Chapter Twenty-One

Brendon looked anxiously around them as he and Malcolm rowed in the direction of Caerlaverock. With so many in the boat, it was slow going, but still, they were making better time than if they'd walked. The Reverend and Dougal were still arguing as far as he could tell, but as long as their boat continued in the right direction…

Instinctively, he glanced behind him, but there was no sign of any pursuit, either on the shore or the loch. God willing, they'd have until the morrow as Duncan MacFarlane promised.

As he rowed, Brendon wondered what Jennifer was doing now. Would she be worried – about him? Then he grimaced. Foolish thoughts. He needed to put Jennifer Sinclair out of his mind. Otherwise he'd go daft.

Abruptly, two things happened to pull him out of his reverie. Firstly, he heard a shout coming from the shore to their right. His heart plummeted. Had they been discovered? Then, as though she'd been pulled directly from his mind, he saw Jennifer running towards the loch. He narrowed his eyes. In just a petticoat? He was going daft.

At the same time, a small girl abruptly stood up in the boat. ‘Sit down, lass,' Malcolm ordered.

‘Ah'm gaunnae boak,' she cried out desperately. Plainly about to be sick, the child instinctively leaned over the side of the boat. ‘Sit down,' thundered Malcolm, fear clearly evident in his voice. But it was too late. The boat rocked to the side, and, with a terrified scream, the girl fell headfirst into the water.

At the same time, the woman Brendon still couldn't quite believe was Jennifer, reached the edge of the loch, a man in close pursuit. The stranger stretched out his hand to seize the edge of her petticoat, but just as he managed to grab hold, the fabric tore and with a terrified scream, she jumped into the loch, leaving him with nothing but a scrap of fabric.

‘Take the oars,' Malcolm was yelling frantically. Brendon's eyes swung back to the petrified child floundering in the loch. Shit.

Abruptly, he became aware of two things. One, neither he nor Malcolm were going to be able to get to the child in time. They couldn't simply dive into the water for fear of capsizing the whole boat and losing all the children. Two, he realised that Jennifer was actually swimming frantically towards them, shouting, ‘Leave her to me.'

Seconds later, she managed to grab hold of the child who promptly clung to her rescuer like a limpet. ‘Not so tight,' Jennifer gasped, trying to keep them both afloat.

‘Keep the boat steady,' Brendon yelled, as he watched the two of them go under for the second time. Without hesitation, Malcolm held the oars firmly in the water. ‘Go,' he bellowed.

Brendon quickly laid his own oars on the deck, shrugged off his jacket and slid over the side, reaching Jennifer and the girl in two powerful strokes. ‘Ah hae her,' he panted to Jennifer. ‘Get tae the boat, sweetheart.' The endearment came out naturally, but he didn't have time to question his idiocy. Instead, he boosted her towards the side of the boat, holding the child close to him with his other hand. ‘Careful,' he warned when the young woman reached out to grip the edge of the boat. ‘She'll overturn if ye try and climb aboard. Hang on tae the side.' Sliding the now silent child in front of him, he pushed her next to Jennifer. ‘Hold tight,' he ordered, then swam round to the other side of the boat.

With the weight more evenly spread, he was able to heave himself aboard. ‘Hold on tae yer seats,' he instructed the rest of the children who were staring wide eyed at the drama unfolding in front of them. Seconds later, he carefully pulled the girl back into the boat, bundling her into a blanket, before leaning over the side again to a now shivering Jennifer.

‘Are ye gaunnae be makin" a habit o' this?' he muttered, as he wrapped her in his jacket.

‘Th-the man,' Jennifer stuttered. Brendon looked towards the shore.

‘He be gaun.'

‘Nooo,' she moaned. ‘He's going to tell MacFarlane. We need to stop him.'

Without further probing,' Brendon scanned the Lochside, finally catching sight of the man running along the path towards the MacFarlane Keep. ‘Ah willnae catch the bastart in time,' he grated, frustration and fear in his voice.

‘Jennifer!'They turned towards the unexpected shout.

‘It's Peter!' The young woman's voice was almost a sob and Brendon knew she was coming to the end of her tether. He looked over towards the shore where, unbelievably, Peter Sinclair was sitting astride a horse, Fergus dancing beside him.

‘We hae her,' the steward bellowed. ‘She be safe.' He risked standing up to point towards the fleeing figure.

‘Ye need tae stop him ma lord. He be headin' fer the MacFarlane.' For a second, he thought the Viscount hadn't heard him, but then he gave a nod and, guiding his horse away from the shore, took off after the traitor, the wolfhound hard at the horse's heels.

