The Laird's Choice

by Amanda Scott

  Mag listened but heard no more from Dougal. It irked him to leave all in Ian’s hands. But he had to admit that, so far, the lad had done well. He’d be wise, though, to keep his impudent hands off of Andrena.

  Andrena was holding her breath, hoping the other boats would leave. She had stayed put when Ian jumped onto the gangway and then had winced when he’d invited Dougal MacPharlain to take whisky with the Laird of Colquhoun.

  She could see that the group on the wharf had grown larger. Men were boarding longboats there and would soon row out to aid them if necessary.

  Dougal was Parlan’s eldest son and his heir. She knew that he expected to be Chief of Clan Farlan one day. But whether he would dare to engage…

  Then she heard him shout to Ian, “If ye find our prisoner or learn of his whereabouts, I’ll expect ye to send word straightaway to Arrochar.”

  “Certes, I will, aye,” Ian said. Glancing at Andrena, he rolled his eyes heavenward.

  “You should be flogged for the lies you tell,” she said when he stepped off the gangway to stand beside her.

  As they watched the departing boats, he said, “I was punished for such, often, when I was a lad. But why should I tell Pharlain’s Dougal aught save what I hoped would send him home again?”

  “Because if he learns that you lied to him, he won’t believe you next time.”

  “Faugh,” Ian said rudely. “That lad believes what he wants to believe. So I told him what he wanted to hear.”

  “He wanted to hear where Magnus is. You did not tell him that.”

  “Nay, lass, nor would I. Didst fear that I would?”

  “I did not.”

  Putting an arm around her, he gave her a hug. “Then, all’s good,” he said.

  “All will not be good for long, my lad, if you persist in taking liberties with my wife,” Magnus said from right behind them, startling them both.

  Mag had given back the cap he’d borrowed and taken his plaid and belt from the man who had pretended to be Andrena’s soon-to-be betrothed. But he had not yet donned the garment. His irritation with Ian had increased when he’d seen him put his arm around Andrena. But he had startled them, and the lass looked at him now with an expression of incipient annoyance.

  “Sir Ian was expressing his relief and pleasure at having rid us of Dougal, sir,” she said mildly. “Surely, by now, you must know that I think of him as nowt but a brother I never had.”

  “Mayhap that is so,” Mag said, still eyeing Ian with disfavor. “But I have said that I dislike such familiarity. Until I trust him like a brother, I would fain see him keep his hands to himself.”

  “There is gratitude for you, Dree,” Ian said with a chuckle. “But the sooner we reach the wharf, the better pleased I will be. So, take your ungrateful husband yonder and do what you can to soothe his temper.”

  Nodding to his helmsman, he shouted, “Nearly there, lads! Drop the jib, and we’ll show them the grand style in which we land this agile craft!”

  Mag growled.

  “What did you say, sir?” Andrena asked softly.

  “Nowt.”

  “It sounded as if you were about to speak.”

  “If you would have that lad remain in one piece,” Mag said, “see that he keeps his hands off you.”

  “I thought his ruse was a splendid one,” she said. “I did take him to task for the wicked lies he told Dougal, though.”

  Not trusting himself to reply, Mag gestured toward the stern bench.

  Obediently taking her seat there, she said, “Do you not think he was clever?”

  “Since the ruse succeeded, it was good enough,” he said. Hoping to change the subject, he added, “Despite Ian’s cheeky behavior and untimely mirth, I do think we can trust his sworn word, lass. Nevertheless, I think you trust too easily.”

  “And I fear that you trust no one at all.”

  “Nay, then, I am just cautious. I am also curious, though. How did you know that those boats were lying in wait for us?”

  As a diversionary tactic, the question was successful, because although she ought to have anticipated it, she looked stunned. Her lips parted. She licked them and then audibly cleared her throat before she said, “By my troth, sir, I do not know how such things happen. My mother thinks my instincts are just keener than most. But I don’t know how instinct could account for what happened when I beheld that headland. I just knew, somehow, that danger lurked beyond it.”

