Chapter Twenty

‘Ah reckon that be the last o' ‘em,' Dougal gasped as he plonked a tarnished bracelet into the Reverends hands.

‘There'll be enough here to see you and Brendon through a good few winters,' the clergyman commented, wading with groaning relief out of the freezing cold water. ‘Tare an' hounds I've lost the feeling in me toes. If they turn black it'll be your deuced fault.'

‘Ah be tae auld tae decide what tae dae wi' it. That'll be Bren.' Following the Reverend out of the water, Dougal added gruffly, ‘Ah want tae thank ye fer yer help. Ye didnae hae tae.'

Reverend Shackleford hmphed. ‘I could hardly have got any wetter. Thunder an' turf, it's cold. Still, at least me drawers are dry.'

The two men took the last of the jewellery back to their belongings and took refuge in the blankets they'd brought. ‘Colman had good taste, I'll give him that,' the Reverend commented, taking a bite out of his cheese. ‘I reckon the only way we'll be able to carry this lot is to leave all else behind. Hopefully we won't need the spade to put anybody to bed with.' He gave a small chuckle at his own joke. It was strange really. He was possibly wetter and colder than he'd ever been in his life, but he was also inexplicably happy. In truth, it was good to feel useful again.

As soon as they'd eaten, they divided the trinkets and stuffed them into the two bags, placing their essential items on the top. ‘It be bloody heavy,' Dougal panted as they hefted the bags to the shore. ‘It be a good thing we dinnae hae tae swim. ‘Right then, let's fetch the boat an' get off this bloody island.'

∞∞∞

Their going was slow due to the horse's lameness, and Jennifer elected to walk in case her weight should make the mare worse. In truth, she had no idea where they were though she took comfort from the fact that she could still see the loch in the distance. Her captor had tied her right hand to the pommel, even thought she'd protested it wasn't necessary – she didn't think the pounding in her head would allow her to run far, despite her earlier avowal to escape. All she could do was keep her wits about her and look for an opportunity to somehow disable the footman.

Eventually, the faint track they were following turned back towards Loch Lomond and even knowing they must be nearing his Clan home, Jennifer breathed a sigh of relief. Especially as a sudden thought struck her. If they got close enough, could she jump into the loch? Despite the shock of her earlier unexpected dip, she was a proficient swimmer after spending most of her childhood summers splashing about in the lake at Blackmore.

If she jumped into the loch, would he come after her? Could he even swim?

Jennifer knew her idea was totty headed, but she could see no other way. Desperately, she watched for signs they were getting closer to the loch and minutes later was certain the body of water was getting nearer. She looked down at her riding habit. She wouldn't be able to swim wearing so many clothes. Her thoughts unexpectedly conjured up her first meeting with Brendon Galbraith and she gave an inward chuckle as his withering comment about her weight came back to her. She wondered where he was. Whether he and Malcolm were even now going after the children.

She still had no idea of the time, but the sun was no longer high in the sky. Soon the midges would be abroad and then their progress would be truly miserable. Indeed, she realised her silent captor was increasing his pace. Pushing down her rising anxiety, she began surreptitiously easing her hand this way and that, trying to loosen the rope securing it. With her other, unbound hand, she began carefully unbuttoning her riding jacket.

She needed to buy Brendon and Malcolm enough time to rescue the children and get them away from MacFarlane land, and though the thought terrified her, she knew that jumping into the loch might do exactly that.

∞∞∞

Getting the children out of the quarry was slow going. Despite their obvious relief at being out of the underground cell, they were clearly terrified. Some were crying – silent sobs that cut both men's hearts. But neither Brendon nor Malcolm dared spend too much time reassuring them. The clock was ticking, and they needed to be away from MacFarlane land as quickly as possible. Time enough for assurance once they were back at Caerlaverock.

The little girl who'd hurt her leg was riding on Brendon's back. In truth he hardly felt her weight and the feel of her small arms around his neck, her head nestling into his shoulder prompted emotions he'd never thought to have. Silently he vowed that somehow he would take care of all these children. None of them would ever have to suffer at the hands of such evil again.

Finally, they broke free of the trees and came within sight of Inveruglas. ‘Can you see any sign of Augustus and Dougal?' Malcolm asked, his eyesight not as good as the much younger man's.

Brendon stared for a moment, then shook his head. ‘Hopefully they'll be off the island by noo. Fergus'll be watching fer ‘em.'

