Chapter Eight
Last eve, it had taken Kier more self-control than he’d ever exerted in his life to stop kissing Skye and walk her home. On the following morn, Captain Glenlyon had sent Kier on an errand to take the rope ferry across the wintry swells of Loch Leven and deliver a missive to Major Duncanson’s headquarters in North Ballachulish. Now on his return journey, he planned to intercept Skye on her way home from the weaver’s shop and apologize for taking liberties, but the blasted captain saw him first.
“Nephew!” Glenlyon hollered, cantering his enormous black Norfolk Trotter across the courtyard whilst holding his in place to combat the icy sideways wind. “Did the major send his reply with you?”
Kier reined his garron pony to a stop. “Unfortunately no, sir.”
“Blast. I fear we’ll be stuck in this abominable hell hole for the rest of our days.” He signaled with a flick of his fingers. “Come, you shall dine with me at Brody MacDonald’s house in Inverrigan this eve, then we’ll have a game of cards with the Old Fox’s sons, the bastards.”
“Beg your pardon, sir, but if you abhor them so much then why are you playacting at being so amenable?” Kier took a forlorn look at the weaver’s shop as they rode past. Snow had started to fall and marred his vision. Nonetheless, Skye was nowhere near either window.
“Colonel Hill’s directive was to be neighborly whilst I analyze as to whether Alasdair will stand beside his oath of fealty to King William.”
“And your opinion?” asked Kier.
“Does a man change his ways after sixty years of reiving just because he signs his name to a piece of parchment?”
“I think he can if given the right motivation.”
“Are you referring to the money promised by the Earl of Breadalbane?”
Kier nodded. “Mostly.”
“You ken as well as I, William’s coffers have been bled by the war in Flanders. There’s not a Highland chief who’ll see a farthing, including me or your da.”
“Aye, but Uncle Breadalbane wasn’t daft enough to make empty promises to the likes of us.”
By the time they arrived at Brody MacDonald’s house, the weather had grown worse and an inch of snow had fallen.
Kier pulled the collar of his mantle closed tight. “I’ll stable the horses.”
“My thanks. I’ll be in my chamber above stairs dressing for dinner.”
Kier took the reins and headed for the stable. At least the captain had a chamber of his own. Privacy was the one thing the lieutenant missed the most from home.
After a meal of roast pheasant with their host, a couple of Glenlyon’s officers and Sandy MacIain, Hugh arrived with his brother, Og.
Already liquored up and red in the nose, Glenlyon himself answered the door. A gust of wind blew in a flurry of snow. “Gentlemen, the cards are waiting.”
Stepping inside, Hugh raised a flagon of whisky. “From my still in the hills. The spring water there adds flavor that cannot be surpassed. The spirit slides over the tongue like nectar.”
Glenlyon took the bottle and slapped the MacIain heir on the back. “You’re a man of good taste.”
Sitting beside Cuthbert Hunter, Sandy waved from the table. “Brothers, come and save me from this shark—he’s winning already.”
“What? You didn’t wait for us?” asked Og.
“Just a wee wager,” Glenlyon said, handing the whisky bottle to Brody. “Drams all round, if you please.”
Hugh pulled up a seat. “Better you than I, little brother.”
Glenlyon shuffled the deck with his long, gnarled fingers. “Shall we play All Fours?”
“Very well.” Hugh arched his brow at Og. “Why not make three teams of pairs to mix it up a bit?”
The captain grinned. “I’m not overly fond of splitting my winnings.”
“Who says you’ll win?” grumbled Og. Of all the MacIains, Kier trusted the middle son the least. Og was the only one of Alasdair’s sons who’d made it clear the presence of the regiment was unwelcomed. And his steely-eyed glare sweeping across the faces confirmed the man’s slant.
“Come, Uncle.” Sandy raised his cup. “Side with me and we’ll show this lot of rabble how skilled we are.”
Glenlyon lowered his gaze to his hands as he shuffled the deck one more time. “Three pairs it is. I’ll play with Sandy—Hunter and Hugh—Brody and Og. Kier, you’re the arbitrator. Let no man accuse the other of foul play.” He threw his head back with a hearty laugh. “I’m feeling lucky this eve.”
Kier leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. It was always a relief not to have to gamble against his uncle. Especially when Glenlyon lost. The man would give away his youngest daughter if it meant he’d take home the kitty.
Hugh reached in his sporran and pulled out a handful of coins, slapping them onto the table. “Then let’s have at it. When this pile is gone, I’m heading to my bed. There’s a storm brewing and I’d prefer not to sleep under Brody’s table.”
“Me as well,” said Og. “In the past fortnight I’ve had enough to drink to keep my head swimming until spring.”
Cuthbert snorted. “I’ve never seen anyone match the captain like you MacIain lads.”
Og raised his cup. “Had a good teacher.”
“Och aye,” agreed Glenlyon. “Your da can put it away for certain. I’ll be dining with him in the manse again on the morrow.”
Hugh took a sip of whisky. “You wouldn’t want to miss any table prepared by Ma. She’s even pulled the rhubarb from the cellar for a tart.”
