Midnight Honor

the instant, startled as she was by the request. At the door, she watched him bow and stride off down the hall, gallantly excusing his way through several dozen chattering females.
    “A prime piece of lusty manhood is that MacGillivray,” Lady Drummuir mused, slipping her arm through Anne's as they followed at a more sedate pace. “If I were forty years younger, I'd no' have to rely on gossips to tell me what wasunder that kilt of his. Aye, a hundred pairs of thighs will weep when they hear the news he's finally decided to wed.”
    “He has?”
    “Ye've no' heard? He's thinkin' of asking after Elizabeth Campbell of Clunas—or so the faeries tell me.”
    The dowager's faeries comprised a network of spies as extensive as anything the British military had in the field. If they said John MacGillivray was taking a bride, it was just a matter of picking out a frock to wear to the church, and Anne wondered if that was what he wanted to speak to her about. If so, she was happy for him. Truly, she was. John was a fine man, loyal and honorable, with none of the airs or arrogance borne by many who turned heads wherever they walked.
    Try as she might, however, she could not call forth a clear image of Elizabeth of Clunas. Nothing came to mind beyond plain brown hair and a great many freckles.
    “I said—” The dowager's voice cut sharply into Anne's reflections. “Odd he did not mention it to you.”
    “Why should he?” Anne said.
    “No reason. No reason at all, though I would have thought he might have said something last night when ye visited Dunmaglass.”
    Anne just turned and stared.
    “Och, lass, ye'd be surprised the things I know. For instance, I ken what your gran' wanted to speak to ye about, too, an' ye were wise to turn him down. No good could ever come of splitting the clan. Too many are split already, an' wounds like that will never heal. Never.”
    “Does it not tear at your heart,” Anne whispered back, “to see our clansmen wearing the uniform of the Black Watch? To see Angus in uniform leading them?”
    “Child, ma poor heart has been torn so many times over the years, it should have lost the ability to beat long ago. God knows it is in shreds over some of the choices Angus has made, but he's my son an' I love him. Though I may rail an' rant an' stomp about like a blathering fool, an' have no doubt one day Duncan Forbes will have me dragged off to prison in the hopes the rats will bite off ma tongue, I'll not put a knifein Angus's back. I ken he is only doing what he thinks is best for the clan.”
    “Whether the lairds agree or not?”
    “Neither you nor I will live long enough to see the day all the lairds of Clan Chattan agree on a single point. Ye must have noticed: He's called only on those who have no qualms wearin' the black cockade.”
    It was true enough, Anne thought. Angus had been careful selecting the men to fill Loudoun's requirements; he had known better than to order men like The MacGillivray or The MacBean to take up arms for the Elector's army. They likely would have shot him out of hand and tossed his body down a well, never to be seen again.
    “Angus has promised me … he gave me his word our men will not be involved in any fighting,” Anne said with quiet intensity. “He insists they are to be engaged as guards and sentries only.”
    “That would be bonnie,” Lady Drummuir agreed. “Though I dinna see how he can keep to such a promise. Not when Forbes and Horse-Nose Loudoun will make a point of placing the Highland regiments in prominent positions.”
    “He will keep it,” Anne insisted. “He has never lied to me or broken his word, despite all that has happened, and I do not believe he will do so now.”
    “Aye, well then, we'll both keep the faith, shall we? He's a good lad when he's no' being so bloody pigheaded. Naturally, if ye tell him I said as much, I'll deny it, for it does no harm to keep yer sons a wee bit afraid of ye.” The dowager's gaze strayed to where Lady Regina Forbes and her chair were being carried into an adjacent room. “Poor soul. Not only is she frail as a leaf, but have ye ever seen skin that color on aught but a corpse? I suppose I must go an' pay ma respects, though if that slack-witted daughter-in-law of hers says the smallest word to me, I'll be windin' up ma fist again.”
    Anne kept company with one of the spinsters for a few moments, then excused herself to casually follow some of the other guests as they drifted downstairs.