Chapter 20

Strathburn House, The Canongate, Edinburgh

N ight had well descended when the Strathburn carriage reached the earl's townhouse in Edinburgh two days later. At the outskirts of the city, MacGowan had been sent on ahead to ensure the staff had made the house ready for their arrival. The brownstone, three-storied residence—rather grander than many of the other closely cramped buildings along the Royal Mile—was located at the end of Auldgate Close, a small cobble-stoned courtyard just off the Canongate and only a short distance from the Palace of Holyroodhouse. In fact, from what Jessie could recall from a previous trip to the capital to visit her cousin, the Tolbooth Prison was also within walking distance of Strathburn House—scarcely a half mile up the hill.

When Jessie stepped from the carriage, she was sorely tempted to turn away from the wide-open doorway no matter how inviting the candlelit vestibule looked beyond. The pull to make her way up the Royal Mile toward the prison was so much stronger. Aside from the fact that her ankle was definitely not up to the task, there was no guarantee Robert had even reached Edinburgh yet. She would just have to be patient and wait for tomorrow to find out exactly where he was.

Lord Strathburn had just begun to escort Jessie up the short flight of front stairs—Lady Strathburn had already swept on ahead and disappeared inside the townhouse—when a silhouette appeared in the doorway beside Strathburn House's butler.

"Good evening, dearest Father, Miss Munroe," drawled a familiar voice.

Jessie froze, icy dread spearing through her. Simon stood on the threshold, leaning negligently against the doorframe, a grin that was almost a sneer stretched across his face. Why hadn't it occurred to her that Simon would be staying here, in his family's home, as well? She pressed her lips together, trying to tamp down a burst of breath-stealing panic and frustration. Would she never be free of this man's unwanted attentions?

Yet again she had the impulse to turn and flee up the Mile. Perhaps she could ask for a horse to be brought round and she could make her way to her cousin Maggie's house in the Grassmarket? It surely wasn't far from here. Lord Strathburn would understand.

Simon seemed visibly amused by his disconcerting effect on them both. His grin grew wider as he raised a glass of liquor, possibly brandy, in a mock toast. "Welcome to Edinburgh." He pushed away from the door and affected a clumsy bow. He was clearly more than a wee bit drunk.

Lord Strathburn's arm stiffened beneath Jessie's hand. "What on earth do you think you are doing here under my roof, Simon?" demanded the earl, voice shaking with anger. "What makes you think I would permit you to stay here after what you have done to Robert and Miss Munroe? Your audacity astounds me."

"But, dear Father, I'm not the fugitive on the run, the traitor to the King, the disobedient son. Are you disowning me for simply upholding the law ?"

Lord Strathburn straightened and pointed his walking stick at Simon. "Get out of my sight," he ground out. "Get out, and do not return until I permit you to do so."

Simon shrugged a shoulder. "No matter. I'm sure the White Horse Inn has a suite of rooms, and no doubt, the innkeeper will accept your name as a guarantee." He passed his glass to the hovering butler. "Fetch my coat, Gordon. I think I fancy a stroll down the Canongate. Oh, and send my man Baird on with my things, will you?"

Coat in hand, Simon deliberately brushed past Jessie as he descended the stairs, his breath hot and fetid in her ear. "I'll be sure to blow a kiss up the hill to where your beloved resides, sweet Jezebel. Sleep well, sister-to-be."

Jessie closed her eyes and shuddered—but as the sound of Simon's footsteps faded into the cold dark night, she smiled to herself. At least she now knew Robert was definitely here.

She would be able to see him tomorrow.

Despite her anxiety about Robert's fate over the past few days—who knew how the dragoons had treated him?—Jessie quickly descended into an exhausted sleep once she retired for the evening.

Lord Strathburn had seen to it that she was accommodated in one of the townhouse's well-appointed guest rooms. A young maid named Alison had even been assigned to act as her lady's maid. As an added precaution against any attempted nocturnal visits by Simon—who undoubtedly still had his own set of keys to the townhouse—the earl had ordered that the maid spend the night on a pallet bed in her room. It was a gesture much appreciated by Jessie, and she hoped the maid didn't mind.

Jessie was not certain if Alison or any of the other household staff had been told of her betrothal to Robert, or of his capture and imprisonment. On arrival, she had simply been introduced as Miss Munroe without further explanation. Although she suspected Simon would have crowed about his brother's dramatic fall from grace to all and sundry.

