The Laird's Choice

by Amanda Scott

  Flicking a glance at a hovering gillie, Andrew said, “We’ll no discuss that now, lassie. Mayhap after supper, your sister and Magnus can tell you more about it. I will tell ye that nowt will happen straightaway. But I ken fine that ye’ll want to hear what everyone did say.”

  At least, Andrena thought, Murie was being more discreet than usual. She did not instantly blurt out that she had already quizzed them and learned much about his grace and Paisley Abbey. They had not discussed the charter, the conspirators, or the evidence that Jamie Stewart needed to punish them.

  That might change if Mag took Andrew’s words to mean that they should tell the others all they had learned.

  When Lady Aubrey signaled for the ladies to leave the table, Mag also stood and intercepted Andrena. Drawing her to the rear of the dais, he said quietly, “We’ll excuse ourselves now, lass. We are going leave early in the morning.”

  “Coward,” she muttered. “You don’t want to submit to Murie’s inquisition.”

  “True enough,” he admitted. “I think we’d be unwise to feed her hunger for every detail of our audience. You have made it plain that she remembers such details with the purpose of recounting them to others, so we cannot talk about the conspirators. Nor do I think Andrew meant us to do so. And to talk of the Arrochar charter before Jamie arranges his Inverness meeting would also be a mistake.”

  She knew he was right, but she also knew Muriella. “She has a knack for finding things out. But naught that she might say would go beyond our boundaries.”

  Without comment, he took her hand, placed it firmly on his extended forearm, and moved to bid Lady Aubrey a courteous goodnight. “We must make an early start tomorrow, madam, for we go to Inch Galbraith,” he said. “Having traveled much these past days, we are, as you might suppose, fain to sleep.”

  “But you cannot go to bed yet,” Murie protested.

  “Hush, Muriella,” Lady Aubrey said. “Andrena and Magnus must be exhausted. You will have to restrain your curiosity a little longer.”

  “But they are going to Lomondside,” Murie said in what was nearly a wail. “God alone kens how long they will be gone!”

  “You will contain yourself until they return,” Lady Aubrey said.

  “Aye, Mam,” Murie said, struggling and failing to suppress a grimace.

  Andrena bit her lower lip.

  “Say goodnight, lass,” Mag said to her.

  Obeying, she turned, meaning to give her father a hug. But Mag’s other hand clamped onto the one she had set on his forearm, letting her know that he would not let go. When he whisked her off the dais toward the stairway, she made no protest. But when he thrust her through their bedchamber doorway and shut the door with a snap, she turned with her hands flying to her hips to say, “Really, sir, I think—”

  “If you honestly think,” he said grimly, “that nowt that you, your sisters, or others say here goes beyond your boundaries, you need to think again.”

  Rapidly collecting her wits, she said, “I was thinking only about Murie then. She is gey persistent and will plague us both until she has a tale to tell.”

  “She will not plague me because she would soon hear what I’d say about such rude behavior.”

  “But it is her nature to express her curiosity,” Andrena said. “Come to that, Annie and other bards and seanachies have urged her to do all that she can to glean the facts of such events. It is a seanachie’s duty to recite accurate details so that others may learn from such experiences.”

  “I understand the duties of a seanachie,” he said. “But your sister is not one yet, and I doubt that she comprehends the responsibilities she’ll assume if she ever does become one. Meantime, neither you nor I will share information with her that should remain between us and his grace.”

  When she was sure he had finished, she drew a breath. Then, meeting his stern gaze, she said, “By my troth, sir, I would not have shared such things with her. I promised you that I’d tell no one and specifically not Lina or Murie. I’ll keep that promise. Also, now that we are married, I won’t share anything with them that is privy between us two. Mam said I must not. But in troth, I knew it before then.”

  “Then why did you say such news would not go beyond the boundaries?”

