by Amanda Scott
With guilty embarrassment, she said, “She does know I rode out of town, because she suggested that I ride to Lestalric to visit Adela. I’d thought I would, too, but then I went the other way. So although I never said I would go to Lestalric, I do know she assumes that I did. I would have told her the truth on my return, though,” she added quickly, “even without knowing that Hugo will tell her.”
“If you’ll accept my advice, tell her at once, before you say something that lets her learn the truth without the benefit of your having confessed it to her first.”
She nodded, intending to do just that. But when they arrived at Sinclair House, they discovered that Isobel was not at all concerned about Sidony’s activities, because Sir Michael Sinclair had returned home.
If he was surprised to see Giff with Sidony, he did not show it but stepped forward at once with a delighted smile to shake his hand.
Giff greeted Michael with equal pleasure, for he liked him very much and had not seen him for several years. When the two had shaken hands, a beaming Lady Isobel tucked her hand into the crook of her husband’s arm.
“How very kind you are to escort Sidony home, Sir Giffard,” she said. “I trust you enjoyed a pleasant ride.”
“We did, my lady,” he said, relieved that she had not mentioned her certain belief that they had come from Lestalric. “But you cannot want to hear about us with Sir Michael so recently home. You must be wishing me on my way again.”
“No, indeed, for my eager husband neglected to feed himself on the road and has ridden all the way from Glasgow with only his breakfast to sustain him. So we mean to enjoy an early supper. If you are hungry, you must join us at the table.”
He grinned, saying, “I am one who can always eat, my lady. I shall be delighted to accept your invitation but only if you are certain you want me.”
“I insist, for you will want to visit with Michael, and unless you leave now, by the time you return to Lestalric, you may find you have missed supper there.”
That was true, and as he had missed the midday meal at Roslin by riding straight on to catch up with Sidony, he was very hungry. So he gratefully accepted Lady Isobel’s suggestion that he refresh himself first, as well as her assurance that, since Michael had arrived only a quarter hour before them, they did not even mean to change to more suitable clothing.
“We’ll take our supper just as we are,” she said, leaning a little against her husband and smiling up at him when he put an arm around her.
“How is Will?” Lady Sidony asked when Isobel had released Michael and he and Giff had moved away toward the stairway.
Giff turned back, curious. She had not mentioned anyone named Will before.
“I think he is better, poor thing,” Isobel said. “He has not cried as much today. I was just telling Michael about his teething difficulties when you arrived.”
Stifling a grin, Giff followed his host.
Sidony watched them go, trying to think how best to make her confession. Isobel was unlikely to carp at what she had done, because Isobel had often done similar things. But Giff had made Sidony feel guilty about her deception, and there was no getting around the fact that she had certainly deceived Isobel and would continue deceiving her for as long as she let her go on believing what was untrue.
Accordingly, when Isobel precipitated the matter by asking how it was that Sir Giffard had offered to escort her home from Lestalric, she said, “We did not come from Lestalric, I’m afraid.”
“No?”
“No.” Now that the time had come, she found it harder than expected, so before she could lose courage, she said, “I rode to Hawthornden instead. I did not stay,” she added quickly. “And I did take two of the lads, and there were travelers on the road, as well as sheep and carts, and then Sir Giffard, so I was quite safe.”
“Were you?” Isobel said gently, too gently for Sidony’s comfort.
She felt her face growing hot again. “I know you must be angry,” she said.
“Nay, not angry, just disappointed that you would do such a thing. Was Sir Giffard at Hawthornden? Even with two gillies attending you, riding so far was not wise, dearling. But, having gone there, why did you not visit with Sorcha?”
“She was at Roslin,” Sidony said. She nearly told her about seeing the men in the gorge, but since she wanted to ask what they might have been doing there and feared that the men might return while they were discussing possibilities, she did not. Instead, she said, “I knew that if I went to Roslin, I’d not get away till much later, and I did not want you to worry.”
