Page 61 of Kilgannon #1

I shook my head. “You’ll miss Donald if you do. Either I’ll go home with the footmen or I’ll come with you. This is silly.”

“Matthew could take Mary home,” Angus said, his mood darkening with Alex’s obvious uneasiness. Matthew nodded his willingness.

“Alex, what is wrong?” I asked. “Is the inn a dangerous place for me?”

Alex shook his head again. “No, it’s actually a decent place, even if it’s close to the docks. Lots of travelers stay there.”

“Then let’s go. Just don’t plan to stay long,” I said. “The Duchess expects us for dinner.”

Alex told the driver to stay with the coach, and we set off on foot through a labyrinth of shops and stalls. Alex led the way, then Matthew, then Angus and me, and finally the footmen. We had no difficulty wending through the crowds. At first.

We’d gone two blocks when I saw two men come from the side alleys and walk next to Alex.

They did not: look at him but matched him step for step.

He turned to look at first one, then the other, and his hand moved to his sword hilt as he glanced back at us.

Behind me Angus cursed and pushed forward, the footmen with him.

He grabbed Matthew’s arm and mine and, with a nod at the intruders, whispered hoarsely to us to wait in the butcher shop we were passing.

Matthew pulled me into the stall, ducking between the sides of beef, ignoring the sharp looks of the shopkeeper.

We stood next to the hanging meat and watched as Angus reached Alex.

And then, as if from nowhere, the street was full of armed men, shouting and raising weapons.

I saw Alex draw his sword and Angus do the same.

We lost them as the street became a battleground.

Matthew pushed me into the back of the stall while the shopkeeper called his helpers and then shoved us toward his back door, shouting at us to get out.

Matthew took my hand and we ran through the alley, away from the noise behind us.

At the corner I dragged him to a stop. “Matthew, we have to go back,” I panted.

“We cannot leave Alex and your father there.”

His eyes widened. “Mary, ye canna mean it. I have to get ye away from here,” he shouted, and yanked my arm as he ran forward again.

I had no chance to argue. We ran the two blocks back to the ship, where, shouting and cursing, Matthew got the attention of the crew.

Throwing me at Calum, he called for the men to help him, and within moments Calum and I stood alone on the dock, watching the men disappear around the corner, Matthew in their lead.

Fifteen minutes later some of the crew returned.

The battle was over. I stood with my hand to my throat as they explained that they did not know where Alex was.

Angus and Matthew and the footmen were searching with the rest of the Kilgannon men.

Four of the attackers were dead and more had limped off bleeding, but there was no sign of Alex.

The shopkeepers had cursed them and thrown things, shouting foul words about Scots and Jacobites.

Angus had questioned one of the wounded attackers, discovering only that they’d been paid to wait for Alex and Angus and waylay them.

By an Englishman who had paid them well and who was not concerned whether Alex and Angus lived through the attack.

Calum returned me to Louisa’s house, riding with me and four armed men in Louisa’s coach.

Bronson received us with a horrified expression and hurried us into the house, where I explained what had happened.

Calum and more of Randolph’s men returned to the ship with the coach, and I waited with my aunt and uncle.

By seven I was frantic. At almost nine, still light on this summer’s evening, Bronson came to us and said my husband was in the yard. We raced to the back of the house.

Alex stood just outside the kitchen door, his clothes and hair covered with filth, his face grim.

But he was alive. The two footmen, in better condition, stood behind him, Alex’s shirt and jacket were torn and bloodstained, his face and arms covered with dried muck.

Louisa and I exclaimed and Randolph muttered a curse.

I threw myself at Alex. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

Alex stepped out of my reach. “Dinna touch me, Mary, I am foul, but I’m not hurt, lass.

And neither are Angus and Matthew.” He looked over my head at Randolph.

“I thank ye for yer good men here, sir,” he said, gesturing to the footmen.

“They were in the thick of it and dinna flinch. But for them and Angus I wouldna be here.” He turned to the two men.

“I thank ye again, sirs. I’m in yer debt.

I’ll send ye the whisky I told ye of.” The footmen nodded, pleased and apparently uninjured.

Alex turned back to us. “Louisa, I’m afraid yer coach will need a bit of cleaning. ”

We all exclaimed and asked for the story.

It was, Alex said, simple. Someone had planned the assault on us, but it had not gone as devised.

He and Angus and the footmen might have fended off the attackers if the crowd the fray had attracted had not gotten involved.

Alex had seen Matthew pull me into the butcher shop, and when he found himself at the edge of the fracas, he’d battled his way to the shop to find us.

Once there he’d been accosted by the shopkeeper and had fought his way out the back door.

And then faced the mob of townspeople that had gathered.

“Yer right, sir,” he told Randolph. “London does not welcome Scots these days. They thought I was leading an invasion.” When we all asked him what had happened, he shrugged.

“They pelted me with things and dumped chamber pots on me. But Angus and the crew and yer men here found me, else I would have been dead in the gutter tonight. Calum told me he’d brought ye home, Mary Rose.

” He gestured to himself. “I need to get out of these clothes and I need a bath. But not in yer house in this condition.”

