Page 25 of In the Highlander's Bed

“And?”Thomas repeated as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “And they think you’re a bloody hero. You are a legend to them. I told you we needed to leave camp more often, that we needed to be out with the people.”

“Do you think it wise to be so free with my name?” Gordon asked. “The English will know where we are.”

Thomas frowned. “The English don’t think we are a threat. Not yet. But the crofters know us. They call you the Rebel Lachlan. They haven’t lost faith, Gordon. They are waiting for you and for the army we are building.”

“Well, then, let’s go meet them,” Gordon said, and both men urged their horses to a trot.

Thomas had not been jesting. As the road took them down toward a loch, they met small groups of people walking in the direction they were going. When the Scots saw Gordon, they put up a shout, cheering for “Rebel Lachlan.”

A sprawling crofter’s hut was around the next crook in the road by the loch. Gathered in the yard around Robbie and Brian were about thirty Scots.

The air was festive and alive. Women bustled around long tables fashioned from planks set up in the front yard, and benches had been created from logs and the same loose lumber. Breads, cheeses, sausages, and whatever the Scots had to offer was spread out on the tables. The men stood by the road drinking, while their children kept a look out for the Rebel Lachlan. When they saw him, they put up such an excited cry, even Constance had to smile and feel a bit proud to be a part of the moment.

A thin man came forward to greet Gordon. He removed his hat from his balding pate and fell to his knees.

“Welcome, Gordon Lachlan,” the man said, “and welcome to my home. It is a glorious moment when I should meet thee.”

“You don’t kneel to me,” Gordon answered. He dismounted, leaving Constance in thesaddle. “Come to your feet, man. We are all free men here.” He offered his hand. ”What is your name?”

“William Gunn,” the crofter replied, rising.

“William Gunn, it is my honor to meet you,” Gordon said.

Gunn grinned his pleasure at such respect. “My Beth has thrown open her larder. What is mine is yours,” he replied. He nodded to his wife, who had come to stand shyly by the door. Twin daughters of about four years of age held onto her skirts. She bobbed a curtsey to Gordon, who bowed an acknowledgment.

Mr. Gunn ordered his sons to take care of the horses while he set a table and chairs outside for the meal. Neighbors came, bearing what food they had to offer.

No one questioned Constance’s presence. Gordon helped her from the horse but he was quickly engulfed by the growing number of crofters who had traveled to meet him. Her care was left to Robbie.

“What does that mean, ‘the Lachlan’?” Constance asked Robbie. They stood by one of the makeshift plank benches and tables.

“It means they recognize him as a chieftain,” Robbie answered. “Our Gordon is making a name for himself. And he is right. With theSword of the MacKenna, there will be no one who can stop him. Not since the Bruce, that greatest of all Scottish heroes, has there been such a leader.”

“Does he receive this sort of reception often?” she asked.

“Aye, farther north. But this is the first time they’ve gathered for him around here,” he answered. “It’s a good sign. Our numbers will grow.”

“What are the two of you whispering about?” Thomas said, coming up to where they stood. He carried a jug of hard cider hooked between two fingers of one hand and lifted it to his lips for a healthy swig.

“She was asking me a question,” Robbie said. His eyes darted with disapproval at the jug.

Thomas sneered at the unspoken criticism.

“Your sweet Sylvie is not going to want you sharing confidences with an Englishwoman,” Thomas said. “Best you let me watch her. I’d not be so soft on her the way you and Gordon are.”

To his credit, Robbie stayed at his post. “Go on,” he answered. “There are ladies enough here for you.”

“But it’s not one of them I’ve a mind to sample,” Thomas said. “’Tis this Englishhellion. I’d like to see if she thinks she can pull the tricks on me that she has tried on Gordon.”

“Thomas,” Robbie warned, but Constance saw a chance to put him in his place.

The edge of the plank bench was beneath his jug. She sat abruptly on the far end. Her weight upset the balance of the plank and lifted it. Thomas’s jug went flying.

For a second he didn’t realize what had happened to it and looked around in comical surprise. The crofters who had witnessed her actions burst into laughter, which was when Thomas realized he’d been tricked.

“I’mAmerican,” Constance corrected him. ”An American hellion.”

Thomas grumbled something threatening, but Robbie said a few words in his ear and he backed away, his pride mollified when a pretty young woman fetched his jug of cider for him.