by Amanda Scott
“Aye, he had it built twenty years ago, thinking that he would like to travel by sea. But he discovered a strong distaste for shipboard life. Since he cannot swim, one hesitates to name him coward—”
“Aye, but physically, he is one,” Ivor said. “Last year, he sent men to attack Rothiemurchus, my home in the Highlands. But although he sent two armies, he neither led nor accompanied either. Their leaders wisely turned back when the snow-laden Cairngorms and our forces proved too fierce for them.”
“I heard about that,” Jake said. “However, Albany rarely risks his own hide or dirties his own hands to get what he wants. Recall that the man has entered his sixty-second year and is still as formidable as ever. It is true that he wants to rule the North. But, sakes, so does Donald of the Isles.”
“In troth,” Ivor said, “when you told me that you were our transport, I did think that you would take us farther north.”
“Not at this season,” Jake said. “Winter still owns the landscape and grows fiercer in the north. You surely know what Lochaber, Glen Mór, and the high straths can be like from February through June. At present, in the Isles, the sea can produce thirty-foot waves, which would terrify your passengers. In Dumbartonshire, you’ll be closer to St. Andrews and have easier going. You’ll find it hard enough crossing from Loch Lomond to Doune through the lower glens. Many are likely still snowbound.”
“You may be right. I’ve just come from Rothiemurchus, in Strathspey. Winter has been mild there this year, but I doubt that our charges would deem it so.”
“Not when they are used to weather at Turnberry, Stirling, and Edinburgh,” Jake said. “How likely is Albany to come after you?”
Ivor grimaced. “The wicked duke seems to know all. So I’d not be surprised if he already knows that his grace is sending James to a safer place.”
“That is my experience of him, too,” Jake said.
“Also, if anyone tells him about this ship, he’ll know we took to the sea.”
“Nay, for he called this boat the Serpent Royal. I call it Sea Wolf.”
“The name you called yourself at St. Andrews,” Ivor said, smiling.
“Aye,” Jake said. “This design was new when Albany had it built, but many such boats ply the seas today. He would not recognize it merely from a description. The women will likely pose a greater problem for you. Nobbut what the lass is a pretty thing and flirtatious withal.”
“Too flirtatious,” Ivor said, remembering her easy smiles and pert manner. “I assume that you can control your men.”
“Aye, sure,” Jake said. “Although she does look to be a cozy armful.”
“Then you will control yourself, too, I trow.”
Jake grinned. “Have you an interest there, me lad?”
“I have not. In any event, I’ve no time for any such interest until James is safe inside St. Andrews Castle and under Traill’s watchful eye.”
“Aye, well, my long vision is nowt to match yours and the light in that cavern was dim, but I did note that great bruise on your gizz straightaway. So I wondered.”
Ivor changed the subject. However, when he went back out on deck, the first thing he saw was the nursery maid. She stood at the stern beside the helmsman, smiling flirtatiously at him in full view of every oarsman.
Thanks doubtless to Jake’s having mentioned the bruise on his cheek, his mind shifted abruptly to his dream at Turnberry and the fierce redheaded wench that he had found in his bed. The memory increased his irritation with the nursery maid.
Drawing a deep breath, he let it out slowly as he strode along the gangway.
Chapter 3
Marsi, having accepted Hetty’s assurance that she would get Jamie settled sooner without her help, had left the two of them to sort their things. Since then, she had been enjoying the fresh sea air and a cheerful conversation with the man at the helm, who was kindly explaining his duties to her.
To talk with such a man, an expert at his job, and have him talk to her with the ease of one conversing with an equal had been an unusual and fascinating experience. Then she saw Hawk step out of the cabin at the front or what her new friend called the stem of the boat. At the same time, Jamie emerged from their cabin.
“Ye’d better come, Marsi,” the boy said. “I told ye she’d be sick. Sakes, she got sick once in a wee rowboat on Loch Leven.”
“Good lack,” Marsi exclaimed, hurrying toward him.
Jamie turned and pushed the door open for her. But as she moved to pass him, she heard Hawk say, “One moment, lass.”