In the end two tubs of water were brought to the stables, where Alex stripped off his clothes in silence and stood in his bare feet while the men set up the tubs.

He wrapped the filthy clothing inside out and handed them to one of the men.

“Burn them,” he said, his accent thick, and the man nodded as he left, holding the reeking clothes away from him.

Alex would not let me near him until his body and hair had been washed twice.

At last he stood in the tub, the water reaching mid-calf and foul now, and he stepped into the second tub of water with a sigh as I stepped forward to wash his back and hair again.

“Alex,” I said. “Talk to me.”

“There’s no’to say.”

I rubbed my hand along his shoulders and down his back as he leaned into my strokes. “Alex, my love, what happened when you were alone?”

He sighed. “They pelted me with that filth and they spit on me and tore at my clothes. It was unpleasant but they dinna harm me.”

“Of course. That’s why you have this bruise on your side and a cut along your cheekbone.”

“They meant to torment me, is all.” He leaned his head back and reached for me. As I bent to kiss him I saw that his lips were swollen and cut .

“And this, my love?” I ran a finger along his lips.

“A token of an Englishman’s esteem, lass,” he said, and pulled me to him again. “They canna resist me either.” I stepped back and studied him. He had cuts and scratches and would have several new bruises by morning, but nothing that would not heal.

“Alex, who was it?”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand me. “I dinna ken, lass,” he said heavily. “I dinna ken.”

“You must have some idea.”

“I have lots of ideas, Mary Rose,” he said. “But I’m too tired to be sorting it out tonight.”

Malcolm , I thought. Damn him. I would talk with Angus in the morning. He’d tell me more. “Alex,” I said quietly. “I know you’re very tired and sore, but we have to talk.”

“No, lass,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “Not tonight.”

“Alex, someone planned that attack. Someone tried to kill you, someone who knew where you’d be, who knew you’d respond to a summons from the MacDonalds. Someone who knew what you looked like.” He watched me without expression. “What would you say if I suggested we go home?”

He shook his head. “I’d say no, lass. Ye wanted a visit, ye’ll have a visit. We will not be frightened off by a mob of unruly vermin.” He gave me a crooked smile. “I’ll heal. Now, come here, Mary Rose, and I’ll direct where ye should wash next.”

“Alex, we’re going home.”

“Aye, lass. But not just the now. I need whisky and a clean bed. We’ll talk on it in the morning. Please, Mary. I’m too tired to sort it all out tonight. Will ye not let it go for now?”

I nodded.

Hours later I woke alone. The door to our bedroom was open, and a glimmer of light came from somewhere.

I wondered where Alex was and then heard male voices, at least two, talking in hushed tones.

I listened for a few moments and rose. One of the voices was Alex’s, and he sounded very serious.

In the hallway I found him and Randolph, Alex dressed only in his kilt, Randolph with a night-robe pulled loosely around him.

Alex’s naked back was to me and he blocked Randolph’s view of my approach.

Another of the promised bruises had appeared at his ribs.

“What is it?” I asked, and both men turned, startled. Alex’s expression was somber, Randolph’s face flushed.

“Mary …” they said in unison.

“Ah, lass.” Alex pulled me to him, and I could smell the soap on his warm skin. “Yer aunt and uncle are verra worried. Queen Anne is close to death. Randolph wants us to leave as soon as it is light.”

“Some hothead may start something,” Randolph said. He nodded at Alex. “Look at him. Look at what happened today. It could be worse the next time.” We both looked at Alex’s bruised face.

“Mary,” Alex said, his distress evident. “Ye wanted a visit here. We’ll be extra careful if ye wish to stay.”

“My love,” I said tenderly, well aware of Randolph listening.

“I am ready to leave London. I came to see Randolph and Louisa and the doctor, and I have done that. There is nothing else here for me. Take me home.” Alex nodded and met my eyes, but before he could answer, Louisa came around the corner, wrapping a robe around her, her face very pale.

“Did you convince him?” she asked Randolph.

Randolph shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“Aye, ye did.” Alex nodded. “We’ll do what ye think is best, and what Mary wishes. We can leave as soon as it’s

light.”

“Good.” Louisa hugged me. “Now, get your husband dressed. If the maids see him like that they’ll never stop talking.”

My farewells to Louisa were rushed and worried.

Randolph insisted on accompanying us to the ship and had armed three of his men to join us.

It was a strange group: a Scotsman, four Englishmen, and a woman crammed into and atop a carriage barreling full speed through the dawn-lit streets of London.

We arrived at the Mary Rose without incident, and as Randolph ushered us aboard I turned for one last embrace.

“Thank you for everything,” I said, hugging him to me fiercely. “Take care of yourself, Randolph. Be very careful now that the Whigs have taken over.”

He chuckled. “I’ll be fine, my dear. I promise not to wear a kilt in London.” He kissed my forehead. “Write to us.”

“I will,” I said, and Alex extended a hand to Randolph, thanking him warmly.

As the Mary Rose pulled into the river I turned to wave to the lone figure on the dock and felt a sharp pang of loss.

When would I see Louisa and Randolph again?

I suspected I would not be in London for a long while.

Despite everything, I still loved the city.

And I knew London did not harbor Alex’s enemy.