The Knight's Temptress (Lairds of the Loch)

by Amanda Scott

  She came often, his informant had said. Moreover, she had not been able to visit the pond since leaving for Bannachra Tower. She would come today.

  Because of his swim, he wore only his tunic, which had quickly dried. He had not been so foolhardy as to come unarmed, though. He had carried his dirk in his teeth and had it in hand now, but he did not expect to use it. The women of Tùr Meiloach felt safe on its land. That simple fact would work in his favor.

  He heard her humming, and then he saw her. As expected, Lady Aubrey had come alone. When she knelt by the pond, he stepped out from behind a tree.

  She heard him and looked up. “You were foolish to come here,” she said.

  “Ye ken who I am, then.”

  “Aye, sure. You look much as your father did at your age. But do not think you will harm me. I have only to scream to bring warriors down upon you.”

  “They would not catch me,” he said confidently, although if the truth were known, he felt edgy. Things that men had said about the MacFarlan women were whispering themselves to him. “Ye won’t call them, though, for I mean ye nae harm today.” He put slight emphasis on the last word and saw that she had noted it.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  That was easy. “The charters to Arrochar. They belong to us, and we’ll need them to show his grace when he comes north. Ye must ken where they lie.”

  “I fear that I do not,” she said, apparently unperturbed.

  “Ye’re a Seer, so ye’ll find them,” he said. “Ye’ve seen how easily I found ye and how safely I walk on this so-treacherous land of yours. I can find your daughters, too, madam, wherever they are. If ye don’t get me the charters, ye’ll lose one daughter, then another, and then the last. That last one will be the lady Lina, for I want her to feel the pain of losing her sisters and all that I shall tell others meantime about her shameful behavior.”

  “Lina has done naught for which she need be ashamed,” she said calmly. “Moreover, you will harm her only at your peril. She is married now to Sir Ian Colquhoun, who will avenge any stain cast upon her character.”

  So Colquhoun and his son had somehow aided the chit’s escape, had they?

  Dougal wanted to curse, but he did not. Instead, he moved closer to her, saying tersely, “Then I’ll take the one I find first, madam. Do not think I will not. Will it be a daughter ye lose or those wretched charters?”

  “Do you think you can come here again so easily?” she asked.

  “Not here, but elsewhere, a place I ken where nae one can lay a trap. Ye’ll find the charters, and ye’ll bring them to me. I’ll find a way to tell ye where to meet me, but do not delay or tell anyone. If ye fail me, ye’ll not get a second chance.”

  “Sakes, how do you imagine that I can simply leave Tùr Meiloach to meet you elsewhere?”

  “Use your Tùr Meiloach magic, woman,” he said harshly. “But ye will meet me or suffer grave consequences. Believe me, for the very fact that I stand facing ye should prove that nae one here is safe. ’Tis plain, too, that ye had nae ken ye would meet me here, despite all the daft tales of your being a Seer. Ye’ll do as ye’re bid.”

  She continued to gaze steadily at him, but he knew that he had frightened her, so he refused to go until she promised to meet him when and where he chose.

  Afterward, eerie dark shadows that looked ominously like wolves followed him through the woods, making his flesh creep. He had to await darkness again to make his escape safely, but when nothing else happened, his confidence increased.

  After all, he was as much a true MacFarlan as anyone at Tùr Meiloach.

  Ian was beginning to enjoy his marriage, even to feel pleased with it.

  When they entered the hall, the dais was empty. Since that meant the others who broke their fast at the high table had likely done so, he was delighted when Lina accepted his suggestion that they take bread and apples and go on outside.

  “My sister Susanna would say that to walk about with food like this is improper,” he confided to Lina as she led the way to the service stairs. “I’m glad you don’t trouble your head about such things.”

  She looked back, smiling. “I know you often feel confined within doors, sir.”

  “I do, aye,” he admitted.

  In the yard, when Pluff opened the postern gate for them, Lina smiled at him, too. She had a lovely smile that went to her eyes, which, in the morning sunlight, were the same shade of blue as her gown. Ian found himself smiling as she led the way to the cliffs. They soon came to a place with boulders suitable for sitting.