‘I bloody hope so. We cannae afford to wait fer long. Can we get all the bairns in one boat dae ye think?'

Brendon grimaced. ‘Ah doot it.' He gave a loud whistle before lifting his small cargo off his back and handing her over to Malcolm. Minutes later the children cried out in fear at the sight of a large animal streaking towards them. Turning towards the panicking youngsters, Dougal held up a calming hand. ‘Dinnae fash yerselves,' he soothed. ‘It be ma dog, Fergus. The worst he'll dae be tae lick ye tae death.'

Within seconds the wolfhound was capering around his master's ankles like a puppy. Crouching down, Brendon threw his arms around the delighted dog's neck and ruffled his fur before finally taking hold of his collar and looking into the hound's intelligent eyes. ‘Find Dougal,' he instructed. Fergus wagged his tail, gave his master one last lick and took off back the way he'd come.

Following in the same direction, Brendon and Malcolm began ushering the children along as swiftly as possible. They were now in the open and in danger of being spotted by MacFarlane's men. The bairns had fallen silent, and the two men glanced at each other, fearing shock was beginning to set in.

The closer they got to the MacFarlane's boat, the more anxious both men became. What had seemed like a foolproof plan earlier, now seemed like the idea of a pair of idiots. The chances that any of the children could swim were slim at best. If either boat capsized, they would be lost.

Suddenly, when they were about fifty yards away from the small jetty, Fergus gave an excited bark, and Brendon felt relief overwhelm him. ‘He's found them,' the steward told Malcolm. A couple of seconds later they both heard a loud voice declare, ‘I've already had one deuced wash. Can you not teach this mongrel some manners?'

∞∞∞

By the time Peter reached the derelict croft, he was beginning to despair of finding any sign that his sister had come this way. And truly, if she'd been bacon-brained enough to leave the track for the open moor… No, he wouldn't even consider it. Jennifer was headstrong but not stupid.

Dismounting, the Viscount stared up at the cottage's faceless windows with a frown. It had clearly been abandoned by whoever lived there, and if Jennifer had been here, she certainly wasn't here now.

Tying up his horse, he opened the gate and looked around – for what, he wasn't certain – but after a few seconds he spied a small log on the ground. Something about it didn't sit right. What was it doing there right in front of the gate? There were no other pieces of wood in the vicinity. Biting his lip, Peter crouched down and picked it up. As he examined it, a sick feeling of dread blossomed in his stomach. On the end of the log were strands of hair exactly the colour of his sister's. They were stuck to the wood with what he feared was dried blood.

Tossing the log into the undergrowth, Peter sat back on his heels, willing his heart to slow down. Swallowing, he scanned the area more carefully, eventually catching sight of a small scrap of satin caught on a bush. Climbing to his feet, the Viscount took hold of the fragment which revealed itself to be a length of ribbon exactly the same as the one Jennifer was wearing when he last saw her.

Fighting panic, he stepped away from the gate and looked more closely at the ground. Recent hoofprints showed a horse had been here within the last few hours. The prints led around the cottage and up onto the highland.

Someone had taken his sister.

∞∞∞

Getting the children onto the two boats proved more challenging than anything they'd done so far. Their fear that the bairns couldn't swim was borne out when, frail as they were, nearly all fought and kicked to stay on dry land, though the effort left them exhausted.

Malcolm shook his head. ‘They cannae walk back. It's too far, and while it looks as though the MacFarlane is going to be busy come the morn, we cannae guarantee some of his warriors willnae come after us.'

‘Why will the MacFarlane be busy?' asked Dougal narrowing his eyes. ‘Ye hae nae told us what happened when ye took the bairns.'

‘That's a tale fer when we're all home and safe,' Brendon insisted. ‘Right noo, we have tae get these bairns onto those two boats.'

‘If anythin' be getting ‘em afloat it'll be their bellies,' Dougal answered. ‘What food dae ye hae left?'

The four men pooled their supplies and came up with two heels of now dry bread, a lump of cheese and and some dried beef. ‘It's not much between twenty-two hungry children,' the Reverend growled.

‘It'll be more ‘an they be used tae,' Dougal predicted. ‘Here, gie us a hand.' With the clergyman's help, he divided the meagre fare into twenty-two small piles. As he was counting, Reverend Shackleford thought back to his conversation with Finn and felt a singular sense of inevitability. ‘Can ah come wi' ye tae Blackmore…'

Hurriedly, he thrust the memory away and concentrated on the task at hand.

