The Scotland Trilogy by Marsha Canham

Author:Marsha Canham
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: historical romance, action and adventure, trilogy, jacobite rebellion, scottish historical romance, clan history, romance 1700s, battlefield romance, bonnie prince charles, highland history
Publisher: Marsha Canham

INVERNESS

February, 1746

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The eleventh day of February began innocently enough, with the sun shaking off its mantle of gray sodden clouds long enough to allow a vibrant display of pink and gold streamers to break over the mountains. Too cold for fog, the ground had been covered in a light crust of frozen dew, which glittered like a blanket of broken glass underfoot.

After leaving Falkirk and passing through Stirling, the Jacobite army had once again divided into two columns, the prince leading the majority of clan regiments by the Highland route north through Blair Atholl, Dalnacardoch, and Dalwhinnie. Lord George Murray had taken the slower moving column by the lowland route through Angus to Aberdeen, the master plan being to reunite the two forces near Inverness and rout the government troops garrisoned there.

Two days into the mountains, a blinding storm struck the prince’s column, causing the easily excitable Count Giovanni Fanducci much wringing of hands and gnashing of teeth as they were forced yet again to abandon the heavy artillery they had captured at Falkirk. The roads through the Grampians were not much better than cow tracks at the best of times, but with high winds, drifting snow, and sleet storms, it proved impossible to haul anything but essential equipment and supplies from one glen to the next. The men, happy to see the last of the bronze monsters hurl barrel-down over a steep precipice, tried to cheer the morose Italian gunmaker by drawing him into a stirring rendition of “My Highland Laddie,” but with a dramatic swirling of a multi-caped greatcoat, the count stalked away into the curtain of snow and sought more tangible succour in the arms of Ringle-Eyed Rita.

Struan MacSorley, discovering the cause of the bouncing wagon springs and high-pitched shrieks of rapture, would have slain the pair of them at the height of their exuberant release if not for Aluinn MacKail’s timely arrival on the scene. He managed, with the assistance of four other clansmen, to disarm the golden-maned giant and persuade him to vent his fury by cleaving firewood instead of skulls.

Although the maps he was carrying were slightly crumpled, Aluinn left the ax-wielding Highlander under several pairs of watchful eyes and continued on his way to a consultation in Alexander’s tent. When he thrust the thin canvas flap aside and poked his head into the tent, after giving a cheerful hallo, he found a very pale, visibly distressed Catherine Cameron doubled over a shallow metal basin grappling with the shuddering after-effects of nausea.

He stared at her for several long moments before entering all the way into the tent. The worst of the spasms had passed and there was nothing he could do to help other than steady her back onto a seat on the cot and empty the contents of the basin. When he returned, she appeared to have calmed considerably, although her lips were still tinged blue and her hand trembled as she held a dampened cloth to her brow.

“Are you ill?” he asked, knowing the answer already, dreading its confirmation.

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