White Rose Rebel by Janet Paisley Read Free Book Online

whipped the hat off, tossed it on the table. But now he was about to kiss this woman who’d kept running through his mind since that day at the loch and whose deep blue eyes were now dark as flood water he might drown in, wanted to drown in, and she was waiting, and he knew if he didn’t stop now he might never stop, so he stopped.
    Anne gave up waiting. She put her hands on each side of his head and her mouth on his. A great cheer went up from outside.
    Around the house, dozens from both clans leapt and cheered and hugged. Others, having further to come, were still running to be there. A woman pulled a small drawstring bag from inside her dress, opened it and took out the one coin it contained as if it were the greatest treasure in the world. She glanced at her husband.Money was rare in the Highlands, where even chiefs made payment in kind. Proudly, the woman went to the doorway, to where a small wooden chest sat near the budding white rose. She propped the lid open and tossed the coin into it.
    Inside, where the stillness was broken only by Lady Farquharson exclaiming her shock, the kiss came to an end.
    ‘You surprise me, again,’ Aeneas said. ‘I thought you might say no.’
    ‘I surprise myself,’ Anne said.
    Needing to do something physical, Aeneas turned to MacGillivray. He gripped the younger man’s shoulder, offering his right hand. MacGillivray swallowed hard. Apart from Aeneas, there wasn’t a person in the room or the mountains who wouldn’t know his disappointment, but he took his mentor’s hand and shook it warmly.
    Aeneas frowned. He withdrew his hand and spread it out to look at the palm. It was smeared stickily with egg yolk and shell. Anne snorted with laughter. Aeneas looked at MacGillivray’s horrified face, and he, too, began to laugh. The tension that strung the younger chief taut like a harp string was released. MacGillivray joined in, the three of them united by their laughter. All around the room the others chuckled and hooted, everyone except Lady Farquharson who was now bemoaning the waste of a good egg.
    Out on the doorstep, where the Jacobite rose would soon spread its white, perfumed petals, the small wooden box filled with the coins being tossed in. Whisky and ale mysteriously appeared to toast the couple, the new clan union and, as always when toasts were made among them, the king across the water.
    Far away, across that water, at the court of Louis X V, King of France, a much larger chest also filled with coin. Nearby, a tall, elegant young prince leant over an ornately carved table, poring over maps and charts with his naval commanders.

FIVE
    Across Raigbeg ford, the M c Intosh guard of honour waited: six warriors on foot, one on horseback, and the piper. Seeing them ahead, Anne drew Pibroch, the bridal pony Aeneas had gifted her on the day of his proposal, to a halt. Her kinsmen had wreathed the pony’s halter with white roses, plaited them into its tail. Her kinswomen had sewn others on to her white lawn dress. Half-opened buds nestled in her hair. Every breath she took was filled with their perfume, a reminder of her Jacobite heritage and the memory of her father.
    On the other side of the mountains, the fields and cotts of Invercauld she had left behind were near empty. All those fit to walk were determined to see her wed. The slow had set off days before, on foot or in carts. The warriors and those who could match the horses for pace marched behind the mounted party. At the bridge of Carr, where they’d broken the journey for the night, the people celebrated with a wild generosity they could ill afford. Even her stepmother, riding next to Elizabeth in the party behind, had finally thawed. She would have a more amenable household to run with Anne gone. It seemed every person in the Highlands wanted this wedding. All, but one.
    As Anne hesitated at the ford, her cousin, Francis of Monaltrie, pulled up beside her. He would guess why she halted. Lord George Murray reined in at