The Secret Clan: The Complete Series

by Amanda Scott

  Molly flung the skirt over Barbara’s head. The young woman’s skin was still damp, but there was no time to do much more about drying her.

  “Could you also please lend me a fresh cap to cover my wet hair?” Barbara asked when Molly had hastily laced up the bodice and shaken out the skirt.

  Molly did so, and if the result was not what either of them might have hoped, at least Barbara was presentable.

  She sighed as Molly opened the door. “Patrick is going to be most annoyed.”

  “Well, I do think you should have realized that before you went into Kintail’s chamber,” Molly said with a smile. “Still, perhaps he will not notice.”

  “Patrick? You don’t know him yet if you think that, mistress. Patrick takes more careful note of clothing than anyone else I know. Certainly more than Fin. I heard about Fin pushing him into the loch the day they brought you here. They say the only thing about it that dismayed Patrick was that he was wearing a pair of brand-new boots. He gave them to Tam, saying they were no longer fit to wear.”

  “Did he, indeed?”

  “Aye. Fin might not notice a woman’s gown, but I’d wager my finest silk bodice that Patrick will see in a twinkling that this dress is not mine.”

  Her guess proved right, but the result was not as bad as she had feared, for her brother only laughed when he saw her and hurried to give her a hug.

  “You should have told me that you had arrived, Bab,” he said, stepping back and cocking his head critically. “That dress doesn’t suit you, and you’ve kept us waiting a devilish long time for our supper, but Fin told me what happened.”

  Both Molly and Barbara turned as one to look at Kintail, who was lounging at the table as though he had been waiting some time for them to arrive. The teasing look he sent Molly made her wish she had another pail of water.

  “Aye,” he said, grinning at Barbara, “and I confessed that it was my fault for splashing so much water about before you brought the rinse water in for me, and how you might have split your head on one of the stones when you slipped, had I not caught you. Still, I’m sorry I tumbled you into the tub, lass.”

  Had Molly not already heard Barbara’s explanation, she might have believed him, so glibly did he offer his version. As it was, she regarded him speculatively, wondering if he always lied so easily.

  He met her gaze with a bland look and suggested that they eat at once, so that his men could set up more benches for the next day’s court. Afterward, however, when she and Barbara got up from the table, he got up, too, saying, “One moment, mistress, if you please.”

  Barbara paused beside her, and Molly was grateful, for she was certain she did not want to hear what Kintail had to say to her.

  However, he dismissed the girl with a gesture, and when she hesitated, he said, “Don’t tempt me, Bab. You have already compelled me to lie to Patrick—”

  “Compelled you!” she exclaimed indignantly, but as she did, she shot a wary glance at her brother, still seated at the table.

  “Aye,” Kintail insisted, “and if you do not want me to tell him the truth straightaway, you had best run along. I want to speak privately to Mistress Gordon.”

  Grimacing expressively, Barbara stalked off, and Molly, still not wanting to hear what Kintail would say, said hastily, “You won’t really betray her to her brother, will you, sir? It seems to me that you were far more at fault than she.”

  “Aye, I was,” he admitted, “although if you hadn’t knocked when you did, I’d have soon sent her about her business. You startled us both just as I’d grabbed her, though, and the result was that she slipped and I tumbled her into the tub. Had it been Patrick, as I’d thought, I’d have told him at once what had happened and he would have seen the humor. He might have scolded her for entering my chamber uninvited, but that would have been the end of it. I did not know how he would react to hearing the tale secondhand, however, especially considering your part in it, and I did not want him to take her to task over supper.”

  “So you lied to him,” Molly said with a challenging look.

  “I did,” Kintail said, glancing ruefully toward Sir Patrick, “and I will have to own up to it soon, before we leave the hall.”

  “So you will tell him what happened,” Molly said, feeling sorry for Barbara.

  “I will, but I will also have the chance then to explain the whole business. Must I explain it to you, mistress? I ken well how it looked.”

