Page 41 of The Madam’s Highlander

Ewan pulled away from Freya while he still could, before his heart could overwhelm his mind. Her hands shot up in a desperate plea to grab for him.

At the door, Captain Crosby looked to Ewan and nodded. “He's coming.”

“Nay!” Footsteps pattered from Marian's room.

Ewan jerked his head and found his mother standing there, her hair in gray wisps around her stricken face. “Dinna do this, son.” She shook her head and stepped toward him. “Dinna do this.”

Ewan sank to his knees before her and kissed her hands. “I beg yer forgiveness, Ma. I abandoned the Black Watch. I'm a traitor.” She shook her head, but he got to his feet and backed to the open door. “And now I have to meet my fate.” He swallowed thickly. “Just like da.”

“Nay, yer father wasna a traitor,” his mother cried. “The English called him that, but he was a Scotsman. He died protecting his people, his family - us. He died a hero.” Tears streamed down her face, each one a new pebble lodging in his heart. “He protected his people.”

Ewan stared at his mother. “They called him a traitor.”

“The English did. He was a traitor to them.” His mother touched his face. “But he was a hero to us.”

Ewan wished there was more time, to hear the story his mother had never told him, to cradle Freya in his arms one last time, to live the life on the hay farm with his family who loved him.

But it was time. And he would do the one thing he could to protect his family.

Just like his da.

He turned away from all of those he loved to give himself up to his enemies. To do what was right.

Clemmons accepted him with greedy hands, roughly spinning him around. Metal clinked behind Ewan and the cold, heavy weight of manacles settled tightly over his wrists. Several redcoats stood by, anticipation glittering in their moonlit stares.

“This is him,” Clemmons said.

“These people were hiding him,” one soldier said. “Show them what happens to those who hide a criminal, then burn the house down.”

Fear raked her ugly claws through Ewan’s heart. He fought against the manacles. “Nay, I gave myself up for them.”

Clemmons merely chuckled behind him. The bastard.

Captain Crosby stood in front of the doorway, blocking it with his body. “Don't do this, Patrick.”

“If you're refusing me entry, then you're a traitor too,” the other English officer said.

Ewan's heartbeat roared in his ears. This was not happening. This could not be happening. He'd turned himself in. It should be done.

Crosby squared his shoulders. “There is a woman birthing a child inside. I apologize, but I cannot allow you to enter this home.”

The other officer said nothing, but lifted his pistol and shot Captain Crosby.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

One by one the redcoats came into the house, each of the four men stepping over Captain Crosby's body with purpose. It was impossible for Freya to tell where the captain had been hit, but he had certainly been hit as was evidenced by the pool of blood spreading beneath him.

The first man approached Ewan's mother. Lily pulled something from her bodice and held it in front of her. A knife. The blade trembled with the older woman’s poor resolve.

Freya tried to edge closer to her, to protect the frail woman whose eyes had gone near white with fear. A large red chest filled Freya's vision.

“You should worry about yourself,” the man said with a contemptuous note of arrogance.

Freya glared up at the man's wide, blunt face. “I have the same advice for ye.” She drew up her leg with all the force she could muster and hit him square between the legs with the point of her shoe. The man pitched forward with a squeak and clutched at his wounded genitals.

No sooner had the man gone down than the one in front of Lily drew back his arm and punched her across the face. She went down with such suddenness, Freya feared the older woman might be dead. The knife she held skittered from her and landed by Freya's foot.

A withered hand extended blindly from Lily’s crumpled form. Freya fumbled with her own waistband to draw free the pistol and kicked the blade over to Lily.