When Jessie rose early next morning, she was delighted to discover that a small traveling trunk containing some of her things—undergarments, several gowns, and another pair of shoes—had been delivered to her room. According to Alison's intelligence via MacGowan, Lord Strathburn had arranged for one of Lochrose's maids to pack the trunk at the Gate House prior to their departure. She would never be able to thank the earl enough for his thoughtfulness, but she would certainly try.

But first, she had other things to attend to. Her priority was to do anything she could to aid Robert, and that would require a walk up the Mile to the Tolbooth.

Fortunately, her ankle was much improved. The gash on her upper arm was also continuing to heal well beneath Robert's careful stitches. Alison's eyes had widened in surprise when she'd seen the wound but she did not remark on it, much to Jessie's relief. Instead, the maid quietly fetched a pitcher of warm water and after gently bathing the wound, applied some lavender oil and a fresh strip of linen.

Once Jessie's arm was re-bandaged, Alison had then assisted her to wash and don her Sunday-best gown—a becoming one of royal blue wool, trimmed with black velvet at the neckline, cuffs, and around the hem. It was only a little worn at the elbows, and hopefully the creases that had resulted from it being bundled up in a trunk would soon fall out.

Alison also seemed to have a remarkable talent for styling hair. The young girl quickly and effortlessly arranged Jessie's unruly curls into a becoming upswept style with a few curling tendrils artfully escaping about her neck. Aside from the slight blue smudges of fatigue under her worried eyes, Jessie thought the young woman staring back at her from the looking glass looked decidedly civilized—a far cry from the travel-stained, careworn character she'd become over the past few days. Not that her appearance mattered to her that much. But she did wish to appear at her best when she next encountered the earl.

And of course, when she went to visit Robert.

Robert… Jessie's heart clenched with both trepidation and joy every time she thought of the man. Her man. The need to see him, to hold him, to make sure he was all right was a constant ache.

But the anxiety she suffered would be nothing compared to what Robert must be enduring. Aside from having to deal with the horror of being incarcerated, he would no doubt be tormented with worry about her fate as well. She was certain Simon would have taunted him with lies about what had happened to her, the brute. But if she could see Robert today, she could at least put his mind to rest on that score.

As Alison fussed about her hair, adding extra pins to her curls here and there, Jessie couldn't help but smile at the memory of her last few hours alone with Robert. She did not regret a single moment. Never before had she felt so wanted and—she hardly dared to think the word—so loved. In her heart of hearts, she would secretly acknowledge that she wanted Robert to be pardoned more than anything. Though Lord Strathburn had bound her and Robert together due to some misguided sense of propriety, she would hold to her vows of handfasting, come what may.

She just prayed Robert felt the same way.

At any rate, she would soon find out…if her plan for the morning worked out.

"Ye look lovely, miss," offered Alison shyly as she finished nestling a black velvet ribbon in amongst Jessie's curls. "If ye dinna mind me saying, I think yer intended will think so too. Are ye going to see him up the Mile today?"

Jessie found herself blushing. "How did you ken about my engagement to Lord Lochrose?"

Deep color stained Alison's already rosy cheeks and she began fiddling with the tendrils around Jessie's neck. The girl was clearly embarrassed as well. "Ah…Mrs. Bowie, our cook, has been speaking with Lord Strathburn's man, MacGowan. I'm sorry, miss, if I've offended ye with my prattle. Lady Strathburn doesna like the staff to gossip."

"It's all right, Alison." Jessie was quick to reassure the maid. She did not want the girl—she couldn't have been older than seventeen or eighteen—to get in trouble with the countess on her account. "But perhaps I could ask ye to help me this morning…?"

Alison's reflection nodded.

"We will need to be discreet," Jessie cautioned.

"Of course, Miss Munroe. I willna breathe a word."

The hall clock on the landing of the stairs was striking eight when Alison led Jessie to the kitchens below.

"Are ye sure ye only want a cup o' tea and an oatcake?" queried the middle-aged cook, Mrs. Bowie.

She seemed more than a little bemused to find the earl's guest visiting her kitchen, but when Jessie explained her plan, the good woman was more than happy to fulfill her requests. Jessie was delighted to discover that the cook was in fact the younger sister of Mrs. MacMillan—it certainly explained the similarity in facial features and welcoming manner. Jessie could not help but hope that the woman was just as good a cook as Mrs. MacMillan.

