The Rebel Wears Plaid by Eliza Knight

The Rebel Wears Plaid

The Rebel Wears Plaid by Eliza Knight (Prince Charlie’s Angels #1)
English | 2020 | Historical Romance | ePUB | 2.1 MB

Toran Fraser encounters a mysterious rebel, and he can’t resist being recruited to her cause…
Toran Fraser is hell-bent on taking down the Jacobites. On a late-night mission, he’s intercepted by a woman known only as “Mistress J,” who’s determined to put Prince Charlie back on the throne of Scotland. Toran can’t resist her appeal—especially with her pistol pointed at his heart—and suddenly finds himself joining the rebellion…

By day, highborn Jenny Mackintosh runs her estate in the Highlands. By night, she’s one of Prince Charlie’s Angels—a band of Jacobite rebels. Scoffing at mortal danger, she raises coin, delivers weapons, and recruits soldiers for the rebellion. When she encounters a handsome Highlander who is clearly on the run, she is more than a little intrigued. She isn’t expecting to be his enemy…

Wind whipped at Jenny Mackintosh’s hair as she raced for her life to escape from the English. She and her small band of men pushed their mounts to the limit, flying across the moors, the crack of pistols cutting the night air behind them. At any moment, she’d feel the sting of a bullet in her back.

What else should a rebel recruiting an army expect?

Sweat beaded on her brow and dripped down her back, and her hands trembled against the leather straps of the reins.

“To the forest,” she called to her five partners in rebellion following behind her, but her words were lost in the noisy thrum of pounding hooves against the earth. Leaning to the right, she urged her horse down a slope, over a boulder, and onto an unmarked path that led toward the forest, hoping they’d lose the redcoats.

The shouts of the dragoons behind them were fainter now, but that didn’t mean they were out of danger.

She burst through the trees, and a twig caught in her hair, the wrench stinging her scalp. Still, she didn’t cry out.

Once she knew they were out of sight, she reined in her horse, her heart racing. Jenny tugged the twig from her hair and threw it on the ground, wishing it were the bloody English so she could stomp them into dust as easily. She stroked her mount’s mane, patting his neck in thanks for the hard gallop, then reached up to rub at the tightness in her own.

They waited in silence, their breaths growing slower as the minutes ticked by. The shots had ceased the moment she and her soldiers had been able to break away from their enemies’ sight, but the pounding of the horses’ advance still thundered in her ears—or was that her heart?

Jenny focused her gaze through the foliage and waited for the dragoons to catch up. They’d only been caught once, a few months ago. Jenny had escaped with her life that time, but there were several others who hadn’t been as lucky. King George, the usurper, had sent his dragoons to apprehend anyone with sympathies to Prince Charles Stuart, the rightful heir to the Kingdom of Great Britain. King George had given Charles the moniker the Young Pretender, and his father, the Old Pretender.

Prince Charlie’s father, King James, had named him Regent of Great Britain, and regent was the name under which she and other Jacobite supporters were bent on returning the prince to the throne. King George would be tossed back to Germany where he had been born and raised and should have remained.

Despite the brightness of tonight’s moon that allowed them a good view of the road, the brambles and pines were thick, veiling her and her men’s massive horses from their enemies. When the first half dozen redcoats rode past, they did not see the Scots hidden just a few feet away. They barely slowed, too busy chasing phantoms.

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