The Rebel Wears Plaid - Eliza Knight Page 0,87

they looked to her for leadership. There didn’t seem any reason for them not to agree to her taking the title permanently.

The next male choice in line would be Dirk, but he wouldn’t take it from her. If that had been his aim, he would have stopped her from doing what she’d been doing two years ago, not followed her every step of the way.

Nay, her cousin would support her. And so would her people, she was certain of it.

But would her mother?

Lady Mackintosh still wanted her daughter to marry and marry well. But marriage didn’t have to mean giving up her position of leadership, did it?

No, it did not.

Jenny pressed her hands flat to her father’s desk, the place where he had often laid them once he’d made an important decision. She was going to do this. She would take her brother’s place as laird. When Hamish found out, it would mean a battle at their doorstep, and she was prepared to fight him. But at the same time, she was also trying to fight a war for the prince. Perhaps it would be better to officially lay claim to the Mackintosh lairdship after the prince had been established on the throne. Prince Charles would undoubtedly support her claim after all she’d done for him.

A soft knock came at the door, and she called out, “Enter.”

Fiona slipped inside, looking as though she hadn’t slept in days.

Jenny stood and hurried toward her friend, worried she might collapse right then and there. “What is it?”

“The prince… He didna bring French reinforcements.”

“What?” Jenny’s heart twisted in fear. “What’s happened?”

“Aye. His ships were attacked at sea. One of them, the Elisabeth, was damaged in a storm and not allowed to make passage by the English. ’Twas the one filled with gold and weapons. All the ships but one have returned to France. So the prince is here, but he’s arrived with nothing but good faith and a few men. They have made a base at Kinlochmoidart and go back on their ship, sailing out whenever the dragoons come near. They are taking no chances.”

Jenny felt herself wavering on her feet. They needed the French reinforcements, coin, and supplies. She’d been able to gather a lot of supplies, and so had several other Highland leaders, but what she had amassed was nothing compared to what the English possessed.

They’d been counting on France and on the prince’s connection. Without it, they would be sunk.

“Are they coming back? Sending more?”

Fiona shook her head. “I dinna know for certain. He hopes to gain supporters here and that the French will return and invade from the south.” She collapsed into the same chair Jenny had sat in as a young girl. “But to make matters worse, many of those who said they’d back the prince are angry now. They’re threatening not to help him, saying that since he failed to show up with the soldiers and weapons as promised, they dinna trust him to deliver himself to the throne.”

Jenny leaned back against her father’s desk, bracing her hands on either side to steady herself. She shook her head, disbelieving. “What of our friend, A. M.? Has there been any word?”

“I’ve had no messages.”

“I will still go to Glenfinnan,” Jenny said, determined.

Fiona looked incredulous. “Ye canna be serious.”

“I will. With a handful of men, and I will leave behind the supplies. I want Prince Charlie to know we support him fully.”

Fiona nodded as if she’d expected as much. “I’ll be going with ye.”

“’Tis probably better if we’re no’ seen together.”

“Ye’re right. But I willna be far behind or ahead of ye, that I can promise.” Fiona stood, scrubbing a hand over her face in an effort to wake herself.

“Will ye not rest a while?”

“I canna. I have more deliveries.” Packages, messages, news… Jenny didn’t ask how Fiona came by her information. That was her friend’s mastery and should remain a secret from everyone, including Jenny. What she didn’t know couldn’t be tortured out of her.

“Be safe, my friend.” They embraced, and Jenny squeezed her friend tightly, fearing what was to come next. The prince had already failed in his initial mission. Would the Scots rally? Would their supporters in England and Wales pick up arms, or would they stay true to King George?

Fiona startled her from her worries. “I shall see ye at the Glen.”

“Aye, and we shall dance the night away with a man named Finnan,” Jenny said absently. The two of them laughed. Not because it was

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