  Guilt sent heat to her cheeks. But she knew that only the truth would satisfy him. Dampening dry lips, she said, “I… I was thinking only of Murie’s persistence and how far away Parlan is, how unlikely… I did not think it all through to what you would suspect I might say to her. I… I should have.” Eyeing him warily, she knew she had not said enough. With a sigh, she said, “It was a sort of a clincher, to show that it wouldn’t matter if she did somehow find out. Also, I expect I was curious about how you would react. That was foolish. I can see that now. But—”

  “Why?”

  The single word stopped her. The heat in her cheeks burned, and she looked away, hoping for the first time that his temper was not as flammable as Andrew’s.

  “Well?”

  “You don’t mean why it was foolish, I expect.”

  “No.”

  Swallowing, she said, “I am beginning to sense some of your emotions. I… I think I may, in some way or other, be trying to sense them, to test my ability.”

  His jaw tightened until she saw the dimple dance in his cheek again. The sight sent a shiver up her spine.

  Chapter 15

  Mag felt an urge to shake her but knew he dared not. Touching her would unman him as it always did, and he needed to keep his wits about him. Another instinct urged him to reassure her. But he did not want her to go on testing him.

  “You’ve tested me often, I think,” he said, keeping his tone stern. When she nodded, he said more sternly yet, “Did it work before?”

  “Nay. Nor did it work just now.”

  “You ken fine that it displeased me.”

  Her mouth twisted wryly at the understatement. She said, “I think you were more than displeased. I think you were—aye, and still are—gey angry with me. I wish you’d just say so and be done.”

  “I think you fail to understand why I am displeased. You declared that your cousin Parlan lives far away, as if you think such distance keeps him ignorant of what goes on here. I can tell you of mine own knowledge that that is not so. He kens how many people live here, who they are, and how many are warriors. He is aware when people travel from here and sometimes even learns where they’ve been.”

  “Do you think he knows we went to Paisley? How could he?”

  “Dougal said nowt to indicate knowledge of aught save a missing prisoner, but use your wits, lass. Your father told me only this evening that you know how to reach Loch Lomond without crossing Colquhoun’s land. That suggests that the pass to Glen Luss still exists. Do you think Pharlain is unaware of it? Forbye, if I recall correctly, a high pass exists at the northern end of those mountains, too.”

  “Landslides blocked that one years ago, but I’m surprised that Father told you as much as he did. I can promise you, though, sir, that any such pass is well guarded and impassable to anyone but us.”

  “If we can cross the mountains to Inch Galbraith, Parlan can do the same to come here,” he insisted. “So can anyone he sends to spy on you. Sakes, almost anyone here could be giving him information.”

  “But none of our people—” She broke off, aghast. “If he has got spies…”

  “He must,” Mag said. “Moreover, you must know as well as I do—and as Pharlain may have guessed—that Andrew’s wild beasts, man-swallowing bogs, and other mythical protections are nae more than that. The rivers are real, aye. But—”

  “Much more than the rivers are real,” she said. “You saw for yourself how the birds behave, the predatory ones at all events.”

  “I saw hawks and an osprey respond to your whistle. You told me that you didn’t train them, and I believe you. But you never explained why they answered the whistle or why you whistled at all, if you did not expect them to attack.”

  “You w
ill think I am daft, sir. But I think that, just as I am aware when they are distressed, angry, or in fear, they sense it when I’m upset. And the beasts—”

  “I don’t think you’re daft. But neither do I believe that birds sense human emotions or would respond to them if they did. As for the beasts, all I saw for myself is that a badger knows enough to be fearless after you call off your dogs.”

  “But…” She paused.

  “Lass, Andrew told me that the beasts are tame because you’ve walked amongst them so often that they trust you. That certainly belies their being as fierce as his myths depict them to be. He did suggest that they seem to look after you,” he added. “But I think you may have explained that yourself when you told my pursuers that the birds, at least, are simply more territorial than most.”

  A look of frustration flitted across her face but disappeared almost before he recognized it for what it was. “Believe what you like then,” she said. “I will guide you through the high pass to Glen Luss. That trail is steep but usually open at this time of year. My father does keep men there, though, and they guard it well.”