Giff and Michael rejoined them, and they enjoyed a pleasant meal, but looks passed often between the men and Sidony sensed Giff’s impatience, so when Michael pushed away his trencher, his next words, though frustrating, came as no surprise:
“Let us retire to another room with this excellent claret, Giff. I want to hear about all your escapades since last we met, and I’ve much to tell you, too. We may be late, my love,” he added, turning to his wife. “I’ll bid you good night now, and you must tell Nurse that if Will wakes in the night, she should soak a twist of cloth in brogac and water for him to suck. That was my mother’s remedy for teething bairns and should put him out for the night. I’ll wager, in your condition, with three sleepless nights behind you, you’ll more than welcome a full night’s rest.”
“I will, sir,” she said, rising as he did and standing on tiptoe to kiss him. Then, on a note of promise, she added, “But be warned that I shall not sleep until you have come to bed, too. Do not let him keep you overlong, Sir Giffard.”
“I won’t, my lady.”
Sidony reluctantly bade both men good night and remembered to thank Giff for escorting her home.
To her surprise, when Michael said he would escort Isobel as far as the main stairs and Sidony moved to follow them, Giff caught her arm.
Bending near so that only she could hear him, he murmured, “They won’t want you yet. I hope you’ve told her ladyship the truth, lass, because I shall have to tell Michael I was at Roslin today. And it won’t do, you know, for the two of them to be believing different tales. You’re sure to fall in the soup, that road.”
“I already told her,” she said. “So you may say what you like to him.”
“Good lass,” he said, his intense gaze putting fire in her cheeks again.
She licked suddenly dry lips.
“Oh, lassie, you should not do that,” he murmured, catching her close with one hand, cupping the back of her head with the other, and pressing his lips to hers.
In response, Sidony melted against him, astonished at how warm his body felt against hers and how hard it felt, too. And, this time, when his tongue slid between her lips into her mouth, she made no move to resist. Instead, she let herself savor the astonishing sensations that swept through her body.
When she licked her soft lips, Giff needed no further invitation. Nor did he give a thought to likely consequences. But he had just begun to enjoy himself, had just let one hand slip to the side of one soft breast, when his quick ears warned him that someone was coming, and he stepped quickly away from her.
“For the love of heaven, don’t show that face to Michael,” he muttered, turning to grab the poker and kneel by the fire.
When he looked up again, Michael was crossing the threshold and the lass had stepped nearer the table, where she toyed with a knife.
Turning now with admirable serenity, she said, “Has Isobel gone up, sir? I did not think either of you would welcome my presence straightaway.”
He smiled. “She’ll want you now, lassie. Why did you not shout for a gillie to attend to that, Giff?” he asked as Lady Sidony hurried from the room.
“Because I am as considerate as her ladyship is, of course,” Giff said, rising. “I thought you and your lady wife would prefer some brief solitude.”
“Well, we did,” Michael admitted. “I’ll just grab the wine jug, shall I?”
He did so, and the two of them adjourned to a
n anteroom off the hall that likewise boasted a fireplace, doubtless sharing its chimney with the hall fire.
“I was relieved to find you here,” Michael said as he drew a table out from the wall to a spot nearer the fire and indicated that Giff should pull up a stool. Fetching another, Michael set down the jug of wine and goblets he’d brought as he added, “I know you said you’d not been in town long, but I hope you’ve had an opportunity to discuss everything with Hugo and Rob.”
“I have and learned that I’d not come suitably prepared,” Giff said. “Your message was not specific, sithee, and I was down in Galloway when I got it.”
“We couldn’t be specific,” Michael said, pouring wine. “The matter is—”
“I do know what you want of me,” Giff interjected, aware that even Sinclair House might possess too-curious ears. “May we talk freely here?”
“Aye, the doors are solid, and no one has cause to listen. Also, there are no squints here, or laird’s peeks,” Michael added with a reminiscent smile. “My lass listened to Hugo and me once at Roslin. Due to Henry’s last renovation, which included walling off a portion of the hall to make a ladies’ solar for my mother, the squint there now overlooks that solar. Discovering it, Isobel let curiosity overcome good sense. Fortunately, she no longer yields to such urges.”