  “Aye, well, I want to talk more about this. But we are fairly flying toward that wharf. I hope Ian knows what he’s doing now.”

  Her relief was nearly palpable. She said with a smile, “Watch then, because I have seen him do this before. Do Parlan’s men not like to show off their skills?”

  “Nay, there is little pride aboard his boats.”

  “I wonder if we might count that lack in our favor one day,” Andrena mused. When he did not reply, she said, “Art still vexed with me as well as with Ian, sir?”

  Slipping an arm around her, he drew her close. “Nay, lass, but I’m still curious. If Colquhoun would not count it an affront to his hospitality, I’d take you straight to our chamber and have a good long talk with you, right now.”

  Andrena had a feeling that she should bless Colquhoun for his stern notions of hospitality and good manners. Much as she wanted to discuss her gifts with Mag, she would rather do so well after this unpredictable mood of his had passed. She wanted to be sure he was not still angry that she had let Ian put his arm around her.

  The laird and most of his men stood on shore, watching as Ian headed the galley straight for the wharf. At the last minute, the great square lugsail dropped, the men on one side raised their blades high while those on the other dug theirs into the water, turning the galley as if on a pivot so that it settled into place with a graceful flourish.

  Men on the wharf shouted for ropes and soon made the boat fast.

  Ian leaped off and extended a hand to Andrena when she and Mag used the gangplank. As she rested her hand on Ian’s, he bent, kissed the back of hers, and then looked up, grinning, to say, “Thank you for your timely warning, lass.”

  Mag stepped off the gangplank, passed behind Ian, and to Andrena’s shock, picked him up, and chucked him off the wharf into the icy loch.

  After a moment’s stunned silence, Ian’s men surrounded Mag with a roar.

  Andrena gasped.

  Mag stood where he was and folded his arms across his broad chest. He eyed each of the men in turn, as much as daring one to touch him.

  Ian shouted something unintelligible, doubtless through a mouthful of water. Then a voice on shore that she recognized as Colquhoun’s bellowed, “Halt there, all o’ ye! The man be my guest! Leave him, and fish our Ian out of the loch!”

  Someone threw Ian a line, while Mag, with a look that Andrena easily read as guilty satisfaction, politely guided her off the wharf to their awaiting host.

  To her surprise, Colquhoun shook his head at Mag and said, “Ye two bairns havena changed a whit. Do I want tae ken what he did this time to stir your ire?”

  “No, sir,” Mag replied.

  “Then we’ll go on whiles he wrings himself out. Supper will be ready soon.” Turning toward the path, he added, “I’m assuming from your swift return, lad, that ye found Jamie at Paisley Abbey.”

  “We did, aye. Take my arm on this path, lass,” he added.

  She did so, and the men continued talking while they walked up to Craggan Tower. As Colquhoun had predicted, supper was ready to serve when they arrived.

  When Ian joined them, he sat beside his father at the table and began talking to him at once. Andrena noted that Ian’s demeanor was defensive, his tone exculpatory.

  Before a curt interjection from Colquhoun stemmed the flow, she deduced that the laird had no sympathy to offer for his son’s unexpected swim.

  “It is good that your journey took less time than you feared it might,” Lady Colquhoun said gently, diverting Andrena’s attention and reminding h
er of her own manners. “May one ask why those boats of Pharlain’s accosted ours?”

  “Dougal said they are missing a captive oarsman,” Andrena explained.

  “Your own Magnus Mòr, in fact.”

  Andrena smiled. “The laird told you. I thought he might. But Magnus may be displeased that he did, madam. He keeps his own counsel.”

  “Young men do, many of them,” Lady Colquhoun said. “Our Ian may even do so at times. More oft, he says what he thinks.”

  “Magnus calls him ‘cheeky.’ ”

  Her ladyship’s eyes danced in the same way that Ian’s did as she said, “He is impudent, aye. But one hopes he does not often annoy men as large as Magnus.”

  “Someone told you Magnus threw him in the loch.” When her hostess nodded, Andrena said, “Sithee, Mag was just annoyed. He never gets truly angry.”