Turning back as he stepped down from the central gangway, she was reminded again of his muscular body and height.
Ignoring his frown, she said, “Did you want me, sir? Hetty is… that is, Mistress Henrietta is sick. So unless you need something impor—”
It is important,” he said. “You should not be out here alone like this.”
“I wanted fresh air. That cabin is tiny. And with three of us inside—”
“Never mind your excuses, lass. It is enough that I tell you not to come out alone. I will tell Mistress Henrietta as well, because—”
“I just told you, Hetty is sick. So it would be better—”
“Do not interrupt me again,” Hawk said.
Indignantly, she opened her mouth to point out that he had just as rudely cut her off but shut her mouth again when she remembered her role. “I beg pardon, sir. I be that worried about her that I forgot me place. I ken fine that she would say I must mind my manners, even so. Jamie, do ye get back inside, too, now.”
“Nay, then,” Jamie said. “It smells bad in there. I was nearly sick, too, so Hetty said tae hie m’self outside.”
“You go and look after her,” Hawk told Marsi. “I’ll look after the lad.”
“Is aught amiss here?”
Shifting her gaze past Hawk, Marsi saw the captain at the near end of the gangplank. When he grinned, she grinned back.
Hawk, turning toward him, said, “Mistress Henrietta is sick, Wolf. The lad wants nowt to do with that wee cabin now.”
“I don’t blame him,” the captain said. “If he plays chess, I keep an old set in the forecastle cabin. Or I can show you both more of the boat whilst the lass looks after Mistress Henrietta. How sick is she?”
Jamie said, “She threw up in that pail that sits in the corner.”
“Then fetch it out here, lass, and we’ll empty and rinse it for you,” the captain said. “You won’t want to keep it in there. Come to that, if your mistress will not object to my presence, I’ll go in and open the portholes to freshen the air.”
“I wanted tae do that,” Jamie said. “But Hetty said we must wait and ask ye. Nae one did though. Then, after she threw up, I felt too sick tae do it.”
“Go on in, lass,” the captain said when Marsi hesitated. “Fetch out the pail and ask her if I should open the ports. If she objects, I’ll tell you how to do it.”
“Aye, sir,” Marsi said. Avoiding Hawk’s grim gaze, she went into the cabin, only to find that Jamie had been right about the stench. Her stomach roiled in protest, and she had all she could do not to turn and rush back out.
Hetty was leaning against the wall by the washstand, still holding the pail and its odious contents. Her face was ashen.
“Let me take that, Hetty,” Marsi said gently. “You must sit down.”
“I’m having all I can do to stand still so I don’t jar any more loose from inside,” Hetty said weakly. “I fear that if I move, this dreadful floor may heave up again and I’ll fall.”
“I could help you to the lower bed or to the table, where you can sit down.”
“Nay, I’m too heavy for ye, my la—”
“Hush, Hetty! What if they should hear you?”
“Ye should tell them who ye be,” Hetty said, her voice stronger.
“Aye, perhaps later,” Marsi said. “Captain Wolf and Hawk are just outside, and the captain bade me fetch the pail so someone can rinse it out. He also offered to open those w
indows if you do not object to his presence. Doubtless he or Hawk would also help you to a seat.”
“One dislikes imposing on them, especially as I could be sick all over—”
“Don’t be daft, Hetty,” Marsi said curtly, not wanting to hear where she might be sick. “It will do Hawk good to help you. Sithee, he has just been scolding me for going out on deck alone. As if any of the men would bother me aboard this ship with their captain just a step away.”
“Don’t expect sympathy from me,” Hetty said in much her usual way. “Ye should no be on this boat, so dinna be complaining about your lot whilst ye pretend to be someone ye’re not.”
“But, Hetty, if I had stayed, Albany would have got me. And you ken fine that he will force me to marry Lord Redmyre. I don’t like Redmyre, Hetty. He said he looked forward to reforming my character and controlling my estates.”
