by Amanda Scott
Curtsying, Lina smiled and said, “ ’Tis good to see you, your ladyship. I fear we were exceedingly rude to vanish as we did. But I promise it was not by choice.”
“Very likely not,” Lady Margaret said. “You cannot deny that there was mischief involved, though. Not if you are as honest as your mother says you are.”
“I would prefer to say that misjudgment was at fault, my lady. We were unaware that James Mòr’s men might venture so near Glen Fruin.”
“Nor had they any right to do that. Galbraith, d’ye hear? That villain James Mòr dared to send men near our Glen Fruin! That must not happen again, I say.”
“We have already taken more precautions,” he assured her. “But do not keep Lina standing on the dais when she must be yearning to warm herself.”
Gratefully, Lina bobbed another curtsy and hurried to the fire, noting that her entire escort had disappeared.
“Where did the men go, Liz?” she asked, turning her chilled back to the fire.
“Father sent them to change for supper,” Lizzie said. “Did you not hear him then? We are all to leave in the morning.”
“Surely, he meant that the men would be returning to Dunglass,” Lina said, feeling rather depressed as she said it. “He will not send you away again so soon.”
“But he will,” Lizzie insisted. “I heard him talking to Sir Ian. He said it would not be safe here for any of us.”
Hector had shown Ian, Alex, and Rob to a chamber on the third floor of the tower with several cots in it.
“Ye should be comfortable here,” he said. “That wall yonder gives off heat when the fire below is burning. The weather will clear tonight, too, so the morrow should be fine. We’ll likely ha’ mist, though.”
Hak had arranged the men’s baggage. He had also provided hot water for them to wash and laid out fresh tunics and plaids.
“Galbraith was hardly forthcoming, was he?” Alex said. “I have no wish to linger, but he might have explained his lack of hospitality.”
Ian agreed. Despite the laird’s declaration that they could not stay, when Alex had asked him why not, he had just said again that it would be too dangerous.
Since the hour was late, they changed quickly from their wet garments to dry ones and returned to the hall.
Lady Aubrey was standing by the fire with Galbraith when they entered.
Excusing herself to him, she approached the three younger men with a smile. Greeting Rob and Alex, whom she also knew, she said earnestly to Ian, “My dear sir, you have my deepest gratitude. Will you forgive me if I admit having to resist flinging myself at you and hugging you as hard as I hugged my beloved Lina?”
“Aye, sure, I forgive you, madam. I never reject hugs from beautiful ladies.”
“So Andrena has told me,” Lady Aubrey said with a mischievous grin. “But you must know that you have done us a great service. I suspect that Arthur may not have made his gratitude as plain as I do,” she added with a glance toward the fire.
“I believe that Sir Arthur feels much as my own sire does,” Ian said. “Father fears that I have endangered the Colquhouns’ neutral stance and thus undermined any further attempts of his to persuade James Mòr to see reason.”
“Colquhoun is skilled at bringing two willing sides to agreement,” she said. “But tact alone is rarely enough, and even the most skilled mediator cannot talk sense to unwilling or truly evil men. I shall tell your father so, too, when I see him.”
Ian knew that his surprise must show. He had met her ladyship many times, but he had been unaware until then that she believed, as he did, that some men were simply evil. Colquhoun insisted that all men were fundamentally good, that one had only to appeal to that goodness to persuade anyone against wrongdoing. He doubtless believed even now that he would have persuaded James Mòr to release Lina and Lizzie unharmed if Ian had just given him enough time to do so.
He nearly asked her ladyship if he had understood her correctly.
She spoke first, saying gently, “Do come now and tell us about the rescue. Muriella is especially eager to hear your tale. Although she is still in some disgrace for trying to reach Lina on her own as soon as she sensed that things had gone amiss, I have permitted her to sup with us.”
He noticed then that Lina’s flaxen-haired younger sister sat at the high table beside the lady Margaret. He knew that Muriella collected tales of daring to tell at ceilidhs and like gatherings. Even so…
“If you will forgive me, madam, I would like to wait until Lady Lina and Lizzie come downstairs. His lordship means to question us, too, and I’d liefer endure that ordeal only once.”
