made more sense for her to do it, dressed as a crofter, and doubtless whoever stood on the other side of the door would recognize him instantly.
And so he’d watched through the slim opening in the window shutter as she carefully rushed toward the garden to pretend that she was working. It struck him how very practiced the movements were. Not unlike his own actions, having to work with both the English and Scots.
As the dragoons grew closer, he expected her to run. To tremble, at least, but she did none of that, save for what he now could see was a show she put on. He might not have known her long, but he could read the fierceness in her shoulders, the anger in her eyes. He hoped she didn’t look at any one of them directly, or they’d see it too.
Toran’s chest constricted when he recognized Captain Boyd at the head of the red-coated caravan. An Diabhal fhéin! The bloody devil himself looked so smug.
The men in the loft above him scrambled into action, sliding down the ladder. They pulled back a carpet covering the wood-planked floor. One yanked open a hatch showing a shallowly dug pit, which looked unnervingly like a grave. None of them spoke, but they gestured for him and Archie to get inside.
Toran shook his head and pointed toward the window. They were leaving. This was the first opportunity they’d had without a pistol or a dagger threatening to end their life or a guard riding their backs.
Archie frowned and shook his head in turn, jamming his finger toward the hole. There wasn’t time to argue. The bastards would shove open the door to the croft any moment and would find them both there. They’d recognize Toran right away and would run him through—not without a fight, of course, but either way, today would be his last. And it would be a bloody painful end, if Boyd had anything to do with it. Toran would be labeled a traitor and die a horrendous traitor’s death.
Toran gripped his cousin by the front of his shirt and hauled him forward. Barely audible, he said, “I saved ye once. I’ll no’ be coming back for ye.”
“I owe ye a debt of gratitude, Cousin. And I’ll best serve that here by not telling them who ye really are.”
Toran gritted his teeth with irritation but let go of Archie’s shirt. His cousin might think he could serve their country better buried beneath a croft, but Toran didn’t. He had to get back to his people, his younger siblings. Though they shared the same parents, Camdyn and Isla were significantly younger than Toran, who’d just entered his twenty-ninth year. His wee brother was seventeen years old and Isla but thirteen. Between the three of them had been two others—a wee bairn sister who’d died just a month after birth and another lad who’d made it to ten before falling ill with measles. Now they were all that was left, and they counted on Toran.
Captain Boyd was certain to take his anger out on anyone with the name Fraser, if he hadn’t already. Enough time had been wasted.
“I need to save my brother and sister,” Toran whispered.
“Go then, afore ’tis too late. If ye dinna make it, I vow to keep them safe,” Archie said, as he made his way into the pit.
“I’ll haunt ye if ye dinna.”
Archie smirked but said nothing, pulling the false floor into place.
Toran made quick work of removing any evidence that either he or his cousin had been there and then peered once more out the front window to see Jenny arguing with the dragoons. The lass had ballocks of steel. In two quick steps, Toran was at the back of the croft and squinting through the window, seeing no evidence of the English in that direction. He hauled himself up and out but stopped cold on the other side, feet just hitting the ground, when Jenny let out a cry of pain.
Mo chreach! What the bloody hell was Boyd doing to her?
Toran edged around the side of the building, catching only a slight glimpse of the crowd in the courtyard. Boyd had his hands in Jenny’s hair, her head wrenched back.
Toran gritted his teeth, and some tiny part of him that wasn’t entirely certain she was responsible for his mother’s death cut a ding into his conscience. She’d willingly gone out there to save their arses, knowing the risks. Boyd was leaning close, whispering something