Midnight Honor

has the bit in his teeth, ye might not be able to rein him in again.”
    “I am none too certain I would
want
to rein him in,” Anne declared with more confidence than she felt. “And it is Angus who should be worried, not me.”
    The dowager lapsed into silence again and turned to stare out the window as the coach passed St. John's Chapel and slowed to make its turn into the tree-lined avenue leading to Drummuir House. It was a large and stately William and Mary mansion built of mellow red brick and sandstone quoining, and because it sat so near the river, there was always a sheer layer of mist blanketing the encompassing parkland.
    “Times like this,” Lady Drummuir sighed, “I can almost feel sorry for Duncan Forbes. He was ever an annoyin' man, but everythin' he has done, he has done because he honestly believed it would make for a stronger Scotland. Not two years ago he wanted to send Highland regiments to Flanders to fight alongside the English. He said if men like Lochiel an' Lord George Murray were away in Europe fightin' the Dutch, who would be at home to stir a rebellion? An' it's true, I suppose, for they would not have been here to meet the prince at Glenfinnan, he would not have been able to raise an army, an' all this strife could have been prevented—an' mayhap that would not have been such a terrible thing.”
    “Is that what you would have wanted? To have slowlybowed to all the English demands and commands until there was no longer any Scotland?”
    “There will always be a Scotland, Anne Moy! But must we always drench the glens in blood to prove it?”
    “English blood,” Anne replied softly. “Aye, if we must.”
    “Faugh! Ye're as stubborn as yer granda'.”
    “Is that such a terrible thing as well?”
    The dowager did not turn to address the remark, but her gloved hand crept across the bench and, finding Anne's, gave it a small squeeze.
    “No, lass,” she whispered. “'Tis just the envy of an old woman ye're hearin', for if I could, I'd be up on that magnificent stallion alongside ye.”
    When Angus came to Drummuir House the following morning, he was not alone. Major Roger Worsham was by his side, his scarlet tunic fastidiously clean, the brass buttons gleaming, the edges of his wide buff lapels looking as if they had been cut by a razor.
    His face was equally officious, his jaw set in stone, his eyes gazing unblinking at their surroundings as they were shown into the yellow drawing room—a regal chamber with walls lined with yellow silk damask. The same fabric covered the sumptuous sofas and delicate chairs that were in turn complemented by gilt-edged paintings and pale butter-colored wood moldings. It was a room normally reserved for formal occasions—which did not escape Angus's notice— dominated by a huge white marble fireplace that was as cold as the expression on the dowager's face when she appeared nearly half an hour after their arrival to greet them.
    “Angus.”
    He inclined his head slightly. “Mother.”
    “Major.”
    Worsham cocked an eyebrow. “Madam.”
    “Now that we ken who we all are, ye might want to tell me why ye've come poundin' on ma doors before the hour was decent enough to do so. Lady Anne is still abed, an' I havna had time to even strop ma corset on tight enough. I trust ye havna come here lookin' for yer balls again, Major,for we MacKintoshes seem to be in short supply ourselves at the moment.”
    That set the tone fairly bluntly and Worsham offered a smirk. “I pray you forgive the early hour, but when Captain MacKintosh mentioned he was coming here, I thought I would accompany him and save us both a later inconvenience.”
    “Well, ye're too late for breakfast an' too early for dinner.”
    “The thought did not occur to put you to any trouble.”
    “Good, for 'twould never have occurred to me, either. If ye've come to fetch Anne home, ye've wasted a trip as well,” she said to Angus. “She fancies she might stay with me a few days.”
    “A few days? Is she ill?”
    “She's healthy as a dray horse. Since when can she not visit with her mother-in-law, if she so chooses?”
    “Of course she can, but—”
    “Then I'll tell her ye have no objections. She keeps a small wardrobe here, so there's nae need to send for claythes or necessities. Will ye be wantin' me to take her a message?”
    “Actually, since my business is with the Lady Anne, we should prefer to speak to her in person, if we may,” said Worsham.
    “An' what business