Midnight Honor

extortion, aye,” Cameron admitted.
    Angus felt a sudden, unpleasant hollow sensation in his belly. Like the others, he hadn't noticed her come into the tavern, so he wasn't sure exactly how much she had overheard.
    “And?” She put her hands to her hips. “Has he bowed to it?”
    Angus indicated a place on the bench beside him, which she ignored. “They have asked. I have not yet given an answer.”
    “He might agree, Colonel,” Cameron said. “If you can convince him it would be for the best.”
    “Me?” She unwound her scarf and shook off the glittering ice crystals—some of which hit Angus's cheek like tiny pellets. “Why on earth would I want to convince him to return to the Hanover camp?”
    Cameron leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “Because we need him there. He has Hawley's ear, he sees reports, he has access to information we can get no other way. We need to know Cumberland's intentions, the strength of his troops, where he plans to strike at us and when. Both MacKail and I have told your husband the information could be critical to the prince's safety and success, possibly even the deciding factor in whether we win or lose the Highlands, but”—the midnight eyes narrowed, their glitter rivaling anything Anne could lash back with in response—“we have also told him it is dangerous, and there is undeniably a great deal of risk involved. We can understand if he is reluctant to agree. Unfortunately, we often have to ask terrible things of people in times of war, but that is all we are doing. We are just asking. If the captain is uncomfortable or uneasy, or if he believes his return to Edinburgh would be seen as another betrayal…?”
    “My husband has never betrayed his clan,” Anne said evenly. “If anything, he has done everything in his power to uphold their honor.”
    Cameron pushed to his feet and drowned the stub of his cigar in the inch of ale at the bottom of his tankard. “We all have uncomfortable choices to make. Sometimes we make the right ones; sometimes we don't. In this case, we are merely asking your husband to do what he has been doing all along: wear the Hanover cockade and take his brandy and cigars with the likes of Henry Hawley and William Cumberland. We cannot force either one of you to help us, and frankly, I don't have the time to waste softening you with trite words like ‘life and death,’ but that is very well what it could amount to. For all of us. On that pontificating note, I'll say good-night to you now, Lady Anne, Captain MacKintosh, Captain MacGillivray.” He nodded at each as he pulled his tartan around his shoulders. “Aluinn … are you coming?”
    MacKail blinked and stammered a reply in the affirmative as he quickly gathered his gloves and bonnet off the bench. MacGillivray caught the subtle glint in Cameron's eye and muttered some excuse about needing to check the pickets.
    They exited in a group, leaving Anne and Angus alone, one standing, one sitting, neither moving so much as an eyelash for a full minute.
    “I expect there is never any need to wonder where you stand with a man like Cameron,” Angus said finally. “But he is right about one thing. While I have been enjoying some very excellent brandy and some very excellent cigars, they have fought and died and marched to Derby and back.”
    Anne reached forward and touched her fingertips to his shoulder. “That is not all you have done.”
    “No, it isn't.” He covered her hand with his. “But he almost makes it sound like an act of cowardice to want to protect what you love most in the world.”
    “I'm sure he did not mean it that way.”
    “Perhaps not. Or perhaps he was offering me a last-minute reprieve. A way to redeem myself in the eyes of my wife and my clan.”
    “There must be another way,” she cried. “You don't have to do this. You certainly don't have to let him—any of them— make you feel guilty about what you have done or not done.”
    “Not even you?”
    “Oh, Angus—” She slipped around in front of him and slid down so that she was on her knees, her hands cold and trembling where they cradled his face between them. “I never meant to make you feel guilty.”
    “Yes, you did.” He smiled tenderly and brushed her lips with his. “And you did a damned fine job of it, too, I might add. I am surprised I held out as long as I did, what with all the weapons you had in your arsenal. More than any ten armies, I can promise you.”
    “I never