Midnight Honor

at Prestonpans; they'd never seen a bloody battlefield, nor stood eye to eye with a man who was chargin' at them full bore, eager to gut him on the end of his sword. I'm no' sayin' they're any less of a threat for it; sheer numbers put them at five, six times the size o' the prince's army, an' sooner or later their bullets hit their marks, but in the time it takes themto find their steel, Cumberland's Dutchmen could cut us down by half.”
    Jamie nodded as if he understood, then glanced surreptitiously at Gillies, who shrugged.
    “It means,” Anne explained, “that without the Dutch brigades, Cumberland would be gelded. And if the French and Dutch have signed a treaty, it means the Dutch can no longer engage in any act of war against any of France's allies”—she paused and spread her arms wide—“which includes us.”
    “Ye mean they canna fight the prince?”
    “Not unless they want to break the treaty.”
    MacGillivray rubbed a hand across his jaw. “No wonder Forbes was anxious to lock the news away. It could take weeks for word of the treaty to cross the Channel; longer still for either Holland or France to send an official representative. By then, the battles might all have been fought. Aye, Annie, ye're right. We must get this to the prince at once. Jamie, lad, with a fast horse beneath ye, how long would it take ye to make Aberdeen?”
    “Aberdeen?” Anne frowned. “But the prince's army is west, not east.”
    “Ye're a day behind in yer news, lass. Clunas sent word last night that Lord Lewis Gordon is in Aberdeen gatherin' another army to ride out an' join forces with the prince.”
    “Aberdeen,” she whispered. “That must be why Colonel Loudoun is sending reinforcements to Edinburgh, and why he told them they must hold the city and keep it out of rebel hands.”
    “How do ye know this?”
    “Angus has orders to take his Royal Scots regiments to Edinburgh before week's end.”
    In the bitter silence that followed, Gillies softly muttered, “Mary, Mother o' Jesus.”
    “Jamie! Have yer boots grown roots into the floor?”
    Farquharson's head snapped around in response to MacGillivray's voice, which came out in a far more commanding bellow. “Nay. I'll leave soon as ma horse is saddled.”
    “Go by way of Clunas an' tell Fearchar what ye're about; he may know a quicker way to get word to the prince. Take a dozen o' ma men with ye an' stop for no one. Strap this packet to yer waist an' guard it like it was yer manhood. Ye want those to go as well?” he asked Anne, pointing to the papers spread in front of her.
    “Yes. Yes, of course they would be of more value to … to …” She stopped, moistened her lips and pushed deliberately to her feet. “I also want you to take a personal message to Granda', Jamie. I want you to tell him I've changed my mind. If he still has the petition, and if he still thinks the lairds will agree to follow me, then I'll gather what MacKintosh men I can and lead them to Aberdeen to join the prince's army.”
    All three men froze and gaped at her.
    “Ye will?” Jamie asked eagerly. “Ye'll send out the
crosh tarie
an' lead the clan to war?”
    “I don't know about burning crosses, but I'll do what I can to plead, bribe, or threaten every man of honor left in Invernesshire to join us. There is just one thing, however,” she added, raising her voice to ward off the anticipated burst of howling. “We all know there is no petition on earth would see them agree to follow a woman onto the battlefield, and because of this”—she stopped and held MacGillivray's black gaze locked to her own— “we will only succeed if John MacGillivray rides by my side and agrees to take full command.”
    Like following the play of a ball tossed back and forth, the bearded faces of Gillies and Jamie swung around to join her in staring at MacGillivray. He had thrown a shirt over his bandaged chest but had not bothered to tie the laces. His kilt had been pleated in haste, his hair was uncombed and still stuck straight out like the mane of a lion, but his jaw was set and his eyes fierce, making Anne wonder how any mere Englishman could see such a fearsome sight across a battlefield—multiplied several thousandfold—and not run away screaming in terror.
    “Will you do it, John?” she asked. “Will you fight for Scotland?”
    “No.”
    His answer so startled her that she was bereft of speech for the full minute it took him to refold the dispatches and tie them back into