by King, Susan
"But—"
"Hush you," he said. "We are both tired, and such matters cannot ease our minds, or our bodies. Lay down now, and close your eyes. Go on." When she did not move, he pushed down on her shoulders.
Stunned, she sat down on the ground and lay on her side. He knelt and tucked the thick plaid around her. She watched him, saw his face as if in a dream, wreathed by mists and the weak light of the dawn.
"Tell me," she said. "I want to know what happened."
Duncan brushed at the hair that edged her brow. "Someday I will tell you. But not now." He slid his hand over her head. "I do not understand how you could have seen that. But you did. Somehow you did." His eyes were keen and blue through the fog. "I wonder if you speak the truth in all your visions, after all."
"Duncan." She felt for his hand, and he wrapped his fingers over hers. "I am beginning to be afraid of the truth."
"Mo càran," he said. "Do not worry."
"I only want you safe, Duncan," she whispered. Fatigue crept over her like the enveloping mist, obscuring coherent thought, dragging her under. She lay down on the plaid and rested her cheek on her hand, closing her eyes.
After a moment, she heard his faint whisper as she drifted into sleep. "Somehow, mo càran, I will stay safe."
* * *
Elspeth laughed again, a light trill that floated up with the mist and echoed faintly. She let the joyous feeling wash through her, welcome after the unhappiness of an hour earlier. She saw Duncan grin, a grudging smile, and it lifted her heart further.
"Hush you," Duncan said. "You will wake Callum. A short nap and you are as giddy as a babe. I told you I could not sing."
She smiled. "And I promised to teach you. Listen again, now." She sang one line from a song, a simple, engaging pattern, her notes pure and round.
Duncan sighed and tried to imitate her. His voice strained over the melody, and fell flat. Elspeth nodded patiently, and repeated the third and fourth notes. He tried the line, and the tune seemed to collapse in the air.
"The MacDonalds will hear us," he grumbled. "We will lead them right to the cattle."
"If anyone passes by the loch in this fog, they will think this isle is haunted and they will run quickly," she said.
"Hah. They will imagine some frightening beast if they hear me sing. But Callum's snores will drown us both out, I think."
She smiled and shook her head. "Listen, and then I want you to sing with me. And sit straighter. Let the breath be open. Then match your notes to mine, only much lower. You can."
He grunted, and she sang, and repeated the line. After an awkward beginning, he hit one strong note, and then another. He lifted his brows in surprise.
"I told you," she said, and sang the whole verse. He went with her, up and down, hitting more sour than sweet notes, but his voice was stronger, deeper, less strained than before.
"Well, then," she said. "Now no one will think something wicked haunts this isle."
He took her hand again. "Sing, and I will listen," he said. "And if the MacDonalds come this way looking for their cattle, they will think a fairy guards it, and run the other way."
Chapter 15
`How many small fishes
Do swim the salt sea round?
Or what's the seemliest sight you'll see
Into a May morning?'
~"Proud Lady Margaret"
"Ah," said Kenneth, frowning up at the raftered ceiling, "what is sharper than a thorn?"
"A dirk," Callum said, but Kenneth shook his head.
"A woman's tongue," Ewan offered. Elspeth frowned at him.
"Hunger," Magnus said. Kenneth nodded, caught. "Well, then," Magnus said, taking his turn, "what is whiter than milk, and softer than silk?"
"Clouds," Kenneth suggested.
"Snow," Ewan said.
"Curds," Callum said. His cousins stared at him.
"Down of a feather," Elspeth said. Magnus nodded at her.
"My turn," she said, sitting forward. Her brow creased as she pondered her next riddle. The others waited.
Duncan relaxed against the high back of carved chair, listening to the riddles fly back and forth. He drained the last sip of his heather ale and looked around the great hall. Darkness filled every corner, and a peat fire glowed in the central iron basket; though the hour was very late, the Frasers still sat in the hall. They had eaten their fill of a large and lavish dinner, including what Flora had announced with delight as MacDonald mutton gracing the stew.
