“How could he have given up on his people so easily?” Murray growled.
“He’s no’ given up,” Fiona tried to reassure the men assembled, even while inside she was starting to doubt the reassurance. “He merely wants everyone to lie low until we have had a chance to regroup. The loss at Culloden was devastating for our cause, for Scotland. Prince Charles needs more time. We need more time.”
The men all lowered their heads, nodding, each of their thoughts on those they’d lost.
“We will rise up. We have to. This is what we do. Our lawful king, our country, must be put to rights,” Fiona said. “And the prince will no’ give up on his people.”
Murray nodded, though his frown was fierce. “We will no’ give up on Scotland.”
“Never,” Fiona agreed.
A chorus of agreement rang out through the barracks, the men pronouncing their allegiance to the Jacobite cause. Was it just Fiona, or did it sound like the men were less inclined to praise their prince by name? And did it really matter? For the Jacobite cause was to bring Prince Charles to the throne.
Jenny gently squeezed Fiona’s arm. “Ye look exhausted. Let me get ye a chamber. We’ve no’ got much in the way of sustenance, but I gather there’s enough porridge for the lot of ye.”
“We’re grateful for anything ye can provide.” Fiona turned to the men, resolute in her decision. “This is where we part.”
Brogan frowned, took a step closer. “No’ yet.”
Fiona straightened her spine. She had to remain strong. “I’ll be leaving at first light. I need to return to Inverness and locate my friend Annie. There are other messages that need to be relayed, lest suspicion fall on my head.” She bit her lip. “I am a royal postmistress. I suppose I should have told ye that before.”
Brogan’s eyes widened, and he let out a short curse under his breath. “I said no’ yet.” His voice sounded strangled, as though he was trying to hold back words or his reaction at the very least.
Fiona bristled and opened her mouth to respond, but he gave a short nod and turned on his heel, the rest of the six men following behind him, effectively cutting off her reply and her argument. The stubborn man…
“Ye’re no’ in charge of me, Brogan Grant,” Fiona called after him, then grumbled to herself before noticing Jenny wide-eyed beside her. But he didn’t even turn around, inciting an intense need inside her to chase after him and make sure he understood exactly where they stood.
“What was that all about?”
“I made a deal.” Fiona sighed. “He was to come with me here, and then I’d lead him to the prince. I’ve just told everyone where the prince was, and where he may head. My duty is done.”
“Apparently he doesna see it that way.” Jenny stared after Brogan’s retreating figure. Then smiled wryly. “He is a handsome brute.”
“Who is handsome?” Jenny’s husband, Toran Fraser, joined them, a jovial smile on his face. “Should I be worried?”
Jenny laughed and wrapped her arm around her husband’s middle. “Nay, love. I have eyes for no one but ye.”
Fiona stared after Brogan, frustrated at his dismissiveness but also intrigued by his stubborn response. No’ yet. What did that even mean? The man was simply not accepting that she planned to leave.
“Jenny, I…” Fiona bit her lip.
“Go,” her friend said with a laugh. “I know that look.”
“’Tis no’ what ye think.”
Jenny glanced at Toran, sharing a smile with him that Fiona found irritating.
“’Tis no’,” Fiona said petulantly. “And if ye say so again, I’ll have to call ye out, battle-hardened soldier or no’.”
Jenny just laughed. “If ye say ’tis so, then it is.”
Fiona growled, finding it even more irritating that she sounded so much like Brogan. This—their relationship, nay, their acquaintance—was nothing like whatever Jenny might say it was. They were nothing. Could be nothing. Would be nothing.
And to prove it, she wouldn’t go after him. Nay. She’d made up her mind, and she’d leave when she damn well pleased.
“We are departing, my friend,” Jenny said, interrupting the internal argument. “When ye arrived, we were just heading out. I’m gathering rebels to break out our soldiers who’ve been taken by the redcoats.”
“I wish ye well, my friend.” Fiona tugged Jenny in for another hug. “I will see ye soon.”
Jenny pulled away, holding on to Fiona’s shoulders and locking eyes. “Aye, ye will. Be well. Stay safe. Dinna be afraid to let anyone in here.” Her friend tapped her on the chest.
Before Fiona could respond, Jenny jogged after her husband, leaving Fiona speechless.
Six
Fiona slept through the evening meal.
At first Brogan had been concerned that she’d ignored him and run off, but after insisting a servant check on her, he was informed she was indeed asleep. The lass had to be exhausted. As tough as she pretended to be, even the hardiest people still needed rest sometimes. Truth be told, he was worried about her.
When dawn lit the sky the following morning, Brogan was already in the courtyard of the barracks—all eight horses saddled, supplies restocked—and shaking the arm of Murray to whom he’d made a pledge regarding the prince.
Fiona had been late, making Brogan uneasy that she’d snuck off without them again. After a short discussion, the men had agreed to stay on with him per Murray’s orders. They would accompany the lass on the mission she insisted upon before completing their own. No one wanted to see her traipsing the blasted dragoon-infested countryside alone. And Murray worried that the prince’s private messenger would fetch a pretty coin for any dragoon, especially if they found out that she’d been playing both sides.
All they had to do was see the ring she carried, for even the best held secrets could be leaked. A few added days to their mission would make little difference since the prince was in hiding and not planning to retaliate against Cumberland’s army anytime soon. Fiona was the best person to lead them to the prince, or at least that’s what he’d insist, when in fact he’d pledged to Murray to protect her.
Part of Brogan really wanted her to go home. Hoped that if they just so happened to see Dòchas, they could make a stop and her clan elders would insist she remain. He’d tell her uncle about Murray’s request and dust his hands of her. The other part knew there was no way she’d abandon the cause now, and that latter part of him nonsensically agreed with her. Likely if her brother wanted her to remain, he would have locked her in the tower before he’d gone off to battle.