Midnight Honor

possible moment she thought there was something vaguely familiar about the ashen face and dark chestnut hair, but it was too late to stop the momentum of her sword and she felt it punch through the hated scarlet wool and slice into flesh and bone.
    Instinct more than anything else made Angus stagger back when he saw the blade coming. He threw up his hand and managed to deflect the blade from piercing his heart. Even so, he felt the raw edge of steel scrape between his ribs, and it was all he could do to shout at MacCardle to lower his musket and hold his fire!
    “Anne!” He gritted his teeth and braced himself as she withdrew the sword and set herself to thrust again.
“Anne, it's me! It's Angus!”
    He brought his saber up this time to block the second strike, but already he could see some of the confusion in her eyes clearing. On the third parry he was able to drive the point of her sword into the ground, after which she stopped cold and stared at him, her eyes as wide and haunted as those of a wounded, cornered animal.
    “Anne … it's me, love. It's Angus.”
    Her gaze slid to MacCardle and, seeing only the loathsome scarlet-and-white uniform, her lips drew back in another cry.
    “Ewen, get behind me!”
    “Aye, sar. That I'll gladly do.”
    The subaltern stepped quickly out of Anne's line of vision, forcing her to focus all her attention on Angus.
    “Annie,” he said as gently but as urgently as possible.“Annie, listen to me, darling. We have to get you out of here. You have to leave here and you have to leave
now
. Let me help you up on The Bruce.”
    “I'm not leaving John behind,” she rasped.
    “What? John? Where—” Angus looked at the bodies scattered around the shallow scoop of frozen ground, shocked by the welter of gore. He saw one big body sprawled on its side, a hand still clutched around the broken axle of a wagon, and he almost did not recognize the tangled, bloodied ruin that was John MacGillivray.
    “Oh, good God,” he whispered. “Good sweet God.”
    “God was not on this field today,” Anne declared savagely. “Look around you. Is this the work of a compassionate, loving Creator?”
    A commotion near the moor road drew Angus's attention. He heard two gunshots and saw a woman with long blond hair running away from a band of pursuing dragoons. One of the dragoons was Hamilton Garner, and he used the heel of his boot to knock the woman to the ground.
    “Anne, we have no more time. We have to get you out of here.”
    She bared her teeth and raised her sword again. “I am not leaving this field without John MacGillivray.”
    Angus cursed, but he nodded. “Hold The Bruce steady, then. Ewen—”
    MacCardle stepped warily forward, one eye on Anne, the other on the big gelding as he and Angus heaved the body up between them, then draped it over the seat of the saddle. They were starting to attract attention and some of the soldiers were shouting at them to hold up, but Angus ignored them. He grasped Anne around the waist and hoisted her up behind MacGillivray, and handed her the reins.
    “Get out of here. Get back to Moy Hall—and for pity's sake, stay there until I come for you. Now, get going.
Go!”
    He slapped the gelding's rump with the flat of his sword and stood his ground until he was sure Anne had cleared the field and was on the moor road. Only then did he let his legsgive way. Only then did the agony send him slumping down onto his knees.
    “Cap'n?”
    MacCardle dropped down beside him, noticing for the first time the huge wet bloodstain that ran from just under Angus's armpit to the lower hem of his kilt.

Chapter Twenty-Six
    A nne knew she would not make it as far as Moy Hall with John MacGillivray's body draped over the saddle. Dunmaglass was closer, but there were open fields to cross. Twice since leaving the moor, she had been forced off the road and into the trees as groups of howling dragoons rode past, chasing after the fleeing Highlanders. Bodies lay on both sides of the road, some having lain down to die there of injuries gained on the battlefield, some freshly slain by the dragoons. At one bend in the road, Lord George had positioned men to discourage a blood-crazed company of Kingston Horse from following too closely. Once Anne passed through, they closed ranks behind her and a few minutes later, she heard gunfire and screams when the government troops were ambushed.
    After that, the Elector's troops were more cautious, for the Camerons and Athollmen