The Secret Clan: The Complete Series

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The Secret Clan: The Complete Series Page 15

by Amanda Scott


  Mackinnon nodded. “That it will, lad. We ha’ some serious planning t’ do.”

  “Come with me, then,” Kintail said.

  Sensing that what they would discuss concerned her, Molly said, “What is it, sir? What has happened?”

  Mackinnon turned toward her as if to speak, but Kintail said curtly, “If you require to know, mistress, be sure that we will inform you in good time. You are not to attend the afternoon session, however. When I want you, I will send for you.”

  Her temper stirred, but knowing that it would be foolhardy to defy him in front of so many people, she held her peace.

  A tall, lanky young man, whom she assumed to be the same Tam Matheson who had acquired Sir Patrick’s wet boots and who had given the bucket of water to Barbara, announced that the session would begin as soon as the trestles were dismantled. Men got up at once to deal with that task.

  Barbara said, “If we are not to attend the session, then I had better see what chores my mother and Mauri have kept waiting for me. Will you come with me?”

  “No, thank you,” Molly said. It had occurred to her that with all the men occupied in the hall and the women busy elsewhere, the opportunity was excellent for a walk outside. She had had scant time to examine the islet since her arrival.

  Not wanting to take the chance that one of the men-at-arms at the entrance might take it upon himself to forbid her going outside, she went instead to a postern door at the foot of the northwest tower that she had discovered upon taking a wrong turning the second day of her stay. In moments, she stepped out into the sunlight.

  “What is it, sir?” Fin asked as he shut the door to the little office into which he had shown his guest.

  Tersely, Mackinnon said, “Donald kens where the Maid is, and he means t’ stir trouble wi’ ye.”

  “I expected as much,” Fin said, but the information hit harder than he had imagined it would. He was not ready to relinquish the Maid to Donald of Sleat.

  Gesturing toward the single chair in the chamber, he took a stool for himself and leaned against the stone wall between his worktable and the olivewood stand that held his iron-bound desk box. “She will be safe enough here. Eilean Donan is impregnable to attack without cannon. The last I heard, Sleat had none.”

  “True,” Mackinnon admitted, “but the man be gey dangerous all the same, lad. He ha’ decided t’ take the Maid back, and he says he’ll do what he must t’ get her. He ha’ gathered an army, ye ken, and his galleys be many and swift.”

  “You have talked with him,” Fin said.

  “Aye, and the sour-natured devil threatened me,” Mackinnon said, grimacing. “Says he meant t’ offer our Molly t’ Huntly in exchange for Huntly’s promise no to interfere in his attempt t’ reclaim the Lordship of the Isles. Now, Donald says, he has naught t’ offer Huntly and Huntly will side wi’ the King.”

  “Aye, he will, as I will,” Fin said.

  “Donald believes his cause is just,” Mackinnon said. “And ’tis true that they carried off the last Lord o’ the Isles when he were but a bairn. I dinna hold wi’ abducting children,” he added with a speaking look.

  Fin raised his eyebrows. “You would compare the Crown’s annexation of the Lordship of the Isles to Angus’s abduction of the Maid of Dunsithe?”

  “Aye, and why not? Just as the Crown gave Macdonald land to its cronies ha’ Jamie passed our Molly about like a prize at an apple-bobbing.”

  Controlling his annoyance with effort, Fin said, “If you have come seeking my support for Donald of Sleat, you have come in vain, sir. I would remind you that the man killed my father and many of our people.”

  “Whisst, lad, ’tis Molly I care about. I want only t’ remind ye what Donald believes and mayhap t’ offer ye another lesson in the fine art o’ chess.”

  “I do not doubt that Sleat has persuaded himself of his rights,” Fin said, “but he will find it hard to rally other clans in the name of a defunct title.”

  “The Macdonalds number in the thousands, lad. Moreover, he’s threatened t’ move against MacLeod and me if we dinna help him reclaim the Maid, and he’s as good as promised to attack Eilean Donan and all of Kintail to get her. Only if ye can reduce the value o’ the prize that draws him might ye prevent true disaster.”

