by Amanda Scott
“To that end,” Tam said, “may I suggest that we return at once to Mute Hill and perhaps snatch an hour’s sleep before breakfast?”
Deep in the mist-shrouded High Glen, and in the cavern known as the Great Chamber, ten members of the Circle glided to their customary places around a spectral golden-orange glow that resembled a dying fire. The black-cloaked shapes of the ten stood utterly still after they had taken their places.
In the dense shadows beyond reach of the golden glow, Brown Claud sensed the presence of many others besides his mother, Catriona, and the Ellyl called Fergus Fishbait. The four of them had been summoned to the gathering at short notice, but although his previous visits to the Chamber had been unpleasant, even frightening, this time he felt calm if not entirely relaxed.
Someone shuffled feet in the blackness. Another coughed, quickly muffling the sound. Then the chief’s voice sounded clearly.
“Maggie Malloch, step forward and take your rightful place in the Circle.”
Claud breathed a sigh of relief at the command, for he had not known how the fickle ten would react to all that he and his mother had done, but if Maggie was to resume her seat, all would be well.
When she moved to her customary place, the Circle was nearly complete. Only one space remained empty, and that was the erstwhile seat of the wizard Jonah Bonewits, his father. Jonah’s banishment had stirred trouble, for he retained friends aplenty within the Circle, and thus his position had remained unfilled.
“Ha’ ye news for us, Maggie?” the chief demanded.
“I have,” Maggie said. “First, we must all thank Fergus Fishbait o’ the Ellyllon, for organizing his people tae pretend tae be the English army, thus aiding us in keeping the dealings o’ the Clan safe from mortal ken as we dealt wi’ the devilment o’ Jonah Bonewits.”
Fergus wriggled with pleasure at her words and the resulting applause.
“Second,” Maggie said, “the lass Catriona o’ the Merry Folk has successfully accomplished the task ye set for her. Thanks tae her efforts and me own, the truce betwixt her people and the Helping Hands is now permanent.”
“Then ye ha’ done as we asked, and we welcome ye back,” the chief said. “We ha’ but one more matter before us, then, tae seat our newest member.”
Catriona, sitting next to Claud, leaned over to whisper, “They mean to fill Jonah’s place at last, then. He won’t like that.”
In a wavering voice, Fergus said, “He’ll be gey wroth, Jonah will.”
“Hush,” Claud said. “I want tae hear who’s going tae take his place.”
Others were murmuring too, but when the chief turned toward them and raised his hands, the Great Chamber fell silent.
Solemnly, he said, “Inasmuch as we banished the great shape-shifting wizard, Jonah Bonewits, from our High Circle only tae see him commit many more o’ his grave misdeeds, we find now that he has rendered himself subject tae final banishment from the Secret Clan. Therefore, someone new must take his seat in our Circle, and we ha’ all cast our votes—all, that is, save one.”
Turning slightly, he said, “Maggie, your vote will decide it, because our rule be plain. Tae seat a new member, our vote must be unanimous. The nominee be a member o’ your own Good Neighbor tribe, who has demonstrated the great powers and wisdom required for membership in the Circle. With his very existence at stake, he put the welfare of others ahead o’ his own, and risked all, even though he had nae reason tae believe he would succeed. His success freed many from unhappy spells, making it possible for them tae live productive lives again in our world.”
“Sakes, who can that be?” Claud muttered.
“Hush,” Catriona said, sitting forward so as not to miss a word. Her hand was on his knee, gripping hard, and he felt himself stir in response as he always did.
But he forgot his lust when the chief said, “What say ye, Maggie?”
“D’ye no mean tae tell me the name o’ this paragon?”
“Aye, I’ll tell ye,” the chief said, smiling warmly. “ ’Tis your own son, Brown Claud, o’ course. Look around ye, lass.” He raised his hands again, and the blackness in the Chamber lightened, revealing a host of cheering wee folk.
Claud sat stunned, unable to think or move. Then he saw an old friend, Lucy Fittletrot, dancing toward him with her father, Tom Tit Tot, close behind.
