Midnight Honor

across.”
    Angus paused with the rim of the glass touching his lip. “They're going to attack Easter Ross?”
    “Aye. An' I didna want ye gettin' in the way of a stray bulletfrom some misguided clansman who would think yer head on a stake would make for a handsome trophy.”
    “I see. So I am to be taken ‘prisoner’ again?”
    “I've a boat waitin' down by the shore, an' two horses saddled on the other side.”
    “And if we are caught between here and there? I am not entirely free of suspicion from the last time, and if I miss roll call, or I am not there to sign the Order Book—”
    “I've no qualms about shootin' ye, if that's what ye'd like to make it look more convincin'. Make no mistake. I've come to take ye back an' take ye back I will.”
    With the threat soft and low in his voice, MacGillivray came fully into the candlelight, enough at least to show his face, heavily stubbled, and eyes that had not lost their eerie intensity though they were darker, wilder, than Angus remembered seeing them. A very clear image came to him of MacGillivray in the clearing in St. Ninians, his
clai' mór
drawn, his teeth bared. At the time Angus had been fool enough to tear open his shirt and offer up his chest for slaughter, not realizing that a man as dangerous as John would have no use for empty gestures.
    “Has this something to do with Anne?” he asked quietly. “Did she ask you to come?”
    The black eyes narrowed. “Annie disna ken I'm here. In truth, she disna ken too much at the moment. She's been abed this past week refusin' to eat; she says nae more than a few words at a time, an' then none that make much sense. She stays abed all day but she disna sleep. She just lies there starin' at the walls because she's dead afraid ye willna forgive her.”
    Angus blinked quickly several times. “Forgive her? Forgive her for what?”
    MacGillivray's jaw tensed; the muscles worked for a moment. “For losin' yer bairn.”
    The hollow chill Angus had felt earlier was nothing compared to the plummeting sensation he experienced now. It was as if someone reached into his chest and shoved everything from his neck down to his groin, replacing it with ice.
    “Anne was—?”
    “Aye, she was. An' she needs ye more than any man's army right the now. She needs to hear ye say ye dinna blame her for the loss. And
I
need to hear ye say that ye understand if ye ever so much as breathe an accusation her way, ye'll find me crawlin' down yer bluidy throat with ma boots on.”
    Angus reached out his hand to grip the edge of the table for support, most of MacGillivray's threat lost behind the loud drumming in his ears. He and Anne had made a child together and now it was gone. She was alone, frightened, in pain, and he was worried about roll calls and Order Books.
    He met MacGillivray's eyes and knew what it had cost the Highlander to come here tonight, knew why he would not have trusted Eneas Farquharson with the task.
    “She just needs to see ye,” John said quietly. “A day, two at the outside, an' there will be enough confusion, ye'll be back afore Loudoun even knows ye're gone.”
    “Then we're wasting time,” Angus said, snatching his cloak off the wall peg. “I trust your boat has two sets of oars?”
    “It has three. I couldna spare enough men to keep Gillies from followin'.”
    Anne stirred, waking slowly. Her face was pressed into a crush of her own red hair, and when she opened her eyes, the first thing she thought of was blood—lying in a pool of blood. She closed her eyes again but the image did not go away, nor did the hollow ache in the pit of her belly. All she wanted to do was sleep and forget, but the former came in restless patches, and the latter was simply not possible. The doctor had left a small bottle of laudanum, and she had resorted to it a couple of times when she thought her brain might explode from the sheer pressure of wanting to scream, but it only left her feeling more lethargic and dispirited than before.
    The house was dark and quiet. Even MacGillivray, who had remained by her side for nearly a full week, had begged off earlier to tend to some clan business. She had not realized until now how much she had come to depend on his quiet presence. It had been comforting to know that day or nightshe could open her eyes and he would be beside her in the chair, his chin propped on his hand, his face gentled by the candlelight.
    She heard a faint rustling sound behind her and lay perfectly still.