Midnight Honor

the political intrigues of either side. To my shame, I even led him to believe I was indifferent to my marriage as well, that Anne's arrest would be more of a blot against the noble name than anything else. Unfortunately, I seemed to have played the part too well, for she began to believe it herself, and for that damning cruelty, if you still want to take my head off my shoulders, do it now, for the pain of eternal silence would be less than what I have had to endure these past few months! Here! I will even make it easier for you! A clean stroke should free us both.”
    Angrily, he tore at the fastening of his cloak and ripped it aside along with the underlying edges of his tunic and waistcoat. So vigorously did he yank open his shirt and invite a quick end, he scraped a peeling of flesh from his chest, deep enough that it turned instantly red with blood. There he stood,his legs braced apart, the wind against his back, the dark locks of his hair blown forward over his cheeks, and waited for his fate to be decided in MacGillivray's eyes.
    It seemed to be a long time coming, but in the end, John slowly lowered the point of his sword. His eyes were narrowed, glittering like two shards of black glass, and his eyebrows drew together in a deep V that only grew deeper and darker as he absorbed what Angus had said.
    “Immunity? Ye've whored yerself to the
Sassenachs
to win us all a promise of immunity?”
    “Bluntly put, as always. But yes. I thought it worth the price to safeguard my family. At the same time, it left you free to carry on your smuggling and blockade running, neither of which has sat well with Forbes, I might add, especially when he had the means and proof to arrest you half a dozen times over in the past months.”
    MacGillivray glowered a moment longer. “Why, for the love o' God, did ye not tell me? Or Annie, for Christ's sake. Ye've put her through royal hell, ye bastard.”
    “I thought I could protect her better this way,” Angus said lamely. “Her contempt for me had to be genuine if for no other reason than to help convince Loudoun and the others that greed was my only motive, nothing else. It was not the kind of act I thought she could sustain over several months.”
    “But you could?”
    “My entire life has been a performance; I was raised to wear a mask at all times.”
    “Aye, well. Ye wore it well enough ye nearly sent her into the arms of another man.”
    “It was a chance I had to take. Can you imagine the leverage Forbes would have had if he knew how desperately I loved my own wife?”
    The admission, as much as the raw honesty in Angus's voice, set MacGillivray back another step. “Still an' all,” he said after a moment, “she willna thank ye when she finds out.”
    Angus shook his head. “She mustn't find out. I want your word on that, John.”
    “Why the devil would ye want me to swear to such a thing? If she knew why ye were doin' this—”
    “She would only feel twice as guilty and hurt as before.”
    “What about the others? Gillies? Fearchar? Do they no' deserve to know why their laird is wearin' the Hanover cockade?”
    Angus released his grip on his torn shirt and drove his hands through his hair. “No. No, it has to be this way, and if you don't believe me, just look at yourself. Ten seconds ago you were ready to split me open like a melon. Now you have that same noble look on your face that you had when we were boys and Ranald MacFeef threw me in the bog. You were five years younger than I, but I was the one lying there sobbing over the stains on my brand-new satin breeches while you were standing over me like a bloody great wolfhound daring them to laugh or pelt me with another plug of dung. Tell me, if you can, that you would not come straight back to Falkirk with me now if I asked you to guard my back?”
    MacGillivray glared. His lip curled as if he were about to deny the charge, but in the end he only spat out an oath. “Ye could always just turn around an' go back to the cottage. Then I'd guard yer back through the gates o' hell if need be. If we win today, I'm of a mind Loudoun's guarantees will no' be worth the paper they're written on, anyway.”
    Angus cursed his way through a sigh of exasperation. “But if the British win, they might be worth the weight of every insult and affront I've had to endure.”
    “In other words, yer lack o' faith in us hasna been entirely an act.”
    “It has nothing to do with faith, my friend, and everything to do with