Giff’s thoughts drifted to Sidony’s possible urges, but Michael’s voice swiftly recalled him when he said, “Just how much do you know?”
“Everything I need to know, I expect,” Giff said. “I’m staying at Lestalric, but I rode to Roslin with Rob yesterday, spent the night at Hawthornden with Hugo, and today the two of them took me to see my cargo.”
“And?”
“If you have people you can trust to move it and load it on a ship, and if you can provide me with enough trustworthy, well-armed oarsmen to man a boat and protect it, I can get your cargo safely to Ranald on the Isle of Eigg. I assume that is still the plan if you were able to speak to him and he will take the responsibility.”
“Aye, although I did not tell him yet what he will be protecting,” Michael said. “I told him only that it was an item entrusted to us as Templars and that we felt the item would be safer well away from Midlothian.”
“If you trust the man so, why not tell him what it is?”
Michael shrugged. “‘Expect victory but calculate the dangers and prepare for miscalculation.’ Sakes, we heard that or its ilk often enough at Dunclathy. Not that you ever seemed eager to heed such maxims,” he added with a reminiscent gleam.
“So you don’t trust him completely,” Giff said, ignoring the rider.
“I do. But I don’t trust circumstance, so I did not tell him everything. Now, as to well-armed oarsmen for your ship, do you not have your own lads?”
“Recall that I rode to Edinburgh from Galloway. If I have to return for the Storm Lass and my crew, I cannot be back for at least a fortnight, mayhap as long as a month if weather in the north proves uncooperative.”
“That won’t do then.”
“Nay, and although some Sinclair ships may be closer, Rob thinks they are too well known, although I’d wager we could disguise any ship or galley if we set our minds to the task. It requires only a change of banner or sail for most longboats, although newer ones do tend to display notable variations of design.”
“Is that an insurmountable problem?”
“Irritating, perhaps, not insurmountable,” Giff said with a smile. “You sent for me, so I presume you will not cavil too much at my methods.”
“I need not tell you that we want to do the thing quietly. We had first thought to use well-armed Sinclair ships to transport it but realized we might as well walk up to Fife and tell him what we were doing.”
“Aye, sure, but, sithee, keeping the cargo quiet may not require keeping the venture quiet. A grand, noisy procession, if organized well, can conceal all.”
Michael smiled. “I suppose Hugo told you that Henry will fund us. So, do what you must, but try to keep us all from being hanged, won’t you?”
“Aye, sure. Now, tell me more about your talk with Ranald. Are you sure he won’t tell Donald about it?”
“I think he was flattered that we would entrust something to his keeping. I mentioned Donald, and Ranald agreed that he has no duty to tell him aught about the Templars or what they protect, and vowed the object would be safe with him. So he perfectly understands what he has promised. He will know what it is when he takes charge of it, of course, but until then, we’ll hold that secret close.”
“Aye, sure,” Giff agreed.
Michael grinned. “I’m surprised Rob agreed to tell you what it is. He keeps his secrets closer than most, Rob does.”
“Necessity required it if he wants me to move it.”
“I ken that fine, but you don’t know our Rob. Were it not that Fife already suspects the general whereabouts of the Stone—and that we Sinclairs have it—Rob would doubtless have fought against moving it at all.”
“How did Fife come to suspect such a thing?”
“Pure mischief and a bit of happenstance,” Michael said, pouring more wine into Giff’s goblet. “As to the first, Rob’s older brother liked to make himself important. Add to that the fact that from the day Edward of England carted his stone away, rumors that he took the wrong one have flourished. Rob’s father wondered if Logans had had aught to do with that, because Rob’s great-grandfather, in particular, was a powerful man and a close friend and battle comrade of Robert the Bruce.”
Giff realized Michael did not know how much Rob had told him, so he said, “Rob told me his grandfather informed him of the Stone’s whereabouts.”
