Behind him, his squire Runt carried a smoky torch and a short sword. Lord Hugh leaned his sword against Runt and embraced his son heartily.
“Colin,” he said. “We weren't expecting you for another fortnight, at least! The usual pigheadedness in the Highlands, I suppose.”
“Aye, Father. I had to leave, or kill someone.” His last comment he directed toward the opposite side of the room, belatedly asserting his authority.
Colin walked over to Alec and clapped his great arm around the Macpherson's wide shoulders. “But Alec Macpherson's come to stay with us for a bit.”
“Alec, my boy, it's so good to see you here again. It's like old times, you two boys...ah, strong, grown men now...together again. Maybe we'll teach you to swim and sail yet!” The old warrior smiled, greeting the young Macpherson with a crushing bear hug.
“Thank you, Lord Hugh,” Alec said, returning the greeting. “My father sends his regards to you. I know he misses seeing you at the Highland gatherings.”
“Thank him for me, lad. We've had many a good time together, he and I. And gotten into a bit of trouble, too, I'll warrant you.”
The old man turned to Colin. “You lads must be dog-tired after that journey. Well, to bed, then; we'll talk in the morning. So you're putting him in this room, that's good...Hold! By the Virgin, that's not good! Lady Celia! Where are you, lass?”
“Here, m'lord.” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper.
Where Celia stood by the clothes pegs on the opposite side of the room, she had been partially blocked from the group of men by the heavily curtained bed. With the arrival of his son and the Macpherson heir, Lord Hugh had momentarily forgotten her, even if the two young men had not.
“Lady Celia,” Lord Hugh began, moving quickly to her and taking her hand. “Lassie, these great baboons must've given you a terrible fright. Are you all right, dear?”
Colin could not believe what he was seeing. Hugh Campbell's ferocity was legendary in Scotland. In England, Hugh Campbell's name was rivaled only by the Black Douglas as the most fearsome of Scots. Mothers all along the Irish and English coasts invoked his name in the dark of the night to control their unruly brats. The Campbell wealth and fame had been bought with the blood of so many battles, so many raids. This man was war incarnate. For the past forty years, this had been a man to be feared.
And yet, here was this same man, reaching out with the gentleness of a lapdog. His voice, his look, the way he moved to this woman, all bespoke the manners of an abbey clerk.
And this woman. This woman who moments before had wielded a sword like a seasoned soldier. Who had upended and vanquished Alec Macpherson, an extremely capable fighter. This she-devil who had held even him, Colin Campbell, at bay...and then eyed him so scornfully.
And here she was, putting a limp and quivering hand into the laird's great paw. Here she was, looking into his father's eyes like some newborn fawn, fragile and vulnerable.
She had purposely changed from a lion to a lamb in the blink of an eye. The woman was a witch!
She was working her charms on his father, but they would not work on Colin Campbell. Not again.
Looking past his father's shoulder, Colin suddenly glimpsed a genuine look that he hadn't expected to see. Was it worry? Was it fear? Colin's view of women was that they were naturally fearful. God knows, in a land so torn by feuding clans and marauding Englishmen, women had good reason for fear. They needed strong men to protect them.
But that sudden flash of fear in this woman seemed extraordinary for some reason. Fear of what, he wondered.
But more important, who was she and what was she after, this woman? Why had she come to Kildalton?
“I'm fine, m'lord,” she began sheepishly, suddenly feeling an uncontrollable urge to explain, to apologize. “I thought they were...I didn't know who...I know, perhaps, I...If their lordships would see it to...”
Celia was rattled. For some unaccountable reason she felt her face burn with embarrassment. It was good that the room was dark. The one torch that the squire held would not shed enough light to betray her flushed face.
Then, like a bolt from the blue, it occurred to her perhaps this warrior would persuade his father to throw her out. Where would she go next? She could see the glowering look of anger in his eyes now. Then, for a fleeting moment, she thought she sensed a change in those gray eyes. Concern, perhaps. Or sympathy. Whatever it was, the look passed quickly, replaced by the fierce scowl that she guessed could hide any soft feeling this warrior harbored.
