by Amanda Scott
“He must be.”
“Even if he is, why did you say I was to be your heir? I don’t like liars.” As soft as his voice was now, it sent a chill right through Fiona.
Old Jardine said in his usual curt way, “Nor do I tell lies. We’ve no seen our Will now for weeks, so he must be dead, like I said. Nowt but a grave would keep that lad away this long without any word to me.”
“The English have been restless, breaking the truce by sending raiders across the line just east of here,” Kirkhill said. “Mayhap he got himself captured or killed.”
“D’ye think he’d ha’ kept his name to himself? He’d ha’ told them he were my son straightaway, and I’d ha’ got a demand for his ransom. I’d ha’ paid it, too, for Will. He’s naebody’s prisoner,” he added. “It has been too long.”
“If he is dead, you will soon have an heir or an heiress,” Kirkhill said, gesturing toward Fiona.
“Faugh,” Jardine snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see the bairn. Sithee, she’ll more than likely lose it afore it be birthed. Her own mam lost more bairns than anyone else I’ve ever heard tell of.”
“I won’t lose my child,” Fiona said evenly.
“Aye, well, whether the bairn comes or no, Richard, I want ye to find out what became of my Will. I thought if I let ye know that ye stand to inherit Applegarth, ye’d come here, and so ye did. I’ve also willed it that ye’re to look after the place when I die if Will doesna come home. Ye’ll do that right enough, I’m thinking, for a tithe from the rents.”
“I will, aye,” Kirkhill said. “I’d do that for anyone, tithe or none.”
“I named ye guardian for the bairn, too,” Jardine said, shooting Fiona a look.
“My child won’t need any guardian but me,” she said.
“Even an I believed that, which I do not, ’tis my duty to name someone suitable to look after his interest here, and to look after yours, too, aye,” he said.
Wondering if that were true, she looked at Kirkhill.
He met her gaze with a stern look that somehow reassured her even as he gave a slight nod and added, “That is true, my lady. However, you should have someone you trust to look after your interest, a kinsman of your own.”
“Should I?” Fiona said. “My good-brothers live at some distance from here, and my father is dead. I do have an uncle who served the Lord of Galloway, but I’ve not seen him these past three years, so he may be dead, too, for all I know.”
“They ha’ nowt to do wi’ her, any road, and I dinna want any o’ them here,” Jardine growled. “Get hence now, lass. I would talk wi’ Kirkhill alone.”
When the lady Fiona had gone, Kirkhill faced his uncle. “I expect you think I should just drop anything else I might be doing and stay here.”
“Nay, I’m none so daft as that. Moreover, I’m good to look after things myself for a time yet. I just wanted ye to know how ye stand. Applegarth will be yours if Will be dead and the bairn also dies. I’d like a lad o’ Will’s to inherit, but I’m none so sure that I’d want one wi’ that lass as his mam. God will decide that matter, I expect.”
“He will, aye,” Kirkhill agreed.
“Aye, sure, but I’ll be damned afore I’ll see any daughter o’ hers taking Applegarth, so ye’ll see to it that doesna happen,” he added with a straight look.
“If I did not know better, I might think you mean me to do away with her.”
“Aye, well, if I thought ye would, we might make a bargain o’ sorts, for I’ve nae use for her. Too hot at hand for any man and doesna take well to schooling. Moreover, I’ve a strong notion that if my Will’s dead, she killed him. Sithee, she were the last one to see him alive, and he were gey displeased wi’ her.”
Kirkhill concealed his distaste, saying only, “I’ll gladly see what I can learn of his whereabouts, Uncle. Mayhap I should look for someone from his lady wife’s family, too, in the event that she needs someone to look after her interests.”
“Nay, then, ye’ll look after Applegarth, so ye’ll look after her, too. Mayhap we’ll talk more anon, but I’m tired now. Ye’ll stay the night.”
Mayhap he would, Kirkhill decided. He had little interest in talking further with Old Jardine, but he did want to learn more about Will’s lovely lady.
She was waiting outside the door for him.
“He thinks that I killed Will,” Fiona said without preamble, knowing the old man would have lost no time in expressing his suspicion of her.
“He did tell me as much,” Kirkhill answered honestly. “I doubt that it’s true, though. Unless Will was even weaker than my uncle seems to be now, I doubt that you could have managed it, particularly in your present condition.”
“That is kind of you, sir, because I’m nearly sure I didn’t,” she said.
His eyebrows arced upward. “Nearly sure?”
“My good-father has accused me so often that I’ve almost come to believe him,” she said glibly. “That is the real reason he invited you here. He wants to know the truth before he dies, so he can hang whoever is guilty.”
“I can understand him wanting that, aye,” he said, nodding.
“He will appreciate such easy understanding on your part, I’m sure. But mayhap, before you tell him as much, you should know one thing more.” Pausing, she added, “I overheard him telling his man that he also suspects you, my lord.”
THE DISH
Where authors give you the inside scoop!
From the desk of Susan Crandall
Dear Reader,
After a good friend of mine finished reading one of my suspense novels, she asked my husband how he could sleep next to me at night, knowing how my mind works. After I’d given her a good dose of stink-eye, I really started thinking. Not about how dangerous it is for my dear husband–although that could probably be debated. Many of us do it every night without pause, but think about how much trust it takes between two people to fall into innocent, blissful, and completely defenseless sleep next to that other person.
