Midnight Honor

thinking. I'll just fetch my things.”
    She started past him, up the wide steps to the front door, but he reached out and caught her arm, halting her.
    “Ye might be better off stayin' here, Annie. There is little ye can do in Inverness.”
    “There is a great deal I can do if there is a battle brewing. I can be with our men.”
    “If
there is a battle brewing? Turn yer nose into the wind, lass, ye can smell the fear from here.”
    “We've beaten them twice before when all odds were against us doing so.”
    “Aye, an' both times Lord George was commandin' the army. He'll not be leadin' it the now, however, because the prince has relieved him of his command.”
    “Relieved him of command! Has he gone mad?”
    “He heard the general was invited to a parley with Prince Frederick. The German prince offered his services to negotiate a peace with Cumberland, an' naturally The Stuart took it to mean Lord George was settin' up to betray him. O'Sullivan were whisperin' in his ear all the time, o' course, helpin' convince him.”
    “Someone should have shot that damned Irishman a long time ago.”
    “Suggest it to any one o' the two thousand men freezin' their ballocks off on Drummossie Moor an' ye'll have no lack o' volunteers.”
    “Drummossie? What are they doing at Drummossie?”
    “Waitin' on Cumberland,” he said dryly. “An' have been since dawn, though ma men tell me the duke is in no hurry to roll his guns out o' Nairn.”
    “All the more reason for us to stop wasting time here,” she said. “You can argue until you are blue, John MacGillivray, but I've not come this far just to run and hide now. You, of all people, should not even think to ask me such a thing.”
    He studied the firm set to her jaw and shrugged. “Gillies wagered good coin on the likelihood of ma ears gettin' boxed, but ye have to admit it was worth a try.”
    She glanced at the stocky Highlander and saw that MacBean was grinning, rubbing his thumb and fingers together to acknowledge his winnings.
    “Give me five minutes,” she said, and dashed up the steps.
    “Ye've got one.”
    The roads leading out of Inverness were clogged with people, animals, and wagons. The latter, hastily packed with household possessions, were being trundled behind frightened townsfolk who had heard the battle for control of the Highlands was imminent.
    Anne had changed into her trews and blue velvetshort coat. Sparkling white lace foamed at her throat and cuffs, an incongruous contrast to the two long-snouted brass pistols she wore strapped to her waist. MacGillivray rode at her side; MacBean and the Farquharson brothers flanked them, with about a hundred clansmen jogging along the road behind, muskets and targes slung over their shoulders, their faces grim, their strides determined. They were met on the crossroads outside the city by an open carriage bearing two occupants. One wore the black cassock of a priest, but Anne drew a deep breath, bracing herself for another verbal battle when she recognized the dour countenance of Lady Drummuir. Her fears were groundless, however. The old woman had tears in her eyes when Anne rode up to the carriage. From a huge basket on the seat beside her, she took a white cockade fashioned out of ribbon, decorated with a sprig of whortleberry, and pinned it to her daughter-in-law's breast just below the cameo locket that held Angus's portrait.
    “Mind ye stay well back, Miss. I heard what happened at Falkirk, an' ye'll have me to deal with this time if ye dinna listen to The MacGillivray.”
    “Aye, you're a fair one to talk,” Anne murmured. “He tells me you've refused to leave the city.”
    “Bah. I'm too old to lift ma skirts an' run. If it should come to that, I'm too old for anyone to think o' rape when they come bangin' on ma door. But you, ye old bastard—” She raised her voice and glared at Fearchar, who rode pillion behind Robbie Farquharson. “Where the de'il d'ye think ye're goin'?”
    “I'm goin' where I'm goin', ye old dragon teat, an' never think a scowl frae you will stop me.”
    It only took a glare, however, for Robbie to nudge his horse to the side of the carriage. After the dowager fastened a cockade on each man's breast, she reached behind the younger man and grabbed the gnarled old face between her hands, kissing Fearchar squarely on the mouth.
    “Try to at least stay awake,” she chided. “An' keep yer plaid up around yer ears or ye'll catch yer death afore ye even reach the