  “I’ll do what I must to protect Eilean Donan and my tenantry,” Fin said. “The castle cannot support the entire population of Kintail through a determined siege, so Sleat will wreak havoc if we cannot stop him.”

  “Aye, I ken that fine,” Mackinnon said. “We canna raise an army t’ match his in a twinkling, but ye’re bound t’ discourage him if ye wed Molly straightaway.”

  Fin inhaled deeply, not trusting himself to speak. To tell Mackinnon that if he suggested marriage to Molly, she was more likely to murder him than to submit willingly did not seem to be the most sensible course. Nor did he think it wise to admit to Mackinnon or to anyone else that the thought of wedding and bedding Molly tempted him more than he would have believed possible a sennight before.

  Mackinnon’s eyes twinkled. “I ken how it is, lad. Dinna think I do not. I ha’ lived wi’ the lass for nigh onto a dozen years, ye ken, and I took her measure long since. Still, ye can manage her, and ye’ve the royal writ t’ support ye.”

  “My marrying her would make no difference to Sleat,” Fin said more curtly than he had intended. In a more reasonable tone, he added, “He would simply declare the marriage null and do as he pleases with her. I’m told he expected to marry her to that whelp of his, although she’d have eaten the brat alive.”

  “Aye, she would that,” Mackinnon said with a fond smile. “But I’d as lief keep her out o’ Donald’s clutches, and ye be forgetting Huntly. Recall that ’tis Donald’s hope t’ use the lass as a bargaining piece.”

  “Huntly is a clan chief,” Fin reminded him. “He also can declare any marriage null and void and then marry her where he chooses.”

  “Aye, that would be true most places in the Highlands, but ye forget that Huntly be a devout Papist. Ye ha’ a priest o’ your own in Kintail, d’ye not?”

  “I do,” Fin said, seeing where the older man’s thoughts had taken him. “You think that if I were to marry her in a proper, priestly ceremony, Huntly would support the marriage and refuse Sleat’s offer.”

  “Aye, and dinna forget that presently, at least, Huntly supports Jamie.”

  Fin said, “Then he won’t want to go against Jamie’s writ. There is no need for me to marry her.”

  “Ye make it sound like a penance, lad. D’ye ken how much land the lass will bring ye? Even an ye never find her treasure, Dunsithe alone be worth a marriage.”

  “But I’d have to secure it, which is no easy task at such a distance,” Fin pointed out. “In any event, it is too soon to think of marrying her, and ’tis my belief that she’d be unwilling. So, if Huntly is likely to refuse Sleat’s offer—”

  “Sakes, I didna say he would refuse it, only that he would refuse to undo a Papist marriage t’ seize the lass and her fortune. The point o’ marrying her, I’d remind ye, is t’ make it less desirable for Donald t’ snatch her from ye. He’s smart enough t’ see that Huntly would be loath t’ anger both the Pope and the King.”

  “Almost do you persuade me, sir.”

  “Think carefully on it,” Mackinnon advised. “Donald will want t’ gather his forces afore he attacks such a stronghold, so ye’ve some time, but no verra much.”

  “She won’t like this,” Fin said, wondering how much he would like it himself. He was undeniably attracted to the lass. She had only to enter a room for his body to respond to her. Even now, the thought of taking her to his bed argued more strongly in favor of exercising his right to marry her than anything Mackinnon had suggested, persuasive though that gentleman’s arguments were.

  Still, he had done little to tame the lass, so heaven alone knew to what lengths she would go to prevent the marriage or, if he were successful in hailing her before his priest, what she would do to retaliat
e.

  Molly had found a comfortable seat on a rocky outcropping conveniently shaped like a chair, where she settled to enjoy her solitude. The only thing that would have pleased her more would have been riding her horse at Dunakin, or anywhere—galloping full out with her hair loose and streaming behind her.

  As it was, the wind blew softly from the west, and the air held a fresh salty tang, a pleasant change from the crowded hall with its odor of too many unwashed bodies. Gulls and curlews soared and darted overhead, their cries contrasting likewise to the buzz of human conversation she had left inside. Solitude was heady stuff if one chose it rather than having it thrust upon one.

