Sarah Gabriel by Keeping Kate Page A

red coat,” Wade said, sipping again.
    “True,” Alec agreed. “But I’ll not complain. It is a privilege to toast with the commander in chief of all the British forces in Scotland.” He lifted his cup.
    “I’ll admit there is benefit to having the nephew of one of the most powerful Highland chiefs among our ranks,” Wade said. “No matter what your personal leanings might be as a Highlander, and in my opinion many Highlanders are wise to keep such things to themselves, you do a fine job with whatever is asked of you.”
    “Sir,” Alec murmured, inclining his head.
    General Wade folded into a chair behind a mahogany desk littered with papers and maps, while Alec stood on the thick Turkish carpet. The room was spacious and well furnished. Inverlochy Castle, its garrisoned town renamed Fort William, was a comfortable spot for soldiers, though not a hospitable place for Jacobites, Alec reflected.
    The general peered at Alec through brass-rimmed spectacles perched at the end of his long nose. “So you’ve seen our intriguante , Captain? Does she still refuse to talk?”
    “Aye. And I cannot blame her, having seen the cruel conditions of her incarceration.”
    “Damned ungentlemanly of Grant,” Wade muttered. “But we need to know what she’s hiding, and Grant does have a grievance with her. I thought she might talk, but she’s stubborn. Are you aware that Grant was one of her victims, too? The gel left him with an aching head and took a fine set of maps with her. Francis Grant does not tolerate looking the fool.”
    “I read his account of that night, General. The colonel was quite foxed, so who knows what truly happened. Frankly, we do not even know if this is the girl who was in his quarters that night. We haven’t learned who she is.”
    “She was in your quarters, too, sir,” Wade said tersely.
    “Aye, but…I was not quite myself, either,” Alec said. “She is one of the camp laundresses. We established that with the Highland locals.” He had ridden out to the house where the laundry was done, but realized he was not going to discover anything useful there: She’s a cousin, he was told, and not quite right in the head, puir lass.
    He remembered thinking, as he rode away, that she was either not right or a very clever lass indeed.
    Wade waved his hand. “Difficult to trust any Highland source these days. How many Highland gels want to look at military maps and documents? None, I tell you. She took papers from you, sir, lists of Highlanders arrested, and an accounting of weapons confiscated from all Highland men by order of the king.”
    “Perhaps she was looking for news of a kinsman. Family bonds and loyalty mean all here in the Highlands, sir.” He had other thoughts on why she had taken those pages, but he intended to discover the truth himself. Instincts sharpened by a cautious nature and years of covert work taught him to keep his own counsel.
    “She had the documents, and she looks like this Katie Hell, as far as we know. Clearly she was up to something.”
    “Perhaps I was hasty, sir. My head was not clear that night.” Alec swirled the rum in the cup, stared at it. “At the time, I did take her for this Katie Hell we’ve been after.”
    “And now you are not certain?”
    Oh, he was very sure the girl was the notorious Katie Hell and a Jacobite spy, Alec thought to himself. And somehow he would find out what she knew about certain matters of rebellion before the English found out. He had an interest in matters of Jacobite espionage and an involvement he kept scrupulously secret.
    “I think she should be interrogated, sir,” Alec said. “But her treatment here is vile. That is my chief concern just now.”
    “I’ll leave the matter to Colonel Grant, and to you. Both of you have been Kate’s, uh, happy victims.” Wade lifted a brow.
    Alec set his cup down. “General, if word gets about that a Scotswoman was ill treated at this garrison, there will be an uproar among Jacobite