“Good,” Michael said. “It is much easier to talk about something if one does not have to concern oneself with betraying confidences. To answer your question about Fife, however, once he began taking over more and more of the King’s affairs, virtually ruling Scotland, Rob’s brother sought to curry favor with him by suggesting that the Logans—specifically Rob—knew the Stone’s location.”
“Sakes, did Rob’s brother admit telling Fife as much?”
“Rob’s brother and father both died before we knew about any of this. It was Fife himself who let slip the fact that he’d received such information. Although he does not make good decisions in battle and can be something of a coward, he’s a damned devious fellow, is Fife, and a dangerous one. Do not underestimate him.”
“I won’t,” Giff said. “Hugo and Rob said that Fife thinks the Stone lies with the treasure and wants to find both. Would that not indicate that he searches for something that would require much more space than any one ship could provide?”
“We think he believes that portions of the treasure lie in sundry places,” Michael explained. “He has made no secret of his belief that Henry holds much of it. Indeed, he has built himself a ship with the clear intention of sailing to Girnigoe to confront him. He is unlikely to leave, though, before the King returns to Stirling where, as constable of Stirling Castle, Fife wields his greatest power over him.”
“I’d heard that he’s already assumed many of the royal duties,” Giff said.
“Most of them,” Michael said. “At Stirling, his grace is surrounded by Fife’s minions. I am more concerned now, though, about this matter of finding a ship for you, because with Fife so near at hand, we may have to move swiftly. Have you seen any vessel yet that may serve the purpose?”
“At present Leith harbors a surfeit of boats, but most are collecting wool to carry south,” Giff said. “I did note a few that might serve us, including two French longboats that may have some cargo space and a merch—”
“French longboats?”
Giff grinned. “Aye, ’tis unusual, I grant you, but the French can sometimes be as wise as the Scots in recognizing a good idea when they meet one. Another possibility is a Dutch merchantman out of Rotterdam that looks as if she might have speed. I’m more at home on a western galley, myself, but I can captain anything that carries sail—or
oars, for that matter.”
“Your longboats may not have enough room to conceal the Stone.”
“True, so I mean to visit the Dutch ship’s captain tomorrow and see if perchance he is also the owner. If not, mayhap I can persuade him to hire out his vessel for a few weeks’ time. That would satisfy us, and Fife need never know.”
“You should disguise it even so,” Michael said. “Not many Dutch sail north, so what would you think of impersonating a Norse ship? Such a ship sailing to Orkney would stir little suspicion at all. Orkney is still Norse territory, after all, and Henry receives Norse visitors two or three times a year.”
“That is not a bad option,” Giff said.
“It is at least something to consider. Now, tell me just how you came to escort my good-sister today if she was at Lestalric and you rode here from Roslin.”
At the Castle, the Earl of Fife regarded the cowering minion before him with irritation. “What the devil do you mean, they are up to something?” he demanded. “What are they doing? And take off your hat when you speak to me, Rolf Stow!”
“I dinna ken, m’lord,” the wretched Stow replied, snatching off his cap and wringing it between his hands. “But all in a moment, they ha’ guards everywhere, both sides o’ the gorge. Aye, and down in the glen. I tell ye, summat’s up for sure.”
“You do interest me,” Fife said. “But such meager information serves no one, so go back and learn more. And do not bring me such useless claptrap again. Do you expect me to ride out there myself and ask them what they mean by it all?”
“Nay, m’lord. But Sir Hugo hangs trespassers an they get too close.”
“Sir Hugo,” Fife reminded him, “does not hold the power of pit or gallows. He controls the guard at Roslin, but he lacks authority to hang anyone, so if you should learn that he has, you need only tell me. The Crown can deal with him.”
“Aye, sure, but he doesna give the order. ’Tis the countess wha’ does that. And she does hold the power, m’lord, as all ken fine. When the Earl o’ Orkney dinna be there, Countess Isabella speaks for him. And for herself, come to that.”