  “Oh, my dear, all men get angry. All men have violence in them, too. It is no wiser to taunt a man with words than to poke a wildcat with a stick.”

  They continued to chat thus amiably until everyone had finished eating.

  Mag got up then from his place next to the apparently unrepentant Ian and stepped past him to speak to Colquhoun.

  When the laird nodded, Mag approached Lady Colquhoun and said, “My lady has endured three long days of travel, madam. She must be nigh dropping from fatigue. If you will excuse her, I mean to see that she gets a good night’s sleep.”

  Smiling, Lady Colquhoun said, “I admire your consideration, sir. I own, I had failed to notice Dree’s exhaustion. But I cannot doubt your concern for her welfare.”

  “Thank you, madam. Come along, lass.”

  “Good night, my dear; sleep well,” Lady Colquhoun said with a twinkle that revealed her belief that Mag had notions other than sleeping in mind.

  When he offered his arm, Andrena rose but pressed her lips together to avoid saying something that might suggest to her ladyship that Mag’s thoughts likely had more to do with her son’s behavior than with amorous intentions of his own.

  Chapter 13

  Mag noted Lady Colquhoun’s dancing eyes and Andrena’s tightened lips and appreciated the lass’s restraint. He purposely ignored Ian, believing that to see mischief in his eyes might result in behavior Colquhoun would deplore.

  Andrena led the way upstairs, and Mag held his peace until they reached their room and he’d shut the door behind them. Someone had drawn the curtains and lit three candles so that their light cast a warm, inviting glow over the bed.

  The stiffness of her back and shoulders as she moved to the center of the small chamber and stood without turning told him she was displeased. The candles’ glow turned her tawny, loosely plaited hair to gold.

  “We must talk, lass,” he said firmly. “If you want to read me a lecture for taking you away from the dais betimes, then have your say. But you should ken first that I won’t apologize unless I have done aught for which I must.”

  She turned then, tilting her head and eyeing him with a speculative frown.

  He could not tell if she was trying to decide whether to lose her temper or thinking something else altogether. But he had said that she could speak first.

  At last, she said, “I wish you’d just say whatever it is you want to say to me.”

  “Sakes, I thought you were vexed with me,” he said. “I’ve told you what I want to discuss. I feared that if we waited until after the laird and his lady retired for the night, we might be so tired that we’d say things we might wish we had not.”

  “I know you are displeased that I let Ian flirt with me,” she said.

  “I am not, for I did not see you encouraging him. The only blame for Ian’s behavior lies with Ian. But I do think you trust too easily, lass. If such trustfulness encourages him, I might deem it misplaced, but that is all. I also think you trusted Colquhoun too quickly and his grace, too, come to that.”

  “Sakes, where did I misstep with his grace?” she asked, clearly bewildered.

  “You told him more than was wise. Forbye, you spoke of his honor and sense of duty as if you had known him for years, when you met him only today. You next assured him of how your father will behave. What if Andrew does not act as you think he will?”

  “But he will. And I like James. I could sense that he is trustworthy. He listens and does not censure people for what they say to him. He wants to know what they think, and he should know that my father stands ready to support him.”

  “You seem to believe that you know what men are thinking, Andrena. Can you tell me what I am thinking now?”

  She hesitated, eyeing him again in that strange, measuring way.

  Then, drawing a deep breath, she released it, nodded as if she had settled something within herself, and said evenly, “May we sit down, sir? The way you loom over me, I can barely think. Moreover, since the matter is one that I do not understand myself, it is hard to describe to someone else. I will do my best, but I’d liefer do it whilst we sit face to face.”

  “Come here,” he said gently.

  The look in her dark, beautiful eyes turned wary, but she obeyed him.

  Andrena wondered what he meant to do. If only she could read his thoughts!

  He put his hands on her shoulders as he had earlier that day.

  Involuntarily, she felt herself stiffen. Her mouth dried.