  “We can eat here and watch the view,” she said, and he agreed.

  A thin layer of mist clinging to the water showed that the tide was in and quietly turning, just as she had said. They ate and watched gulls soar overhead.

  Several soon swooped near them, and Ian learned that Lina had brought extra rolls to share. She handed him one, and they tossed pieces high for the gulls to snatch out of the air, laughing when the silly birds fought over them.

  “You know,” Ian said after a time, “another reason my father will approve is that he’ll assume that I’m ready to assume more responsibility for our estates.”

  Without taking her eyes off the swooping gulls, she said, “You don’t have to think of more reasons, sir. I trust you to know what they will think, although I’d not be surprised to learn that they had hoped you’d marry a wealthy heiress.”

  “Since you admire honesty, I’ll admit that my father hopes to acquire more land, and I ken fine that you will not inherit much. But that does not trouble me. A knight should win land of his own through feats of duty.”

  “Do you think his grace will reward you with land if you can reclaim Dumbarton for him?”

  He shrugged. “No one ever knows what Jamie will do. He did promise Mag and me, after we helped foil the coup against him, that he would award us land to go with our knighthoods. At present, though, he is eager to reclaim estates that his kinsmen awarded to themselves and to men they wanted to bind to their service.”

  They talked more as they wandered along the cliffs. The day was bright and sunny with a low thin mist still clinging to the Loch of the Long Boats. The water looked calm, and the air was still. Finding a sheltered, private place amid the boulders, Ian took off his plaid and spread it on the ground.

  Standing again, he reached for Lina’s laces. “We’ll take this off,” he said. “Your hair looks like gold in the sunlight. I want to see how the rest of you looks.”

  With a little gasp but with eyes agleam, she said, “I don’t want to alarm you again, sir, but I had a feeling that you might demand such a thing.”

  They spent the rest of Wednesday and most of Thursday together, in bed and out, and to Ian’s delight, Lina soon abandoned the last of her shyness with him.

  He did take time Wednesday afternoon with Andrew to discuss and agree on the documents. Andrew prepared them Thursday, and they signed them on Friday.

  Saturday morning, shortly after dawn, Ian bade his bride farewell and rode away through the forest with his men and Rob MacAulay, back over the southeast pass and down through Glen Luss. Since he and Rob had scarcely seen or spoken to each other in the meantime, they rode together.

  “I wasn’t bored,” Rob assured Ian soberly. “Andrew Dubh entertained me with tales of hawks, badgers, and wolves attacking intruders, and other unlikely events, whilst he showed me more of Tùr Meiloach. I think the man is full of blethers, but he has kept his family safe with those tales of his, so he’s a canny fellow. Certes, I’d liefer keep him as a friend than have him for my enemy.”

  Ian agreed. Conversation between the two was desultory. Neither felt much need to break their companionable silence. Reaching the clachan near Inch Galbraith by midafternoon, they found Lippin Geordie awaiting them.

  “The laird did tell me tae look out for ye, sir,” Geordie explained. “He’ll be a-riding back wi’ ye, an ye dinna mind his company.”

  “How soon can he be ready?” Ian ask
ed.

  “Men on the ramparts be a-watching, too. So as soon one o’ ours saw ye coming, our Dolf went over tae collect Himself. He sent word earlier for the men in his tail tae ready themselves and tae meet him afore ye reach Glen Fruin.”

  Geordie then inquired about the lady Lizzie and others at Tùr Meiloach. By the time a man from the clachan brought out the laird’s horse, saddled and bridled, the boat carrying Galbraith was nearing the landing.

  When they had mounted and turned southward, Rob dropped back to let Galbraith take his place beside Ian.

  “Has Lizzie turned Tùr Meiloach upside down yet?” Galbraith asked him.

  “The tower remains upright, sir. As to Lizzie herself, the truth is that I’ve seen almost nowt of her. She and the lady Muriella have become fast friends.”

  “Aye, Lizzie told me that before she left,” Galbraith said. “Aye, well, if I can trust anyone to keep my lassie out of trouble, Aubrey MacFarlan is the one.”