“Sakes, lass, I thought the pair o’ ye had vanished forever,” he said to her.
“We might well have,” she said, “for Jonah sent me tae the distant land where he had already sent me dad tae live in a cage whilst he fiddled for folks what wear long black plaits down their backs. They were kind folk, but we couldna speak or sing, Claud, and I couldna dance anymore. I’m that glad tae be back.” Shyly, she looked at Catriona, adding, “Prithee, dinna be wroth wi’ me for speaking tae him.”
Leaving her hand possessively on Claud’s knee, Catriona smiled graciously. “Welcome home, Lucy,” she said.
“Step forward, Brown Claud.”
“Sakes,” he muttered, “they must ha’ made a mistake. I’m nobbut a dobby. Wha’ I did tae Jonah were nobbut a crazy thing.”
“Go on, silly,” Catriona said, giving him a push. “The Circle never makes mistakes. Just look at Maggie.”
He did, and the next thing he knew he was standing beside her and the chief was settling a long black, hooded robe over his shoulders. It felt heavy, and the thought of the responsibilities that came with it nearly overpowered him.
He looked in panic at Maggie. “I canna do it, mam,” he muttered.
“Pish tush,” she snapped. “Take your rightful place, lad, and dinna talk so much.” Then, as he moved to obey her, she reached to touch his cheek, adding in a voice choked with sudden tears, “Ye’ve done yourself proud, Claud, and ’tis me own belief ye’ll be the best o’ our lot.”
Chapter 21
The return to Mute Hill House was swifter than Anne had expected, for although Willie’s reivers had stayed to disperse Eustace’s men, there were still the men from Dunsithe to accommodate, as well as Eustace himself and Willie, the latter having insisted he had a duty to present himself to Olivia and assure her that Fiona was well. With such a large party, they had no need to move silently or by moonlight alone. Myriad torches made their path clear for all to see.
Anne rode beside Kit, with Fin Mackenzie and Patrick MacRae behind them, but they had not ridden far before Willie drew up near Kit and said, “Beg pardon, sir, but may I ha’ leave tae exchange a word or two wi’ her ladyship?”
Kit’s eyebrows shot skyward. “Have you aught to say to my lady that you cannot say in front of me?” he demanded.
“Nay, nay, but the track be too narrow tae ride three abreast.”
“Very well, but talk fast. I’ve no wish to share her company more tonight.”
Willie nodded, but Anne noted that he eyed her warily. “Do you fear that I’ll snap your head off, you villain?” she said. “You deserve it.”
“Aye, or worse,” he said. “I hear ye shot that pistol right out o’ the man’s hand when he were about tae murder our Kit.”
“What have you done with Fiona?”
“I’ve married her, that’s what,” he said. “Fell in love wi’ her the first moment I clapped me eyes on her, and she says she felt the same. I’m sorry we couldna tell ye, but we feared ye’d tell Lady Carmichael. I’m no looking forward tae seeing her, I can tell ye, but Fiona made me promise tae tell her all’s well.”
“Where is Fiona?”
“Wi’ me uncle and some half dozen cousins at Mangerton, happy as can be. Me cousins canna stop staring, because o’ her beauty, but she doesna pay them heed, other than tae laugh and treat them as if she’d been there forever.”
“Yes, that is exactly how she is when she is happy,” Anne said. “She has not an ounce of vanity in her. She said once that people never see the real Fiona, only the way she looks. I’m glad she is happy, Willie. Thank you for telling me, and thank you, too, for all the help you provid
ed tonight.”
“Sakes, I told ye, mistress. I owe me life tae Kit. I’d never ha’ let him down, not even for Fiona. Nor, tae the lass’s credit, would she ha’ let me.”
The rest of the ride passed without incident, and they arrived at Mute Hill before the sun arose. If they had hoped to go straight to bed, however, that was not to be, for Malcolm met them at the door and, taking in the increased size of their party with evident astonishment, informed them that Olivia had given strict instructions to be awakened upon their return.
Anne sighed, looking helplessly at Kit.
