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Chapter Twenty-Four
Mortimer sat at the front of the boat, staring off into the mist as it made its way to the shores of Mull, while one soldier rowed in the middle of the boat. He was glad that he had sent General Andrews away on duty. They might not need the other soldiers at all, but he could no longer bear the man’s weakness. He knew that he would have ruined Mortimer’s moment as he collected his brother’s murderer. Six soldiers sat in the boat next to them, and he felt confident that he would get what he wanted. What was one Scotsman against the British army?
Thanks to that silly, headstrong girl, he had an excuse to rush over to the Isle of Mull. What could be suspicious about this now? Not only was he rescuing a defenseless Englishwoman from the hands of these brutes, but he was also figuring out whether or not they had an inciter in their midst, ready to cut their British throats as they slept. He smiled grimly.
He tapped his fingertips together. How would Angus MacLean react to his aggressive presence on the island? Mortimer hoped that he would lose his temper, and then he’d have an excuse to kill him, right then and there. Mortimer wished this revenge business to be over and done with. He needed it done, for it had been too long that his brother’s death had been left behind as a mystery, and no one seemed to care about it anymore. It infuriated him, but he needed to stay calm in order to get what he wanted.
Even the King himself had tired of Mortimer’s attempts to question what had happened at Fort William those few months ago. But now, everything was at hand. Suddenly the castle appeared out of the afternoon mist, and Mortimer moved back slightly, surprised at its large ominous presence. He did not expect an island to have such a seat for a laird. It was a fine fortress and would do well in battle, but he hoped the brutes would be stupid enough to expose themselves before him and his soldiers’ muskets outside on the shore.
Once their boats slid onto the shore, he nearly expected a raid of tartan-clad warriors to jump out yelling, ready to plunge their blades into him. That’s why he’d warned the soldiers to keep their muskets at the ready the closer they got to the shore. Instead, he saw two men walking towards him, and Charlotte was among them, her head held down. The men were tall, lightly bearded, and both wore kilts, boots and had long blades at their sides.
So the little bitch is feeling shameful, as she should be. He stood tall and pushed his shoulders back. The English soldiers surrounded him as he made his way forward to meet the men. Once they were close enough to speak, Charlotte said, “Lord Darling, I was merely doing my duty to Julia, as my letter told you. I do not know why—"
Mortimer cut her off, ignoring the dark looks from the men beside her. “Be silent, woman. You have brought this mess upon us. You could be charged with treason if you intend to persist in this path. I would choose my steps very carefully if I were you.” He pointed at her sharply. “Why should you think that a Scottish clan seat is safer than a Fort under the protection of His Majesty?”
“Leave her be, Lord Darling. Yer quarrel is with me, is it nae?” An angry-looking Scotsman spoke to him from the side. Mortimer turned to see the man standing with his strong arms crossed across his chest.
He grinned, enjoying the sound of rough anger in the man’s voice. Oh, he shall be so easy to taunt. “’Tis true. Might I be right in assuming you are Angus MacLean, the laird in the interim until your brother returns from his trip to London?”
Angus nodded, and Charlotte looked pained. “Aye, ‘tis I. What is it ye want with me that ye’ve come all this way with soldiers at yer side?”
He motioned to the men who stood next to Mortimer, the barrels of their muskets pointed at him, but their eyes also watching the mist-filled area around the shore.
Mortimer grinned. “Excellent. Well, I, of course, want to return this woman to her father’s protection first. She could be accused of treason, always coming here as she does, an unmarried woman, seeming to have a soft spot for the Scots. But, I also have it on good authority that ye are the inciter of a battle, which I have heard about of late.”
Angus looked confused and then angry. “Ye accuse me of treason myself then? What have I done?”
Mortimer smiled, enjoying this all too much. Of course, the man would deny any involvement since the whispers of war did not truly exist. “The King has other reasons for wishing you to come into my custody. I have questions I must put to you. Privately, of course.” He eyed the man next to Angus. Mortimer reached forward to grab Angus by the arm, but the man next to him clutched his hand to his sword hilt, and the sound of other swords unsheathing echoed through the misty air.
Angus put his hand up to stop them. “Aye, what kind of fool would I be if I didnae prepare against a surprise attack from the British?” Mortimer squinted his eyes at the mist as did the soldiers, and he spotted a large number of kilted men, their eyes angry and hands on their weapons. He chuckled, but inwardly, he began to trouble slightly. He knew they were brutes, but he hadn’t expected such a large group of them, nor did he expect them to look as menacing as they did.
“I see. Well, you are smarter than I’ve given you credit for.” He looked bored and attempted to speak casually and sarcastically. The man next to him moved forward again, appearing ready to cut the man in two, but Angus pushed him back.
Angus asked again, “And then what happens? Once you have questioned me, I will return tae the clan?”
Mortimer nodded. “If I feel that you have had nothing to do with what I wish to question you about.”
Charlotte stepped forward. “But Lord Darling, surely this is unnecessary. I will come with you without a fight. I will do what you ask. I will marry the man you and my father have selected for me. It is no trouble. But please, leave this clan in peace. It is me you want.”
Mortimer knew that if General Andrews were here, he would have faltered at the sweetness of his daughter’s plea. He thanked God once more he had sent him away. What a useless, useless man.
Mortimer replied roughly, “Of course you will come back with us. What other option can there be?” Mortimer watched as Charlotte looked slowly at Angus, and he watched her as well, his expression bereft. The whole man’s persona had changed, and now instead of standing tall, his shoulders sank down, and he paled.
Mortimer thought, Ah, just as I surmised. All the better to break you, Scotsman. Charlotte moved forward to stand with the English soldiers, and Mortimer continue to speak. “And there will be no chance of an agreement, Miss Andrews. The man must give me the answers I seek. So what say you, Angus MacLean? Come you with us to be questioned? Or watch as my soldiers put English bullets into your men’s guts? The choice is yours.”
Angus swallowed, and Mortimer knew that he had the man. He was a besotted idiot, weakened by love: love of a woman and love of a clan. It was worthless to love anything overly much, or else one would find themselves weakened by it. His brother, George, knew this well. He did not avenge his brother’s death for love. He did it for honor and to see the beauty of a Scot’s blood upon his sword.
Angus nodded. “I will come. There will be nae violence here, nae on my account.” His face was grim, and Mortimer’s heart did a leap of satisfaction. Angus’ second tried to stop him with a strong hand on his arm. Angus pulled out of it. “Nae, Liam. I must do this.”
Mortimer replied, clapping his hands firmly together. “Excellent. Then to the Fort, we shall go.”
Mortimer, Charlotte, and Angus moved towards the boats, and the soldiers watched behind them, their muskets still pointed towards the misty shore, keeping Lord Darling safe as he settled into the boat, feeling as satisfied as could be.
The soldiers packed themselves away in their own boat, only two of them holding their muskets up as the boats faded away across the water to the Fort. Mortimer sighed contentedly to himself and watched behind him to see a dismayed Charlotte and Angus not speaking to each other in the hull. Once he had his revenge, and the woman was married off so he could get his profit, he would be satisfied, and he could return to London, leaving this idiot General to fend for himself.
* * *
Angus’ heart felt like it had shattered into a thousand pieces. Once the words about marriage fell from Charlotte’s lips, nothing mattered anymore. He didn’t care if this Englishman demanded to question him or was planning on accusing him of something he hadn’t done. Charlotte was engaged and had known so. Upstairs in his room, when he had held her to him, and they’d uttered the words of love to each other, his life path had become clear. He would marry her, and they would work and live together happily forever.