Moments later, they watched as Peter reached the footman, leapt off his horse and felled the man with one blow.

‘Show off,' muttered Jennifer with a sniff.

‘Have ye all quite finished.' Malcolm's strained voice came from the front of the boat. ‘I think my arms are about tae seize up.'

∞∞∞

‘Do you think Duncan MacFarlane will succeed?' Peter asked.

Brendon nodded. ‘He seemed sure o' his support. An' it's nae a secret that Alistair MacFarlane be daft in the heid. Ah doot there'll be much fightin'.

‘And there will be no reprisals?' Peter Sinclair asked, relief clearly evident in his voice.

‘Ah dinnae think so, ma lord. Though Duncan MacFarlane'll no doot be waitin' on his grace's public acknowledgement.'

The Viscount sighed and sagged back into his seat.

‘We dare not let down our guard until we hear fer sure,' Malcolm reminded Peter.

‘Be it time fer a wee dram yet?' Dougal croaked theatrically. ‘Ma throat feels like it's gaunnae close up.'

‘Well, that's a blessing if ever there was one,' declared the Reverend.

They were all gathered in the small sitting room. It was late, but no one could even think about retiring for bed. It was also more than a little overcrowded, especially as both Fergus and Flossy were curled up together in front of the fire.

Slowly the full sequence of events unfolded as each person added their part of the story.

The children had been put into the capable hands of MacNee and Mrs. Darroch. After a hot meal they had all been bedded down in one of the stables, though the housekeeper declared she would be organising baths first thing on the morrow. Finn had proved a capable assistant, taking time to reassure each of the children, and of course, living proof that they hadn't all come to another such as the MacFarlane.

What exactly would be done with the bairns was a decision for another day.

Malcolm was examining the pile of jewellery Dougal had gleefully tipped onto the table.

‘Do you think it's genuine?' Jennifer asked.

‘O' course it be genuine,' Dougal spluttered, clearly trying to keep the doubt from his voice.

‘Aye, I really think it is,' Malcolm responded much to the old Scot's delight. ‘But I dinnae think it belonged tae the likes o' Edward Colman. It doesnae look old enough. I reckon ye'll have tae get someone in tae tell ye true.'

‘If I'm not stepping on your toes,' Peter interjected, ‘I think we can get someone from London or Edinburgh to do the authentication. If you use the Blackmore name, you'll be much less likely to be taken in by an ivory tuner.'

Brendon gave a grateful nod. ‘Ah wouldnae ken where tae start,' he admitted. ‘In truth, the whole thing doesnae seem real.'

‘You won't be wanting the job as steward any longer if the jewellery does turn out to be authentic,' Jennifer smiled. To her discomfort, the brief look Brendon gave her was expressionless, and she wondered if she'd somehow caused offence.

‘What will you do with the footman?' Reverend Shackleford asked, changing the subject.

Peter grimaced. ‘He kidnapped my sister after hitting her over the head hard enough to have killed her. By rights, I should simply hand him over to the magistrate.'

After rendering the traitorous footman unconscious, the Viscount had laid him non too gently over the back of his horse and returned to where Jennifer's mare was grazing unconcernedly. Tying the ex-servant's hands and feet with the same rope that was used to tie up his sister earlier, Peter had put the lame horse on a lead rein and returned to Caerlaverock, arriving much the same time as the two boats. When asked how he'd known where Jennifer was, he grinned and told them that Fergus had fetched him…

‘Hoo aboot a wee dram tae celebrate fer when they string him up?' Dougal suggested.

‘Be no more than the blackguard deserves,' sniffed the Reverend.

‘I know you're right, Grandpapa, but I can't help feeling a little sorry for him. He was truly afraid of his Clan chief, and I cannot imagine being that terrified of someone who's supposed to be one's protector.'

‘Protector?,' her grandfather scoffed. ‘We have twenty-two bairns in a stable who can testify to that bag of moonshine.'

Jennifer nodded. ‘I'm beginning to realise just how sheltered my upbringing has been. As Dougal said when we first began this endeavour, it's easy to ignore what's not put in front of one's nose.' She bit her lip before continuing softly, ‘I'd like to help – with the children.'

‘And I,' Felicity added, covering Jennifer's hand with hers. ‘But not tonight dearest. It's been an extremely long day, and I'm surprised you haven't got a lump the size of Scotland on your head. If you'll allow me, I'll accompany you up to your room and put some salve on it.'