“Even so…” But with a click of her tongue, Hetty paused, then said, “If the captain told ye to fetch this pail, ye’d better do it if ye dinna want to suffer his scolds as well as Hawk’s. But, prithee, hurry back with the pail!”
“Aye, sure,” Marsi said, gingerly removing it from Hetty’s grip. She tried to ignore its contents and hoped Hetty would not be sick again before she could return. Outside, she looked from Hawk to Captain Wolf, wondering what to do with the pail.
Before she had to ask, the captain summoned an oarsman to take it away.
Relieved, she savored a few refreshing breaths of sea air before she said to Wolf, “Hetty does not mind if you go in, sir. In troth, if one of you could help her to the bed or to that wee table, where she can sit, she will be more comfortable.”
“You should have helped her before you brought out the pail,” Hawk said.
“She wouldna let me, sir,” she said, remembering to speak as a maid would and fearing that she had forgotten with Wolf. “She said that did she fall, she’d be gey like tae take me wi’ her. ’Twas Hetty herself did say tae ask ye tae do it.”
“I’ll do it before I open the ports,” Wolf said. “I doubt she will thank me for encouraging her to move about, but she’ll be fain to have fresh air.”
“Take the pail, sir,” Marsi said. “She do still be queasy.”
He grinned. “Aye, sure, mistress. That floor do be the devil and all tae clean, too. I ken that fine, m’self, for I ha’ cleaned it many a time.”
His tone, not to mention his sudden use of less than noble accents, startled her, making her fear that her slip, if indeed she had made one, had given her away.
He said no more but took the pail from the man who had emptied it and went inside. Marsi held her breath, listening for sounds from within. She realized only then that she should have taken the pail in to Hetty herself. Aware that she ought never to have suggested that the captain do it, she waited for Hawk to say so.
He stood behind her, and she knew that she could not stand there indefinitely. But neither could she walk away without knowing if Hawk also suspected something.
Unable to think of a better tactic, she turned and said, “Be ye still vexed wi’ me, sir? I dinna ken the ways o’ this ship, but I’d liefer no vex ye or the captain.”
He seemed to study her face until she stopped speaking. Then he said, “I am not vexed with you, nor is it my place to scold or correct you unless your behavior jeopardizes our undertaking. Whether you should have told Wolf to take the pail—”
“I ken fine that I should not,” she said. Then, belatedly recalling his stricture against interruptions, she caught her lower lip between her teeth.
Again, he kept silent until she looked at him. Then, with a slight smile, he said, “I see that you do remember some of the things I say to you.”
“Aye, sure I do,” she said, smiling back, albeit warily. “D’ye think he’s vexed wi’ me? It seemed as if he did mock the way I talk.”
“Nay, lass, ’tis more likely that he reverted to his own long-ago ways. When I first met him, his accent made him unintelligible to me at times. I come from the Highlands, where we speak the Gaelic. He had learned Gaelic, too, but he’d learned first to speak Scots. Even so, if we tried to speak Scots to each other, it was as if we spoke two different languages. Sakes, but I could understand his Gaelic better.”
“Where did ye meet, if not at your home? Did ye foster wi’ his family?”
“We were schooled together. But we can talk of such things another time. I want you to look after Mistress Henrietta now. I’ll keep James with me.”
Reminded of Jamie and realizing that he had vanished and was unlikely to have gone back into the cabin, she looked around for him.
Hawk said, “He’s by the forecastle cabin, watching the oarsmen.”
She saw him then, sitting with his knees hunched up, his arms around them.
“How did you know that? You did not even look!”
Hawk shrugged. “I saw him when he went. You were talking to Wolf.”
“Is that really his name… Captain Wolf?”
“Go back inside now, lass. Tend to your duties.”
“I’ll go, sir,” she said, stifling a sigh. “I do have one more question, though.”
“What?”
“Do you think that Albany will follow us?”
“I do, but that should not concern you. He takes no interest in maidservants.”
Feeling guilty heat fire her cheeks, knowing that Albany would take interest in her as soon as he learned that she was missing, Marsi thanked him and hurried into the cabin. There, she found the air much fresher but noted that Captain Wolf was eyeing her in a speculative and anything but flirtatious way.