  “I thought so.” He stepped toward her and was glad to see that she met his gaze easily and seemed to relax. “Sithee, lass, I have one more concern,” he said, stopping inches away without touching her. “I don’t want to wonder if you are pinching at me to test me or because you want to fratch with me. I still don’t understand what you expect to feel, or how you might know what I am thinking or feeling other than by the normal ways that most folks employ.”

  “You don’t reveal much of yourself in any way,” she said. “I won’t test you again, sir. But I’m not your captor, so I don’t understand why you still guard yourself so closely. People break habits every day.”

  “They do,” he agreed. “So we will try to talk more and share what we think and feel. We can practice such discussion tomorrow whilst we walk. It must be all of ten miles from here to our landing south of Luss.”

  “It is, aye. Also, the track up to the ridge is steep, and the pass may be snowy, so it will take us longer than it did to reach Craggan Tower. With an early start, we should reach Inch Galbraith before dark, though.” Looking down and then up at him from under her lashes, she said, “Art still vexed with me?”

  He shook his head. “Nay, I cannot stay angry with you. I ken fine that we are both finding our way.” Putting a finger to her chin so she would not look away again, he added, “You should be aware, though, that you can stir my temper quicker than my brothers or Pharlain ever could.”

  “Then the sooner I can sense that I’m stirring it, Magnus,” she said, meeting his gaze but moving his finger aside, “the better it will be for both of us.”

  “I’ll tell you what will be good for us,” he murmured, drawing her into a hug. “I still have a few things to show you that I think you will like. We’ll find some new ones that I’ll like, too.”

  She smiled, melted against him, and he felt the last of her tension drain away.

  The warmth of Mag’s body still astounded her even after a sennight of sleeping with him. She had never shared a bed with another man, but she was certain that most men did not radiate as much heat in bed as Mag radiated wherever he was. She had to push off most of her covers while sleeping with him.

  That night, in bed, his lightest touch stirred her passions so deeply that for a time she forgot everything but the heat rushing through her body. She felt emotionally closer to him just knowing that he would try to share more of his private thoughts and feelings. That he did not yet understand what was lacking for her seemed less important. If he tried to learn what it was, surely he soon would.

  Their coupling was passionate, sweaty, and introduced her to a new and higher realm just before Mag collapsed, gasping and moaning his pleasure. She wondered why he always seemed to enjoy the ending of their unions more than she did.

  The best part of it for her was that the last remnants of their earlier tension had vanished by the time she curled into the curve of his body, rested her head on his chest near his shoulder, and slept.

  The next morning, Mag woke her before dawn, and they set off as soon as they had broken their fast. At the last minute, Andrena tucked her deerskin breeks, her jack, and her dirk into her sumpter basket. She wore her hide boots.

  Malcolm’s Peter and the gillie Jonas would go with them again. Malcolm brought food from the kitchen for their journey.

  “I’ve told Peter tae take one o’ the garrons, Master Magnus,” the steward said. “Ye’ll none o’ ye be wanting tae tote much save your weapons over yon hills. And a garron be gey agile over such rocky terrain.”

  The morning was misty, but the mist would burn off soon.

  Peter and Jonas waited in the yard with a sturdy black Highland garron, one of the small horses bred for the terrain they would cross. Even so, Andrena was doubtful of the stout little beast’s ability to negotiate the high pass if it still lay under a blanket of snow. Ben Vorlich, the great mountain to the north, still boasted a huge snowcap, and other peaks that she could see wore caps, too.

  Sorley had packed Magnus’s belongings, and Mag wore his own old plaid that Lina had mended, over his sark and breeks. He also wore his hairy boots.

  Pluff was nowhere in sight. But Euan MacNur assured them that he would keep the dogs inside the wall until the travelers were well away.