“Poor laddie,” she said, hugging him then. “I was so worried about Lina and how tired she looks that I failed to see that you are exhausted, too. By my troth, I shall wait patiently to hear your tale after you have eaten and slaked your thirst.”
Sixteen-year-old Murie would be the impatient one, Ian knew. He could see that she was already wriggling on her stool. Hearing Lina’s and Lizzie’s voices behind them, he turned with relief, then stopped and stared.
Lina had apparently decided to forgo a veil and had arranged her hair in long, loose plaits, most likely to let it dry in the warmth of the hall.
Her plaits reached to her waist, making him wonder how long her hair would be if she combed it out. He had never seen her with her hair so before. It had always lain neatly coiled under her veil or hidden beneath a proper coif.
She wore a soft rose-pink kirtle with an even softer-looking shawl of gray-and-pink wool draped over her shoulders.
Her luminous, darkly-lashed eyes met his gaze serenely.
He wondered why he had never noticed before how beautiful she was.
“Hector tells me they are ready to serve us,” Galbraith said. “Lizzie, the lady Aubrey will sit by me, your aunt Margaret next, and ye’ll sit next to Margaret, then Lina and Murie. Ian, ye’ll sit at my right with Alex and MacAulay beside ye.”
When Alex moved as if to escort Lina, Ian gave him a fierce look and stepped forward to offer his arm.
“If I may, my lady,” he said politely.
She raised her eyebrows much as his mother might have done. But she put a hand on the forearm he’d extended and smiled demurely. “You are most kind, sir.”
“Sakes, lass,” he muttered. “Do you mock my courtesy? Can I do nowt to win your approval?”
She gave him a direct look and said in a normal tone, “Faith, sir, do you seek my approval? You must know that you have earned my gratitude.”
“But you still disapprove of how I won it, do you not?”
“That is unfair,” she said. “I have already admitted having mixed feelings about that. I do still believe that one should think before leaping into danger.”
“What makes you imagine that I do not?”
“I know you don’t always think before you act.”
The challenge was irresistible.
“I defy you to name any such occasion,” he said as they stepped onto the dais. “I’ll wager you won’t name one for which I cannot provide good reason.”
“Then give me your ‘good reason’ for doing what you did to Andrena that caused Mag to heave you into the Loch of the Long Boats.”
“Faith, was Sir Ian the man Mag threw into the loch?” Lizzie exclaimed.
Ian gaped at her. Looking around, he saw the others, all of them apparently having heard the exchange when he’d felt as if he and Lina were alone. Although, thinking back, he had been vaguely aware of murmuring voices and distant sounds.
Those sounds—Hector directing the two gillies as they carried food to the high table, Lady Margaret conversing quietly with Muriella, Alex and Rob murmuring behind him, and Sir Arthur’s quick footsteps on the timber floor as he crossed the hall—had all ceased after Lizzie’s exclamation.
Only the crackling of the fire remained.
Lina’s breath caught in her throat. A bubble of laughter rushed up to meet it, nearly choking her.
The
n Sir Alex laughed, and Rob joined him.
Galbraith silently ushered Lady Aubrey to her place.
When Alex could speak, he said, “I want to hear that tale.”
“Me, too,” Muriella said, rising politely from her stool at the approach of her mother and Galbraith. “No one told me that Mag had done any such thing. It sounds like a good tale for retelling.”
“It is no such thing,” Ian said sternly. “If I should hear that a saucy lassock who imagines she is a seanachie has been telling a tale like that one at ceilidhs, you will answer to me, my lady.”
“Will I?” Murie said, grinning.
“That will do, Muriella,” Lady Aubrey said, taking her seat. “You know you must not repeat every tale you hear for other people’s entertainment.”
“Yes, madam,” Murie said quietly and so meekly that Lina was suspicious.
Love of storytelling was second nature to Murie, and her flawless memory meant that she could repeat exactly what she had heard and describe or sketch in graphic detail anything she had seen. Even so, she would not defy their mother.
The dais end of the great hall was warm. As Lina took her place, she looked for somewhere to put her shawl. When one of the gillies caught her eye and offered to set the shawl on a nearby shelf, she accepted his offer gratefully.
