Read Online Dawn on a Distant Shore by Sara Donati - Free Book Online

and Hawkeye
there."
    Nathaniel remembered
Giselle's parties very well. She gathered men around her for the evening when her
father was away, more concerned with amusement than reputation. He had never
enjoyed them, and liked the idea even less now. "You're thinking we'll
just walk them out of the lieutenant governor's mansion?"
    "At the right
moment, aye. And why not?"
    Why not . Nathaniel hid his
grin in his tankard. It was a beautifully simple plan. At the most it would
require that they waylay the redcoats assigned to guard the prisoners. With the
right management, they would be drunk, too.
    But Robbie was
blinking at Moncrieff in disbelief, his color rising fast.
    "Are ye saying
that Giselle has summoned Otter and Hawkeye tae entertain the lairds and officers,
like trained monkeys? Hawkeye will ha' nane o' that, and should she stand him
at the end of a musket."
    "That may be
true," Moncrieff said, lowering his voice. "But think on it, Rab.
They'll aa be fu' o' drink by midnight. By morning they'll be sober, and we'll
be lang awa'."
    "My father will
see the beauty of that, if we can get word to him." Nathaniel put a hand
on Robbie's shoulder. "He'd go a far sight further to get out of gaol than
sit next to Giselle Somerville at a dinner table."
    Robbie frowned.
"Pink George will be in a puir temper when he comes hame and hears o' it. It
wadna be the first time he's raised a hand tae his dauchter."
    "She'll have to
handle that on her own," said Nathaniel, more loudly than he intended. "She's
had to deal with him angry, she knows what she's about."
    "Ye're an unco'
hard man betimes, Nathaniel Bonner." Robbie sighed, rubbing the bridge of
his nose with one broad thumb. "Wha's first then in this plan o' yours,
Angus?"
    "The gaol. We've
got to get word to Hawkeye. Wee Iona would be willing to pay a call,
perhaps."
    "No' Iona,"
Robbie said in a tone that brooked no discussion.
    Nathaniel nodded in
agreement. "She's too well known to get involved in this."
    Moncrieff studied the
tabletop. After a moment, he turned to look over his shoulder at Adele, who was
sitting on a stool by the hearth and tending a kettle of beans. She was up
before he could even wink at her, soft curves and a warm smile.
    "Perhaps a
friend, then, wi' a bit o' beef, and a message tucked away in a safe
place." He rose with his tankard in hand, tipping back his head to get the
last swallow. "I need a private word wi' Adele. Tell me, man. How are ye
at cards?"
    "I'm better with
a rifle," said Nathaniel.
    "He's better wi'
a bluidy sewin' needle." Robbie grinned.
    Nathaniel shrugged.
"I expect that's true," he said. "There ain't much I like less
than cards."
    "You won't have
to pretend to lose, then." Angus nodded, satisfied. "Perhaps you and Robbie
would care to see if there's any interest in a game." He raised one brow
in the direction of the man singing into his ale, and then headed toward the back
room where Adele had disappeared.
    Robbie straightened,
his face creased in confusion. "Why wad we want tae play cards wi' a
whey-faced sot like that?" he asked, sending a fierce look toward the
corner.
    "Because that's
Martin Fink," Nathaniel said. "Did you think Moncrieff steered us
here by accident?"
    Robbie started.
"The Somervilles' cook, d'ye mean? Mary bless me, and sae it must
be." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I wadna ha' guessed Angus tae
be sae verra sly."
    Nathaniel picked up
his tankard to swallow the last of his ale, and along with it the worst of his doubts
about Angus Moncrieff. They were started down this road now and they would see
where it took them, but he would be on guard. He clapped Robbie on the back and
leaned over to whisper in the great shell-like ear. "You watch my back,
Rab, and I'll watch yours."
     
    A forest away,
Elizabeth was half asleep in front of the hearth with both infants at her breast,
when faint laughter startled her into full wakefulness.
    "What was
that?"
    Hannah looked up from
grinding corn, and wiped a strand of hair