“Privilege of age,” she retorted, tossing her skirts over his knees. Hugo glanced down and scowled, but didn’t make a move to push the material off his lap. Nell smiled to herself. Siany might have won the water draw at Goldielands, but Nell knew for a certainty she’d be remarried within the year.
* * *
SEVERAL DAYS LATER, MERRY stood in Ran’s study again. The room held a faint scent, of leather and horseflesh and mellow tobacco. The man himself was long gone. Raiding the border or harassing Braidwood, she knew not. She was afraid to find out. With a sigh, she ran her fingers over the glossy desk Ran used when he balanced his accounts.
Unlike most lords, he did not employ a seneschal or steward to see to his affairs, but seemed to enjoy the direct experience and control that such personal accounting afforded him. Inkwell and pen were still in place where he had left them, and Merry paused to pick up the latter, balancing the elegant gold barrel in her hand. A slight rustling sound nearby caused her to drop the writing instrument, and the nib full of dark ink splattered across Ran’s papers like blood.
“Siany.”
Merry immediately recognized the girl standing in the deep shadows, half hidden by the velvet curtains. At first she was bewildered by the girl’s furtive stance, then suspected she had interrupted something when she noted the papers askew on the desk. As she spoke, she calculated what this might mean.
“What are you doing in here?” Merry decided the best defense was an offense, for she knew those on the staff were forbidden to enter Ran’s private study when he was gone.
Realizing she was caught, Siany stepped forward, and the lamplight gleamed down the length of her pale hair. “I hae a right to ken if Lord Ran provided for me and m’bairn son before he left,” she said boldly.
Merry recognized the undertone of challenge in the young woman’s words and arched an eyebrow. “I have no idea if he did or not,” she said coolly. “However, we both know Ran looks after the welfare of those in his demesne. After your reluctance to admit your plight to me, I am surprised you confessed it to Lord Lindsay.”
Siany didn’t answer right away. “After some thought, I decided yer right, the father owes me. If Lord Lindsay does nae come back, I want yer assurance that ye’ll nae drive me and the bairn away,” she said defensively. “Auchmull is my home, and I hae nowhere else to go.”
“Are you implying Ran is the father of your child, Siany?”
The girl regarded her with cool blue eyes. “Will ye run me off now, milady?”
Merry felt an intense pang of doubt and pain, but was careful not to let it reflect in her expression. “D’you truly believe I’m that sort of woman?” she asked. When there was no reply, she sighed and said, “Of course you may stay, Siany, whatever the circumstances. The child is innocent. I only ask you keep the matter of your former relationship with Lord Lindsay discreet. I’ve no wish to be made the laughingstock of the Highlands.”
Siany’s blue eyes gleamed. “Former, milady? Are ye truly so naive?”
Merry’s stomach tightened from the calculated blow. This time she could not disguise her distress. Noting the reaction, Siany shrugged.
“Ah, poor Lady Merry. Did ye never suspect? Yer husband took me again for his lover right after ye two were wed.” She smirked at Merry, enjoying the abrupt change of control, and Merry’s visible shock and uncertainty.
“Mind ye, milady, if yer planning to toss me out, I think he’ll stop ye. I’ve no doubt Lord Lindsay loves me.”
“Then why didn’t he marry you instead of me?”
The girl’s eyes flashed. “Because he willna wed a bastard lass again,” she hissed. “He made a dire mistake wi’ Lady Blair, he says, and nearly lost his people’s faith. Ye ken Lord Ran also needs a legal heir, though he’s promised to acknowledge my wee laddie as his own.”
As the upsetting conversation progressed, Hertha passed through the downstairs corridor, having turned over the task of unpacking trunks to one of the lesser maids. She overheard the rising voices coming from Lord Lindsay’s study, and paused in the hall.
Hertha thought she recognized one of the voices as belonging to her own granddaughter. A second later, she was sure. Horrified to think Siany might be causing trouble for Lord Ran or Lady Merry, she reached for the latch and inched the door open, just in time to overhear her granddaughter’s latest remark.
“Ran does nae love ye, milady. He could nae love any Sassenach.” The girl was gloating. “He wed ye on royal command, and yer just a means to an end. Gie him a legitimate son, and then get out. Yer nae wanted here. Lord Ran has Auchmull and me, and ’tis more than enough for Himself.”