  His voice still gentle, he said, “You are trying to delay this talk, to divert me from it. But you must know that you cannot. You may say anything you like to me, lass, but I have told you what I want to know. What am I thinking right now?”

  “I cannot tell you,” she said, meeting his gaze.

  “Cannot or will not?”

  “Cannot,” she said firmly. “I wish I could. I tried to explain how things are with me soon after we met. I told you that I can usually sense danger or when anyone else is nearby in the forest. But you dismissed what I said. You said that although warriors and hunters could do such things, I was neither one but only a maiden. You as much as called my father daft for giving me a dirk and teaching me to use it. Doubtless, you suspected that he had also taught me—or tried to teach me—to notice things in the forest as hunters or warriors do.”

  “I did think that, aye.” He reached for the ties of her tunic and undid them.

  “What are you doing?”

  “This is a discussion that might go more easily if we were more comfortable,” he said. “That is what I was thinking. And, because I see no suitable place in this room for us to sit as you suggested, except in the bed, I think we should continue our talk there. Prithee do not dally over your preparations.”

  She hurried through her ablutions and noted that he did likewise. From the frequent glances he gave her, she began to think that his thoughts were taking the sensual track that Lady Colquhoun’s and doubtless Ian’s had taken earlier.

  Now that he was ready to listen, though, she did want to talk, to explain herself as well as she could, so that he might begin to trust her gifts. Therefore, she kept her smock on and climbed into bed ahead of him.

  Mag did not keep anything on.

  He got into the bed, plumped the pillows up behind him, and drew her close as he pulled up the covers, so she could rest her head in the hollow of his shoulder,

  “Now, lass, tell me more about this. I can already see that I should have listened more and talked less the first time you spoke of such things.”

  “Aye, you should,” she agreed, snuggling closer. “But I don’t blame you. I have never tried to explain my abilities to anyone before. Faith, sir, for years I did not know that they were odd. They just were what they were, and I did not question them. I did tell you that my sisters and I share a close bond.”

  “You told me so, aye. Others have also mentioned it.”

  “Lina and Murie were coming to look for me that first day because they knew I had suspected intruders. Also, they sensed my shock when you startled me. They knew I was unafraid, but you have met Murie. You know how curious she can be.” />
  “That has nowt to do with what happened today, though, aye?”

  “By my troth, sir, I do not know the answer to that question. I have a special connection to the beasts of the forest that my sisters do not share. Likewise, my ability to sense other people’s emotions is stronger than theirs.”

  “Can you tell when someone is lying to you?”

  “Often. Not always. Sithee, some people lack the strong sense of guilt or wrongdoing about lying that others have. But I can tell if someone is trustworthy.”

  “Surely, not always,” he said.

  “Not as fast as I could tell with Jamie Stewart,” she murmured. “I can nearly always tell, if the person is asked a question about trustworthiness, and he answers that question—or refuses to answer it. I could tell that the King speaks from his heart and desperately wants to know whom he can trust. Also, that he values trust.”

  “Most people do,” Mag said.

  “Or say that they do. The difference is important. Men who value trust also value it in themselves, whilst those who distrust others are often untrustworthy themselves. One has only to think of liars one has met. To a man they are quick to insist that others lie, that everyone does. Men who never lie, on the other hand, are more easily gulled, because they expect others to speak the truth, too.”

  He was silent for a moment. “And you believe that Jamie values trust?”

  “I do. I believe he has a keen eye for such things, too. He did trust Ian straightaway. And I believe he trusts you to speak the truth to him.”

  “What about you, lass? You have called me mistrustful. You have also said that such men may not be trustworthy. Do you believe I speak the truth to you?”

  “You have given me no reason to disbelieve it,” she said. “Also, I was speaking of men who distrust everyone with or without cause. But I cannot read your emotions the way I read other people’s. That has frustrated me since we met, because I usually know if I’ve vexed someone before the person voices displeasure. I can then amend what I’ve said to be sure the person realizes that I’m just speaking my thoughts without meaning to offend and that I sincerely want to know what the other has to say. Do you understand what I’m saying?”