Gather the Stars

  Time was running out. Gavin could feel it with each shift of the sun across his wind-burned face, sense it with each thud of the horses' hooves against the ground.

  He'd left strict orders that the ship was to wait for no one and sail without him. It was too crucial to the safety of the children and Mama Fee that the vessel leave with the tide.

  Hell, what a bitter irony that would be if he'd snatched Rachel from the jaws of British justice, escaped the gallows himself, and managed to lose half the army on a moon-swept bridge, only to be stranded at the coastline by his own command.

  Even the triumph over Dunstan Wells paled at the bleak prospect that they would be left behind. If that happened, Gavin would be hunted with a renewed fervor. But even more terrifying was the knowledge that Rachel would be hunted as well.

  Cumberland would retaliate with a savagery that would make Wells' onslaught seem like the bumblings of a schoolyard bully.

  Gavin shoved the thought away, and urged Manslayer to greater lengths. His aching arms tightened instinctively around Rachel. She curled into him, cradled against his chest, silent, uncomplaining, so trusting it broke his heart.

  Even if the ship was a hundred leagues away by now, he would find some way to get her to safety. Yet could he stand the agony of knowing Rachel was in danger the countless weeks it would take to hatch some other plan to spirit her away from Scotland?

  No, he had to reach the ship. There was still the tiniest chance that they might reach it.

  The salt tang of the sea stung his nostrils, and he drank it in, praying once again to God.

  "Do you think they're still there?" Adam called out from his mount.

  "I told them to sail," Gavin said hopelessly. Yet as the four horses carried their riders to the crest of the rise, Gavin's heart caught in his throat, disbelief and exhausting relief bursting inside him.

  The inlet near Lochavrea spilled out below them, tucked beneath a sheer fall of cliff. A sheep path wound down to a narrow crescent of sandy shore that was all but invisible from above until one reached the very brink of the cliff. Gavin guided Manslayer to the stone edge and peered down at the ship that lay anchored below.

  They had reached the ship in time. It was one more miracle to be grateful for. Gavin wondered if it wasn't a sign that fate was appeased, that his debt was paid, that he had earned the right to begin again. His throat tightened as he watched the children race about, the boys flinging seaweed at each other, the girls gathering pretty shells. The Highlanders strained to load a small dinghy with the few boxes and belongings that had been tucked in the Glen Lyon's cave. The first trunk being taken aboard was his own box of treasures, his manuscripts, illuminations, and the portrait of his family tucked inside atop the tattered remnants of the robes that had once graced a defiant angel garbed as Helen of Troy.

  Only Mama Fee sat on an outcropping of stone, staring back at the land, her eyes still searching, forever searching for something she was loath to leave behind. The son who would never come home? Gavin wondered. Or the two brothers she'd ordered about, scolded, bullied, and loved the past year?

  As Gavin dismounted, he vowed that he would fill the empty place in her motherly heart as best as he was able. She would have a place in whatever home he carved out for Rachel, be mother to Barna and the other orphans and grandmother to the babies he and Rachel would create one day. God knew, he loved the valiant, fragile Scotswoman even more dearly than he had the woman who had given birth to him.

  "I'll be damned," Adam said, amazed, swinging down from his own mount. "We made it before they sailed! I bloody well can't believe we got here in one piece. But that at least settles one thing."

  "Settles what?" Gavin asked.

  "Since you haven't gotten your worthless head blown off during all this madness, I get the pleasure of murdering you myself!"

  "Adam—"

  "Don't even try making excuses, because I'll shove them down your blasted throat with my fist! I should knock you senseless, after the rotten trick you played me. When we were planting explosives on the bridge, the only question I was debating was whether to wait until you were across the bridge to blow it up, or light the fuse when you were in the middle of it."

  "I still don't understand." Rachel peered at Gavin, confused. "Where are the troops? The soldiers? Dunstan said the children—Mama Fee—were walking into a trap. Adam had gone to warn them."

  Gavin chuckled as he lowered her to the ground, then dismounted himself.

  "That's right. Laugh, you goddamn blockhead. You're so bloody clever, aren't you?" Adam's scowling gaze flicked from Gavin to Rachel. "I was nigh killing myself riding to Cairnleven when I met this gentleman," Adam explained in a long-suffering tone, pointing to the masked figure who was reining in beside them. "He informed me that I was going in the wrong direction."

