to stay here as long as ye like,” said the older Sullivan, making no offer to take them on the journey.
Disappointment stung deep. “Thank ye for that kindness.”
“I would have it no other way,” Mrs. Sullivan said, tugging her into a hug. “Ye’re so verra brave, lass. Stay safe.”
“I will.” Annie swallowed back tears.
“And keep in touch. When this war is over, I want to see ye again.” Mrs. Sullivan was so genuine, Annie had not the heart to tell her that such a fate was highly unlikely.
Annie smiled and pressed a kiss to the old woman’s forehead. “I count on it.”
The lads worked to help their grandmother pack, but when it came time to leave, Annie knew for certain they would take with them the wagon that she’d wanted to use for the men. There was no way that Mrs. Sullivan with her old bones could ride all the way to Orkney on horseback. Annie couldn’t begrudge them that, even as it frustrated her. The wagon wasn’t hers, and the lads had been through enough without her needs making their lives more difficult.
Annie and the men would be on their own for weeks until everyone could travel by foot again or they could figure out a way to get a new wagon and horses.
And so it was, with a sour belly and fear gripping her spine, that Annie watched the family roll away using the only means of transportation she’d had. Who knew, now, when, or if, she’d be able to get these men to safety.
Eleven
Inside the cottage, Annie sat in the chair that Mrs. Sullivan had occupied and stared at the five men across from her. While a couple were definitely sound asleep, at least one was faking it, and two were watching her in return.
The cottage air was stifling. Since the departure of Mrs. Sullivan and her lads, Annie had broken up a fight over a plaid blanket and endured at least an hour of bickering between Max and Leonard over whether they should be melting down any bits of lead they could find, or even the buttons of their coats, for bullets, or whittling sticks into arrows.
And then there was the man who couldn’t remember his name and the vicious stares the other men were starting to give him. Was he a redcoat spy as they suspected?
“We’re no’ melting down anything, and if ye go looking for sticks in the woods, ye’ll likely just find yourself at the end of a dragoon’s blade,” she interjected. “Ye need to rest so we can get out of here.”
The men looked stunned at her raised voice, and she apologized and then went silent.
Her eyes were drawn to MacLean and the color coming back to his cheeks. Cheeks that were quickly becoming covered with a thick ginger beard. She cocked her head to the side, squinting her eyes at him as he slept. There was something so familiar about him, and not because she’d seen him for months at camp or at Cullidunloch. Something else niggled at the back of her mind, and she couldn’t quite put a finger on it.
Their conversation at Cullidunloch came back to her, how he’d said they’d met before and never once explained.
When?
Something about that beard, though, the way it covered his face, making him look all the more rugged, all the more…sensual somehow.
How did she know this man before she’d known him?
“What will we do, Doc? How will we survive this?” Andy, propped up against a wall, looked toward the door, fear on his features. He shot the nameless man a look of fury.
Andy had suffered a bullet to the back that had narrowly avoided his spine. He was well on his way to being mended.
The men weren’t going to give up, and she wasn’t going to give up on them either. That was part of her vow made with Fiona and Jenny. They were the angels of the prince, and no matter what, they wouldn’t give up. Their fathers, grandfathers, uncles, cousins, hadn’t fought for the cause in order for them to give it up. Annie was lucky that her brothers both fought on the side of right, for Jenny had been battling her own brother for years. In fact, Hamish was still held prisoner within Jenny’s walls, the prince having given her the wardenship over him.
“We will survive. That is what we do.” Annie straightened her shoulders, daring any of them to contradict her. “We are Highlanders. We are Jacobites. We fight