“Calm yourself, my dear,” Lord Hugh rumbled softly. “But you haven't really been introduced to these two ruffians, have you. Well, not tonight. Tomorrow will come soon enough to get acquainted.”
“If you want to lodge your other guest here, m'lord, I'll just take a moment to move my things next door.”
“Don't you worry, lass,” the old man said gently, beginning to move toward the door. “We'll find another place for young Macpherson to be comfortable. You and the bairn will not be troubled here.”
“Thank you, Lord Hugh. I really didn't want to cause your family hardship,” she said, following the three men.
The old warrior's creased face warmed with a look of fatherly affection as he turned and took her hand again.
“Don't be concerned about our hardships. All Scotland's got hardships now, and you've had enough of your own. Good night, Lady Celia.” The Campbell chieftain then turned on his heel and herded the rest from the room.
Colin threw this mystery woman a last irritated look as he left the room. His father was completely taken with her.
“Who is this woman, Father?” Colin exploded in the hallway.
One of Lord Hugh's shaggy eyebrows arched in surprise at his son's exclamation. He had never before asked anything about any woman of quality in his entire life.
“Fine looking lass, isn't she,” the chieftain remarked casually. “If I were your age...well, perhaps a bit younger, I'd—”
“Hang her looks, Father! Who is she? What's her business here?”
Colin is certainly worked up over her, Lord Hugh thought to himself. This is promising. The lad should have married ten years ago. We could have had a whole herd of little Campbells running wild in this castle by now.
Funny it should be this one that got his attention. If he's interested now, Hugh thought, wait till he finds out who she... No, I'll not tell him. We'll just watch and maybe let things take their natural course...for a wee bit, anyhow.
“Why, Lady Celia arrived with her uncle and her bairn a week ago. After that devil Danvers burned Edinburgh, he started burning every castle, manor house, and farm in the Lowlands, and they've been on the run ever since. The poor lass has been sick with worry about the wee one. Over a month they've been tracking through this miserable winter wet. The bairn has a terrible cough, Runt says.”
“It's true, Lord Colin,” the squire piped up from the rear. “The lady frets over the babe night and day. She's a wonderful caring woman.”
“Of course she would be,” Colin snapped. “What mother would not?” Colin had known his own mother for only the first few years of his own life, but his vague memories were ones of tenderness and warmth.
“This woman was sick herself when they arrived,” Lord Hugh added. “She never so much as gave herself a thought, though. The bairn, the wet nurse, even her uncle came first for her. She's a rare one, Colin.”
“Well, she certainly made a quick recovery,” Colin responded gruffly. “You can ask Alec about that.”
Lord Hugh threw Alec a quizzical look, but the Macpherson feigned ignorance. He was not going to admit that this slender and sickly woman had knocked him to the ground.
“Aye, Lord Hugh, she moves with pretty fair speed for a sick woman. I didn't want to hurt her, of course, but...” Alec's voice trailed off as he searched for a new direction for this discussion. “Who is this Lady Celia, though, m'lord. You've not said.”
“I haven't?” the Campbell chieftain excl
aimed. “Surely when I introduced you all...I didn't even do that properly, did I?”
“It's true, Lord Hugh,” the trailing Runt chirped up. “You never made any proper introduction. You crabbed the entire meeting, you did.”
“Quiet down, fish bait, or I'll ding you so hard, you'll wake up in Ireland,” the old laird rumbled at his squire with a pretended show of anger. In truth, the Campbells had never been the kind of masters who beat those in their service, and because of this, the verbal exchanges sometimes bordered on insubordination. But Lord Hugh knew that he could count on every one of his retainers' loyalty and affection. He was looked on as a father to them all.