  "That may be." Gavin couldn't stifle a grin. "But I bet you were riding damn fast, Adam."

  Fists on hips, Adam confronted him, dark eyes blazing. "The ship was never going to land at Cairnleven, was it, brother? You knew that even before we abducted your lady here. Quite a scheme you and our friend Nathaniel brewed up."

  "Nathaniel?" Gavin heard Rachel's echo. She turned to stare as the man wearing the mask slipped it from his face. A wayward lock of dark hair tumbled across the man's brow and he shot Rachel a sheepish grin.

  "Hullo, Rachel."

  "Nathaniel—Rowland? How could you... did you—"

  "He's secretly helped us for almost two years now," Gavin explained. "I met him on one of my first attempts at rescuing fugitives. I was bungling it badly. We'd taken a wrong turn and gotten trapped in a walled courtyard with no hope of escape. Nate guessed we were Jacobites, that the soldiers were hunting us. He opened the door to his house and hid us."

  "But Nate fought the Jacobites." Rachel flashed a befuddled glance at Rowland. "Nate, you lost your leg fighting them."

  "That was war." Nate's eyes darkened, and Gavin could see the ghosts that stalked Rowland in the night. "What happened at Culloden Moor and after was slaughter. Not all soldiers are like Wells, Rachel. There are plenty of men—fighting men—who take no joy in killing, soldiers who are willing to give their lives for what they believe in. And after the battle is done, are equally willing to fight to heal the scars war left behind."

  Gavin reached out, clasping Nate's shoulder with one hand. He hoped Rowland could feel empathy in the barren places that parched Nate's soul. "Nate has gotten us supplies we needed, made business deals we never could have, and helped with other secret arrangements. He's sheltered any stray Jacobites he stumbled across, and smuggled them to us so we could send them to safety. We'd never have survived without him."

  Rachel gaped at Rowland. "Then you—you took me out into that garden on purpose! You knew they were going to kidnap me that night at the ball?"

  "He was the one who suggested using you," Adam said, grousing. "Of course, he didn't bother to warn me that you'd fight like a blasted she-cat, and be piles of trouble in the bargain."

  "Or that she'd been shooting a pistol since she was eight years old," Gavin added with a chuckle.

  "I knew they would never hurt you, Rachel," Nate explained, his cheek dark, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. "We had to come up with a diversion to distract Wells. He'd bottled up the coast so tightly, a boy's paper boat would've had a hard time getting through. Besides, I hoped that if I got you away from Sir Dunstan, maybe you'd see that he wasn't the man you thought he was. I've made a mess of my own life. I could see that you were heading for the same sort of disaster. I wanted something better for you."

  Gavin had never been prouder of his lady than when she stood on tiptoe and kissed Nate on the cheek. "How can I even begin to thank you?"

  "Be happy."

  "I will be. Gloriously happy." She cast Gavin a smile, her cheeks flushing, and Gavin vowed in his heart that he'd give her all the joy she could hold. "But wait!" she protested suddenly. "Even if you did plan my abduction, there are things that st
ill don't make sense. Gavin, you took me hostage to force Dunstan to allow the ship to land at Cairnleven. But you never planned to have the ship land there at all?"

  Gavin felt a jab of crystalline satisfaction so pure and sweet, he grinned. "Let's just say I understand the way Wells's mind works. I knew he'd attempt an ambush, do all in his power to kill everyone on the ship. He was hungry for a glorious triumph. He needed one damn badly, what with the pressure his superiors were placing on him. All I had to do was to bait a trap for him, convince him that if he put all his forces in one place, he could capture us all at Cairnleven."

  Understanding dawned in Rachel's features. "What better way to convince him you were leaving from that port than to hold me hostage, to threaten to kill me if he didn't leave that inlet open."

  "Exactly."

  "Brilliant. That was brilliant," Rachel said, the awe in her gaze a richer treasure than any medal for valor could be.

  "Don't tell him that!" Adam groaned. "His head is swelled enough already. This time he was so damn brilliant he didn't bother telling me about the plan. Obviously, he was so bloody pleased with it, he had to keep it to himself. Or did you guess you'd be captured by Wells and need some leverage to get me to abandon you?"