A short time later, a small basket laden with food on her arm and her purse tucked into the pocket attached to her petticoats—no doubt guineas would be needed to gain entry into the Tolbooth—Jessie quietly left Strathburn House with Alison accompanying her.

The morning was chill and gray as they stepped onto the busy Royal Mile. At the bottom of the hill, Jessie could see the elegant spires of Holyrood Palace, the former headquarters of the foolish Bonnie Prince Charlie. To the south-east towered the sheer cliffs of Salisbury Crags and Arthur's Seat.

Blowing out a sigh, Jessie turned and faced uphill where the brooding bulk of Edinburgh Castle loomed at the very top of the Royal Mile. Robert was somewhere up there in the Tolbooth. He was so close, yet all of a sudden seemed so very far away.

As she set off with Alison, Jessie pulled her black traveling cloak tightly around herself to ward off the biting wind that whipped down the hill and caught at her skirts and hair. It had rained overnight and the cobblestones were slippery. While they'd been washed clean of some of the mud and filth that usually filled the gutters, she would need to take care that she didn't slip and twist her sprained ankle now it seemed to be improving. Their progress up the Mile would not be as swift as she would have liked.

"Miss, perhaps…perhaps we could secure a pair of sedan chairs to take us up the hill," suggested Alison. She'd obviously noticed her new mistress's limp. "Lady Strathburn has a verra good sedan, but I dinna think she would be inclined to let ye use it. But with yer sore ankle and all…weel, the hired chairs are not verra expensive. It willna take more than a wee moment to hail one or two."

"Sedan chairs. What an excellent idea." Jessie cast Alison a smile. She didn't know why she hadn't thought of it herself. Edinburgh's closes and wynds were often so narrow and winding, particularly in this part of the capital, it was almost impossible for a horse-drawn vehicle of any kind to negotiate them. But sedan chairs could go practically anywhere. She'd never taken one before, to be sure, but if it saved her from having to negotiate the hill with a sprained ankle, she was more than happy to hire one with a little of her coin.

As Alison predicted, it didn't take long for two burly chairmen to trot by with an empty sedan chair suspended between them on sturdy wooden poles. The men stopped at Alison's call, a fee to their destination was agreed upon, and Jessie climbed through the door at the front into the small space to take a seat. Once she'd seen that Alison was climbing into a second sedan chair, Jessie indicated that she was ready to set off, and they did. Indeed, her pair of chairmen took off at a cracking pace up the hill, weaving their way through the bustling crowd of pedestrians, other sedan chairs, open carts, and carriages also traveling up and down the steep thoroughfare.

The towering spire of St Giles Cathedral was sounding the nine o'clock bell when her sedan stopped at the gates of the grim Tolbooth Prison. Jessie climbed out, settled the fee with the chairmen, and stared up at the imposing gray brick edifice whilst she waited for Alison to arrive. Somewhere, locked inside these cold and miserable stone walls, was Robert.

She clutched her cloak around her and bit her lip, suddenly beset by a wave of despair and stomach-churning nervousness. What could she possibly say to the prison guards that would make them admit her to see Robert? She didn't even know if there were visiting hours, or if visitors were allowed at all. She should have waited for Lord Strathburn.

"Are ye all right, miss?" Alison was at her shoulder. Jessie hadn't even noticed the maid's arrival.

"I… I'm no' sure if the guards will permit me to visit Lord Lochrose." Heart sinking, Jessie turned away from the iron gates and looked back down the street toward the Canongate. "I fear I've acted too hastily. Perhaps we should go."

Alison stepped closer to Jessie and lowered her voice. "Now dinna fret, miss." The corners of her mouth lifted into a conspiratorial smile. "I should've mentioned before, my Uncle Angus is the head warden here. He'll make sure the turnkey lets us in, dinna ye worry. Just let me do the asking. Ye'll see."

The maid was as good as her word. She spoke with the sentry on duty and within a few minutes Angus McDonald, Alison's uncle, was ushering them through the gates and into the dark and fetid interior of the jail.

Jessie held her cloak to her nose to try and dissipate the rank stench around them as she followed Mr. MacDonald down shadow-filled corridors and up narrow, twisting stairwells. Truth be told, her stomach became increasingly knotted and unsettled the farther they progressed. It could have been the frigid, foul air that made her feel so, or the pitiful moans and desperate calls emanating from behind the bolted cell doors.

Her heart ached at the thought of Robert, and the many other poor souls, locked up in these inhumane, squalid conditions. She silently prayed her fiancé would soon be released from this hellish place.