Jennifer laughed, then winced. ‘You're right of course, Felicity. The thumping in my head is becoming harder to ignore.'

‘Dae ye need tae see a doctor, ma lady?' Gifford asked, concern evident in his voice.

‘Ah reckon a wee dram'll dae the trick much better than any leche,' Dougal tried again, this time rubbing his hands together for emphasis.

‘Da, there'll be nae whisky this night,' Brendon finally ground out in exasperation. ‘We've a long walk home.'

‘Neither of you will be walking anywhere,' Peter declared firmly. ‘I've had two spare rooms made up for you.' He paused and swallowed, sudden emotion gripping him. ‘Do you have a favourite whisky, Dougal?'

The old Scot chuckled. ‘Aye, a double,' he answered cheerfully.

∞∞∞

Whatever Felicity rubbed on her head eased the pain sufficiently that Jennifer slept like a babe, and on waking the following morning, she was relieved to find that the throbbing had lessened significantly.

Drawn by shouting coming from outside, she climbed carefully out of bed and went to the window. The children were already up and about, and Jennifer warmed to hear them laughing. Watching them play with Fergus and Flossy, she realised that some were missing, and those that were there were appreciably cleaner than when they'd arrived the day before. Likely, the rest of them were suffering the dreaded bath.

Knowing the wolfhound's presence meant Brendon wouldn't be far away, Jennifer leaned forward and finally caught sight of the handsome Scot watching the children from the periphery. The sight of him smiling brought back the enigmatic expression on his face when she spoke to him the night before, and abruptly she felt a strange sense of urgency. A need to see him as soon as possible.

Hurriedly, she turned and shrugged off her nightgown, pulling on an old woollen dress. Doubtless Jenet would be scandalised to see her dressing herself, but Jennifer didn't want to wait to be primped. Running a brush through her hair, she quickly tied it back with a ribbon and hastened out of the room.

∞∞∞

As he watched the children, Brendon abruptly found himself wondering what it would be like to have bairns of his own. He'd never had such thoughts before, mostly he suspected because his whole attention had been on ensuring he and his da managed to survive the next winter. A wife and child had always been out of the question.

But since Jennifer Sinclair had arrived and turned his heart inside out…

Brendon knew he was being a fool. No matter that she'd made her attraction abundantly clear. Ladies like her used the likes of him to warm their beds, not put bairns in their bellies.

But what if the jewellery turned out to be genuine?

Brendon drew in his breath sharply. He could ill afford to harbour the hope that the gold might make a difference to the Duke of Blackmore. What did his mother use to say? Ye cannae make a purse oot o' a sow's ear. No words had ever been truer.

Somehow, he had to put such thoughts of Jennifer Sinclair out of his mind. She might want him to bed her, but he simply couldn't do it. For him, it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

As though his thoughts had conjured her up, Jennifer Sinclair suddenly appeared in the courtyard, and he drew in his breath. She was slightly dishevelled as if she'd only recently left her bed. Gone was the perfectly coiffured lady and in her place a wild sprite, perfectly at home in the woodlands and glens of the Highlands.

For the first time a glimmer of hope pierced his protective armour.

"Hoo ye be feelin" ma lady?" He asked as she came up beside him.

"Much better," she answered, nodding towards the children with a smile. ‘It's wonderful to see them so happy."

‘Aye, ma lady,' he responded a little huskily ‘This be a paradise compared tae where they hae come frae. But they cannae stay indefinitely. We'll need tae find them somewhere tae go. Ah reckon the nearest poorhouse be in Balloch.' He paused, then added, ‘Ah be thinkin' tae use some' o' the jewellery Da foond tae pay fer their keep.'

Jennifer turned to the steward in dismay. ‘We can't send them to the poorhouse,' she gasped. ‘What on earth will happen to them?'

‘There be twenty-two bairns,' Brendon sighed. ‘What else dae we dae wi' ‘em. At least the coin'll ensure they'll be fed and looked after.'

Jennifer gave a vehement shake of her head. ‘Why can't we keep them here?' she asked. ‘We could build a school, somewhere for them to live. Teach them a trade – something they'll be able to use when they're older.'

‘It be a braw idea,' Brendon answered, his heart beginning to beat a little faster. ‘But who'll oversee such an undertaking? There be no one at Caerlaverock wi' enough time on their hands tae dae it.'

Abruptly, all Jennifer's doubts and fears fell away. This was why she was here. This was the sense of purpose that had been missing in her life. A calmness enveloped her, but underneath it, elation was bubbling up. She gave a joyous laugh, and said simply, ‘I'll do it.'