Page 28 of The Scot Who Loved Me (A Scots Through Time #3)

Chapter

Twenty

W illiam stood on the ridge overlooking Edinburgh as dawn spilled across the sky.

The city lay spread before him like a slumbering beast, its ancient stones still dark with night shadows as mist curled between the buildings, softening the hard edges of the city that had stood for centuries, surviving wars and plagues, kings and conquests.

He drew a deep breath, tasting the metallic tang of the morning air mingled with wood smoke from the army’s campfires.

Behind him, over two thousand men prepared for what might be their greatest triumph or their doom.

Weapons clinked softly as the men checked and rechecked their dirks and muskets.

Hushed voices murmured prayers or promises to loved ones far away.

“Will they fight, d’ye think?” Angus appeared at his side, red hair wild despite his attempts to tame it beneath his bonnet. His fingers drummed restlessly against the hilt of his sword.

William shook his head. “The city guard withdrew in the night. Our scouts report only a few dragoons remain, and they’ll no be eager to face us alone.”

“So we just... walk in?” Angus sounded disappointed, clearly having anticipated bloodshed after their long march.

“Aye, if we’re fortunate,” William replied, his gaze still fixed on the city. “Though fortune has rarely favored our clan.”

The sun climbed higher, burning away the mist to reveal Edinburgh in all its contradictory splendor.

Grand stone buildings rising alongside narrow wynds and closes, wealth and squalor pressed against each other in the cramped confines of the old city walls.

Somewhere in that maze of streets, decisions would be made that would shape Scotland’s future.

Movement caught his eye. Harper was making her way through the camp with a determined stride that had become familiar to him over these long weeks of marching.

Her midnight blue dress swayed with each step, and her brown hair was neatly braided away from her face.

Even from this distance, he noted the tension in her shoulders, the careful way she held herself apart from the excitement building around her.

“Your wee sassenach looks bonny this morn,” Angus remarked with a sly grin. “Though troubled, I’d wager.”

William shot him a warning glance. “She’s no my anything, and ye’d do well to keep such thoughts to yourself.”

Angus snorted. “If ye believe that, ye’re a bigger fool than I took ye for.

” His expression darkened momentarily. “Life’s too short for such hesitation.

I learned that when I buried my wife and bairn in the same grave last winter.

” He clapped William on the shoulder before sauntering back toward their men, leaving William alone with his thoughts.

The unexpected revelation about Angus struck William like a physical blow. In all their months together, Angus had rarely spoken of his wife and child. How many other sorrows did his men carry silently? How many losses had shaped them into the warriors who now stood ready to take Edinburgh?

Truth was, he had no claim on Harper, especially without knowing what she was truly hiding. Widow? A woman running away from a husband? Or something else?

And yet...

The memory of their kiss beneath the stars outside the camp near Loch Eil returned unbidden.

The softness of her lips, the way she’d melted against him, the scent of her hair, like wildflowers and sunshine.

For that brief moment, the war had fallen away, and there had been only her, warm and real in his arms, and he had wanted to ask her to be his.

“Captain MacGregor.” A messenger approached, breaking his reverie. “His Highness requests your presence.”

Within the prince’s tent, plans were being finalized.

Maps lay scattered across a makeshift table, weighted down with daggers and cups.

Charles Edward Stuart himself paced the perimeter, his face alight with the fervor that had carried them this far.

Lord George Murray stood grim-faced beside the table, while O’Sullivan and Lochiel argued over some point of strategy.

“Ah, MacGregor,” the prince greeted him warmly. “Your maps have proven invaluable. Tell me, what’s the mood among your men?”

“Eager, Your Highness,” William answered truthfully. “They’ve marched far and fought little. They hunger for action.”

Charles smiled, the expression transforming his youthful face.

“They shall have it soon enough. Today Edinburgh, tomorrow the throne of Britain.” He turned to the others.

“Gentlemen, are we agreed? We will send a delegation to demand the city’s surrender, while our main force prepares to enter from the south. ”

Murray nodded reluctantly. “The magistrates will have little choice with our army at their gates and their defenses withdrawn. General Guest still holds the castle, but with most of the government troops already fleeing to Berwick, he cannot defend the city itself.”

