Beloved Highlander

With a sigh that was half regret and half wistful thinking, Meg turned back toward the cottage.

Chapter 9

By afternoon they had reached the pass through the mountains.

Once this narrow and treacherous road had been open to everyone, but since the 1715 Rebellion, military roads had begun to be built throughout the Highlands under the supervision of General Wade. This was to enable government troops access to the seething, rebellious clansmen in their isolated glens, and to keep order where it was considered trouble was most likely to occur. A small garrison of soldiers now manned the way through the pass, and anyone travelling through was sure to be questioned closely before being allowed to move on.

Meg and her band of men were no different.

“Madam!” The private on guard, well turned out in his red jacket and breeches and white, spotless stockings, straightened himself as Meg rode forward. That was one thing Meg always noticed about Major Litchfield’s men, they looked like proper soldiers, not the ragtag bands that sometimes terrorized the Highlands for no better reason than that they could.

“I am returning home, Private,” she said now. “May we pass through?”

The soldier opened his mouth to answer, but before he could do so, a second voice interrupted them.

“Lady Margaret!”

An older man, wiry, with a thin, intelligent face strode from the direction of the soldiers’ quarters. He wore his red coat and waistcoat embellished with gold trimmings, but it was quite plain in comparison to some of the officers Meg had encountered. He had doffed his hat, and was beaming at her from beneath his plain, brown wig.

“Back so soon, Lady Meg? Did your journey go well?”

Meg returned his smile. She genuinely liked Major Litchfield. He was not the sort of biased, narrow-minded Englishman she had met before and abhorred—the type of Englishman who believed civilized life began and ended at the Thames. Glen Dhui was only a half day’s ride from here, and if the soldiers had been inclined to, they could have made life very difficult for the people. Meg felt they were fortunate indeed with Major Litchfield in charge of his men.

“I am very well, thank you, Major,” she said now. “I did not expect to see you here.”

“I am on my weekly inspection. Have to keep the men on their toes. You are on your way home?”

“Yes, and looking forward to getting there and seeing my father.”

“The General.” The Major shook his head sadly. “’Tis a rum thing to see such a great man brought so low. Tell him I will call on him soon, before I leave the Highlands.” He glanced up at her as he spoke the last words, something speculative in his gaze.

Meg’s smile faded. “Before you leave? Are you leaving, Major Litchfield?”

“Sadly, yes,” he said, and there was real regret in his voice, and something more, that suddenly Meg preferred not to delve into too deeply. As with the Duke of Abercauldy, she had always considered Major Litchfield to be her father’s friend. She enjoyed his company and was appreciative of his attitude toward the Highland people, but she had no romantic inclinations toward him.

“I am being ordered to join a regiment in Ireland. As you know, Lady Margaret, I have been kicking my heels here for over two years. That’s not to say I haven’t enjoyed my stay in Scotland, for I have found it most interesting, but it is time to move on. As soon as my replacement arrives I will go. If I may, I will call at Glen Dhui beforehand. Tell your father I look forward to a last game of chess with him, if he is well enough.”

Meg smiled. “Of course you may! And I’m sure he will be well enough for that, Major.” She held out her hand to him. “I will be sorry to see you go, sir. Take care in Ireland, and we hope to see you back here again, one day.”

His eyes lit up and as if it were made of glass, he took the hand she stretched down to him. “I pray that will be so,” he said, and raised it to his lips.

His fervency was a little too much for her. Meg felt her face color as she turned hastily away. She caught Gregor Grant’s eye without meaning to, not realizing he was so close behind her. And found she could not look away.

There was something in his very stillness, the rigid set of his shoulders, the glint of his eyes through his dark lashes, that spoke of danger. He simmered with it. Startled, Meg searched her mind as to why that should be so. Major Litchfield had been perfectly friendly to them, and yet Gregor was acting as if they were under threat.

Now the Major was greeting the other men by name. He knew them all, because upon his arrival here he had made a point of meeting and learning about the people who lived on the estates nearby. It was one of the reasons Meg liked him. When he came to Gregor’s large figure upon his horse, the Major paused and arched a graying eyebrow.

“Why, it’s Captain Grant, isn’t it? I am not mistaken, am I, Captain?”

Gregor nodded once, not returning the smile. “Major Litchfield.”

“What do you in Lady Meg’s train, Captain?” he asked politely, but curiosity was alive in his eyes and a glint of something more.

Gregor smiled without humor, as if he accepted the other man’s right to ask the question, but he didn’t have to like it. “I know General Mackintosh. He and I are old friends.”

“I see.” There was doubt in his face now, and a trace of suspicion. “I heard you had left Glen Dhui after the 1715, Captain.” Major Litchfield spoke politely, and yet it was clear he wanted answers, and as the superior officer he expected to get them. “Why have you returned now? You are stationed to the north, are you not? Have you leave?”

Gregor shifted slightly on his horse, but not enough to give away emotion. Meg searched his face, but whatever he had been feeling before was gone. Wiped clean, as if it had never existed. “Northwest, at Clashennic. I was there with the Duke of Argyll’s dragoons.”