are you listening?”

She folded her arms on his chest and rested her chin on her hands. “Yes, Jamie. You have my full attention. You’re saying you have to leave. What about the O’Sullivans? Have you settled matters with them?”

“No. Kieran’s married to Maire, and they’re expecting a child.”

“I saw that coming a while ago. That’s good news, isn’t it?”

“He’s being stubborn. He intends to stay and fight for James. His thoughts are much like your uncle’s and he’s set upon his course. I’ve done what I could and now it’s beyond my control. We… had words.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. That must have hurt.”

“It did, but I’m feeling a good deal better now.” He grinned and tapped the end of her nose.

“So what now, Jamie?”

“I wish I knew, love. The best I can hope is that William has taken me for dead. I can’t afford to be seen by the English or they’ll know I’m not. Talbot’s men will recognize me as no friend of James, and I can’t stay with the O’Sullivans anymore. Your Highlanders will kill me if they can, and I’ll be seen as a traitor by the lowland Scots. I’m like to be harassed and chased no matter how I approach it. I’ll affect a disguise, I suppose, and make my way to the continent. Perhaps… if you wish it… once I’m settled you might join me there.”

“Why is it that we fit so well when it’s just you and I? When we’re together like this, or in disguise, it seems we’re in our own world and no two souls were ever closer. It’s only when we have to deal with other people that things go wrong.”

He ruffled her hair. “I know, mouse. We’re rebels, you and I. We refuse to accept the life others have chosen for us and when they press too hard, instead of breaking or bending, we slip through the cracks and disappear.”

Catherine’s heart stuttered as she realized how close he’d come to doing just that. She grasped his hair and turned his head so he looked her straight in the eye. “You’ll not disappear on me again, Jamie, will you? I won’t forgive you if you do.”

“No, love, I promise. Not without telling you first. Sometimes I think it’s too bad we can’t both just don a costume and disappear, like we did in London.”

“Why can’t we?”

“What?”

“Why can’t we?” Catherine was growing more excited by the second. “It’s the perfect solution!”

“No, it’s not. You’ve been with me that way before. You’ve seen what it’s like. It’s dangerous and uncertain, and if you come with me, you leave all you hold dear behind.”

“Pah!” Catherine scoffed. “Are you dense, man? You are what I hold dear! If I let you go, I lose everything that matters, so you’d best believe that if you head off adventuring, I’ll be coming, too. I’m no stranger to danger. Didn’t you once tell me I had the soul of a traveler? So it doesn’t matter where I am, if I’m with you, I’ll be at home.” She straddled his waist and grabbed his wrists, holding his hands above his head as he’d once held her. “You’re mine now, Jamie Sinclair. And I’m not letting you get away from me again.” She lowered her head and stole a kiss from his parted lips, and then she kissed the bridge of his nose. “I did that to you.”

“Aye, lass, you’ve left your mark on me, inside and out.” He freed his wrists and gathered her in his arms, giving her a tender kiss that churned her insides. They fell asleep with their lips touching, their breath intermingling, and their bodies wrapped in a warm embrace.

They woke in time to watch the dawn light the valley from the east. After a breakfast of black pudding, oatcakes, and tea, Catherine straightened her uniform, slung her musket and haversack over her back, and gave Jamie a jaunty salute. His heart ached to look at her, and for the second time in less then a day he found himself blinking back tears. He offered her his hand. “Tinker, tailor… soldier, sailor… gentleman, apothecary… plough-boy, thief,” he said, quoting an old rhyme. “Will you take to the road with me, Catherine?” Catherine’s face lit with a brilliant smile. “Aye, Jamie, I will.” Hand in hand, they started down the road.