Midnight Honor

prison and a full pardon. Further, since he had served in the king's regiment right up to the moment he had taken a near-fatal wound from a “Jacobite” sword, he expected the original terms of his immunity agreement to be upheld, and to include the surviving lairds and families of Clan Chattan.
    It had taken three weeks for couriers to go back and forth from London to Inverness, but in the end Angus had won. He had appeared before the minister wearing the scarlet tunic and gold braid of an officer in the King's Royal Scots, but he had returned to Scotland wearing the tartan and crossbelts of a man fully in command of his own destiny. Cumberland had made the exchange that same night. Now, ten days later, Anne was warm and safe in his arms; she was still terribly thin and her nights were not entirely peaceful, but at least she was sleeping, and eating well enough, and she only wept whenshe was left alone too long to think about all the dreadful losses.
    “I have arranged to have John's body moved to Petty, to a small green hill overlooking the firth.”
    “He would like that,” she said softly, “being able to look out over the water with the mountains at his back.”
    “And MacBean by his side, as always. We found Gillies's body and asked Elizabeth if she minded them sharing the brae together. She said I should be asking the priest instead, for with the two of them in the churchyard, they'll be sure to raise the devil.”
    The shine was back in her eyes, but it came with a smile this time. “Granda' told me yesterday that Elizabeth is with child, so he's not completely gone. There will still be a MacGillivray at Dunmaglass.”
    “If it's a son, I suppose I will have to give him back his father's bucklers.”
    Anne's eyes narrowed beneath a wry frown. “I wondered where you had come by all that impressive armor in the clearing. I almost did not recognize you as the fastidious gentleman scholar I married.”
    “It suited my mood. And besides, I thought I needed a little of MacGillivray's roguish courage to bolster me.”
    “You have more courage than it would seem wise or safe to have these days, my lord. Or do you think Cumberland will forget that you blackmailed him?”
    “He will not forget. But he has already taken his army to Fort Augustus. In a month, when he becomes bored with the lack of opera and swans' liver, he will go home to London, and we will not seem quite so significant. Besides—” He rolled carefully onto his side, taking Anne with him; another deft shift and she was beneath him, her eyes round and wide and blue as sapphires as he settled himself between her thighs. “I have more important things to worry about at the moment than the wounded vanities of a fat little tyrant.”
    “You do?”
    He moved his hips forward and savored the heat of her welcome a moment before curling his hands in the fiery silk of her hair and holding her through a long, molten kiss.
    “Unless, of course, you would rather talk,” he said againsther lips. “Which is what a fastidious gentleman scholar might well do under the circumstances.”
    “In that case”—her hands smoothed down his waist and grasped his hips—“I think I prefer to keep my roguish warrior awhile longer.”

Published by
Dell Publishing
a division of
Random House, Inc.
1540 Broadway
New York, New York 10036
    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
    Copyright © 2001 by Marsha Canham
    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. For information address: Dell Publishing, New York, N.Y.
    Dell® is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc.
    eISBN: 978-0-307-56791-8
    v3.0