Turnberry Castle
“What do you mean, James is away at present?”
Robert, Duke of Albany, wearing his usual black velvet with a collar of gold medallions befitting his royal status, fixed a stare as cold as the ice in his tone on his older brother and waited for an answer. They were in the royal audience chamber.
Albany was attended there by a muscular-looking, dark-haired gentleman some ten years his junior, richly dressed in wine-red, silver-laced velvet.
Two minions hovered nearby to attend the King.
His grace, looking frailer than ever, shifted uneasily in his chair. “Now, Robbie,” he said. “Dinna be wroth wi’ me. Ye ken fine that ye scared Annabella. Sakes, but ye terrified her so on her deathbed that she made me promise I’d no let ye take charge of our Jamie. I have but kept my word to my lass.”
“Then you need only have said as much to me, your grace. This… this sneaking about, hiding James, is behavior that should be beneath you.”
“I agree, aye,” the King said with a sigh. “But ye ken, too, that ye can nearly always persuade me to your way of thinking. Sakes, but when I go against ye, ye cut up all my peace. In the past, ye used your position as Governor of the Realm, pointing out—and rightly, I’d agree—that if I do not rule for myself, I should no gainsay your doings in my stead. But now, ’tis my son Davy who governs for me. So ’tis Davy who must decide if I have done right or wrong by our Jamie.”
“Aye, perhaps,” Albany said, suppressing his fury. He knew that to vent it would gain him naught. That his grace had named Davy, Duke of Rothesay, to govern the realm three years before was a slight that Albany had not forgiven. Nor would he. Although Davy was heir to the crown, Albany knew himself to be a better ruler. And soon, if all went as planned, he would be Governor again.
To that end, he had come to Turnberry with a purpose of even greater import than seizing custody of the younger prince. Therefore, he would not tax the King further for news of James’s whereabouts. He could easily find him on his own. He just needed to do so before any other powerful noble won control of James.
“I have documents for your signature, your grace,” he said instead, casually.
With visible relief, the King nodded and said, “Aye, sure, Robbie, I warrant they must pertain to Stirling Castle, since ye do be still our constable there.”
Gesturing to the man w
ho had accompanied him to the chamber, Albany said, “Lindsay of Redmyre has them. You’ve heard me speak of Redmyre, I think.”
“I have, aye.” Nodding to the duke’s companion, the King said, “You are welcome at Turnberry, sir. Forbye, I suspect that you have come to pay your respects to the lady Marsaili Drummond Cargill.”
“I have, aye, your grace,” the man said, making his bow.
Albany said bluntly, “Redmyre has come to claim his bride, your grace. One must hope that you have not misplaced her as well.”
Ivor joined James by the forecastle cabin. When the boy looked up at him, making no move to stand, Ivor sat beside him.
“If the captain should approach you, as I just did,” he said, “you must get up, lad. That is what he would expect of any man on his boat, let alone a lad of seven.”
“Ye’ll have tae remind me of such things,” James said, staring over his knees at the backs of the oarsmen as they rowed. Although the air was cold, a number of them had removed the baggy shirts that they called their sarks.
Ivor thought for a moment, then said, “I believe that if you consider how you expect lesser folks to behave toward you, you will ken how to act. People expect a lad your age to make mistakes, but few such lads would get away with behaving as if everyone else must bow to them. Those who see you behaving so will think that you either are mad or are pretending to be what you are not. Then they will talk. Your uncle has ways of hearing such talk, so you must take care.”
“Aye, sure, but I dinna like deception.”
“Nor do I,” Ivor replied. “I loathe deception and usually punish deceivers. I punish liars most severely when I catch them at it, so I am glad to know that you agree with me on that subject.”
“Then why did ye undertake a task that requires such deception?”
“Because his grace, your father, asked me to. This task is not about me or my opinions. It is about the future of Scotland, James. You may well be Scotland’s future if you manage to survive long enough. Mayhap I should not say such a thing to you at your tender age. I do not want to frighten you, lad. But—”