“Where was I,” the chieftain continued. “Oh, yes. She's Celia...er...Lady Celia... Caithness. Escaped when the cowardly English pig Danvers tried to burn them out. Her uncle Edmund and I have known each other for more than thirty years. The last we spent any length of time together was after that little brawl we started at Norham Castle, back in '98, I think it was. We were baiting—more than fighting—the English back then. A good fighter, he is. Maybe the best trainer of soldiers in Scotland, too.”
“Then where is her husband to care for her?” Colin asked irritably. “The Caithnesses cannot protect their own wives?” He didn't know why this news upset him so, but he suddenly felt wrung out, as if someone had squeezed him out like a wet rag.
“Lord Caithness cannot,” Alec responded, cutting into the discussion. “He died with the king at Flodden.”
The two Campbell men stopped and faced the Macpherson.
“You know her?” Colin snapped at his friend.
“Only about her, and that probably only third hand,” Alec responded. “And I only knew Lord Caithness by sight, for he was closer to your age, wasn't he, Lord Hugh?”
“I never knew him myself, lad, him being a Lowlander, but I believe he was only ten years or so younger than I. If my memory serves me, I believe he sided with—”
“What do you know about her, Alec?” Colin interrupted, stopping his father mid-sentence, to which Lord Hugh took more amusement than offense.
“No more than mere gossip, Colin my friend,” Alec teased with the most serious of expressions on his face, sensing the father's response from his surprised smile. “And I know you have no interest in hearing tales.”
“Nay, indeed, lad,” Lord Hugh cut in wryly before his son could respond. “The Campbells are not a bunch of old fishwives to stand about trading slanderous stories. Nay, indeed. But tell me, rather, about the business at the Highland tryst. There's serious talk for serious men.”
Colin could not press Alec further at this point, but the matter was far from closed. As Colin turned his thoughts to the business of the meeting, Alec spoke up.
“Colin spoke clearly and to the point with the other Highland chiefs, m'lord,” Alec said earnestly. “But your proposals were shouted down by Torquil Macleod and too many of the others. They’re like a pack of greedy wolves, ready to tear apart what’s left of Scotland, thinking they’ll get a little piece. They'll all perish like the fools they are, with their petty bickering and their arrogance. But the Macphersons are with you.”
“Good, lad. Your father's always shown wisdom in his dealings. We need to stand together against the English. The Stewart kings have never been great friends to us in the Highlands and the Western Isles, but they've always been a rallying point for us against the outsiders. And we'll be needing them now.”
“My father thought that with spring nearly here, Colin and I could do a great deal to muster support among those chieftains who did not go to Dunvegan, and maybe even among the Lowland lairds who survived this bloody winter.”
“Aye, lad. Perhaps we'll be able to persuade Edmund to travel with you two. He's well known and respected among the Lowlanders. He’s a man of honor, and he's trained enough of their fighters, I know.”
“He'll be a real asset, at that,” Colin commented in a surly tone. “He can start by giving Alec here a lesson or two.”
“Sounds like there's a story here that I'd just love to be hearing,” Lord Hugh said, yawning. “But I believe tomorrow will be soon enough to hear it. Why don't you put Alec in the Archbishop's room? He shall not be arriving until right after Easter. Good night, lads. Good to have you safely home.”
After Lord Hugh closed his own door, Runt curled up on his blankets in the alcove across from his door, and the two great warriors continued down to the room that Alec would be occupying during his stay.
“Well, Colin, if you don't think I'll run into any adventures trying to get into the Archbishop's bed...” Alec quipped, half drawing his sword in mock defense.
“Not so quick,” Colin said. “I want to know everything you know about Lady Caithness.”
Colin's head was telling him that this Caithness woman was trouble; he had to learn more about her.
But as strange as this woman was, there was something even stranger about that rush of relief that he'd experienced, hearing that this perplexing woman was a widow.
She was beautiful, indeed. But Colin had known many beautiful women in his life, and none had ever gotten under his skin the way this one had. And so immediately!
He was even more perplexed now. Something about this woman was affecting him. And this irritated him even more.