  “Pluff were here not an hour since,” he said. Then, to Mag, he added hastily, “I’m no at oots wi’ him, though, sir. He’s been a different lad since ye talked wi’ him and let him stand wi’ ye at your wedding. I didna think much o’ that notion, I’ll admit. But the lad took a lesson from it, and I’m glad o’ that. I dinna doot he’ll turn up soon and be gey disappointed tae miss bidding ye farewell.”

  “Tell him we’ll see him in a few days,” Andrena said. When they were away from the wall, with Peter and Jonas leading the laden garron a short distance behind them to give them some privacy, she said, “What did Euan MacNur mean about you having talked to Pluff? What happened?”

  “Nowt save a wee misunderstanding betwixt the two of them.”

  “Tell me,” she said.

  “I’ll tell you this much,” he said. “You and your sisters created a dilemma for the lad by telling him to feed the dogs first thing each morning. Sithee, MacNur had told him to muck out the byre before he fed them.”

  “But they should eat before I take them for a run,” she said.

  “I think you will find that the matter has resolved itself.”

  She glanced up at him, saw that he was smiling, and leaned closer to give him a nudge with her shoulder as they walked.

  Grinning, Mag gave her a quick hug and released her.

  He let her set the pace and was pleased when she set a brisk one.

  The woods were eerily silent. Mist still crept down through the canopy, and clung here and there to trees and shrubbery. A chilled, salty dampness filled the air, making the simple act of inhaling feel like a magical elixir.

  The silence enfolded them. Their feet made no noise on the damp, duff-covered ground. Even the pony’s hooves made only whispers of sound.

  Mag’s thoughts drifted to his father. The stakes between them were high, God knew. Certainly, he had much to lose. Come to that, he had likely already lost his family, even his clan, irrevocably

  “What are you thinking?” she asked softly.

  He started to shake his head, to say that his current thoughts were not for sharing. But he had promised to try, so he met her quizzical look and said, “That I may be unable to reconcile with my father or my brothers.”

  “Rory and Patrick,” she said. “I remember their names. But you told me only that Rory served Lennox and Patrick serves James Mòr Stewart. At least neither serves Lord Walter or Lord Alexander. They are the wickedest ones.”

  “I don’t know much about my brothers anymore,” he said.

  “Despite that, you do keep thinking that if Lennox is involved in the plot with Murdoch a
nd his older sons, ’tis likely that your brothers are in it, too.”

  Hearing her put his train of thought so bluntly, he drew a deep breath of the cleansing air and let it out again before he said, “You’re right, lass. We cannot be certain of that yet. It is as likely, if not more so, that they ken nowt of plots.”

  “That could be true.”

  “Aye, sure. Sithee, my brothers, like your sisters, are gey different from each other. Will was the responsible one, the one we all looked up to and admired. He was a fine warrior and one who would speak up for his own lads when sometimes those above him did not want to hear it. He should have won a knighthood, but he never did. In troth, it was Lennox’s offering me one that helped me persuade Will that he might be following the wrong leaders.”

  “You turned down a knighthood?”

  “I did. Sithee, he offered it only if I would agree to serve him and Pharlain.”

  “Then of course you turned it down,” she said. “What sort of man is Rory?”

  “Amiable, cautious, and observant,” Mag said. “He follows orders but keeps his head down. He would follow Will in almost anything. But if our father became wroth with Will over something he’d done, Rory took care never to do that thing.”

  “And Patrick?”

  Mag shook his head. “I’ve never understood Patrick. All three of my brothers teased and mocked me, but he was the worst. He’s a year older than I am, and for as long as I can remember, he has seemed to dislike me.”

  “Is he smaller than the rest of you? Might he resent your size?”

  “He might resent my height, but he’s taller than Rory.”

  “Perhaps your parents favored Patrick before you were born,” Andrena said. “I remember feeling as if Murie demanded everyone’s attention when she was small. I felt invisible then, as if I’d lost my importance. Faith, I barely talked to anyone, including Lina. The feeling passed the first time Murie made me laugh. But it was strong before then, because our parents both seemed besotted with her. Mayhap Patrick felt something akin to that.”