“I’ll be glad to deal with her ladyship, if you will allow me,” Tam said.
“I’ll go with you,” Eustace said curtly, moving to stand beside him.
“Look here,” Tam said, “you don’t mean to continue with that nonsense about Kit being a murderer, do you, because both Willie Armstrong and I can testify to the truth, which is that he never killed anyone.”
Eustace glowered but said, “I must accept the word of the Earl of Armadale, as I am sure the authorities would, but I’ll not give you free rein with Olivia.”
“Her ladyship will not agree to see either of you just now,” Malcolm said, barring their way and looking haughtily from one to the other. “She desires only to speak to Lady Anne.”
“Then she will have to inform Lady Anne’s husband,” Tam said. “As for you, Malcolm Vole, I have been given to understand that you harbor inappropriate thoughts toward your mistress. Perhaps you should know that I am not merely Lord Berridge, as I told you, but also have the honor to be the present Earl of Armadale, and as such, I am head of Lady Carmichael’s family.”
“Can this be true?” Malcolm demanded, looking from Eustace to Kit.
Tam said sharply, “Do you doubt my word, clodpoll? Faith, but if you do not mend your ways, I promise you, you will be seeking employment elsewhere. Now, take me to her ladyship.”
“Well, well, so ye’ve returned, have ye,” Sir Toby bellowed from the hall entrance. “I warrant Olivia will make ye smart for running off like ye did, Anne.”
“Lady Carmichael has no further authority over my wife,” Kit said, but Anne noted that despite his firm tone, he was staring at Toby as if the man were a ghost.
“Olivia won’t let lack of authority trouble her,” Toby said in his cheerful way.
“Here, now, you come with us, Toby,” Tam said to him. “You and Eustace and I can have a game of Cent after I speak to Olivia. Oh, and I should perhaps tell you I was not entirely candid with you before about my identity. You see…”
As he hustled Toby and Eustace into the hall, his voice fading in the distance, Anne said, “What is it, Kit? Why did you look so oddly at Toby?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I feel as if there is something wrong with his being here, but I cannot put my finger on what it is.”
As he said the words, she had a niggling feeling that she, too, had forgotten something, but the sensation disappeared when Kit took her arm and urged her toward the stairs.
Upstairs, they found that someone had tidied Kit’s bedchamber. Candles flickered in wall sconces and in the candle holder on the bed-step table, and a fire crackled cheerfully in the fireplace.
“Malcolm must have sent someone up the moment we rode in,” Anne said. “Trust that man to butter his bread on both sides.”
“He’s lucky he does not serve me,” Kit said. “I’d most likely kick him down the stairs at least once a day and take a stout switch to his backside once a week.”
“How fierce you sound,” she said, smiling at him. “For my part, I do not think your temper is nearly as vicious as you have claimed, sir.”
“You’ll soon learn your error if you continue to behave as you did tonight,” he said, putting his hands lightly on her shoulders. “That cloak is too big for you.”
“It’s yours,” she said.
“I know.”
She would have said more, but the look in his eyes silenced her. Suddenly, she was unsure of his mood, although her body remembered only his touch, and every cell in it called to him.
He reached for the strings at her neck, loosening them and pushing the cloak off her shoulders to the floor. “Are those my netherstocks, too, and my shirt?”
“Aye,” she said, feeling more vulnerable now than she had with the cloak covering her, and much more vulnerable than she had ever felt in woman’s dress.
“Why did you wear my clothes?”
“They were easier than my own to put on in a hurry, and… and I’d already decided to ride as the Black Fox,” she said, rushing the last words. “I… I’m not sure why I did, but it seemed the best thing to do.”
“I suppose I should be grateful that you did not cut eyeholes in the hood so you could wear it like a mask over your face.”
His hands moved to the strings of the shirt she wore, and without speaking further, he untied the bow she had tied. The shirt opening was so large on her that he was able to push it off her shoulders the same way he had pushed the cloak. With a hushing whisper, it slid to the floor too, leaving her clad in only her thin shift, his baggy netherstocks, and her boots.
