Fifteen #2
Constance caught her breath at the sight of her sister. Feelings that she thought she’d buried away filled her throat. Yes, Charlotte could be overbearing, but the Cameron sisters loved each other.
Her sister was fashionably dressed in an emerald green and yellow traveling ensemble in the military fashion currently in vogue. A cap of the same emerald sporting cascading yellow feathers sat at an angle on her head.
“That’s my sister, Charlotte,” Constance whispered to Gordon, who reined his horse to a halt some fifty yards from the English just as another woman climbed down from the coach. She wore a marine blue velvet coat and was hugely pregnant.
“It’s Miranda,” Constance said, breathing the words. “Gordon, she’s with child. No wonder she and Alex returned to England.”
Before she realized it or could stop them, tears spilled from her eyes.
“What is it?” Gordon asked. “You never cry.”
“I know,” Constance agreed, the tears still coming no matter how hard she tried to stop them.
She pressed her hand against her cheeks.
“I just am overwhelmed to see them. And Miranda is going to have a baby.” She smiled through the tears.
“That is such a blessing. She and Alex have been through so much.”
“What do you want us to do, Gordon?” Thomas’s businesslike voice cut in.
“The one in the blue jacket is the one who cut me,” Brian said.
The Scots all turned to take the measure of the man. Alex Haddon stood proudly beside Charlotte’s husband, Lord Phillip. In tall boots and breeches, he wore his long hair loose, a Shawnee sign to his enemies that he was not afraid of them.
Lord Phillip appeared equally angry. Constance could not like him. He’d tried to destroy her family over Miranda jilting him for Alex…and yet, they stood side by side, a unified family.
She had only met the Duke of Colster once, briefly, a few months ago. He’d changed since then. Before, he’d been rough around the edges. He now appeared the very model of an English gentleman, and the similarities between him and his twin Lord Phillip were more pronounced.
They’d all come to fetch her, she realized. Even Miranda, who probably shouldn’t be traveling.
What would they think if they knew she’d brought all of this on herself by first planning to run away? And she hadn’t even left a note…and yet here they were for her.
Gordon sensed the change in Constance—and it tore at his heart.
Her sisters stood holding each other as if needing the extra support to stand. Constance should be with them, he thought. They were family.
Colster signaled for one of his men to come forward.
The man carried a broadsword in an ornate scabbard, its hilt decorated with bloodred rubies.
A ripple of excitement went through the Scots.
Colster knew what he was doing. He pulled the Sword of the MacKenna from the scabbard, the sound of metal against metal filling the air.
He held the weapon up so the morning’s thin light caught the blade, turning it to silver.
Gordon noticed Lord Phillip stiffen and knew he was not in favor of this transfer. Lord Phillip understood, as did Colster, what this sword meant to the Scots.
Colster walked to the halfway point and stuck the sword into the ground.
The time for decision was at hand.
Constance tensed. Gordon wished he knew what she was thinking. He prayed for guidance, for wisdom.
“Wait for me,” he ordered his men. He dismounted and began leading Constance on Tempest toward the duke.
As he walked, Constance whispered, “I love you.”
Gordon halted, suddenly unable to go on. He stood as if rooted to the ground. Every fiber of his being wanted to turn to her, and yet, too many watched.
The actions he took and decisions he made over the next few minutes would determine her future. And they would seal his fate.
He drew a deep breath, his own eyes burning. He dared not turn to her. If he did, he knew he would break.
Without moving, he confessed, “I love you, too, with a passion and depth that has changed my whole being. I want to do what is right, but I no longer know what that is.”
“What does your heart tell you?” Her quiet voice was like the whisper of his own conscience.
He tightened his hold on the reins. “It wants to be free of this quest for justice. But the best I can hope for is compromise. I can’t bring my father back…and even if those who lost homes had their possessions returned to them, they are scarred.”
“People rebuild,” she answered.
“But can they forgive? Is it wrong that I love you so much that I long for a life free of this, that I want a home we build together? What of justice? Am I not called to protect those who can’t protect themselves?”
“Sometimes, Gordon, there is no right answer. My father could never even look at a Shawnee without remembering what happened to my mother.”
“And what sort of man was he?” Gordon asked, knowing the answer.
“Angry. Sad…” She paused. “Lonely. There could never be peace for him, and he didn’t care that he had three daughters who loved him.”
“I don’t want to be that angry man.” And yet, it was too late to turn back.
“Then what are we to do?” she whispered.
“What we must,” he answered, the words hard to speak.
“Please God save us,” she said.
Yes, God save them.
Gordon dropped the reins to the ground, a signal for Tempest to stand. He walked up to meet Colster.
“Lachlan,” the duke said in greeting.
“Your Grace.” Gordon couldn’t keep the irony from his voice. If Colster heard it, he gave no reaction. He truly had become ducal.
His expression stony, Colster said, “I’ve brought the sword, but I have one condition before I agree to give it to you.”
Gordon’s guard went up. “You are in no position to ask for conditions.” Perhaps he could keep Constance with him.
“I am,” Colster contradicted him. “I wish to talk to your men. They have a right to hear what I have to say.” The duke had raised his voice so it carried to all corners of the field.
Shaking his head, Gordon said, “Come now, Tavis. What trick do you play?”
“No trick,” Colster answered. “An opportunity to speak in exchange for the sword. My brother doesn’t want you to have it.
He tells me that handing it over to you could be considered treasonous since we know you will use it against the Crown.
I’m asking for a few moments. Nothing more.
I have an offer to make, something each of your men will want to know. ”
“And what is the offer?”
Colster gave him a grim smile. “You’ll hear it when I talk to my clansmen.”
“You are not a part of us any longer,” Gordon said.
The duke’s gaze narrowed. “Would you stop me?” he challenged, and began walking toward the Scots. He stopped when he reached Constance’s side.
Gordon stood by the sword, almost afraid to leave it. This weapon had become his holy grail, and he knew he must be alert to some sort of trickery.
Thomas and the others had placed their hands on the hilt of their pistols and swords.