The Scottish Prisoner

“Well done!” he called. “Take him round a few times, aye?”

“Well done!” Willie piped, and hopped up and down on the fence rail like a sparrow.

Fraser put out a hand to touch the boy’s shoulder, and he quieted at once. All three of them watched the groom take the horse barebacked round the paddock, sticking in spite of all attempts to shake or rear, until the stallion gave up and trotted peacefully along.

The sense of excitement ebbed to one of pleasant half attention. And, quite suddenly, Grey knew what to say.

“Queen’s knight,” he said quietly. “To queen two.” It was, he knew, a dangerous opening.

Fraser didn’t move, but Grey felt his sideways glance. After an instant’s hesitation, he replied, “King’s knight to bishop two,” and Grey felt his heart lighten. It was the answer to the Torremolinos Gambit, the one he had used on that far-off, disastrous evening at Ardsmuir, when he had first laid his hand on Jamie Fraser’s.

“Well done, well done, well done,” Willie was chanting softly to himself. “Well done, well done, well done!”

41

A Moonlicht Flicht

IT WAS NOT YET TEATIME, BUT THE SUN HOVERED JUST above the leafless copper beeches; the dark came earlier every day. Jamie was walking back from the distant barn where the farm horses were kept. Three young men from the village tended these, feeding, brushing, and mucking out; Jamie came daily when the horses were brought in, to check for injury, lameness, cough, and general ill health, for the farm horses were, in their own way, nearly as valuable as the stud.

Joe Gore, one of the farmhands, was outside the barn, looking out for him, and looking anxious. The instant he saw Jamie, he broke into a clumsy run, waving his arms.

“Fa

“How?” Jamie asked, startled. Fa

“Well, I du

“Ye checked the walls and hedges, aye?” Jamie was already moving, heading for the distant cornfield, Joe at his heels. That field was not fenced but was bordered by drystone dikes on three sides, a windbreak hedgerow to the north. The notion of Fa

“Think I’m green? ’Course I did!”

“We’ll go round by the road.” Jamie jerked his chin toward the road that edged the property to the east; it was the border of Helwater’s land and made along the high ground, offering a view of the whole of the back fields.

They had barely reached the road, though, when Joe gave a shout of relief, pointing. “There she is! Who the devil’s that atop her?”

Jamie squinted for a moment into the glare of the fading sun and felt a lurch of alarm—for the small figure perched on Fa

Fa

Jamie left Fa

“What—” he began, seizing her under the arms, but she didn’t wait for him to finish.

“Isobel!” she gasped. “That frigging lawyer’s got her! You’ve got to go!”

“Go where?” He set her firmly on her feet, but she swayed alarmingly, and he gripped her arms to steady her. “Mr. Wilberforce, ye mean?”

“Who bloody else?” she snapped. “He came to take her driving, in a gig. She was already out in the yard with her bo

She paused to breathe heavily, gathering herself.

“She tried to make me stay, but he laughed and said I was quite right; ’twasn’t proper for an unmarried young woman to be out with a man unchaperoned. She made a face, but she giggled at him and said, oh, all right, then, she supposed I could come.”

Betty’s hair was coming down in thick hanks round her face; she brushed one back with a “Tcha!” of irritation, then turned round and pointed up the road.

“We got up to the edge of Helwater, and he stops to look at the view. We all got out, and I’m standing there thinking it’s perishing cold and me come out with no more than my shawl and cross with Isobel for being a thoughtless ni

“Where’s he gone, do ye know?”

“I can bloody guess! Gretna fucking Green, that’s where!”

“Jesus Christ!” He took a deep breath, trying to think. “He’ll never get there tonight—not in a gig.”

She shrugged, exasperated. “Why are you standing here? You’ve got to go after them!”

“Me? Why, for God’s sake?”

“Because you can ride fast! And because you’re big enough to make her bloody come back with you! And you can keep it quiet!”

When he did not move at once, she stamped her foot. “Are you deaf? You have to go now! If he takes her maidenhead, she’s stuffed more ways than one. The bugger’s got a wife already.”

“What? A wife?”

“Will you stop saying ‘What’ like a bloody parrot?” she snapped. “Yes! He married a girl in Perthshire, five or six years back. She left him and went back to her parents, and he came to Derwentwater. I heard it from—well, never bloody mind! Just—just—go!”

“But you—”

“I’ll manage! GO!” she bellowed, her face scarlet in the glare of the sinking sun.

He went.

HIS FIRST IMPULSE was to go back to the house, to the main stable. But that would take too long—and embroil him in awkward explanations that would not only delay his leaving but rouse the whole household.

“And you can keep it quiet,” Betty had said.

“Aye, fat chance,” he muttered, half-ru

There was no possibility of pursuing Wilberforce on one of the farm horses, even were they not knackered from the day’s work. But there were two fine mules, Whitey and Mike, who were kept to draw the hay wagon. They were broken to the saddle, at least, and had spent the day in pasture. He might just …

By the time he’d reached this point in his thoughts, he was already rifling through the tack in search of a snaffle and, ten minutes later, was mounted on a surprised and affronted Whitey, trotting toward the road, the three stable-hands staring after them with their mouths hanging open. He saw Betty in the distance, limping toward the house, her entire figure emanating indignation.

He felt no small amount of this emotion himself. His impulse was to think that Isobel had made her bed and could lie in it—but, after all, she was very young and knew nothing of men, let alone a scoundrel like Wilberforce.