The Warrior's Bride

by Amanda Scott

  At the gate, the guard admitted him and Scáthach without question. As Rob stepped into the yard, he heard a shout from above and turned to see a grinning Pluff waving at him from the walkway. Scrambling down a nearby ladder, the boy said, “I’ll take ye in, sir. I ken fine where ye’ll find the laird.”

  Glancing at the guard and receiving a nod, Rob said, “Lead the way, lad.”

  “Send him out again whilst ye talk wi’ Himself, sir,” the guard called down. “Else his ears will be a-burning tae hear all ye say.”

  “I doubt that he’d hearken to Andrew Dubh’s privy talks,” Rob replied. Then, catching Pluff’s eye, he added gently, “I ken fine that he’ll know better than to hearken to mine.”

  Pluff’s eyes widened and he shook his head fiercely. “I’d niver,” he told Rob. “I’m no a dafty!”

  “I never thought you were, lad. Shall we go in?”

  Murie stood near the wall in the chamber where her father kept important documents and tended to affairs of his estate. To her left stood the shelves holding his accounts and other documents. Behind her stood the large table and a two-elbow chair where he worked or spoke with men who had erred or had made their way to Tùr Meiloach and wanted to swear fealty to him.

  He also, from time to time, scolded a daughter there, and she knew that she would be in for just such a scolding if he caught her now. The reason she had entered his sanctum was that it shared a wall with the great hall below. In front of her, at eye level if she stood as she did now, on tiptoe, was the laird’s squint overlooking the hall. She could see Andrew at the dais table.

  Her sister Lina had once caught her in his private chamber and had roundly condemned such behavior. But if Lina had spoken of that incident, even to Andrena, Murie knew naught of it, and she was sure that Dree, had she known, would have scolded, too. In any event, both of her sisters were at Dumbarton, so it was Murie’s secret now, and as long as she could see Andrew below, she was safe.

  Just then, Pluff appeared in the main entryway, looking puffed up enough in his own esteem to tell her that she had not been wasting her time. The boy entered, and MacAulay strode in behind him.

  “I’ve brung ye Master Robert MacAulay, laird,” Pluff said loudly enough for anyone up or down the stairway, let alone in the great hall, to have heard him.

  “I thank ye, Pluff,” Andrew said. “Ye can help the lads set up the trestles, if ye will. As for ye, lad,” he added, looking at MacAulay, “I’ll take ye up to me own wee chamber, where we can talk without the din they’ll create whilst they set up the tables here for the midday meal. Ye’ll dine with us, aye?”

  MacAulay nodded, and Muriella, warned that her time was short, turned abruptly from the squint and hurried toward the door.

  It opened just before she reached it, to reveal her mother.

  “What are you doing here?” Lady Aubrey MacFarlan asked with a frown.

  “I… I wanted to see…” Murie paused, swallowing hard. She would have to tell her mother the truth—a portion of it, at least.

  “You wanted to see what?” Lady Aubrey’s tone had hardened ominously.

  Hastily, Murie said, “Father said that Robert MacAulay of Ardincaple was coming to talk with him and perhaps to take the midday meal with us. I remembered Father’s squint in here, and… Mam, he told me that Robert MacAulay… that he—Father, that is—offered me to MacAulay last summer when he was here with Ian. I just wanted to see… that is, to hear—”

  “You have no reason to come into this chamber without your father’s permission, Muriella,” Lady Aubrey interjected sternly. “To have come in here to spy on him and his guest is a breach of good manners far beyond…” She drew a breath. “What can you have been thinking?”

  “I was just so curious…” Belatedly realizing that to offer as her excuse the curiosity that both parents had often condemned as her besetting sin would not aid her, Murie fell silent. Although she could often beguile her father, such tactics had no good effect on her mother.

  A tremor stirred when the image of her father, coming up the stairs with Robert MacAulay, filled her mind’s eye. If they entered to find her there, with her mother thoroughly scolding her…

  Leaving Scáthach to enjoy the warmth of the fire, Rob followed Andrew Dubh up the twisting stone stairway, wondering again if the lady Muriella had reported Dougal’s trespassing. Andrew had not mentioned it below and was understandably silent as they went upstairs. Most people avoided all but trivial topics on such stairs. The well up which they twisted carried voices too easily.

