The Wild Rose of Kilgannon
golden blond as Alex's, his blue eyes a shade lighter and now, as he released me, filled with tears.
    "Has Alex been taken prisoner?" I asked.
    "I dinna ken, Mary . He was free when I left him."
    I looked around the hall, now full of the men who had been with Angus, wearily sitting, shoulders slumped, women clustering around them. Gilbey, the boy's tutor and an ally for me before he'd gone to war, gave me a wan smile, but no other man would meet my eyes.
    "Come and tell me," I said and Angus nodded, letting me lead him to the library, where he settled heavily into the chair. "Where's Matthew?" I asked, realizing I'd not seen him. Angus's son, tall, handsome Matthew, was never far from his father's side, nor Gilbey's, for they were fast friends. Matthew, I thought with a pang as I settled into the chair opposite.
    "With Alex." Angus stared at the fire and I waited. I was sure Alex and Matthew had been taken by the English. It had been in my mind since Sherrifmuir and then Perth. For all the Kilgannon men to get safely home across a country filled with victorious enemies would have been a miracle. That so many had come home at all was a blessing. Why couldn't my husband have been among them? I struggled with my panic as the serving girl Leitis brought in the whisky and food. I poured a glass for Angus and he sipped it, silently watching the fire. At last I spoke again.
    "I know Kilgannon's lost and I know there will be reprisals." I struggled to keep my voice from trembling. "I know Alex is alive and Matthew as well and somehow Robert's in the middle of it. Now tell me the rest. It can be no worse than my imaginings."
    His gaze lifted and met mine. "Och, Mary, yer right, and I'm sorry for my rudeness. I've been sitting here thinking my own thoughts and forgetting that ye dinna ken what happened."
    "Dougall told us about Sheriffmuir and Thomas told us that James Stewart and Mar left for France secretly and that the rest of you had to fend for yourselves. And the MacDonald told me that you were going to Aberdeen and
    then trying to get home. Some of you got here. What happened? Where's Alex?"
    "The MacDonall was here?"
    I nodded.
    "Why?"
    I told him of the visit and my response and he nodded.
    "Good."
    "Angus, where is Alex?"
    "Somewhere east of Loch Linnhe the last time I saw him." He took a sip of the whisky and met my eyes. "And my son went to be with him." His gaze returned to the fire. "We were in Montrose and James Stewart met with the chieftains. Alex was there; I was outside with Duncan Maclean. When Alex came to us, ye wouldna have known him. I've never seen him so angry. Now, mind ye"—he looked at me from under his bushy eyebrows, his eyes a steely blue—"many of the clans had been sent north to Aberdeen. We were only still in Perth because of our ties to the MacDonall , else we would ha' been north with the others." He shifted in the chair. "Where was I? Oh, aye. It seems the chiefs argued with the Stewart but he was set on leaving. And he left, leaving us on our own."
    "And the MacDonall left too."
    "Aye, after a bit. He asked us to come with him. He damn near begged. I've never seen the man so broken."
    "Why did you not go with him?"
    "Ah, well, Mary, there was not room for twenty-four more men, only four or five at best. I told Alex to go with them, but he wouldna leave us on our own. Or the Clonmor men. And we'd had word Clonmor was besieged. So there we stood, in the middle of an icy night, and we watched King James sail away from his country and leave us to our own devices." He shook his head.
    "We headed north, telling those still on the road what had happened. Then we turned west and went to Clonmor." He sighed. "But we were too late. The house had been burnt and many were dead. We did what we could for them and the Clonmor men who had been with us said they'd be alright on their own, so we headed home. We thought we could get west by way of Inverness, but the troops were everywhere and the snow was

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