‘There's food for all who'll get in the boat,' Malcolm promised, holding out a small piece of bread.

It was enough. Quicker than they could have imagined, the children clambered into the two boats.

The four men handed a small portion of food to each child which predictably disappeared in an instant. As soon as they'd finished, Malcolm climbed on board to ensure the weight was evenly distributed. ‘Be sure ye sit tight and dinnae move a muscle,' he ordered. ‘Ye'll need tae cover yer heads soon as the midges start.'

‘Ye dinnae need tae teach yer granny tae suck eggs,' scoffed a small voice. There was a smattering of giggles, and Malcolm grinned in relief. Plainly, the children's fear was beginning to fade. He turned to the Reverend.

‘You an' Dougal take the smaller boat. We'll follow behind. Whatever happens, dinnae stop.' He paused before adding, ‘God willin' we'll nae meet any other craft. Even if it's nae the MacFarlane's we'll have a lot o' bloody explainin' tae dae.'

A few minutes later, both boats were afloat. Before climbing on board, Brendon had one last thing to do. Walking over to Fergus, he bent to stroke the dog's ears. ‘Go home,' he ordered the wolfhound in his sternest voice, then, more gently, ‘Home, boy. Ah'll see ye there verra soon.'

∞∞∞

It was another half an hour before Jennifer was certain the track they were following led directly onto the Lochside. Obviously, Murray was more confident that anyone who came across them would belong to the MacFarlane Clan this close to home.

Jennifer had managed to get most of her jacket buttons undone, and while her captor was seeing to his business, she succeeded in undoing the buttons on her riding boots. With her hair unkempt and her clothing dirty and unfastened, she was beginning to look more like Haymarket ware. The sloppiness of her boots also made walking more difficult, but as long as he stayed on his side of the horse, he was unlikely to spot her dishevelment or notice she was walking like she needed to use the chamber pot. Which unfortunately she did. Quite badly in fact.

Shoving thoughts of her bladder aside, Jennifer kept her eyes on the loch. As soon as they reached the main path, she would have to make her move. She was confident she'd worked the rope sufficiently to be able to free her hand easily enough, and once they were close enough to the loch, she intended to kick off her boots as quietly as possible. She would have to run in stocking feet.

The most important thing was to take him by surprise, to give her enough time to throw off her jacket. Her skirt would have to come off while she was running. That was the sketchiest part of her plan. She'd been loath to try and undo any of the buttons lest her skirt fall down around her ankles which she was fairly certain would achieve the opposite of what she wanted.

Her heart began to thud in perfect time to the throbbing in her head. Groaning internally, she swore to herself that she would never again undertake such a totty-headed errand, and what's more she would give Peter full permission to lock her up should she even look as though she was about to do anything foolish.

Five minutes later, they reached the Lochside. Unfortunately, Jennifer was on the side furthest away from the shore which gave her captor an added advantage. Determinedly swallowing her fear, she began to ease her hand through the loosened rope until it was free. Keeping it in the same position by hanging onto the horse's mane, she then began to ease off her boots, one at a time, hoping the footman wouldn't happen to look back and see them lying on the track. Finally, in her stocking feet, she dropped her left arm to allow her jacket to begin sliding off her shoulder. She was sweating now, her fear a solid lump in the middle of her chest. Once she made her move, she had only seconds to drop her jacket and run.

Muttering a quick prayer, she eased her hand down the mare's flank and stopped. Hardly daring to breathe, she slipped off the rest of her jacket and let it drop to the ground. The horse was now almost past her and still Murray hadn't noticed she was no longer beside him. It was now or never.

Taking a deep breath, she darted behind the mare and raced towards the edge of the loch, all the while fumbling with the buttons at the back of her skirt. She didn't look back on hearing his sudden shout, but inside she was screaming with fear. If he caught her now, he'd likely kill her.

She couldn't undo the bloody buttons! In desperation she yanked at the waistband and after a few seconds felt the buttons give. She could hear his breathing behind her as she let the skirt fall and kept on running – down the bank now, only feet from the water.

She felt his arm reach out, his fingers clutch her petticoat, just for one instant before the fabric tore and his hand fell away. Seconds later she jumped.