Galbraith said, “We are all curious about that tale now. But it is up to Sir Ian to decide if he prefers to share it or to admit that he has lost the wager he made with Lady Lina. In any event, I suggest that we eat whilst we talk.”
Lina hoped that the subject of Ian’s unexpected swim in the Loch of the Long Boats had died a gracious death. But Sir Alex soon raised it again.
“About that wager,” he said glibly. “In troth, Ian, now that Lady Lina has teased us with the event, methinks you do owe us an explanation.”
“I’ll tell you later, if you insist,” Ian retorted. “But I’d remind you that whilst we eat, courtesy suggests that we let our host choose the topic.”
By the look of Galbraith, that point had been about to leap from his own tongue. But he said mildly that he would like to hear about the rescue instead. Contrary to Lina’s expectation, though, he did not demand that she account for her actions or Lizzie for hers. He let Ian tell a brief tale and asked few questions.
Ian ended his account with their arrival at Dunglass the previous evening, adding, “Since my father values both peace and his neutral position—”
“Aye, sure,” Galbraith interjected. “I ken fine how he thinks, lad. As ye also ken, I was in agreement with him about how best to treat with James Mòr. So I would hear what stirred ye to intervene. Ye left that detail out of your account. I do understand that the ladies’ presence may deter ye. Nevertheless…”
When he paused pointedly, Ian said, “I will gladly answer all of your questions, sir, before Rob, Alex, and I return to Dunglass tomorrow.”
“As to that, ye must realize that the ladies cannot safely stay here. Although Lippin Geordie deterred one set of James Mòr’s searchers, others will come, so I must stay or leave the tower at risk. But neither Lina nor Lizzie can be here if they do come, so all the women should leave for Tùr Meiloach in the morning. Sithee, Andrew Dubh will take part in naught that ensues at Dumbarton. So he can keep them safe until we sort that out. I did expect our Patrick to protect Lizzie. But—”
“He did naught but say that I’d come by my just deserts,” Lizzie muttered.
“We will talk more about that before ye leave,” Galbraith said, leaning forward to give her a look that subdued her again. “See you,” he added, shifting his attention to Lady Aubrey, “since Patrick has reaffirmed his loyalty to James Mòr, I cannot know that even Lizzie will be safe here or at Bannachra. Nor will Margaret if this whole affair has drawn the rebels’ attention to us.”
“Margaret and Lizzie are both welcome to stay with us at Tùr Meiloach for as long as you think they should,” Lady Aubrey assured him.
“Thank you, I knew you would say so, and Andrew, too. Sithee, Rory could arrive any day, too, since he travels with the duchess. She will be unsympathetic to anyone who hopes to drive her sole remaining son out of Dumbarton.”
“These are difficult times,” Lady Aubrey said. “We must do what we can.”
“We must, aye,” he said. Then, to Ian, he said, “I shall be of more use to ye, too, lad, if I know that Lizzie is safe.”
“I’m glad we’re going with you,” Lizzie whispered to Lina.
“Me, too,” Muriella said from Lina’s other side. She grinned when Lizzie turned toward her, and the two soon fell into conversation across Lina.
Changing seats with Lizzie, Lina conversed politely with Lady Margaret until Lady Aubrey turned to them and murmured, “Shall we go upstairs now?”
Receiving nods, she asked Galbraith to excuse them and rose from her chair.
The other four ladies stood, too. However, when Lizzie moved to follow Lina, Galbraith said, “You will stay, Liz. We’ll talk anon.”
Obediently if unhappily, Lizzie sank back to her stool.
When all the ladies but Lizzie had left the dais, Galbraith turned to Ian. “I’d liefer spare no men to escort them, lad,” he said. “I need my men here, and many of them are fiercely disinclined to set foot on Tùr Meiloach land, as ye might understand. I doubt, though, that your men share that fear.”
Ian knew the tales told about Tùr Meiloach but tended to disbelieve them. Colquhoun insisted that no odd or unusual terrors awaited those who trod on what Andrew Dubh insisted was the sacred land of Tùr Meiloach.