  "Even I'm not that brilliant," Gavin said. "The fewer people who knew about the plan, the less likely Wells would discover the deception. Besides, can you imagine how you'd have snarled if you knew that I was making you go to all the trouble of abducting Rachel when I knew using a hostage against Wells was futile?"

  "Damnation, I—well, blast it, you still should have—" Adam crossed his arms over his chest and glared. "I don't snarl!" The words came out in a growl that would have sent a bear diving for cover.

  "It all turned out for the best in the end, didn't it?" Nate observed. "Everyone will sail free, Dunstan will never hold rank again, and you—Rachel, I found you your hero, didn't I?" Rowland's voice was wistful, and Gavin's heart twisted at the knowledge that Nathaniel Rowland had given Rachel and him a life together, a future, while his own marriage was shattering.

  Gavin sought to drive the shadows from his friend's eyes. "Perhaps you can be in charge of romance, Rowland, but what the devil were you doing at that bridge?"

  "That's easy enough to explain," Adam said. "We were going to charge in and snatch you from the gallows in the morning, then blast the bridge when we got you across it. Of course, Nate had to play expert, work up some intricate powder-keg bomb. I suggested we just steal a cannon and blast the bloody hell out of the thing."

  Gavin gaped. "Of all the thick-skulled, idiotic, brainless schemes I've ever heard! Rachel, now do you know why I'm the brains of this outfit? I'm gone three days and they're having delusions of grandeur! Do you have any idea how tricky the timing would be, lighting off the fuse at the right time so you didn't blow yourselves to kingdom come? And you think the number of soldiers after us last night was daunting! You know how many soldiers would be after you if you sauntered in to ruin their hanging?"

  "Nag, nag, nag," Adam said, flashing a grin. "See what I told you, Nate—this love nonsense is turning the Glen Lyon soft."

  Rowland grinned, but his eyes revealed untold pain. "He's deserves his happiness. All of it. And, if it's in my power, I swear I'll see you back on your estates again, Gavin. My father is a man of no small influence in Parliament, and the instant this madness eases, he'll use it to gain you full pardon."

  Gavin reached out, took Nathaniel's hand. "Then we won't say good-bye, Nate. You're one of the finest men I've ever known. I don't know how we would have managed to accomplish all we did without your help."

  "You would have found a way."

  "Watch your back," Gavin said. "If you ever need help, send word. I'll sail on the next ship to aid you."

  There was a fatal recklessness in Nate's eyes Gavin recognized all too well. "I'm beyond help. You, above all, should know that." The jest fell, hollow.

  Nate's arms grasped the saddle, and he hauled himself onto the horse, slipping what remained of his injured leg into a leather harness meant to help balance him. He turned to the thin man who still hung back, stoic, silent. "They'll take care of you from here. You'll be away from Scotland with the tides. Make a new life for yourself."

  The youth looked away, bleak. "There's nothing left for me here. No one."

  Nate nodded in stark understanding, then turned back to Gavin, raised his hand in salute.

  Gavin watched him ride away into the countryside, until he disappeared.

  At that instant, Gavin heard a whoop from below and realized that those on the beach had just seen them. He waved to the ecstatic crew below, the capering children, the cheering Highlanders, and the woman who stared in silent joy, her face framed by a silver-white halo of hair.

  Gavin turned to the stranger. "Now, friend, if you'll join us on the ship, we can get to know you better. But you'll have to tell me your name if I'm to introduce you to the others."

  "My name? It's—"

  "Timothy!" The sudden shriek froze Gavin's blood. He turned to see Mama Fee racing up the narrow sheep path that wound up the cliff face, her feet flying, light as a girl's, her hair streaming back from a tear-streaked face.

  "Mama?" The stranger slid off his horse, and staggered a few steps toward the old woman, staring as if she'd just dropped from the heavens. "Mama—I thought you were dead! The house—I saw the house, all the graves— I thought..."

  Fiona flung herself into the arms of her son, sobbing, her hands tracing his face, smoothing his hair, as she kissed his cheek again and again.

