If her brother had any idea what she was doing, at best she’d be locked in a dungeon, and at worst she’d be hanging from the ramparts for the crows to eat. The soldiers would suffer certain death, and her mother would be devastated. Already her son’s betrayal was enough to have her mother take to her bed and rarely come out.
“I’ll never be able to thank ye enough.” She reached over and patted Dirk on the shoulder and then eyed the men behind them. “And when the regent is on the throne, we’ll see that every risk was worth it.”
“Ye needna thank us for being loyal Scots,” Dirk said.
“Aye,” the four men murmured in unison.
Jenny straightened in her saddle, the creak of the leather mingling with the sounds of insects and the distant birds of prey. “All the same, I’m grateful to have ye by my side. The prince regent will land in Scotland in less than a month. The more soldiers we can gather, the more coin and weapons we present him, the better.”
She glanced at Dirk and then the men behind him. In addition to the other two Mackintosh warriors, tonight they’d only gathered two new recruits—the lowest number of any night since she’d started a few months before. And the coin they’d gathered was barely enough to buy a meat pie and ale at the local tavern.
The last village she wanted to visit tonight happened to be closest to the English garrison. Most of the men and women who lived there had been treated cruelly by the soldiers. There had to be at least half a dozen men she could sway to the cause, if for no other reason than the fresh rounds of arrests that had taken place just that morning.
Jenny returned her attention to the road. Not a single redcoat had passed in at least a half hour. “Are ye ready?”
“Lead the way, Mistress.”
Jenny grinned, excitement thrumming in her veins. She had no doubt she was doing the right thing. Soon she’d be bowing before the regent, a leader who could oust the English from Scotland for good. And then she’d look into her brother’s eyes, and instead of executing him for his betrayal, she’d sway him back to the cause. Wishful thinking, aye.
For now, she needed to focus on what lay ahead. The risks she took could get her killed, and yet she seized them boldly. Fear had no place in a rebellion. Well, perhaps that wasn’t entirely true. But one had to master their fear. And if there was one thing she’d been good at since she was a bairn, it was taking control over anything that scared her.
“We ride.” Jenny took the reins in both hands as she nudged her heel into her mount’s flank.
* * *
“Bloody hell,” Toran Fraser muttered under his breath.
It was nearing midnight as he stood in the center of the English garrison’s courtyard, working hard to hide his alarm. His cousin Archie stood among the condemned. The men had been dragged behind horses, hands shackled in front of them, and in the torchlight it was clear they’d been viciously beaten. Each of them was still dressed in his traditional Highland attire—kilts, shirts, waistcoats, boots. But they’d been stripped of their weapons.
And in mere moments, they’d be stripped of their lives. This was not what was supposed to happen. Aye, he’d intended for the rebels to be caught…but executed? He’d been naive to believe Boyd when he’d said he’d use the men to extort information. Served him right for trusting a bloody Englishman.
Of course Archie recognized Toran. The surprise and hope in his gaze quickly turned to outright disgust when he realized that Toran was standing beside the very English Captain Thomas Boyd.
Toran shifted uneasily. He, too, wore a kilt in Fraser colors. Boyd believed him a loyal deserter, taking up the position his father had vacated upon death, but understood Toran had to play the part of a Scotsman to gather information to hand over. Even so, if Archie let slip that he’d just spoken with Toran about Boyd’s plan to trap the rebels, then he’d have a lot of explaining to do to the English captain. It was a careful line to walk—having betrayed one allegiance meant that his new one would always be suspicious, and with good reason.
But family was family despite allegiances. Toran followed in his father’s footsteps, solidly on the side of King George’s government, while some of his family had chosen