Midnight Honor

said”—Cameron leaned back and gave his cigar another thoughtful roll—“Aluinn and I were only toying with the idea. And it isn't as if you would be doing anything out of the ordinary. No skulking in dark alleyways, no cloak drawn over your face with a dagger at the ready. You would simply have to do what you do already: read dispatches, follow troop movements, let us know who is moving where and what their intentions might be. Then it would just be a matter of—”
    “Tying a cryptic note to the ankle of a carrier pigeon and releasing it from a rooftop?”
    Cameron smiled at the dry sarcasm. “Nothing quite so dramatic. We have other people in the Elector's camp who act as couriers.”
    “Like Adrienne de Boule?”
    Cameron's midnight eyes flickered again. “Yes. Like Adrienne. Unfortunately, her access is somewhat limited and she cannot move freely around the camp every day.”
    “And if I say no?”
    “Then it ends here, no harm done. You can leave or stay— which you would, of course, be most welcome to do. The terms of your parole would give you an honorable release from any obligations you might have had to serve the king, although I expect your wife's participation at Falkirk would render the terms of the immunity Forbes offered moot either way.”
    Angus turned slowly to glare at MacGillivray again, and this time the Highlander only glared back. “I was not goin' to die the only one knowin'. An' if ye've no' learned by the now that ye can trust these two men above all, then I'll send ye back to Edinburgh maself on the toe o' ma boot. Not”—he added gruffly, qualifying the endorsement by glowering at Cameron and MacKail across the table—“that I'm sayin' it's a good idea to send him back at all. We already know Hawley has nae fondness for Scots officers at the best o' times, an' if it's true he has already hung sixty-three of his own men for desertion an' cowardice, what makes ye think The MacKintosh willna be swingin' from a gibbet the instant he walks through the gates o' the city?”
    “Because I don't imagine any of those officers or men were returning of their own accord, or that they were bringing back valuable information from the rebel camp.”
    Angus's mouth curled up at the corner. “I would be bringing back valuable information?”
    Alex hesitated long enough to draw on his cigar. “I'm sure we can find something of merit. The prince has written enough memoranda in the past month alone to fill a warehouse. A few of them should prove interesting reading for Cumberland, if nothing else.”
    Angus's wry smile faded quicker than it had appeared, and he stroked his thumb down the side of the tankard, tracing patterns in the tiny beads of condensation. “In truth, I have not had too much of a problem dealing with Hawley. It's the other two, Worsham and Garner, who watch me as if they would like to take my gizzard for their next meal.”
    “Major
Hamilton
Garner?” Cameron asked with quiet curiosity.
    Angus nodded, not looking up. “And Major Roger Worsham. Major headaches, the pair of them; both eager for promotion and favor within Cumberland's inner circle.”
    “I don't think you'll have a problem winning Garner's confidence,” Cameron said, exchanging a glance with MacKail. “In fact, I would be willing to stake a considerable fortune on his becoming your closest friend and ally if you but tell him you and I spent time in the same room together.”
    Angus started to frown, then remembered. “Ah, yes. He and your wife, Catherine, were … acquainted, were they not?”
    “They were engaged, actually, until I won her off him in a duel.” He grinned through the smoking stub of his cigar. “Long story. In any case, let's just say that he and I have some unfinished business, and any information you bring him concerning my whereabouts will elevate you to the rank of champion.”
    “I haven't agreed to anything yet,” Angus said.
    “And you certainly do not have to, either”.'
    The men looked up as Anne approached. She had come into the tavern so bundled in plaid, no one had paid her notice until she came near their darkened corner and pushed the tartan back to reveal the bright red hair beneath.
    The men started to scrape to their feet, but she waved them down with an angry gesture that told Angus the flush in her cheeks was not all due to the cold.
    “Did I hear you correctly? You want my husband to spy for you?”
    “We have been attempting a little shameless