Hearing this, Hertha hurled open the door with a great crash against the wall, and rushed in to grab her wayward granddaughter by the ear. As Siany shrieked in rage and pain, Hertha exclaimed, “Ye lying little slut! How dare ye speak so to Lady Merry? Ye’ll apologize at once.”
“Never!” Siany cried, and shrieked again when her grandmother’s palm lashed out and left a stinging imprint on her left cheek.
Stunned by the scene being played out before her eyes, Merry tried to diffuse Hertha’s anger against her granddaughter, but this time it was the retainer who held the trump card, and who was determined to set matters aright.
“Tell Lady Merry the truth, Siany Gill,” Hertha calmly threatened, giving the tender earlobe a twist that set Siany to howling anew. “Or by heavens I’ll rip off yer ears, the pair of them, and feed them ta the stable curs.”
“’Tis true!” Siany wailed defiantly.
“Och, ye canna expect me to believe that, little lass, when I’ve seen ye wi’ my own eyes sneakin’ back from Braidwood more than once. I held my tongue, but I will nae do so any longer. ’Tis long past time for yer comeuppance, my gel. Ye’ll get it now.”
Taking a deep breath, Hertha continued. “I never told anyone who sired ye, Siany, because yer mum was too ashamed and sickened to tell a soul the truth. Yer real father was a wicked man, a verra evil one who fancied sweet young lasses, and took his pick wi’ out paying heed to the consequences.
“Near twenty summers ago he found my Alyce to his liking, had his way wi’ her, left her for dead. ’Twas Lord Ran’s father who found me bairn, cleaned up her wounds, and both her an’ the bairn when ’twas found she was wi’ child.”
For a moment, Siany was stunned into silence. “I always thought Rhynd Crawford was my father,” she said at last in a stricken voice. “I hae his features, Mum said more than once.”
Hertha laughed, a low and bitter sound. “Aye, Alyce let the others assume what they would. Ye’ve always fancied puttin’ on airs, my gel, and ye’ve run a cruel course for the other kitchen lasses wi’ all yer nonsense stories about bein’ a bastard Lindsay born on the wrong side o’ the blanket. Dinna be too disappointed, lass. Yer gentry-blooded, all right. Just nae Rhynd Crawford’s brat.”
The silence was terrible. Merry saw the explosion coming a split second before Siany herself did.
“Nay!” the girl cried at last, a scream of pure denial, but Hertha continued in a surprisingly calm vein:
“Aye, ye foolish chit. Sir Robert Wickham was yer sire.”
Siany looked ready to swoon from the shock. Merry rushed forward, held her up on one side. Despite her anger, she found herself pitying the girl.
“Nay,” Siany moaned, and a second later her eyelids flickered open on Hertha. “I hae coupled wi’ Sir Jasper only once, and he’s nae the father of my bairn.”
“Neither is Lord Ran,” Hertha said sternly.
Miserably Siany shook her head. “Nay,” she admitted in a low whisper, avoiding Merry’s gaze. Siany sounded defensive, rather than ashamed.
“I could use some extra groats,” she sullenly explained when Merry demanded why she had invented such a tale. “I hoped ye might offer me some money to leave Auchmull. I’ve always wished for a grand life.”
“After which you would come back periodically for more funds,” Merry said with disgust. The
girl didn’t deny it.
Though Merry was hurt and infuriated by Siany’s lies, Hertha looked by far the more upset. She obviously found it hard to believe she could have raised such a calculating child.
“Ye hae yer father’s bad blood,” the woman said at last, turning free of Siany’s ear. “I wash my hands of ye.”
Siany’s eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. Clearly she hadn’t expected such dire consequences from her actions.
“Oh, Gran’mum,” she begged, “dinna disown me! I’ll apologize to Lady Merry, even Lord Ranald himself, if’n ye wish.”
Hertha’s expression didn’t soften in the slightest. She shook her head, looking weary. “’Twill nae be enough this time, Siany. I wanted ye heart and soul even though ye were nae a child born of love. Ye’ve repaid my kindness and care o’er the years wi’ lies and cruelty to the few others I care about. Still ye stand here and lie to m’face. Nay, lass, I gave ye every benefit of the doubt for sixteen long years. I’ve nae more ta gie.”