  Thanks to the wind, the day was clear, and away to the west she could see the shadowy, humped shape of Skye. Her thoughts rambled idly, and although they lingered frequently on Kintail, they turned to Mackinnon more than once, and to the reason for his unexpected visit.

  That Lady Mackinnon had not come with him made it clear from the outset that his visit was not social. It did not take much imagination to decide that its most likely cause was that Donald the Grim knew that she had left Dunakin and where she was now.

  She wondered if Mackinnon himself had informed Donald and knew that for him to have done so would not be against his nature. One reason he had been able to maintain the uneasy peace with MacLeod and Donald was his honesty, a trait that both of his fellow leaders admired in him even if neither saw fit to adopt it.

  “What the devil are you doing out here?”

  Sighing, realizing that she had lost track of time and had been just staring at the water and listening to the birds and the wind, and to the waves lapping against the shore, she turned reluctantly to face Kintail.

  “It is peaceful out here,” she said.

  He loomed over her, and she realized that the sounds that had fascinated her had deadened any noise behind her. She had not heard the postern door open or shut, nor had she heard his footsteps approaching over the rocks.

  Although he looked angry, he did not speak at once but drew a deep breath instead, as though to curb his temper. That frightened her more than a fit of pique, for it warned her that he thought what he was about to tell her would upset her.

  “Is it her ladyship?” she demanded, scrambling hastily to her feet. “Has something happened to her? Don’t stand gaping at me, Kintail! Tell me!”

  “Peace, lass, it is nothing like that.”

  “Then why do you hesitate to speak?”

  “Because I am tempted to shout at you,” he retorted, his voice louder than before. “Do you not realize how dangerous it is for you out here?”

  “I’m not going to be swept into the sea by a few waves spitting against the shore,” she said. “The water is calm today.”

  “A sensible person does not heed only the sea at Eilean Donan,” he said, still controlling his temper with visible effort. “Do you not see how near we are to the shore yonder? A skilled archer with a longbow—”

  “He would have to be skilled,” she said, eyeing the distance, “and his bow would have to be stout.”

  “Patrick could do it,” he said bluntly. “He has done it. More to the purpose, however, I have done it, and I am not as skilled with a bow as Patrick is.”

  “Aye, perhaps,” she said, nodding, knowing that in truth a man of moderate skill could accomplish such a feat. “Still, I doubt that you’d do much damage to a target—if, indeed, you actually hit one. The wind being what it is presently—”

  “Enough,” Kintail growled, glancing around. “I did not come out here to debate archery with you. I told you that you are not to leave the castle without my permission. I doubt that you can have forgotten that order so quickly.”

  “Nay, I did not forget,” she said, eyeing him warily, “but you told me only that I could not leave Eilean Donan without permission. That is the islet, is it not?”

  She could almost hear his teeth grind. Standing as he was on a small rise, he towered over her, and she knew that he was strong enough to pick her up with one hand if he chose to do so. It was perhaps as well that he did not know she could swim. By the look of him, he might have been tempted to fling her into the water, as he had Patrick, and it was still icy cold at this time of year.

  When he did not speak and seemed still to be struggling with his temper, she attempted a diversionary tactic. “How did you chance to find me?”

  “Chance had nothing to do with it,” he retorted. “I do not leave the castle unguarded, lass, least of all when so many are gathered here. Watchmen stand above on the battlements, and one sent a lad to tell me when you came out here. Had I not been closeted with Mackinnon, I’d have come for you sooner.”

  “Why did he come? Has Donald learned that you brought me here?”

  “Aye, and Mackinnon says the scoundrel’s in a foul temper over it. Apparently, Sleat hoped to use you to barter with your cousin.”

  “My cousin? What cousin?”

  “Huntly.”

  “He can scarcely know who I am,” Molly said, wrinkling her nose. “My father was indeed his cousin, but I doubt Huntly’s ever clapped eyes on me.”

  “Nonetheless, Sleat believes that if he can present you to him, Huntly will agree not to take up arms to fight his claim to the Lordship of the Isles. To that end, Mackinnon thinks Sleat means to attack Kintail.”

