Ollie's Mill, Scotland
November 1808
Desperate men resorted to desperate measures.
Or so Gordon Lachlan reminded himself as he raised his hand, an order for the three men he traveled with to halt on the moonlit road.
His plan was to kidnap Miss Constance Cameron, a pupil at Madame Lavaliere's Academy for Young Women, and the Duke of Colster's sister by marriage. The price of her ransom would be the Sword of the MacKenna, a weapon revered throughout the Highlands. The man who wielded that sword would have enough power to lead his countrymen into the very bowels of hell.
Gordon didn't want to go that far. He just wanted to throw the English out of Scotland, and he needed the authority of the Sword of the MacKenna to do it.
Unfortunately, Colster wasn't of a mind to hand it over to him. The fine duke had forgotten his Scottish loyalties. Upon accepting his title, he'd sworn allegiance to the king. So Gordon knew he was going to need coercion. He didn't want to kidnap Miss Constance Cameron, but His Grace left him no other choice.
"Dismount and lead your horses up across the ditch into the trees," he ordered softly. "We'll walk from here. The school is about a mile through that pine forest. Wait until your eyes adjust to the darkness before you move. I don't want any stumbling around."
Horses and riders crossed the ditch by the side of the road. They had just melted into the shadows of the trees when a rumbling vibration beneath their feet warned them they were not alone.
Gordon and his men raised their hands to their horses to keep them quiet just as a large party of men came galloping on the road, heading toward the Academy. English soldiers. Mostly officers, by the amount of gold braid on their uniforms. Moonlight turned the red of their military jackets to black and their wigs to silver. They were obviously from the garrison at Edinburgh, and riding as if eager to reach their destination.
The four Scots waited until the soldiers had safely passed. Thomas was the first to break the silence by spitting his opinion of the English on the ground. He was a giant, a bear of a man, with black hair he wore pulled back in a queue under a wide-brimmed gray hat. A scruff of whiskers always darkened his jaw. "Did you not say this road dead-ends at the school? What business would they have on this road this night?"
"You don't think they know about us, do you, Gordon?" Robbie asked.
"They couldn't," Gordon assured him. This plan was too new and had been kept too secret to have been compromised.
"Are we going to continue?" Brian wanted to know. "They outnumber us three to one.""They could outnumber us a hundred to one and we'd go forward," Gordon said. "Follow me."
Enough of the rising moon's thin light came through the trees to guide their path. Gordon wouldn't show it, but he was concerned about the English.
Madame Lavaliere's Academy for Young Women catered to the daughters of the wealthy, the privileged. There could be a number of reasons a party of soldiers could be rushing to the school.
What Gordon didn't want was to delay his plans. Winter was upon them. He had a camp of five hundred men, women, and children who depended upon him to see them safe. He needed the Sword of the MacKenna. It would give him credit to purchase gunpowder and shot as well as food for empty bellies.
The soldiers might complicate matters a bit, but they would not deter him from his quarry. He had traveled a long way to kidnap Constance Cameron, and kidnap her tonight he would.
When he estimated they were close to the school, he motioned for Brian to hold the horses while he and the others took the climbing ropes and made their way to where the forest met the edge...