Sobs wracked Siany’s slight frame, but Hertha was not moved. Taking Merry’s arm instead, she said quietly, “Ye look in dire need of some peace, milady. Come, I’ll see to it ye finally get some.”
Merry was about to protest, realizing the matter was far from resolved, but she never had a chance. For a shrill cry suddenly pierced the halls of Auchmull, and as the women looked at each other in mutual alarm, Nell’s voice was finally distinguishable above the rising din.
“Someone left a message wi’ the guard at the gate,” she cried. “Edzell is under attack!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
HEARING THIS, MERRY’S BLOOD turned to ice water in her veins. She rushed past Hertha and Siany, into the hall below the gallery where Nell was frantically trying to order the visibly stunned staff to organize the castle defenses. Recognizing her mistress, Nell nearly crumpled, but managed to grab fast of the iron handrail and came stumbling down the stone steps as fast as she could.
“Lady Lindsay!” she wailed, and the impact of her small figure nearly knocked Merry flat as Nell flung her arms around her waist. The maid was gasping for breath so hard Merry couldn’t understand her at first. Nell’s normally pink-and-ivory complexion was splotchy and red from her crying jag. Merry pried the other woman off like a limpet, and sternly demanded, “What’s going on, Nell? How can Edzell be under attack? You’re not making any sense.” She shook the other slightly in an attempt to snap Nell out of her hysteria.
The other woman shook her head wildly. “Ye ken Hugo went back to Edzell after Sir Christopher left. He was plannin’ to retrieve his things and return here so we might wed.”
“Such news does not come as a surprise, Nell. I knew you were fond of one another.”
“Aye, milady. Hugo still wants to serve Master Gilbert. Lord Ran ordered Master Gilbert to return to Edzell and finish his studies before he left, but I ken Master Gilbert has plans of his own. The message …” Nell gestured helplessly, “came from Hugo himself. Edzell is being ransacked by Tudor soldiers searching for Lord Ran.”
Merry thought a moment, trying to stay calm. “I know the queen’s hand was forced. Despite Wickham’s treachery, ’tis true someone is plaguing the border. She must needs put a stop to it, and Ran picked the worst time to vanish. He looks guilty.”
“Aye,” Nell admitted, “but I canna believe ’tis him, milady.”
“The description matches, including that of his mount, Dearg,” Merry said. She sighed with pure frustration, running a hand through her hair. “We have to find him, and soon. Set with an immediate search of the entire grounds.”
Merry briskly instructed the rest of the Auchmull staff who still stood there gawking, to search the keep completely from top to bottom, plus the outer ward and yard.
“Someone run and check with the guards at the gate,” she added. “They may have seen something. Most likely Lord Lindsay is elsewhere, but we can’t take any chances.”
Nell wept with relief when Merry took charge, and though she saw her lady’s face pale with trepidation, she knew Merry would not rest, nor allow the others to do so until Ran was found and matters settled to her satisfaction.
For the sake of the others, Merry kept an outwardly calm facade, but inside she was a churning mass of fear and uncertainty. Her worst nightmare was coming true. Any moment she expected to hear the clatter of horse’s hooves in the courtyard, announcing the arrival of the queen’s men, or mayhap Ran himself, but the hours ticked by and there was only grim silence in the keep. Her heart was heavier and colder with each passing moment. When one of the men arriving from Edzell reported there had been sightings of a familiar horse and rider riding the border the previous evening, Merry’s uneasiness turned to genuine fear.
It must be Ran. Logically there was no reason why he should seek revenge against Wickham, given Blair’s complicity in the matter of their affair, but as Merry knew, logic did not necessarily prevail in this instance or any other. He had loved his first wife despite her flaws, and probably still did. She had no way of contacting Ran, and though she considered sending a message to Darra or riding out herself, she realized she might foolishly blunder into the midst of the conflict, and become an unwitting pawn or a hostage herself.