  As it was, Rob heard lighter, quicker steps than theirs above them. He saw no one, though, and heard no voice.

  At the next landing, Andrew opened the door on his right and led the way into the chamber where Rob had talked briefly with him the year before. It was similar to one that Lord MacAulay used to deal with Ardincaple’s affairs.

  Andrew’s chamber was smaller, containing a wide table with a two-elbow, red-cushioned chair behind it, shelves of rolled documents and account books, and several back-stools. In the far left corner, beneath a narrow window so deep in the thick wall that the shutter latched back beside it must rarely be needed, stood a large basket containing a number of rolled documents—charts or maps, Rob suspected.

  Gesturing broadly, Andrew said, “Pull up a back-stool and sit down, lad. Mag told me ye wanted advice about summat, and ye’re welcome to aught I can tell ye. In troth, though, I’ve scarcely set foot off Tùr Meiloach land since I arrived twenty years ago, so I canna think what I might say that could aid ye.”

  Waiting politely until Andrew sat in the chair before seating himself, Rob said, “You do know more than anyone else does about one man, my lord.”

  “Ye must have questions about Pharlain, then.”

  “Aye, and if you know Campbell of Lorne, I’d welcome any information about him, as well. I believe that your lady wife has Campbell kinsmen.”

  “She’s cousin to Campbell of Argyll, aye,” Andrew said. “He lives just across the loch. But Campbell of Lorne lives much farther away, on the Firth of Lorne. I ken little about him,” he added, rubbing his bristly chin.

  Noting the gesture, Rob suspected that his host was thinking about what and how much to say to him and decided to let the man think.

  Andrew straightened in his chair at last, grimaced, and said, “I’d not trust any Campbell save Argyll, and then only with family affairs. From all I’ve gleaned of Argyll over the years, though, he isna fond of Lorne. Sithee, Lorne has oft behaved falsely. Some say he has committed murder more than once, but Argyll does nowt to tame him. What the devil are ye doing here?” he exclaimed when a small, long-haired, orange-and-white cat leaped onto the table between them.

  “It came out from behind that basket of charts yonder,” Rob said, feeling a rare touch of amusement stir. “It must have been sleeping there.”

  The cat glanced at him as Andrew reached for it. Easily eluding his hand, it leaped to Rob’s knee and regarded him speculatively through golden eyes. Except for a snowy white mustache, chest, and four white-booted paws, the cat was orange.

  “Just shove him to the floor,” Andrew said. “He shouldna be in here. My lady must have stepped in to tidy up and failed to notice that he’d slipped in, too.”

  “He won’t trouble me,” Rob said, stroking silky fur. “What’s his name?”

  “Ansuz,” Andrew said with a grimace. “A daft name for a cat.”

  “He’s named for a runic god that controls the fates of men,” Rob said.

  “Dinna tell me ye believe in the runes,” Andrew said.

  “Nay,” Rob admitted. “But I know the tales. I suspect that his name means this laddie belongs to the lady Muriella.”

  “Ye’d be wrong then,” Andrew said with a smile. “He belongs to her sister Lachina, who, as ye ken, married Sir Ian and lives at Dumbarton. Due to the size and noise of that place, they decided Ansuz would be happier here, and he seems content enough. I’ve never seen him take so quick
to a stranger, though.”

  “Animals usually like me,” Rob said. “But you were saying… about Campbell of Lorne…”

  “Only that I dinna ken the man. I can tell ye that nary a Campbell supports Jamie Stewart’s desire to impose his laws on the country. Like the Lord of the Isles, the Campbells and many other Highlanders who answer to him think they needna answer to the King of Scots. To such men, the Lord of the Isles is equal to or greater than the King. And the Lord of the Isles lives too near for them to defy him.”

  “What about Pharlain, sir? I ken fine that he opposes James and supported the House of Albany. Does he likewise support the Lord of the Isles?”

  “As to how supportive he is or has been, I cannot say,” Andrew said. “Pharlain usually seeks only to learn who supports him.”