  “Aye, sir,”

  “Have you devised a plan yet for Dumbarton?” Galbraith asked.

  “Have you suggestions of your own, sir?”

  Galbraith gave him a long look, then smiled. “I see, aye. Well, then, if you were my son, I’d encourage you to keep your ideas to yourself until you’d heard all of the others. Many of the noblemen you are gathering at Dunglass are much more experienced than you are and will pay little heed to your views until they have fully expressed their own. You mentioned that you expect Borderers to come, which would likely mean Buccleuch and Douglas since both are loyal to Jamie. They are fine warriors, so Jamie likely included them to give you advice.”

  “Perhaps, sir,” Ian said. “But when his grace gave me his warrant, he told me straight out to make my own decision about how to handle the matter. He said, correctly, that I know Dumbarton’s weaknesses better than any Borderer could.”

  “Do you ken them better than your sire, lad?”

  Ian smiled. “My father is a gey canny laird, sir. But he loathes warfare. Sakes, he hates conflict of any sort. He is a fine leader of men, and he will support whatever I decide to do. He may even offer advice. But I have a devious mind and he does not. He respects mine though, as long as I don’t use it to deceive him.”

  Galbraith laughed. “You never answered my question. Have you got a plan?”

  “I’ll have one when I need one,” Ian said. “That is what matters. Have you heard aught from your sons, sir?”

  Galbraith had not but was willing to talk about them. He did so until the trees on the hillside to their right thinned and the path up Glen Fruin appeared ahead. Eight armed horsemen awaited them there.

  Galbraith said, “Those are my lads. I’ll have them fall in behind us.”

  They continued riding, therefore, without pause. Soon, dense woods loomed ahead, and Ian realized that they were nearing the area where Dougal and his men had captured Lina and Lizzie.

  He was about to point that out to Galbraith, when movement just west of where the path entered the woodland diverted his attention. The stag stood there, poised to dart up the hillside. Ian raised a hand, signaling those behind him to stop.

  “Hold, sir, and look yonder,” he said, reining in but making no other movement than a slight jutting of his jaw westward. “See him?”

  “Aye,” Galbraith said quietly, staring. “Magnificent.”

  The stag stood out against the greenery for several moments. Then it turned smoothly and, with quiet dignity, disappeared into the woods.

  “We saw him Tuesday on the Glen Luss trail,” Ian said against the murmur of men behind them, who were also discussing the great beast.

  “From the sound of our lads, they’d relish a hunt,” Galbraith observed.

  “Not today,” Ian said. “My father likely assumed that I’d return at least two days ago. By now, he must be struggling to keep his temper whilst striving to keep peace amongst his guests.”

  “You had good reason for your delay, I’m sure.”

  “I did,” Ian said. He nearly told Galbraith about his marriage. But, recalling Lina’s concern about his parents’ feelings, he decided that they should know first.

  Galbraith said, “Colquhoun would not thank either of us for dallying. But when we have reclaimed the castle, mayhap we’ll celebrate with a venison feast.”

  Ian agreed. He would relish such a hunt.

  He sent two of his men to see which direction the stag had taken, knowing that such information might help them find it again. But they found no sign of it.

  Chapter 14

  By midafternoon, Lina realized she missed Ian more than she had thought she would. She had expected to return easily to her usual duties and chores. But even her weaving seemed dull compared to the time she had spent with Ian. Reminding herself that men always left women behind when they went into battle did not help.

  Nor did Muriella or Lizzie help. Having become friends at Bannachra, and delighted to reunite at Inch Galbraith, they had hardly stopped talking since.

  Lina realized that for the first time in her memory, she was lonely.

  The door opened to admit Lady Aubrey, looking distracted. Visibly startled to see Lina but recovering quickly, she said, “I thought you had walked to Annie’s, dearling, with Muriella and Lizzie.”

  “I had begun weaving this length of fabric before we left for Bannachra, so I decided to work on it instead,” Lina explained, resting her shuttle. “I don’t want to offend Annie, though. Perhaps I’ll walk over later and visit her by myself.”

  Lady Aubrey smiled. “Those two lassies have become fast friends,” she said. “But doubtless you are worried about Ian, too. Your father told me why he returned to Dunglass without you. ’Tis a difficult and dangerous task he undertakes, I fear.”