  “You need explain nothing,” Molly said. “Barbara told me how it was. She ought not to have gone into your chamber, though, any more than I should have.”

  “You did not know that it was my bedchamber, however. How came you there? If one of my men was playing tricks…”

  “No,” she said swiftly. “I believe his part in it was unintentional, and perhaps you will say that I ought to have known your chamber, but I did not.”

  “Why were you seeking me?”

  “To ask if I might observe your court tomorrow,” she replied.

  “Surely you will have too much to do, with so many chores to attend on such a busy day.”

  “Mauri says I would be more hindrance than help to her,” Molly muttered unhappily. “I was not raised to cook or clean, you see, so she has to show me.”

  He was silent for a moment, but although she expected him to lecture her about a woman’s need to learn such skills, he said instead, “You told me at Dunakin that you do know how to do sums and such.”

  “Aye, I do.”

  “Then, perhaps I can arrange for you to do something that you’ll enjoy more than cooking or cleaning. Patrick’s father attended to the castle accounts, and since his death, Patrick and I have had to attend to them, but we have talked about training someone else. Do you think you could do them if we showed you how?”

  “Aye, I could. You would really let me?”

  “I would,” he said. Then he rather spoiled her delight by adding, “We will have to check what you do, of course, but if you learn quickly and do not make too many mistakes, you could save us both a great deal of time.”

  “I’d like to do that,” she said, “but will I not do a better job if I come to understand more about castle affairs?”

  His eyes twinkled responsively. “I can see that you are determined to observe my court, lass, and since I have taken sufficient of your measure to know that you will find a way even if I forbid you—”

  “I would,” she said. “Mauri tells me there are laird’s peeks aplenty, overlooking the hall. I have seen the one on the stairs, myself, so I could—”

  “Would you so willingly accept your punishment for disobeying me?”

  She hesitated, then cocked her head to one side and said, “Is it so horrid, then, what you do to the people who seek justice in your court?”

  Grimacing, he glanced over his shoulder as though he suspected that even then someone might be watching. Then he said, “Justice is not always pleasant to witness, lass, but you may watch if you want. I warrant Bab has watched more than once if it occurred to her to, because I did and so did Patrick, before my father invited either of us to be present. She can sit with you if Mauri has no need of her.”

  He bade her good night then and turned away, but as she walked up the stairs to her bedchamber, she realized that once again, he had astonished her, and the thought warmed her. Perhaps life as his ward would not be so bad after all.

  “That went well, I think,” Catriona said as she nibbled Claud’s ear. The pair of them sat in a stone niche near the stairway and had easily overheard the conversation between Kintail and Mistress Gordon.

  “I dinna think they like each other much,” Claud said.

  “She poured water over him, did she not, when she found him with that Bab person?” Catriona snuggled closer. “That was clever of you, Claud, to think of sending your Maid in to find them together.”

  “But I didna do any such thing,” Claud protested, trying to think—a process he found difficult even when Catriona was not putting her
tongue in his ear. “I—I be more concerned about what I’ll do when he chooses a husband for her.”

  “He must not give her to another,” Catriona murmured, resting one slender hand on his thigh. “Her husband will get her treasure.”

  “But we canna stop that,” Claud said reasonably. “In their world, a husband be entitled tae claim his wife’s fortune.”

  “Then we must think, Claud dear.” She slid her hand between his legs.

  He gasped. “Och, Catriona, I canna think when ye do that!”

  “Then we will do this first and think later.”

  Claud groaned, but he said nothing more about thinking.

  Chapter 10

  Men and women began to arrive for Kintail’s court early the next morning. They rowed across the water in small boats and larger ones, and several even poled across from Dornie village on a log raft. The hall was crowded and noisy.

  Sir Patrick, looking like a lord in an elegant blue velvet doublet and black hose, informed Molly and Barbara when they arrived that Kintail had left orders to seat them near the rear.