  “He did take an army as far as Doune to support Albany last year when he and his cohorts tried to seize the throne from Jamie,” Rob reminded him.

  “During his second Parliament, aye,” Andrew said. “But Pharlain returned to Arrochar when the fighting started and brought most of his people with him.”

  “His son, Dougal, supported James Mòr Stewart when he seized the royal castle and burgh of Dumbarton,” Rob said.

  “I recall that ye ken much of Dougal and Dumbarton, aye,” Andrew replied with a reminiscent air. “To my mind, Dougal is the villainous spit of his father, and the sooner both be underground, the happier I’ll be. Aye, but just listen to me,” he added with a rueful smile. “I had Dougal by the heels last year and let him go, hoping that Pharlain would take note of such mercy and imitate it. If he has, though, I’ve heard nowt of it.” He paused for a beat, eyeing Rob from beneath his shaggy eyebrows. Then he said, “I did hear that ye’d seen Dougal on my land.”

  So the lass had reported it. “I’m glad the lady Muriella told you, sir.”

  “Why would she not?”

  Cursing his clumsiness, Rob said truthfully, “I did not mean to imply any doubt of her ladyship, only my relief that you heard about Dougal so quickly.”

  “My lads keep close watch on the passes,” Andrew said, regarding Rob with rather more shrewdness than Rob thought necessary. “Unless they come with an army, I’d liefer see what intruders get up to than stop them afore they reveal their intent, especially when one ventures alone onto my land. Often, such intrusions bring men fleeing Arrochar who seek to join me.”

  “I doubt you suspect Dougal of such intent, sir.”

  “True,” Andrew agreed. “What I suspect is that he’ll be testing some of the tales he’s heard about Tùr Meiloach. He did manage to trespass unseen twice last year, so I increased my watchers to make sure that won’t happen again.”

  “How would he test tales of whole armies disappearing here?” Rob asked mildly. “Or of rockslides that bury trespassers or fiercer than normal birds or beasts that tear them to shreds?”

  Andrew smiled. “I see that ye’ve heard some of the tales, too. I suspect from your tone that ye’ve as little belief in them as Dougal says he does.”

  “Dougal is a member of Clan Farlan,” Rob reminded him. “Doubtless, he believes he is as safe as any other member of the clan on its lands.”

  “Tùr Meiloach protects only true MacFarlans,” Andrew said, more sharply than he had previously spoken. “Those would include only MacFarlans who follow their true chief, not those who support the murderous usurper. And so our Lina told Dougal last year. She warned him straight out that Tùr Meiloach would betray him. But ye didna answer me, lad. D’ye believe in such things as clan sanctuaries?”

  “If you tell me that the tales are true, sir, I will not offend you by refusing to believe you,” Rob said diplomatically. “I will admit, though, that I have more belief in things that my own experience proves to be true. So far, I have walked safely here.”

  “Aye, sure, because ye’re here as my guest,” Andrew said. “But my lass told me that she met ye this morning near the northeast slope. Be that where ye saw Dougal, or did ye see him yestereve when ye came in through the south pass?”

  Uncertain whether Andrew had deduced the route he must have taken or meant to show him how closely he guarded his passes, Rob said, “I saw him this morning on the northeast slope, sir.”

  “And ye met our Muriella somewhere nearby?”

  “I met her ladyship with the lad Pluff near the timberline,” Rob said, taking care not to emphasize the word “met.”

  He might have spared himself the effort, though, because with a gimlet gaze, Andrew said, “Just where was she when ye first clapped eyes on her, then?”

  Although Muriella was grateful that the open door of her father’s chamber had let Lady Aubrey hear the men’s footsteps on the stairs below, she doubted that the brief interlude between that moment and their hasty flight from Andrew’s chamber to the next landing would aid her.

  Entering the bedchamber that Murie had once shared with her two sisters, Lady Aubrey shut the door. “We will continue our talk here,” she said. “I expect your father means to talk with Robert MacAulay in his privy chamber.”

  “Aye, Mam, I did hear him say so,” Muriella said quietly.