After the meal, there had been some singing. Duncan had declined to join, finally relenting enough to hum; Elspeth had been pleased enough with that, he thought. Then the riddling had begun, a pastime that the Frasers obviously enjoyed.
Elspeth cleared her throat now, and sat forward. "Tell me," she said, "what is a hoop by day, and a snake at night?"
Ewan chuckled. "`By day like a hoop, by night like a snake, who answers this riddle, I take for a mate'. That is an old one, Elspeth. We all know it. A belt."
She made a quick face at him. "Well, then, try this one. What is never, ever silent?" Her cousins glanced at each other, puzzled.
Duncan set down his cup. "The sea is never silent."
"Ah! Duncan answered, and will have to be your mate," Kenneth said. Someone laughed.
"Whoever would try to marry me, I would set him a harder riddle than that one," Elspeth said firmly.
"Would you?" Hugh asked. "Would you set a challenge, like in the old tales?"
Elspeth nodded. "I might do so."
"You should have tried that on Ruari MacDonald," Kenneth said. "He lacks the wit for riddles. We would not have had to refuse the marriage offer then."
"Robert had to refuse that offer after his meddlesome attempt to give Elspeth to the MacDonalds," Hugh reminded them. "Ruari has enough wit to be offended by that. Elspeth knows she should beware Ruari. We should all beware."
Duncan saw that Elspeth pinched her mouth shut at that. "Ruari will not bother me again," she said. "Now then. Duncan Macrae answered my riddle, and he must say one next."
Earlier, watching Elspeth, Duncan had remembered a riddle that his father had taught him many years ago. He did not think she would like it much, but he could think of no other.
"What is blacker than the raven?" he asked.
Elspeth glanced at him, startled.
"Night," Callum said.
"Not in the Highlands," Duncan said wryly.
"Ink," Ewan tried.
Elspeth continued to stare at him; he felt her glance, wide and wary. He turned his head now and looked at her. "Elspeth knows," he said.
"Death is blacker than the raven," she murmured.
"It is," he said. "Have you another riddle?"
"I am done riddling for a while," she said crisply, reaching for the flask that sat on the table. She poured some ale into her cup. When Callum and Kenneth slid their cups toward her, she poured some for them as well.
Hugh reached for another flask and measured himself a generous dram, offering the container to Duncan. Swallowing a little of the amber liquor, Duncan felt the penetrating heat slip down and spread easily through his body.
Magnus asked for another song, and Elspeth nodded, reaching for the clarsach, the little table-harp. She tipped it toward her and settled it against her shoulder. Strumming the strings with supple fingers, she sang an old song. Duncan recalled hearing it before, the tale of a woman and a blacksmith, both wizards competing to outdo the other in magic. Each time the blacksmith sought the woman's maidenhead, the woman outsmarted him, until she finally decided to lay with him, but on her own terms. The song was quick and witty, and Elspeth sang it with a light, wry tone.
Her voice was as clear as water poured over silver. He studied the fine planes of her face, and the warm gold and copper blend of her hair. He watched her slender fingers on the harpstrings, and remembered those fingers against his lips, tracing over his body. With an inner shudder that was far more pleasant and warming than the drink, he thought ab
out stroking her body with his own fingers, and tasting the sweet flavor of her skin.
Relaxing back against the chair, he looked at her through hooded eyes, thinking about the delights that they had shared in the shieling hut. He began to imagine more pleasures that they could share in the near future. Drawing a deep breath, blowing it out quickly, he realized suddenly that there might be no future encounters for them.
Soon he would obtain the Frasers' signatures on the bond, and leave Glenran. Although Elspeth maintained that she wanted this to happen, Duncan was not so certain now that he wanted to leave. Every moment that he spent with her seemed to become another reason to stay here, to postpone the signing of the bond of caution, to let time spin out indefinitely.
But he could no longer ignore his legal duty. As the queen's lawyer and representative, his duty to the crown must be completed.
But he did not know how to complete what had begun with Elspeth Fraser. He wanted to ride back to Glenran for her after he delivered the bond to the council, but knew she did not want him to do that.
Elspeth finished the song, and handed the harp to Ewan, who began to tighten the strings while they spoke quietly.