Before too long, they emerged onto a fourth-floor landing that was relatively well lit compared to the lower stories. The air was remarkably fresher too. Surprisingly, there was only one guard on duty on this level. He stood by the iron-barred door where they'd entered, and after a quick cursory search of Jessie's food basket, he escorted them down the narrow corridor.

As Jessie passed a barred window, she could see down below to the bleak cobblestones of Parliament Square where the convicted were executed at the Mercat Cross. Her cousin had once told her that in the case of beheadings, the victim's heads were displayed on spikes along the north wall of the square. There were no such obscene displays today at least. Jessie shivered and hurried on.

"Here we are then, miss," Mr. MacDonald said almost jovially to Jessie when they stopped before one of the doors. But then he frowned as he observed her face. "Ye are verra pale, miss." He turned to his niece. "Ye ken, I'm surprised ye didna think to bring summat sweet smelling with ye, Alison. Ye should ken better than that. Yer mistress here looks as if she's about to faint dead away."

"I'm quite fine," said Jessie quickly, afraid Alison's uncle would suddenly curtail her visit if he thought she couldn't cope. "How long can I visit with Lord Lochrose?"

"A quarter of an hour ‘tis all that's permitted I'm afraid, lass," he replied. "Mr. Cameron"—he gestured at the guard with his chin—"the door if ye please."

The guard did as he was bid. "Lochrose, rise n' shine. Ye have company," he announced unceremoniously into the gloom beyond. "I hope ye're decent. They're ladies."

Her knees trembling, Jessie stepped forward and peered into the dark interior. Although the cell was larger than she'd expected, its only source of light was a high, narrow-barred window that let in a thin strip of weak gray light. In the far-left corner, obscured by shadow, she discerned movement. Robert.

He was seated on a narrow bunk, rubbing his hands down his face as if he'd just woken. His voice was husky with sleep as he said her name. "Jessie?"

Jessie wanted to go to Robert, throw her arms around him, but she stayed hovering in the doorway, suddenly unsure of herself…and of him. In the dim light, it was difficult to discern his expression.

"Aye, Robert, ‘tis I," she murmured, her voice cracking. She took another tentative step into the cell at the same moment Robert rose to his feet. She could see his features now, and her heart clenched. Her fiancé looked drawn. Brooding. His jaw was covered in thick stubble and his unbound hair tumbled across his forehead and onto his shoulders. Despite his dishevelment, or perhaps because of it, he was both darkly handsome and forbidding, all at once.

She was about to close the short distance between them, but Robert's next words halted her, taking her completely aback.

"Christ, Jessie. I can't believe you're here." He pushed his hair away from his face with a shaking hand, his gaze raking over her. He was frowning, clearly shocked. "You shouldn't have come."

Jessie's breath hitched. She opened her mouth to speak but the words jammed in her throat.

He didn't want her here. What had she been thinking? Perhaps he'd meant to leave her at the inn in Invercauld after all. She'd obviously been mistaken about his feelings for her.

Hot tears scalded her eyelids. She knew she should go, but she couldn't move. She was frozen to the spot by Robert's penetrating blue gaze.

She felt Alison at her elbow. "Lord Lochrose," the maid said, taking the basket from Jessie and depositing it just inside the cell door, "Miss Munroe thought ye might like some provisions to…to make yer stay more comfortable."

Robert acknowledged the maid with a quick nod before she beat a hasty retreat into the corridor. Then, within the space of a heartbeat, he took a handful of strides toward Jessie and gathered her into his arms, burying his face in her hair.

"Jessie, Jessie my love," he murmured against her ear. One of his hands stroked up the length of her back before his fingers curled about her nape. "I'm such an idiot. I didn't mean I didn't want to see you. I…I just can't believe you would set foot in this godforsaken prison. After all you've been through, this is the last place I would want you to be. You simply could have sent word to me that you were here in Edinburgh."

Jessie drew a ragged sigh, relief flooding through her as she sagged against Robert. He'd called her my love . He cared for her. He was worried about her. She pressed her damp cheek into his linen shirt, breathing in the musky scent of him, drinking in the warmth of his hard chest as he crushed her against his body.

"I wanted to see that ye were all right," she whispered. "I just had to know."