“Stand still,” he ordered as he bent to one knee in front of her.
“What are you going to do?”
“Teach you to obey your husband,” he said. “Lift your right foot.”
Her body had come alive, tingling and aching for him, the moment he had touched the cloak strings, but now it grew wary as well. It occurred to her belatedly, as she obediently raised her foot, that although she had trusted her instincts from the outset where he was concerned, and her instincts had never led her wrong before, she did not really know this husband of hers. His temper could prove to be as volatile, unpredictable, and violent as he had said it was, and he could be about to strip her naked and beat her soundly for daring to ride to his rescue.
“Now the other one,” he said gruffly.
She obeyed without a word, but when he pulled off her boot only to continue to hold her foot, stroking it lightly and gazing at it as if he had never seen a foot before, she put both hands in his thick hair and pulled hard.
“What the—!” He dropped her foot but grabbed both hands and forced her to release her grip on his hair as he rose to face her, looming over her. “Do you know what you deserve?” he demanded.
“Aye,” she said, planting her hands on her hips and giving him look for look.
He opened his mouth and shut it again as his gaze moved down her body.
She stayed as she was, waiting.
He did not touch her, and when his gaze returned to her face, he said in a tight voice, “What, then? Tell me what you deserve.”
“To go to bed without my breakfast,” she said with a seductive smile.
He reached for her then, pulling her into his arms and holding her tight. “Anne-lassie, I think I’ll keep you,” he murmured against her curls.
“Take me to bed, Kit,” she murmured back. “I would learn more about this business of being married.”
Requiring no further invitation, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. “You still have much to learn about obedience,” he said, smiling mischievously as he set her down. “Take off my clothes.”
“The ones I’m wearing or the ones you are?”
He shook his head at her. “Clearly, I have much work to do to turn you into an obedient wife,” he said, reaching for her feet. Before she realized his intent, he had grabbed the ends of the netherstocks she wore and yanked them off. “Now,” he said, “will you take off that shift, or must I do that, too?”
“I’ll do it,” she said, suiting action to words. “But you are still dressed.”
“Not for long,” he said, pulling off his shirt.
“You should snuff all those candles before you come to bed,” Anne said.
“Did you order your father around like this?” Kit asked as he stripped off the rest of his clothing.
“You are not my father.”
“The candles,” she reminded him.
“I’ll put them out when I no longer want to see my naughty wife,” he retorted. “Lie back, sweetheart. I mean to feast my eyes whilst I teach you more about proper wifely obedience.”
Every fiber of her body responded to the desire in his voice and his expression, and the game of obedience having suddenly become much more interesting, Anne did as he commanded.
“Put your hands at your sides and open your legs a little,” he said, shifting his weight slightly and letting the candlelight reveal more of her.
His interested scrutiny heightened every sensation, and when he reached to stroke one breast, she gasped and began to turn toward him.
“Not yet,” he said firmly. “Lie still. I want to take my time with this unless you fear you might fall asleep.”
The thought was laughable. Gazing up at him, she said, “I should be tired, should I not? But I’m not, not in the least, so do your worst, sir. Just do not forget that last time you promised that I can explore your body the way you explore mine. I want my turn, too.”
He grinned at her. “Oh, aye, sweetheart, I always keep my promises. Now, spread your legs just a wee bit more.”
She obeyed, and he moved between them, stroking her breasts and body. When he bent to take one nipple in his mouth, she could no longer keep her hands at her sides but caught his ears.
“Not yet,” she said urgently. “Kiss me first!”
He hesitated long enough to make her wonder how far he meant to take this business of obedience, but then his lips found hers and his tongue slid deeply into her mouth.
With a sigh of relief and increasing passion, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, but although he kissed her thoroughly, his hands remained busy with her body, and when he moved to kiss a shoulder, she did not try to stop him. He went on to kiss her right breast, sucking long on her nipple before turning his attention to the left one and then to her belly, and lower. By the time his mouth reached the juncture of her legs, she was lost to her own passion and to his.