  Molly had hoped to sit as close to the proceedings as possible, but when she protested, Patrick said flatly, “I’m to put you out if you make a fuss, mistress. As for you, Bab,” he added, turning to his sister, “you and I are going to have a serious talk before the day is done.”

  Neither protested any further. When they had taken the places he indicated and he had walked away, Barbara said, “I wonder what I have done now.”

  Realizing that she had gone straight to her bedchamber after speaking with Kintail the previous night and had not seen the younger girl again, Molly said, “I believe he knows now what really happened in Kintail’s bedchamber.”

  “But how could he? Fin did not tell him yestereve. We know he did not.”

  Molly explained, adding, “Will your brother truly be angry, Barbara? Surely, he trusts Kintail not to have taken liberties with you.”

  The worried look disappeared when Barbara chuckled. “I would certainly call it a liberty to topple me into the bath with him.”

  “He told me that my knocking startled him, and at all events, you know what sort of liberties I meant,” Molly said.

  “Aye, but I doubt that Patrick would fully trust Fin near anyone wearing a skirt. The pair of them often got up to mischief together before our fathers were killed, and since nearly any woman in Kintail would gladly submit to either one of them, who knows what Patrick is thinking?”

  Shocked, Molly said, “You cannot mean that Kintail would—”

  “Oh, no,” Barbara said, controlling her merriment with visible difficulty. “He would not, and hopefully, now that Patrick has had time to think about it, he will realize that Fin would never harm me, so I am glad that Fin did not tell him straightaway. Patrick’s temper is like his, you see. They both flame up easily, and when either one is blazing away, it is best to leave at once—if one can do so.”

  “They had better not blaze at me, either of them,” Molly said coolly.

  Barbara looked at her in wonder. “Are you not afraid of a man’s anger, then? They can be very fierce.”

  Molly shrugged, ignoring the chill that shot up her spine at the thought of Kintail being fierce. They had no more time to talk, however, for Sir Patrick had moved to the front of the hall. When he raised a hand, the assembly hushed. Feet shuffled, but the few lingering whispers were quickly silenced.

  Sir Patrick said only, “The laird,” and everyone arose as Kintail strode in and sat in the lone armchair on the dais where the high table generally sat.

  Molly stared. She had thought that Sir Patrick looked splendid, but Kintail put him in the shade. Both men were dressed in the French fashion common to west Highland gentry on formal occasions, but Kintail wore red-and-black striped netherstocks. His upper stocks were slashed and banded with red satin, his elegant red doublet patterned to match. His black velvet cap sported the two eagle feathers proclaiming his rank as a Mackenzie chieftain. His attire was much more formal than anything else she had seen him wear, and she thought he looked magnificent.

  Acting as baron’s bailie, Sir Patrick demanded order and called the first case, a claim of simple assault filed by a Mackenzie against a Matheson.

  Kintail listened to both sides, decided in favor of the Mackenzie, and ordered the Matheson to pay a fine of two merks and to keep the peace in the future.

  “If you fail to obey me in that, Will Matheson,” he added with a fierce look, “I’ll think of a harsher penalty to remind you.”

  “Aye, laird, I’ll mind ye,” the young man said, nodding emphatically.

  Molly had expected more interesting crimes, like murder or mayhem, and she wondered if Kintail always found in favor of the Mackenzies. She learned as the morning progressed that he did not, but the claims seemed petty, and she did not know the people involved, so she soon grew bored. She saw that Barbara shared her feelings, but she dared not suggest they leave. She had worked too hard to gain entry and feared that if she left, he would say that he had warned her what to expect and would forbid her attendance on future such occasions.

  When his gaze met hers, she saw his lips twitch and detected a twinkle in his eyes. Did he know what she was thinking? She found herself watching him rather than heeding the cases presented to him, until one of two men standing before him said pleadingly, “Please laird, it were the fairies what did it.”

  Her interest piqued, as good-natured chuckles rippled through the hall.

  Kintail, not amused, said curtly, “Explain yourself, Ranald MacVinish.”