Robert gently pushed her away from him, his eyes searching hers. "You had to know if I was all right," he said, shaking his head. The corner of his wide beautiful mouth curved up into the lopsided half smile she adored so much. "Jessie, if you only knew how worried I've been about you. At the inn, when Simon had me arrested, he knew you were there also. I've been going mad, not knowing what happened to you." Robert's eyes sparked with blue fire and his grip on her grew harder. "Tell me, Jessie, did he touch you? Did he hurt you? I have to know. Because if he did..." The unspoken, deadly intent was clear in Robert's expression.

Jessie reached out to stroke his stubbled cheek, relieved she could put his tortured mind to rest. "He didna hurt me, Robert." She quickly explained what had happened at the inn—how MacTaggart had woken her to warn her about his arrest and Simon's imminent visit, and then how the chivalrous Watchman had protected her. "If it hadna been for Captain MacTaggart, I can barely stand to think what might have happened. I was hoping he'd somehow gotten word to ye to let ye know that I was safe. He must have been prevented from doing so."

Robert raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Simon's interference no doubt. I'll make sure my father gives the good captain a commendation. If I ever get to see my father again, that is…"

Jessie smiled, her heart lighter with every passing breath. "Yer father is here in Edinburgh, Robert. He left Lochrose with yer stepmother soon after Simon mounted his pursuit. He suspected trouble and wanted to be able to plead yer case in person with the Lord Advocate if it should come to that. Which indeed, it has."

"How do you know all this?" asked Robert smoothing one of her wayward curls behind her ear.

Jessie closed her eyes briefly, relishing Robert's gentle touch before she answered his question. "After ye were taken, I decided to travel back to Lochrose to ask yer father for help. But I learned that he was on his way to Edinburgh and as luck would have it, I met him along the road near Pitlochry. I journeyed the rest o' the way here in his carriage and stayed at yer family's townhouse in Auldgate Close last night."

Robert's eyes narrowed with concern. "And where precisely did Simon stay? He's here in Edinburgh attempting to orchestrate my demise no doubt."

"Yer father ordered him away as soon as we arrived," she replied, smoothing her hand against his cheek. "He was intending to secure lodgings at the White Horse Inn."

"Hmm, I knew my dear brother would be lurking somewhere close to gloat over my misfortune," said Robert with a cynical twist to his smile. Turning his back on the guard just outside the door, he suddenly pulled Jessie hard against him and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You should go, my love," he murmured. "You've lingered long enough in this dreadful place."

"There's no place I'd rather be right now," Jessie whispered, turning her face upward, willing Robert to kiss her. She didn't care that Alison and the guard waited nearby.

It seemed Robert didn't either. She saw the smile in his eyes in the moment before he lowered his head to take her willing mouth in his.

Who'd have thought heaven could be found in a jail cell? Jessie sighed and melted into Robert, parting her lips as his tongue gently explored her mouth with slow, deep, tantalizing strokes. She cradled his roughly bristled jaw, winding her fingers into his dark hair, pulling him closer, wanting this bittersweet kiss full of promise and yearning to go on and on, to never end. All the while she prayed this would not be their last kiss.

But all too soon, Robert gently untangled her hands from his hair and broke the contact of their mouths. Like her, he was slightly breathless…and smiling.

The guard pointedly cleared his throat. "Time's up, I'm afraid, Lochrose," he called.

Jessie felt herself blushing. She reluctantly stepped away from Robert, but he did not release her hands.

"Goodbye, my beloved," he murmured as he kissed her fingertips.

"Do no' say goodbye, Robert." Jessie put a finger to his lips. "I couldna bear it if this was goodbye. Ye will be pardoned. I'm certain of it." With great effort, she withdrew from Robert's embrace and moved toward the door. When she turned to look at him one last time, he smiled. Then the guard swung the cell door shut.

The resounding clang seemed as final as any death knell.

Alison touched her arm. "Come on, miss."

Jessie followed the girl along the corridor to where her uncle waited to escort them out. Catching sight of the Mercat Cross again, Jessie paused. As an unbidden image of Robert kneeling before the executioner's block appeared in her mind, pain lanced through her heart and tears stung her eyes. Robert couldn't die . She did not think she could bear it.

And then she realized with heart stopping certainty that she was in love with this man.

Completely and utterly.

No matter that they'd only spent a few days together. She knew she was in love with him as surely as night follows day.

Then and there, she decided to do whatever was within her power to save Robert from a traitor's death, even if that meant pleading with the Lord Advocate himself. And before she returned to Strathburn House, she would visit St Giles and pray for Robert with all her heart and soul. It was the least she could do.