Hugh reached for the flask again, and poured some into his own cup. "Nearly a week had passed since the raid," he said to Duncan. "And the only counter-raid from the MacDonalds has been one weak foray, when we lost no more than ten head of cattle."
"We have frightened the MacDonalds into better behavior for a while," Kenneth said, overhearing.
"Perhaps," Duncan answered. "But we all knew that our raid was a gamble. I hoped, by the time we rode out, that the MacDonalds would have signed their bond of caution."
"Since their only retaliation has been one small raid, then their bond has obviously been signed," Hugh said. "Nothing less would deter them from a full-scale raid against us."
"The MacDonalds must avoid confrontation with your clan." Duncan sat back, swirling the liquid left in his cup. "And now, my friends, it is time to sign your own bond." He looked at them, confident that he could finish this task at last. The Frasers trusted him now, and more importantly, owed him a favor.
A voice in his thoughts whispered that he did not want to see the task finished now. He could not leave Elspeth so easily. He set his jaw and pushed the thought away.
"I must deliver the document to the Council," he continued, "before they send someone up here looking for me. I have been gone weeks longer than I had planned. Summer is well past."
"The autumn nights are growing dark and chilly," Kenneth said. "This is perfect weather for reiving."
"No more reiving for Clan Fraser," Duncan said. "I will see you pen your names on that paper now. I must leave for Edinburgh as soon as it is done." He refused to look over at Elspeth.
"I will sign the bond," Hugh said quietly. "With one condition."
Though a brief nod was his only outward reaction, Duncan was surprised—and suspicious—at Hugh's easy compliance. The MacShimi had resisted with fierce determination for the two months that he had been at Glenran.
"And what is the condition?" Duncan asked.
"Marry my cousin Elspeth," Hugh said.
Duncan wanted to look at Elspeth, but somehow he could not turn his head. He felt her there, near him, an arm's length away, heard her wordless exclamation of surprise, felt her hard silence after.
Around the table, a rippling murmur of agreement passed through the Frasers. They obviously approved, nodding and smiling at him.
"Do what?" he asked.
"Marry my cousin Elspeth," Hugh repeated calmly. "There is clearly some feeling between the two of you. My cousins and I have discussed this. We want you to marry our cousin."
"You did not discuss it with me," Elspeth snapped.
Duncan looked at her then. Her eyes glittered like cold silver. She glanced at him briefly before turning to the MacShimi. "How can you do this without asking me?"
"You should marry, Elspeth," Magnus said. "It is time."
"Not this man," she said.
"We have chosen this man for you. Macrae will be a good husband for you. We are concerned for your safety," Hugh said. "Ruari MacDonald has already approached you once. He may do so again, and if he does, he will try more than words."
"I told Ruari not to come back," she said, lifting her chin.
"Do you think he will listen to a woman's warning?" Magnus asked, leaning forward. "You may have angered him more by humiliating him that day. We want you safely wed and taken away from here."
"Taken away?" She sat up suddenly.
"Duncan lives in Edinburgh," Kenneth said. "There you would be safe, away from Ruari MacDonald."
She folded her arms over her chest. "I will never live in the Lowlands. And I cannot marry the lawyer."
Hugh turned to Duncan. "Marry the girl, and we will sign." "In the Lowlands, we call such a bargain black rent," Duncan said in a low voice. While he had strong feelings for Elspeth Fraser, he would not consent to wed her like this.
He could see that she felt the same. Her flashing gaze lanced every cousin who sat around the table, and pierced him too in passing.
"You want the document signed. We want Elspeth safely away from here," Hugh said.
"I will not barter with you on this," Duncan said.
Elspeth leaned forward. "Listen to the lawyer."
"Marry the girl, and the bond will be honored," Hugh said.
Duncan stroked his fingers along his jaw and glanced around the table. The Frasers looked at him eagerly. He felt like one of the Frasers' trout, stunned and grabbed before he knew what had happened. Caught fast. If he did not accept her hand, Hugh would offer her to another man. Duncan knew that the MacShimi planned to wed his cousin off to protect her from the MacDonalds. Duncan realized that he had no hesitation about marrying her; the choice, suddenly, was no choice at all.