  “But he could not take Eilean Donan!”

  He eyed her speculatively for a moment and then said, “You need not worry, mistress. Most men believe that a single man, woman, or child could defend this castle. You are quite safe here.”

  “I doubt that I’d feel safe with only one other to defend me, but you’d never leave Eilean Donan to be defended so,” she said, certain that she already knew him that well, at least.

  He sighed. “Believe me, lass, there are moments when I might cheerfully say that I’d leave you to look after yourself, but you’re right about Eilean Donan. If I truly had control of that fortune of yours, the first thing I’d do is build a defensive hornwork here, and then I’d do similar things elsewhere to defend Kintail.”

  “So you are just like all the others and care only about my fortune,” she said, surprised by the strength of her disappointment. “I should have known, for that is all anyone has ever cared about.”

  “That would not matter now, even if it were true,” he retorted. “What I care about now is your safety and that of my people. And, as to that—”

  “I’m going inside if only to stop you from barking at me any more,” she said.

  “But—”

  “Men’s words are nonsense, mostly. ’Tis their actions that speak the truth.”

  It hurt more to hear him speak so casually about acquiring her fortune than it had to hear him speak lightly about leaving her to defend herself. Then, she had known he was goading her, but accustomed though she was to her fortune being the primary reason men paid her heed, she did not want Fin Mackenzie to be like the others, and certainly not to say as much to her face. He stood too close to her, in any event. Her skin tingled. She needed distance.

  When she turned toward the castle, he stopped her. “Wait,” he said. His warmth burned through her clothing where his hand grasped her shoulder.

  She stopped and let him turn her to face him, but she avoided his gaze even when his warm fingers cupped her chin, gently tilting her face up.

  “Molly, look at me.”

  His tone was persuasive, compelling, and every nerve in her body shouted at her to do whatever he asked. But she kept her eyes downcast, resisting, certain that he expected submission and would take full advantage of it if she relented. Moreover, to give in so easily would render her vulnerable in other ways. If she let herself care, if she set even tentative roots at Eilean Donan, then leaving would be that much harder to bear when he found it expedient to give her to another man.

  When his lips touched hers, shock swept through her like a firestorm. The hand on her shoulder slipped down to her waist, and the one holding her chin move
d to caress her right arm, his thumb brushing against the side of her breast. She stiffened at the desire his touch aroused in her, and her eyes flew open.

  With a teasing smile and a swift glance around as if he expected someone to see him and object, he murmured close to her lips, “I have wanted to kiss you since the night I first saw you.”

  Fighting the feelings he stirred in her, she pulled back, saying tartly, “So you still regret that you did not take me to your bed that night. Well, you will never do so, sir. Good day to you!” Turning sharply, she wanted to rub her burning lips, but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had affected her so.

  “Nay, lass, wait!” He caught her arm again. “I should not have— Pray, do not go in yet. There is something else I must tell you… that is, something that I should discuss with you,” he amended hastily. Glancing around again, he added, “I keep feeling as if someone were watching us. Perhaps we should go in.”

  “What can you possibly want to discuss with me?”

  A shout from the slope drew their attention to Mackinnon’s hurried approach. As Molly waved to him, she heard Kintail swear under his breath.

  “Did ye tell her yet?” Mackinnon said as he hurried down to them. “What did she say?”

  “Tell me what?” Molly demanded, turning to Kintail.

  To her surprise, his face reddened and for the first time since they had met, he seemed reluctant to look her in the eye.

  Mackinnon caught her in a fierce hug, saying heartily, “Well, lass, is it t’ be your wedding or his funeral that I’ll be helping ye t’ organize?”

  Shooting Kintail a gimlet look, she said grimly, “What is he talking about?”

  “This is not how I meant to bring up the subject,” he said ruefully.

  “Ye didna tell her yet?” Mackinnon clapped a hand to his head. “I’d never ha’ taken ye for a coward, Kintail, and that be plain fact.” Grinning at Molly, he said, “The man’s decided that he must marry ye t’ protect ye from Donald, lass. And a fine notion it is, too. I say that the quicker ye’re wed, the better!”

 

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