  Feeling a twinge of guilt but having no fondness for falsehoods, Lina said, “In troth, Mam, I do not worry about his safety as much as I worry that he might fail. Everyone says Dumbarton Castle is unassailable.”

  “You cannot help him by worrying, love. He will do what he must do.”

  “You looked as if something were troubling you when you came in, Mam. Is aught amiss?”

  “Nay, love, just a wee puzzle that I must sort—”

  The solar door flew open then, diverting both of them. “Mam, Mam,” Muriella cried, dashing in with Lizzie moving more soberly at her heels. “Andrena and Mag are coming home! They must be near, too, because Lizzie and I were talking and talking, so I did not realize what I was sensing until it grew too strong to ignore. But we did not want to go and meet them without telling you.”

  “That was considerate of you,” Lady Aubrey said dryly.

  “I thought it was,” Murie said on a note of satisfaction. “So may we go?”

  “Did you not visit Annie at all?”

  “We saw her, aye. But she was taking a basket of things up to one of her kinsmen on the mountain, so we came away again.”

  Lady Aubrey nodded, but Lina said, “I thought you said that Dree was dreadfully worried or sick, Murie.”

  Lady Aubrey gave Lina a keen look. “They are returning much sooner than we had expected,” she said with a frown.

  Realizing that if Andrena was pregnant, their mother would likely know of it, Lina said, “I did sense her worry after Murie spoke of it, Mam, but not pain or fear.”

  “She is no longer fearful,” Murie said. “But something is amiss.”

  Lady Aubrey said, “Wait here for them then. If you sense that they are near, they are likely at Craggan, and if Andrena is unwell, they may spend the night.”

  Lina nearly said that they were unlikely to stop at Craggan, since Colquhoun was at Dunglass. But she held her peace because just thinking about Dunglass sent her thoughts flying from Andrena and Mag back to Ian.

  The rest of Ian’s journey home passing without incident, he and his party reached Dunglass shortly before midnight Saturday night.

  Learning from a gillie that, although some of their guests were still up, Colquhoun and hi
s lady had retired, Ian said to his two companions, “We’ll get some sleep, too, then, but I must speak with my parents first in the morning. So, Rob, I want you to find out from Alex and Mag what progress, if any, the others have made. My father will have thoughts to add, too, so we’ll confer with him later. Then, after the midday meal, I’ll want to meet in the hall with everyone.”

  Rob nodded without comment, so Ian turned to Galbraith. “I’ll take you in now, sir, and turn you over to my father’s steward. I hope you will forgive me for abandoning you. But you’ll want supper and a room, and I don’t know which ones are in use and which are not. When I see my father, I’ll tell him that you are here.”

  “Aye, sure, lad, do what ye must,” Galbraith said. “I’ll look after myself and will likely find someone amongst your guests to bear me company.”

  After giving orders to the steward to see to Galbraith’s comfort, Ian added, “Have someone wake me when my parents begin stirring. And, prithee, tell them that I would speak privately with them before they break their fast.”

  Assured that all was in train for the morrow, Ian went to bed. But he felt as if only minutes had passed when Hak shook him awake at dawn on Sunday. “The laird and his lady be dressing,” Hak said. “He said they’ll meet ye in the solar.”

  Knowing that his parents rarely dallied in the morning, Ian performed his ablutions hastily but with care. Then, donning a fresh tunic and his blue-and-gray plaid, he went directly to the solar and found his parents waiting for him.

  Greeting his mother by kissing first one soft hand and then her cheek, Ian straightened and turned to his father. “Good morrow, sir.”

  “Glad ye’re back but sorry ye missed seeing Mag and Andrena yesterday, lad,” Colquhoun said, giving him a paternal double-clap on the shoulder.

  “Sakes, I thought Dree meant to spend a month in Ayrshire.”

  “She had been unwell,” Colquhoun replied. “Glad as she was to meet Wilhelmina and Erskine, she had been worrying herself sick over Lina. I told Mag to take her on home in the galley. That way, he can get back here faster.”