“Where are ye going?” he asked.
“To seek a moment of privacy. We should get going before the sun comes up. Have ye slept at all?”
“Aye. The hound woke me.”
“Me as well,” one of the other men said, followed by a chorus of agreements.
“I promise no’ to be vicious if ye toss me a hunk of meat,” Sorley teased.
A round of chuckles filled the camp at that.
“Well, good, if we’re all awake, we might as well continue on.” Fiona stretched her arms up over her head. Then chucked pieces of jerky at each of them, laughing herself when they jumped with surprise. “’Haps we’ll reach Ruthven well before night falls once more.”
Fiona was grateful for the warmth of her horse’s girth on her legs when she mounted. The few hours of sleep she’d garnered had left her mostly frozen. When this war was over, she’d be grateful to finally let warmth seep back into her bones. That was if she made it through.
They stuck to the woods when they could, avoiding the roads at all costs in order to move safely, though not necessarily faster. One thing Fiona required, however, when they passed by a village was to ride through and warn them of Cumberland’s orders of execution. The people needed to know of the increased danger. Though she insisted on riding alone, Brogan asserted his need to go with her each time, leaving the rest of the men outside the walls.
Like a band of brothers, Brogan’s men were not willing to sit idle, and instead patrolled the perimeter and reported back. The very act made her smile. They’d become tightly knit while on this jaunt, and it all started with a bit of teasing.
By late afternoon, they crossed over the River Spey, the towering fortress of Ruthven Barracks coming into view seated atop a hill, its strong, imposing stone walls cutting against the afternoon sky. Ravens cawed over the structure, swooping and landing before being shooed away by the guards.
The road to the fortress followed a narrow, shallow burn and then cut across a field, putting them in view of those within, but also in plain sight of any hidden enemy forces watching the barracks.
“We made it,” Fiona muttered, more to herself than to anyone else. The journey here had been easy compared to some, and harder in so many other ways.
“Let us no’ wait,” Brogan said in reply.
At the gate, Fiona pulled the emerald ring from her bodice, brandishing it for all to see.
The doors were opened almost immediately, and a loud squeal from within had Fiona’s attention jerking to her dear friend Jenny running, her long blond locks streaming behind her like a cape.
Fiona tossed herself from the horse, landing with her feet already in a run as she embraced her friend in a fierce hug.
“Ye’re no’ dead,” Fiona breathed out, emotion pummeling her chest and tears scratching at her eyes.
“Neither are ye.”
“Thank God.”
They squeezed and squeezed until it hurt, the relief raw and powerful. Fiona hadn’t realized until she saw Jenny how very much she worried that death had come to claim her at the hands of a red-dressed bastard.
After several heart-seizing moments, they pulled apart, smiles cracking their faces and tears on their cheeks. They laughed at each other, swiping at their tears.
Fiona turned to Brogan and his men. “This is my dear friend Jenny. Chief of Clan Mackintosh. Known by some as Colonel Jenny, or Mistress J. Jenny, these are my brothers in arms, Brogan, Sorley, Keith, James, Charles, Fin, and Dugall.”
The men dismounted and Jenny greeted Sorley with familiarity, which sparked Fiona’s curiosity. She’d have to ask her about that later, but right now she was distracted by Brogan, who came forward to grip Jenny’s proffered arm.
“Colonel, ’tis an honor. Brogan Grant. Ye handled yourself well on the battlefield.”
Jenny appraised Brogan for a moment. “And ye came to the aid of Ian MacBean.”
Fiona flashed her gaze at Brogan. She knew they’d fought together but not that he’d aided her brother. A little tug on the inside of her chest had her trying to swallow hard against a lump in her throat.
“Aye. I couldna let him have all the fun,” Brogan jested.
“Och, nay,” Fiona said. “Ian would be more than happy to share, I’m certain.”
Brogan grinned down at her, and her stomach did a little flip. He really was incredibly handsome. If only she’d met him under different circumstances, the minor flirtations, the witty banter, the teases might have led to… What? A kiss. And judging from the confident air that surrounded him, Brogan would be good at it.
Clearing her throat and attempting to force herself away from these thoughts, Fiona said, “I came to relay a message from the prince.”
Jenny nodded. “Good. Murray is inside.”
Fiona linked her arm with Jenny’s as they headed toward the door, leaving the men to take care of the horses. Inside, she found Murray gathered with several of his men around a table covered with maps. There was a fire in the hearth, and candles lit about the room. It smelled stale, like sweat and ale, and panic if it were to have a scent.
“They plan the next steps.” Fiona was not asking the question, rather stating the obvious, perhaps because she was a bit surprised they would do so without the prince’s orders. Then again, Murray had been doing a lot of things on his own without the prince’s direct say-so.
Part of her was irritated by that knowledge on behalf of her benefactor, but the other part understood. After all, most of the prince’s army was here, but without him to command them.
“Aye.” Jenny nodded at Murray, the prince’s right-hand general, who glanced up from what he was doing. “A message from the prince.”
Murray straightened and approached Fiona. The man’s features were pinched with frustration. “Where is he?”
Saints, but it was times like these she hated to be the one presenting the bad news.
“He is no’ coming here,” Fiona said. “He was headed to Invergarry Castle, where they hoped to set up a camp. If it becomes dangerous, he will make his way to the Hebrides. But he bid me give ye and the men a message. Ye are to disband.”
“Disband?” Murray exclaimed, incredulous.
There was grumbling from the men at the table behind him. She’d known this news would not be welcome, for it wasn’t welcome to her either. All of them had put their hearts and souls into the cause. Being told to disband was just a bootheel to the precious organ.
“Aye, for now,” she continued. “He says that he will raise his standard once more when we’ve had a chance to recover from the loss at Culloden. For now, all are to disband and hide in plain sight. There is something else we learned on our way here. Cumberland has ordered his men to execute without mercy anyone they suspect to be a Jacobite.” Her throat tightened and she cleared it, trying to bid away the emotion that kicked at her gut. “We witnessed his order in action on the road.”