He glanced at Elspeth. A range of emotions struggled across her face. Anger tightened her mouth and flared her nostrils; indignation lifted her slender jaw and throat. But he saw fear, too, shadowing her clear eyes. He could almost feel it.
"I will only marry her if she wants it," he said.
Hugh turned to Elspeth. "I am your guardian. I say you will marry him and leave Glenran."
She stood, fisting her hands at her sides, her breath heaving beneath her plaid. A warm flush spread across her cheeks.
"This is best, Elspeth. We cannot trust Ruari MacDonald," Magnus said. "Later, Duncan can bring you back to the Highlands. A handfasting for a year."
"Handfasting is not generally done in the Lowlands," Duncan said quietly. "That is a Highland custom."
"Then he will marry you before a priest," Hugh said.
"Unless he follows the Protestant faith," she muttered.
"A priest will do," Hugh said.
Elspeth narrowed her eyes, and Duncan saw something more there now, replacing the fear: a spark of cleverness, a sharp sudden blade of thought that made him wary. "Duncan Macrae must answer my riddle before I accept any arrangement with him."
"No games, Elspeth," Magnus said. "We are serious."
"So am I. Many a maiden in times past took a husband on the strength of a riddle. I will do that also. If Duncan cannot answer it, I do not have to wed him."
"Agreed," Duncan said. His voice, deep and sure, sliced through the rising commentary from her cousins. "Say your riddle, then."
"This is no tale told by a seanchaidh," Hugh said. "We want this done."
She ignored him. "No riddle, but a challenge to be answered." Her eyes flashed like cold stars. "Give me an entire sea, all foam and spray, with a bottom of gold and silver, and place it in my hands."
Magnus blew out a long breath. Kenneth and Callum both whistled low, and Ewan stared, wordless. Hugh shook his head slowly.
"Give me a day," Duncan said. "You will have your answer."
He stood up. "And then I will say whether we wed or do not."
With a tight smile, he bowed, and turning, left
.
* * *
Tossing in his bed from side to side, punching the pillow, yanking at the fur coverlet, Duncan thought about the riddle. Angling first one way and then the other in his thoughts, he finally decided that Elspeth, being quick-witted, had puropsefully created a challenge for him that had no firm solution.
The puzzle was vague enough to frustrate a man who dealt in logic. She probably hoped that he would leave for Edinburgh before he could find an answer. But he was determined to think of something. Every riddle had a solution. If he could get the Frasers to sign that bond, then a riddle was simple.
He rubbed a hand over his bleary face, imagining with chagrin his attempt to explain all of this to the Privy Council. Soon sleep began to spin a subtle web, and he relaxed.
He dreamed vividly and awoke before dawn in a cold sweat.
In the dream, he had been standing on the shore of a sea, with darkness all around him. Far out in the water, black as the night sky, he could see a faint pale shape. Elspeth was in the water, drowning, calling for help, sinking under the waves.
Duncan found himself, in the way of dreams, suddenly out in the water, swimming, struggling to reach her. Each stroke swept him farther away. He heard her cries, but could not move closer.
Gold and silver seemed to be everywhere, sparkling in the moon and the stars, reflecting in the water. He scooped up a handful of water and gold coins spilled out of his hand. Swimming with determined strokes through the dark, glistening waves, he seemed to only tread water. Elspeth cried out, and a wave took her under. She would die if Duncan did not reach her in time.
He awoke, jerking upright, pushing against the cloying covers. The dark silence of the room gradually penetrated his awareness. Breathing hard, he stared around him at black shadows and the dim glow of the hearth.
His heart beat rapidly, and his insides felt wrenched from the intense emotions of the dream. Still caught in the aftermath, he wanted to grab Elspeth up into his embrace and hold her there safely. But he knew she was in no real, immediate danger.
He was suddenly totally determined to solve the riddle and marry the girl. He could not leave her now. He simply could not ride away from Glenran, and go back to Edinburgh without taking her with him. But she would not agree until he answered her preposterous riddle.