By midday, Edzell’s plight had spread from one end of the demesne to the other. Merry was surprised and touched by the number of Ran’s supporters and those at Auchmull who volunteered to go up against the queen’s soldiers if need be. Even those who had once railed against her now drew close to offer quiet words of sympathy or advice. Where Ran’s life was concerned, clan honor was put temporarily aside. She set them on a search for Ran instead. While Lindsay women scoured the keep from top to bottom, the remaining men and boys rode out in four small parties, one in each direction. Nell had started a prayer circle in Auchmull’s small stone chapel, along with a handful of other women who were too elderly to physically assist in the search.
Of them all, Merry felt the most helpless, though never more so when one of the guards from the gate found her late that afternoon in the Rose Tower. Stepping hesitantly across the threshold, the guardsman found her keeping her a silent vigil, and when Merry looked up and spied the folded parchment in his hands, she let out an inadvertent cry of hope. Had Ran heard they were looking for him? Was he coming home?
As if reading her mind, the burly guardsman quickly shook his head. “’Tis nae from Lord Lindsay, milady. ’Twas fired over the wall minutes ago, attached to an arrow. Nobody saw who did it. It has yer name on it.”
“Mine?” Uncertainly Merry rose from the velvet settee and accepted the heavy ivory-colored vellum. It was closed with a plain red wax seal. The words “Lady Lindsay” were roughly scrawled across the flap. Merry nodded to dismiss the guard, who hesitated slightly before he bowed and left. She had the terrible feeling it was not good news, another plea for help from Edzell, perhaps, but far more likely it concerned her missing husband.
Taking a deep breath, Merry slit the seal and unfolded the paper. The unevenly scrawled, black ink letters leaped off the page at her:
Lady Lindsay—If you want to see your husband again, come alone to Badanloch just before sunset. Tell no others.
The bluntly worded note was unsigned. Merry’s fingers trembled. What should she do? This clearly did not come from Elizabeth Tudor’s men. Someone else was involved with Ran’s disappearance. She realized she should alert the others, but the note had warned her not to tell anyone else. She was desperate now, worn from waiting, worrying. It might be a trick, but could she risk Ran’s life? She shook her head in reply to the fleeting thought. Nay. If she was ordered to go alone, she would do exactly that. There had been no mention of ransom, and maybe the responsible party wanted to lure her into their clutches as well. Even if Merry was taken prisoner, at least she would be with Ran. She must simply have faith she would not be hurt.
Most likely, someone wanted a bargaining ploy with the Lindsays. Macleans or Padons, probably. Ran would be forced to pay a he
fty ransom, no doubt, but then would be set free. Merry could only hope the rebels reasoned the same way she did. If not, she and The Wolf of Badanloch might well never set foot in Auchmull again.
* * *
IT PROVED MORE DIFFICULT than Merry imagined not to confess her secret predicament to the others during the evening meal.
The curious guard had mentioned the strange note to others, but when Nell asked Merry about it, she lied and told the maid it had merely been a well-aimed taunt by a passing Maclean. It must have been consistent with the other clan’s behavior, for Nell asked no more about it.
Meanwhile, the frightening note burned a hole in the pocket of Merry’s gown. She had ordered supper early, so she might have time to prepare for a long journey to Badanloch. Not certain of her directions, she had casually mentioned the place earlier, and Hertha had chimed in with a bitter little laugh, saying that it was the same spot where Siany claimed to have met with her lover.
With more offhand questions to Nell, Merry learned the burn was nestled in a nearby wooded copse, about three miles or so from Auchmull. She would set out promptly after dinner. Each bite tasted like ashes in her mouth, but she knew she would need to keep up her strength for Ran’s sake. If the note was genuine, someone clever had managed to capture him off guard. It seemed very unlikely they had known of Ran’s exact whereabouts, unless they had an inside informant. It was a chilling thought.
After the meal, Merry escaped to Ran’s room and quickly exchanged her gown for a pair of his wool riding trousers and a plain white shirt. Both were too big for her small frame, but she rolled up the cuffs and sleeves and cinched the breeches snugly with a bit of corded hemp. Then she crept carefully down the hall to her own room, and added a pair of sturdy leather boots, a dark cloak, and gloves.
She felt like her bold sister Kat, donning men’s trews, and laughed at the irony of the circumstances. She had always been the proper one, scandalized by any unladylike actions or garb, and suddenly nothing mattered but Ran’s life. She felt icy resolve settle over her like a cloak. She would do what she must.
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