  "I knew that you would come back to me! I knew it!" She turned to Gavin, Rachel, and Adam, the three of them gaping at her.

  "This is my Timothy! You found him for me!"

  "No. I... Nate just..." Gavin stammered. "Good God, I can't believe this!"

  "Can't believe my Timothy is alive?" Mama Fee demanded. "Who did you think I set out that plate for every meal? Did you think I was just a daft old woman?"

  Gavin's cheeks burned. "I... well, we..."

  "You did think I was daft!" Mama Fee accused. "Humoring an old woman, were you? But I knew that if my Timothy were dead, I would feel it, here." She struck her heart with her hand. She turned to Rachel, tear-bright eyes shining. "Wouldn't you know if your Gavin had died?"

  Rachel stepped forward, holding out her small hand. "Welcome home, Timothy. Your mother has been waiting for you a very long time."

  Mama Fee touched her boy's face, his cheeks, his hair. "Timmy, there is something I must tell you. I hope you're not horrible angry. You see, I gave the wedding gown away."

  "Wedding gown?" Timothy stared blankly for a moment, then scoffed. "You mean that musty old dress you've kept stuffed in a chest all these years? You can string it from the sails if you want! I just can't believe I've found you!"

  "I didn't give it away lightly," Mama Fee insisted. "It's just that Gavin and Rachel are going to get married. She's had the eye for him, you know. From the first moment she saw him. 'Tis supposed to be a love gift, the gown. That is"—Mama Fee eyed the two of them uneasily—"if you are getting married. Or were you just humoring a daft old woman about that as well?"

  "I haven't asked her yet," Gavin said. "I didn't think I had the right. Rachel?" He turned to her, cupped her cheeks in his hands, the silken tangle of her hair soothing the cuts and bruises from the manacles and chains she'd freed him from—some of iron, some in the secret reaches of his soul. "Will you have me, Rachel de Lacey?" he asked quietly. "I've nothing to offer you but love. I don't know what the future will hold, if I'll ever be able to return to England, bring you back home—"

  "The warmest homes I've ever known were a cave room and a deserted croft," Rachel said, her heart in her eyes. "My home is in your arms, Gavin. It's the only home I'll ever need."

  "Damn, but that sounds like an acceptance to me!" Adam applauded, beaming. "And I thank God for it, Rachel! You're the answer to my prayers, my beloved new sister. And Christ knows, I've blasph
emed so much, I scarce expected it! An angel to take this infernal madman off my hands once and for all! He's damned hard to keep out of trouble, blast him. You'll find that out for yourself soon enough. In fact, we'll hold the wedding the instant we get on the ship, before you can change your mind. I'll tell the captain right now, I will." Adam started to bolt down the path.

  "There will be no wedding until I send a message to my bride," Gavin said, gazing down into Rachel's eyes.

  "A message?" Adam blustered. "Tell her whatever you want right now. Spit it out. Something romantic, no doubt? God's blood, you've read enough of that love legend rot to spout something out right away."

  "These aren't words to be spoken, then fade away," Gavin said, caressing Rachel's cheek. "They're words to last forever."

  The ship cut through the waters with the grace of a swan, skimming before a fair wind. Sun streamed through the portal of the tiny cabin where Rachel bustled about, attempting to prepare for the wedding to come, and drenched the deck where the Glen Lyon would soon make Rachel de Lacey his wife.

  The wedding gown that had passed through generations of lovers had been mended and pressed until it shone, the aged cloth the most beautiful thing Rachel had ever seen.

  Never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined that she would be glowing beneath motherly attention on her wedding day. As Mama Fee hustled about, settling the gown into place, brushing her hair until it shone, Rachel's heart was full beyond bearing.

  The old woman had blossomed with the return of her son, drinking in Timothy's every word, delighting in his every smile, the two of them telling tales of all that had befallen them since the day Timothy had followed his brothers to war. They had mourned together, and rejoiced together, rising from the ashes of the lives they'd known to face the future with bright eyes and high hopes, an optimism Rachel had come to share.

  Adam stood guard, gruff and glowering, at the doorway, as if he were half afraid she'd bolt. Even so, the children darted in, staring up at her with their wary eyes. Rachel knew she had much to learn about little ones and loving, but she had faith that Gavin could teach her.