“Excellent.” Charles clapped his hands together. “MacGregor, have your men ready to move by midday. I want a show of Highland strength when we enter. Pipes playing, banners flying. Let Edinburgh see what she has been missing these thirty years.”

William nodded, though privately he wondered if such theatrics were wise.

The Lowlanders had long viewed Highlanders with suspicion and fear, as barbarians from the north, speaking a foreign tongue and following ancient ways.

Would a display of Highland pride win hearts or harden them against the cause?

Back among his men, preparations were underway. Plaids were adjusted, weapons polished, faces scrubbed clean of travel dust. Callum sat cross-legged on the ground, carefully repairing a tear in his bonnet, his dark curls falling over his forehead as he worked.

“Where’s Harper?” William asked, trying to sound casual.

“With the women, helping prepare bandages,” Callum replied without looking up. “Said she wanted to be ready, just in case.” He tied off his thread and bit it clean. “She’s afraid, I think. Not of fighting, but of something else.”

A pang of concern shot through William. “Did she say why?”

“Nae, but I’ve seen that look before.” Callum finally raised his eyes. “My sister had it the night before the redcoats came to our glen. Like she knew something terrible was coming but couldn’t speak it aloud.”

The comparison chilled William. He’d seen that same haunted look in Harper’s eyes too often. Late at night when she wrote in her journal when she thought no one was watching.

“I’ll find her,” he decided. “Stay with the men. Be ready to move on my signal.”

He found her sitting among a cluster of women, her fingers methodically tearing linen into strips. Her face was drawn, her usual vitality dimmed by whatever thoughts troubled her.

“A word, if ye please,” he said quietly, aware of the curious glances from the other women.

She looked up, surprise flitting across her features before she nodded and rose to follow him. They walked a short distance from the camp to where a stand of rowan trees offered some privacy.

“Are ye well?” he asked once they were alone. “Callum said ye seemed troubled.”

Harper sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “I’m fine. Just... thinking. Today is September 17th, isn’t it?”

He tilted his head. “Aye? Did ye have somewhere else to be, lass?” He studied her face, searching for clues to her thoughts.

“No. Just thinking about what all this means today,” she replied, gesturing toward the city. “Edinburgh falling to the Jacobites is a pivotal moment. In hist—“ She caught herself, biting her lip. “In hindsight, it will matter greatly how today unfolds.”

There it was again, that strange way she had of speaking about events as if they’d already happened, as if she knew their outcome before they occurred.

William had long suspected Harper was not who she claimed to be, but in this moment, with Edinburgh waiting and his men preparing for battle, he found he didn’t care.

Whoever she was, whatever secrets she kept, she had become essential to him in ways he couldn’t fully explain.

“We’ll take the city without bloodshed if we can,” he assured her. “The prince wants hearts won, not lives lost.”

“It’s not today I’m worried about,” she murmured, so softly he almost missed it.

Before he could question her further, a commotion from the camp drew their attention. Men were gathering, voices raised in excitement. William and Harper hurried back to find a messenger had arrived with news.

“The city has agreed to surrender!” Angus announced, his face split with a triumphant grin. “The provost and magistrates couldn’t agree to surrender formally, but they’ve withdrawn their defenses. They’re opening the Netherbow Port. We’re to march in within the hour.”

A cheer went up from the men as elation surged through him. After weeks of marching, of uncertainty and hardship, they had achieved a victory without striking a blow. Edinburgh, the ancient capital of Scotland, would welcome home her prince.

“Prepare to move out,” he ordered, turning to Harper. “Stay close to me when we enter. The city will be chaos.”

She nodded, but her eyes remained troubled.

The army assembled with remarkable speed, transforming from a scattered camp to ordered ranks.

Pipers took their positions at the front of each clan regiment, pipes silent until the command was given.

The prince himself rode at the head, resplendent in tartan and velvet, the white cockade in his bonnet gleaming in the midday sun.

As they approached the Netherbow Port, his heart hammered against his ribs.

This was the moment that would be remembered in songs and stories.

The day the Highlands came to reclaim their capital.

He glanced at Harper, walking beside him with her chin high despite her obvious anxiety.

She caught his look and managed a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes.