A Kiss of Fate: A Novel by Mary Jo Putney

Author:Mary Jo Putney [Putney, Mary Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Historical, General, Fantasy Fiction, Fantasy, Love Stories, Historical Fiction, Adult, England, London (England), Widows, Arranged Marriage, Clans - Scotland, Highlands (Scotland), Scotland - Relations - England, Scotland, England - Relations - Scotland, Mystics - Scotland
ISBN: 9780345449177
Google: 3qZA_uqSWLQC
Amazon: 0345449177
Publisher: Ivy Books
Published: 2004-01-02T06:00:00+00:00

NINETEEN

Duncan turned around when he heard Gwynne gasp. Staring at him with huge, shocked eyes, she said, “How can you agree with the Prince? He's a usurper come to sow disaster in pursuit of his own selfish ends. Though he's a compelling man, he has all the faults of his house.”

“And the virtues, too. His courage and charisma will rally men to his cause.” He wondered if an Englishwoman, no matter how learned, could understand the depth of Charles's appeal. Scotland's ancient tradition of freedom and independence had been betrayed by the nation's own leaders, and the Young Pretender represented a way out. “The Acts of Union were an abomination that all true Scots hate, and the English have done little to make them more palatable in the years since they were signed.”

“You said the union will make Scotland wealthier in time. Isn't it worth putting up with some irritations in order to ease the kind of poverty we saw on our ride north?”

“Perhaps.” He rubbed his temples wearily. “But sometimes I wonder if prosperity will come at too high a price. A nation's belly matters, but so does its soul.”

“The fact that the prince knows how to woo a Scottish mind doesn't make him fit to rule,” she said tartly. “As you said, the Stuarts had their chance, and most of them did badly. A man doesn't deserve to become king simply because he's better looking and and better dressed than his rival.”

“The prince's personal attractions are undeniably an asset. He looks royal. George II looks like a critical, mean-spirited shopkeeper.”

Gwynne didn't try to deny it. “Nonetheless, war is not the answer. That's a basic Guardian principle. Defending oneself is a man or woman's right. Killing people who disagree with you is not.”

“A pity more people don't accept that,” he said dryly. “It would make the work of the Guardians easier. The last battle of the Fifteen was at Sherrifmuir. Afterward a song was sung that said, ‘There's some say that we won. Some say that they won. And some say that nane won at a'.'”

“Isn't that true for most wars?”

“That battle might have seemed as if it had no winner, but the rising itself failed. This time could be different.”

She frowned. “It's hard to imagine how the Jacobites can win with few weapons, no real army, and no foreign support.”

“The matter is balanced on a knife's edge. A few victories and men will flock to the prince. Though the French did not support this adventure, they could easily change their minds if Charles shows signs of success. France came within a hair's breadth of mounting an invasion just last year, and they will be quick to try again if the Hanoverian government is sufficiently weakened.”

Gwynne cocked her head. “I heard that last year's invasion threat ended when a storm struck the French fleet at Dunkirk. Did you do that?”

He thought back to the night when he had stood on a French headland and conjured up a mighty tempest. It was not the equal of Adam Macrae's great gale, but it had sufficed.

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