The Black Knave Read Online Free PDF

she would not surrender her Catholic beliefs. She would let him know she did not wish this marriage.
    But quite obviously he’d already agreed to it, and she knew from experience that men did not care about love and friendship in a marriage as women did.
    If only she’d been born a man.
    But she had not been. And all her “ifs” had dissolved on a battlefield at Culloden Moor. Along with all her dreams. She could only hope to be as braw as her brothers, and give whatever she must to save her remaining brother.
    “The lady is at Braemoor,” Alister said as he met Rory at Mary’s cottage in the heavily forested area north of Braemoor. “She arrived yesterday.”
    Rory swore. He had hoped to get back before the MacDonell lass’s arrival, but he’d had no choice. He’d hidden several Jacobites in an area about to be raided by Cumberland’s forces, and he’d had to spirit them to another place. Now he had to get them to a small fishing village and out to a French ship. He had arranged for one in two weeks.
    His small group of fugitives was well disguised as crofters returning home after being persecuted by the Jacobite army. A young earl had been turned into a sixty-year-old, and his wife a maid. It had not been easy to transform the autocratic couple into subservient peasants.
    He still remembered the lady’s plaintive plea. “But they are filthy rags.”
    “That,” he’d replied rather curtly, “is the idea.”
    The lady had said no more.
    He said a brief thanks to Elizabeth McComb, an actress in Edinburgh who had given him instructions in makeup. He was getting nearly as adept at it as she and, indeed, had aged himself considerably several times.
    But now he was exhausted. He’d had no sleep for the last two days, while ostensibly spending time at Mary’s place in the wood where everyone thought he was playing and wenching. Alister had been sent to fetch him. No one else had the courage, not after he’d informed his staff that no one, absolutely no one, was to bother him when he was “occupied.”
    Probably, he thought wryly, even his wife-to-be had heard the gossip.
    She was most certainly destined to be a problem. His absences had been explained easily enough in the past. But now …
    He wished he could find a way to extricate himself from this wedding. Perhaps his behavior would be so obnoxious that the lady would refuse. He knew why he so reluctantly agreed. His character was considered so weak that he would most certainly jump at an opportunity to add so much wealth to his holdings. He supposed that she was also made an offer she could not refuse.
    Damn Cumberland and his intrigues.
    Mary left the room while he changed. Rory quickly rid himself of the makeup and fake beard that had aged him, then washed his face, scrubbing the heavy paint from his face and the gray powder from his hair. Alister helped him take off the ragged, dirty plaid he wore over the worn saffron shirt. Finally, he quickly pulled on colorful trews and a contrasting bright yellow doublet. His worn brogans were replaced by pointed slippers.
    Rory shaved the dark stubble from his face and placed the heavy powdered wig on his head. He hated the bloody thing, hated the heavy doublet and trews. He’d far rather wear his kilt, but the Hanover disapproved of the plaids and kilts. There was even talk of outlawing them altogether, even among the loyalists. And he was, after all, a very loyal subject of the English king.
    When he felt himself well enough prepared, he presented himself to Alister, who gave him a crooked grin. “A fine dandy you are, milord.”
    “Do you think my wife-to-be will be pleased?”
    Alister remained silent.
    “I am afraid I have blackened Mary’s name even further,” Rory said apologetically.
    “‘Twas her decision,” Alister said, but this time the smile was gone from his eyes. Rory knew Alister hated the pretense they had created, and yet neither had been able to discover another plausible reason for