  “You ought not to have heard one word of their conversation,” Lady Aubrey said austerely. “In troth, Muriella, your behavior shames me. I thought I had taught you better manners.”

  The last two statements stirred Murie’s sense of guilt more strongly than anything her mother had said in Andrew’s chamber. “Mam, I am the one at fault, not you,” she said. “Sometimes, my curiosity to know what is happening grows so strong that I don’t seem able to control it. When that happens, I just don’t think.”

  “Then, you must learn to think first,” Lady Aubrey said flatly.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I ought to forbid you to dine with us, but our guest might wonder at your absence. Faith, I do not even know why he sought to speak with your father. After all, it is possible that—”

  When she broke off, the look on her face told Murie exactly what she was thinking. She said quickly, “Robert MacAulay did not come here to offer for my hand, Mam. Of that I am certain.”

  “How can you be? Mayhap he’s changed his mind since last year.”

  Recalling the twinkle in her father’s eyes when he had said she could ask MacAulay what was wrong with her, when he dined with them, Murie had a dreadful feeling that her mother might be right. Although common sense told her otherwise, because she had seen only irritation in Robert MacAulay’s attitude toward her earlier, the uncertainty persisted.

  In truth, the man had behaved as if he had a right to tell her what to do.

  The silence in Andrew’s chamber lengthened uncomfortably for Rob, who had no desire to answer the older man’s blunt question about where, exactly, he had first seen Muriella that morning. On Rob’s knee, Ansuz purred contentedly, making him wonder what the little cat would think of Scáthach.

  “Speak, lad. Where was she?”

  Rob met Andrew’s gaze and said, “With respect, sir, I’d liefer discuss Pharlain or Dougal. I ken fine, though, that before we do, you will want to know the cause of my interest.” Perceiving an arrested look in the older man’s eyes, he added, “My father thinks that Ardincaple may be at risk. He fears that Pharlain and Campbell of Lorne—mayhap all the Campbells—want to seize control of the area.”

  “Control? What manner of control does he fear?”

  “He believes they want to seize the castle and demand fees for passage into and out of the Gare Loch and the Loch of the Long Boats,” Rob said flatly.

  “Sakes, did one of them say so?”

  “Pharlain told him that with so many boats coming and going, we should charge fees for all save our own. He added that if Father refused to do that and share the profits, he and Lorne would see to collecting such fees themselves.”

  “Let me see if I understand ye,” Andrew said. “I ken fine that MacAulays control both sides of the Gare Loch, and Campbells control the west shore of the Loch
of the Long Boats from the firth to the loch’s head, where their land meets Arrochar. So, either they’ll charge everyone else who enters either loch or the only people they will charge, if MacAulay agrees, would be boats entering the Loch of the Long Boats to come here or go back and forth to Colquhoun’s Craggan. Do they truly want to anger Colquhoun? Recall that Ian Colquhoun is Governor of Dumbarton, a royal stronghold. Sakes, his grace the King is their good friend.”

  “The Colquhouns are my friends and yours, too,” Rob said. “My father, as you ken fine, is a man who likes peace above all, as does Colquhoun. Pharlain and evidently Campbell of Lorne believe they can persuade such men to submit to their will. Pharlain told my father that Colquhoun spends most of his time at Dunglass now that Ian is nearby at Dumbarton. He said that since they keep only a small staff and a few guards at Craggan Tower, they would not be troubled by such fees.”

  Muriella was still considering the dreaded possibility that MacAulay might have changed his mind and come to see if Andrew’s offer remained good, when Lady Aubrey spoke again.

  “I do not know what punishment you deserve, Muriella,” she said. “But I do know that you must change out of that filthy kirtle and wash your face and hands before you go down to dine. Tibby will be here soon, so I will leave you to wait for her. Be sure to have her comb your hair and arrange it in a more becoming style.”

  “Aye, Mam. I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

  “Then take more care in future, my love,” Lady Aubrey said gently. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  Murie watched her go and then turned to the washstand and poured cold water from the ewer into the basin. It seemed to her that she found herself in the briars more often now that both Lina and Dree were away. Was her own behavior so much worse than before, or did her parents just notice it more than they had when they’d had three daughters at home?