But he was not going to give in to these feelings. He had more discipline than that. And he was going to find out what this woman was doing here. Perhaps whatever Alec knew, or had heard, would give Colin a clue.
This woman is hiding something, the giant warrior thought, and I'm going to find out what it is.
Chapter 3
When they limped home after Flodden, we deserved to take something from them. That is the way of war. And the Scot king sought us out for battle. They say he was after dowry. That King Henry wasn’t paying his sister’s keep. What a bloody price these Scots are paying now for the pettiness of kings.
He's bound to find out.
Celia replaced the heavy wooden bar on the door, then turned and leaned her back against it. She let out a sigh so loud that she startled herself. This was going to be so difficult.
Although the entire incident had occurred in just a few moments, Celia felt as if she had been through a night-long ordeal. The confused whirlwind of actions that had taken place suddenly took on a dreamlike quality in her mind. Standing alone in her dark room, she found herself wondering whether any of it had really happened. Aye, she could see the pieces of broken chair lying on the floor where Alec Macpherson had landed.
Of all the people in Scotland, she thought, it had to be a Macpherson.
An anxious look crossed her face as she surveyed the bedroom. If what she had experienced was real, then she had not just secured the only entry into the room. Her eyes lit on the panel beside the fireplace, and she walked quickly to it.
The moonlight still poured in the window, illuminating the room to some extent, but it was hardly light enough for her to see well. Running her fingers along the grooves in the woodwork revealed no latch or crevice that would allow her to pull the panel open. This was very clever workmanship, this secret passageway. She would need to examine this in the daylight. But for tonight, Celia would need a way to block this entrance. Celia knew that the two giants had entered from outside the castle. Others could possibly come in the same way.
As she peered into the darker recesses of the room, Celia suddenly shivered with the cold, pulling the heavy cloak more tightly about her. There were not a lot of choices for her.
The great wooden bed was like a mountainous island perched against the inner wall of the bedroom. From a foundation of wood, the high feather mattress beckoned to her with a promise of warmth and comfort. Like a great parapet, the heavy arras-draped canopy loomed over the bed, throwing its dark shadow over much of the rest of the room. Like a fortress against the troubles of her waking life, the bed offered at least the escape of sleep. But there would be no sleep for Celia until she could calm the fears that had been
awakened by the intrusion of the two men.
Celia knew she could not change the past. The die was cast. There were very real and threatening things in this world, but she could only focus on the present. And for the present, this wooden panel must be blocked.
In the far corner of the room, beside the wall pegs, sat a huge oak chest, large enough for a grown woman to hide in. The chest, the only storage area in the room for clothing, contained only Celia's light armor. It's a good thing, Celia thought, as she began to drag the chest away from the wall. If this were any heavier, I wouldn't be able to move it alone.
Celia moved the awkward piece of furniture slowly, trying as best as she could to create no sound that might draw the attention of her hosts. The dried reeds that covered the floor helped muffle the scraping sound. Finally, Celia succeeded in pushing the chest squarely in front of the panel.
It was only a temporary solution, Celia knew, and not a very good one, at that. If someone tried to come in through that panel again, they would certainly be able to push the chest away, but at least Celia would have enough time to react.
The exercise of moving the great chest did little to alleviate the numbing cold that was creeping up her body from her frozen feet. She could not afford to catch a chill now that she had recovered from their journey from the Lowlands. She needed to be ready at all times; there was still so much left to do.
There were times in her recent past, though, when Celia wondered how she could go on. Right now, the huge bed across the room looked like a warm and protective cocoon awaiting her.
But she needed to check on Kit first.
Moving quickly across the floor, Celia lightly tapped the prearranged signal on the door into the baby's room. She heard Ellen quietly unbar the door, and Celia slipped inside.
“Lady Celia, what was all the noise?” Ellen whispered, her eyes wide with concern.
“Lord Hugh's son...Colin...Lord Colin. He arrived unexpectedly tonight, and thought to put his friend in my room. We were all rather surprised, I expect.”
The Thistle and the Rose Page 3