But more important to this book is the question: When in our lives are we more vulnerable than when we’re sleeping? I mean, it starts when we’re children with the monster in the closet or the bogeyman under the bed. And for sleepwalkers, that vulnerability multiplies exponentially; their fears are real and wellfounded, not imaginary.
Think about it. You go to bed. Fall asleep… and never know what you might do during those sleeping hours. Eat everything in your refrigerator? Leave the house? Set a fire? It would be horrifying. Even worse, you will have absolutely no recollection of your actions.
As they say, “From tiny acorns mighty oaks do grow.” The disturbing vulnerability induced by sleepwalking was the seed that grew into SLEEP NO MORE.
As for my husband…the poor man continues to slumber innocently next to me while my mind buzzes with things to keep the rest of you awake at night.
Please visit my Web site, www.susancrandall.net, for updates and extras you won’t find between the covers.
Yours,
From the desk of Sherrill Bodine
Darling Reader,
You know I can’t resist sharing delicious secrets about some of Chicago’s best stories!
When I discovered that my friend, the curator of costumes at the history museum, was poisoned by a black Dior evening gown (don’t worry–he’s perfectly well!) and that it happened at a top secret fall-out shelter that houses some of the most treasured gowns in Chicago’s history, I knew I had to tell the tale in A BLACK TIE AFFAIR.
After all, what could be more irresistible than a time-warp fantasy place that houses row after row of priceless gowns that were once worn by Bertha Palmer, the real-life legendary leader of Chicago’s social scene?
For those of you who may not be familiar with her, Bertha leveraged her social standing and family fortune to improve lives and to champion women’s rights. So I thought, how perfect it would be if her gowns helped the women of Chicago once again, and one woman in particular!
It wasn’t long before my heroine, Athena Smith, was born. I gave her two fabulous sisters who are just as devoted to fashion as Athena is–and, of course, as I am–and I determined that a couture gown would change her life forever. One of Bertha’s gowns would poison Athena, just as that Dior had poisoned my friend, and that would throw her back into the arms of her first love, notorious bachelor Drew Clayworth. Of course, that’s just the tip of the iceberg of this story because, as we all know, the course of true love never does run smooth.
Find out what other surprises and tributes to my beloved Chicago I have in store for you in A BLACK TIE AFFAIR. And never forget that I love giving you a peek beneath society’s glitter into its heart. Please tell me your secrets when you visit me at www.sherrillbodine.com.
Xo
From the desk of Amanda Scott
Dear Reader,
What sort of conflict between the heads of two powerful Scottish clans might have persuaded Robert Maxwell of Trailinghail to abduct Lady Mairi Dunwythie of Annandale, the heiress daughter of a baron who defied certain demands made by Maxwell that he believed were unwarranted? Next, having abducted the lady, what does Robert do when Lord Dunwythie still refuses to submit? And why on earth does Mairi, abducted and imprisoned by Robert, not only fall in love with him but later–long after she is safe and a powerful baroness in her own right–decide that she wants to marry him?
These are just a few of the challenging questions that faced me when I accepted an invitation to consider writing the “true” fourteenth-century story of Mairi Dunwythie and Robert Maxwell–now titled SEDUCED BY A ROGUE.
The invitation also came in the form of a question–a much simpler one: Would I be interested in the story of a woman who had nearly begun a clan war?
Since authors are always looking for new material, I promptly answered yes.
A friend had found an unpublished manuscript, dated April 16, 1544, and written in broad Scotch by “Lady Maxwell.” Broad Scotch is a language I do not know.
Fortunately, my friend does.
Lady Maxwell related details of how two fourteenthcentury Dunwythie sisters met and married their husbands. (“Dunwythie” is the fourteenth-century spelling for Dinwiddie, Dunwoodie, and similar Scottish surnames.) SEDUCED BY A ROGUE is the story of the elder sister, Mairi.
Relying on details passed down in Maxwell anecdotes over a period of two hundred years, Lady Maxwell portrayed that clan favorably and Mairi’s father as a scoundrel. The trouble, her ladyship wrote, was all Lord Dunwythie’s fault.
So the challenge for me was to figure out the Dunwythies’ side of things and what lay at the center of the conflict. That proved to be a fascinating puzzle.
Her ladyship provided few specifics, but the dispute clearly concerned land. The Maxwells thought they owned or controlled that land. Dunwythie disagreed.
The Maxwell who had claimed ownership (or threatened to take ownership) was just a Maxwell, not a lord or a knight. However, Dunwythie was Lord Dunwythie of Dunwythie, and that Annandale estate stayed in Dunwythie hands for nearly two hundred years longer. In the fourteenth century, landowners were knights, barons, or earls–or they were royal. So, clearly, Dunwythie owned the land.
Next, I discovered that the Maxwells were then the hereditary sheriffs of Dumfries. Sheriffs (“shirereeves”) were enormously powerful in both Scotland and England, because they administered whole counties (shires), collected taxes, and held their own courts of law. The fact that Annandale lies within Dumfriesshire was a key to what most likely happened between the Dunwythies and the Maxwells.
The result is the trilogy that began with TAMED BY A LAIRD (January 2009) and continues now with SEDUCED BY A ROGUE. It will end with TEMPTED BY A WARRIOR (January 2010).
I hope you enjoy all of them. In the meantime, Suas Alba!
http://home.att.net/~amandascott
[email protected]