The name meant “little tower guarded by giants,” and men claimed that the beasts of its forests and birds that flew above them were fiercer than normal, that its bogs reached out to drown the unwary, and that mountain landslides had swallowed whole armies. The craggy, precipitous peaks between Loch Lomond and the Loch of the Long Boats did form a toothlike granite ridge, though. And the plain truth was that although Ian had visited Tùr Meiloach, he had done so only by invitation.
He realized that the tangent his thoughts had taken was ill-timed, because Galbraith was eyeing him as if he expected an answer to a question that Ian had failed to hear. He was about to admit his lack of attention when Alex said, “I have my men with me, sir. I would be honored to escort the ladies to Tùr Meiloach.”
Glancing at Lina’s retreating back as she neared the archway, admiring the way her backside moved beneath her softly clinging skirt, Ian collected wits enough to say gruffly, “Nae need for that, Alex. I brought the lassies this far. I’ll see them to their destination.”
“I’d be grateful to ye, aye,” Galbraith said. “But it does occur to me that Colquhoun must be expecting your swift return.”
“I believe, sir, that it will be at least a sennight yet before any Borderers reach Dunglass. Until they do, we can delay making any decisions. In troth, I’d liefer let them all debate their own plans with each other before I take any part.”
Galbraith’s eyes twinkled. “A wise course, lad. In my experience, every man comes with a plan of his own and will fight buckle and thong for it without listening to anyone else until they all wear themselves out. But do you not fear that such debate may undermine your position as leader?”
“No, sir. I have Jamie’s royal warrant to show if I must. I also have the support of Rob, Alex, and their men, as well as our own. But I doubt that I will meet resistance when the time comes. I just want to avoid squabbles. Meantime, I can see the women safely to Tùr Meiloach. If Rob will come with me, Alex can return to Dunglass to reassure my father and the others that I’ll return as soon as I can. He might also encourage them to discuss every way they can imagine to breach an impregnable castle. Someone just might suggest a plan that can work.”
“You seem confident,” Galbraith said, smiling.
Ian grinned. “When a plan is required, sir, one will present itself.”
Lina followed her mother and Lady Margaret upstairs, with Muriella at her heels. “I’m gla
d you’ve come back, Lina,” Murie said quietly. “I missed you, and I was terrified for you. Had Galbraith not met me halfway down Glen Fruin and ordered me to turn back, I’d have gone to rescue you myself. Mam was furious with me. But she does understand. I haven’t wanted to worry her about anything else, though. What do you think is amiss with Dree?”
Hearing Lady Margaret assure Lady Aubrey that she never snored and thus assured of their inattention, Lina stopped on the stairs and turned to face her sister.
“What makes you think that aught is amiss with her?” she asked.
“I don’t know exactly. I just knew she was in distress.”
“Most likely, she was worried about me,” Lina said. “I feared that you would both try to find me, which would have been gey foolhardy. Sithee, I was in the topmost tower of a castle that sits on a sheer, two-hundred-foot-high rock.”
“Dree’s distress was much greater than what I felt from you that first day,” Murie said. “I think she was in pain, Lina, and gey frightened.”
“It was dreadful for us that day,” Lina said. “She must have sensed that. But when I realized that they weren’t threatening to kill us, I stopped worrying about myself. I did still worry about you and Dree, though. And everyone else.”
From the landing above them, Lady Aubrey said, “Lina, you, Murie, and Lizzie will all sleep in Lizzie’s room. I’ll send Tibby down shortly to see if you need her. But get to bed quickly, and do not talk long. We leave early in the morning and will have plenty of time to talk on the way home.”
“Yes, Mam,” Lina said. Bidding the older women goodnight, she opened Lizzie’s door and motioned for Murie to go ahead. As Lina moved to follow, she remembered the shawl, “Mercy, I’ve forgotten Lady Colquhoun’s shawl. It was so warm that I took it off, and a gillie set it aside for me. I must fetch it at once.”
“I should go with you, or you should wait and take Tibby.”
“Nay, you need not, and I do not need Tib, either. It is not as if this place were teeming with men. The room where Sir Ian, Sir Alex, and Master MacAulay will sleep is on the south stairway, as far from here as it can be. I’ll wager that no one is downstairs now except Galbraith, who is talking to Lizzie, and perhaps Hector. I’ll slip down, fetch the shawl, and be right back.”