Glenlyon rubbed his belly. “I’ll look forward to such a feast with great anticipation.” He sipped his whisky, then his rheumy eyes popped. “Mm. You distilled this yourself?”
Hugh nodded. “Aye. A man needs a great many talents to survive in these times.”
The captain dealt the first round. “Many talents, indeed.”
Kier nursed his whisky while he watched one team to the next deal the cards. Not surprisingly, Hugh was lucky. Glenlyon and Sandy were not. All the while, the captain’s nose grew redder while his eyes drooped further. Until Brody answered a demanding knock at the door.
“Captain Drummond with a missive for Captain Campbell.”
The Captain delivering the missive? Must be important for certain.
Kier glanced around the host and regarded Drummond, Major Duncanson’s officer. Bloody hell, if the major had a reply so soon, why hadn’t he retained Kier in Ballachulish? Typical of the army. “They sent you out in this weather?”
Moving inside, Drummond shot Kier a leer as he handed the missive to Glenlyon.
Across the table, Hugh brushed his fingers over the hilt of his dirk. Og ground his fist into his palm. Sandy set his cards down and slipped his hand into his sleeve.
The hair on the back of Kier’s neck stood on end as his every muscle tensed. Holding his breath, he sat forward and watched while the captain slid his finger under the red wax seal and read. Brody stood beside Drummond without offering the officer a seat or a tot of whisky.
Glenlyon arched a single eyebrow as he folded the missive and stashed it in his waistcoat. Looking up, he grinned. “At long last my orders have arrived.” He looked to Brody and stood. “The burden we’ve put on Clan Iain Abrach has been lifted, but I’ve much to attend to afore the sun rises on the morrow.”
Every man stood and Hugh extended his hand. “It has been our pleasure to receive you and your men as guests.”
“Aye,” the captain said sounding completely in his cups. Glenlyon shook Hugh’s hand, though his gaze wandered sideways. “Thank you for your generous hospitality. My only regret is I haven’t relieved you of that pile of coin yet this eve.”
After the MacIain men took their leave, the captain sobered as if the closing of the door brought an elixir of sobriety. “Gather the troops, men. We’ve much to plan afore daybreak.”
Assembled in Brody MacDonald’s barn, Kier stood at the front of the regiment in complete and utter disbelief at the orders he’d just heard. Dear God, he was a soldier of the crown, but never in his life had he wanted to mutiny as much as he did right now.
His chest tightened while his hands shook.
Put all to the sword under seventy? Take special care that the Old Fox and his sons do not survive? Secure all avenues to ensure no man survives?
Jesus Christ, King William was asking them to commit genocide.
Glenlyon folded his orders and stuffed them into his coat as he started back to the house.
“Captain, sir.” Kier hastened after him with Lindsay and Cuthbert in his wake. “May I please see the order?”
Glenlyon stopped and narrowed his gaze. “You question my authority?”
“Not at all, sir.” Kier clenched his fists behind his back, determined to stop this madness. “It’s hard to believe. I’m nothing short of shocked and merely ask to see it for myself.”
“Will that change anything? Our orders have come. We have a grave task to perform come five o’clock, and I suggest you ready your weapons.”
Kier blocked his uncle’s path and stood firm. “This is an abomination and you ken it. You ken it in your very beard!”
Glenlyon sauntered forward, shoving his finger into Kier’s chest. “How dare you question the motives of the king, you sniveling whelp? You are but a lowly lieutenant, paid to serve and carry out His Majesty’s bidding even if you are my nephew.”
Kier wasn’t about to back down. “But we’ve accepted the MacIain’s hospitality. Turning around and murdering them in cold blood goes against the very fiber of Highland values that has been passed down from our forefathers and those who came afore them!”
Glenlyon sniffed with an ugly scowl. “Are you telling me you’re not man enough to follow through with your sworn duty? This is not a gathering. This is bloody war.”
Kier stretched to his full height, making the captain crane his neck. “This is the mass extermination of a clan and you ken it. You ken right down to your gambling, debauching heart.”
“I am a soldier and I will do my king’s bidding.” With a thrust of his hand, Glenlyon motioned to Lindsay. “Seize him!”
A moment too late to flee, Kier bucked as Lindsay and Hunter clamped their fingers tight around his arms. “Seize me for speaking with a modicum of sanity?”
Hemp rope bit as it wound around his wrists.
“I kent you were smitten with that songbird as soon as she opened her mouth last eve. And then Lindsay confirmed it. He reported that he saw you taking the lass into the weaver’s shop. Did you think for one moment why I sent you on an errand this day? What would it have done to my plans if the lassie’s father had riled the Old Fox? The bastards could have taken up arms.”
Kier twisted and fought his captors. “You kent about this all along? Good God, you’re a cold-blooded murderer!”
“MacIain’s time has come and I’m the deliverer of his salvation. I’ll dirk every bloody savage myself if I have to, including your bonny wench.” Glenlyon slapped his hand through the air. “Take this this yellow turncoat from my sight and throw him in the woodshed. Let it be known if any dragoon tries to foil our plans, I shall personally preside over his hanging!”