  The second man protested, saying urgently, “Laird, it were Ranald himself that shot my cow, for I saw him do it, and I only had but the one.”

  “I know that,” Kintail said. “Let him speak.”

  “But fairies, laird? Nae doubt he’s lost his mind, but fairies, indeed!”

  Spreading his hands, Ranald MacVinish said, “Aye, sure, but ’tis true, Ian MacMurchie.” Turning back to Kintail, he said pleadingly, “I were walking home late at night after hauling a foundered sheep from a ditch when I heard a rush of air like some’un had flushed a hundred birds. ’Twere the Host passing by, laird, and they swept me right up off me feet.”

  A mixture of gasps and chuckles greeted this tale, but Molly listened avidly now to every word.

  “Aye, there’s a tale,” his accuser said scornfully. “ ’Tis like I said afore, Ranald. Yon fairies must ha’ dropped ye on your head.”

  More laughter rippled through the audience.

  “Aye, ye laugh now,” Ranald MacVinish said, clearing his throat nervously.

  Even from the rear of the hall, Molly could see that he had gone pale and that sweat beaded on his forehead.

  He went on grimly, “I trow ye’ll alter your thinking, man, when I tell ye your daughter Anna were milking that cow when we passed overhead. The Host ordered me to shoot her, but when they put me down, I shot the cow instead, for it be well known that so long as an animal be killed, the command o’ the Host be fulfilled. Ye should be glad ’twas your cow and no your daughter, ye sniveling ingrate.”

  His accuser was silent, and Molly thought he looked taken aback.

  Kintail said harshly, “You do admit to shooting the cow, do you not, Ranald?”

  “Aye, laird, but it happened the way I said.”

  “You will pay Ian MacMurchie for his cow. Have you the means to do so?”

  The man’s face fell, but he did not argue further, saying only, “I ha’ but the four sheep, seven bit chickens, and a dog, laird.”

  “I canna milk one o’ your wretched sheep, Ranald,” Ian MacMurchie said.

  “It is a fair price, however,” Kintail said. “I will take one of your sheep, Ranald, and I will give Ian MacMurchie a milk cow. Is it time to eat yet, Patrick?”

  “Aye, laird, they’ve been waiting to bring in the food this quarter hour past.”

  Nodding, Kintail announced that the court would resume after dinner. When he stood, e
veryone else in the hall stood as well, and when he left, the men set up trestles at right angles to the dais, where they replaced the high table. In a short time, Mauri MacRae’s numerous helpers were setting out food.

  Everyone sat down together at the long tables, sinners and sinned against, and as far as Molly could tell, no one seemed to mind in the least.

  Seated between Barbara and Kintail, she surveyed the assembled company, trying to think of a graceful way to excuse herself from the afternoon proceedings, when a clamor at the entrance heralded new arrivals.

  At least three men-at-arms accompanied them, and heads craned to be sure the newcomers were friend and not foe.

  A Mackenzie man near the entrance took it upon himself to act as Kintail’s porter, announcing in stentorian tones, “ ’Tis Mackinnon o’ Dunakin, laird.”

  “Enter and welcome, sir,” Kintail said, standing to welcome the older man.

  Mackinnon strode forward, leaving his men at the entrance.

  Molly smiled at her foster father, but although he smiled back, she detected lines of worry etched into his grizzled face. His lady apparently was not with him.

  Conversation faded into silence as the diners watched him, and she knew that she was not the only one to read warning in his grim expression.

  “Will you dine, sir?” Kintail said, reaching to shake Mackinnon’s hand.

  “Nay, lad,” the older man replied, bending to kiss Molly’s cheek. “You’re looking well, lass. This place seems to agree wi’ ye.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Molly said, but his attention had shifted back to Kintail.

  In a gruff undertone, Mackinnon said, “We must talk, lad, and straightaway.”

  Kintail nodded and turned to Sir Patrick. “You can begin the afternoon session. Get Tam Matheson to act as your bailie. I’ve a notion this business with Mackinnon will take more than a few minutes.”