Loud coughing from above Fiona startled her into a near screech. She barely reclaimed wits enough to move up a step before Caithness could turn his head.
Above her, descending with silent speed that belied his age, Malcolm paused long enough to mutter in heavily accented but fluent Scots, “Get ye tae bed, lass, now, else I’ll tell Àdham o’ this.” Without another word, he continued his rapid descent around the post, slowing only when he reached the wider steps to the hall.
Then she heard him say lightly, “Atholl, I heard yer voice, so I hied me doon tae thank ye for your generosity. I’ll take a mug o’ that whisky, an ye please.”
Not daring to linger, Fiona fled back upstairs to her bedchamber and was reaching for the latch when Àdham opened the door from within.
His expression when he saw her was angry enough to make her knees quake and send a shiver up her spine.
He stepped aside with a curt gesture indicating that she should precede him back into their bedchamber. As soon as he had shut the door again, he said, “What the devil were you doing out there?”
Raising her chin, she said in much the same tone of voice as his, “I was looking for you. What else would I be doing? You left first. Where have you been?”
He said evenly, “I could not sleep, because Lady Elspeth’s bed is too small for two of us. I needed to stretch my body. So, I went outside to be sure that my men were comfortable and asleep.”
She raised her eyebrows. “And were they?”
“Not all of them,” he said, eyeing her more narrowly. “You knew something had disturbed them before you asked that question. Since I heard voices from the entry when I crossed the gallery to this room, I expect you heard them, too, aye?”
She hesitated, weighing her answer. At last, she said, “Caithness has visitors. I heard his voice and others. Do you know who they are?”
“His father has returned,” he said. “One cannot be surprised that Atholl should come home, but he did tell Caithness he meant to stay in town until the end of the month.”
“Then ’tis strange that he has come just when we are here,” she said. “Do you know who came with him?”
“He always travels with an entourage, but I don’t know who his companions are. MacNab and Rory saw them arrive. I could hardly question Atholl’s stable lads about him or his guests. Then, when I looked for Malcolm, he was not in his room, so rather than wander about, I came here. Did you hear aught of what they said?”
Fiona wondered how much to tell him. He had not behaved as if he might condemn her for listening to what others were saying. Surely, it was reasonable that most people, finding themselves in the same position, would listen just as she had.
Still, Atholl had called Àdham Caithness’s “cousin,” which must make Àdham kin to Atholl, too. If he was, why did he not say so? Could he be less loyal to James than he’d led her and her father to believe? Might he even be party to whatever Atholl was planning?
“Lass,” he said with an edge to his voice, “I can tell by looking at you that you did hear something. What was it?”
“Voices,” she muttered. Caithness had not sounded as if he were in it. Atholl’s opposition to James clearly irked him. Surely, they were not plotting to—
“Fiona, I would like a sensible answer,” he said curtly.
Startled, still lost in her thoughts, she stared at him for a moment before she could collect her wits. Then, noting his expression, she said hastily, “I heard men’s voices when I awoke. When I realized you were not with me, I thought you must be with them. So I went to see if I could hear your voice.”
“You did not hear it,” he said tersely. “So what, or whom, did you hear?”
“I heard Caithness talking to someone, Atholl, I think,” she said. “Yes, for someone else said, ‘ye heard your da’ to him. There were other voices. . . .”
“Who else?” he demanded when she paused.
Grimacing, she said, “A man Jamie calls the eloquent scoundrel . . . Sir Robert Graham, Laird of Kinpont. I heard him speak in Parliament. His voice is memorable.”
The moonlight in the room was fading. Even so, she saw Àdham wince and look upward. She knew that his mood had changed again.
“Do you know Sir Robert?” she asked him.
“I do,” he said. “See here, lass, I can tell when you try to decide how much or exactly what to tell me. Don’t do that. Just answer me. This may be important.”
“To whom?”
“I’ll know more about that when you tell me what else you heard, all of it. Do you know if more than three men were there?”
“I heard only those three voices, and I did not hear all that they said.”
“Fiona, don’t quibble. Just tell me what you heard.”
“The scoundrel—”
“Sir Robert.”
“Aye, he told Caithness to go to bed.” She described the rest as clearly as she could remember, adding, “Then Atholl asked Caithness what had impelled him to invite the whole of Clan Chattan to Blair.”
Àdham’s lips quirked into a near smile then. “What else did they say, lass?”
She wanted to ask about his kinship to Caithness. But his smile had vanished as quickly as it had appeared, so she decided it was not a good time and said instead, “Caithness told Atholl that the Mackintosh was here. Then Malcolm himself began coughing loudly on the stairway above me. I nearly screamed.”
“But you did not.”
“No, I was more terrified that they’d hear me below.”
“What happened next?”
With a grimace, she said in a rush, “The Mackintosh told me to get to bed or he’d tell you where he’d found me. Then he went down and asked Atholl to pour him some of the whisky they were drinking. I came back up here and found you.”
Àdham bit his lower lip then as if he were trying not to laugh.
“It was not funny,” she said indignantly.
“I was imagining how you must have looked when Malcolm spoke. But you are right. It is not funny. I wonder if Caithness knows the danger he may be in.”
“Caithness!” She stared at him. “I doubt they are plotting against Caithness.”
He gave her a fiercer look then than any he had yet given her. Very softly, he said, “You say that as if you believe they are plotting against someone. Do you believe that?”
She tried to swallow but could not. After all, Malcolm had sounded friendly with Atholl. Moreover, Jamie’s policies had angered many Highland nobles, as well as some of the most powerful Lowland ones. What if Malcolm agreed with them?
“Answer me,” Àdham said grimly.
Drawing breath, she met his stern gaze and said, “Aye, then, I do believe it.”
“Who?”
“I think you know.” When he just waited, she muttered, “The King. I think they are plotting with Alexander to free him. One thing I forgot is that Caithness accused them of being up to no good. Could Malcolm be involved? Are you?”
Àdham sighed, opened his arms, and when she looked wary, he said gently, “Come now, I want to hold you. Malcolm is not involved. He is Jamie’s man to the bone, lass, just as I am.”
She walked to him then, and he held her tightly as he murmured near her right ear. “Don’t wander off like that again in a strange household, lassie. You might walk into danger, and I’d be most displeased if you came to harm.”
She tilted her head up. “What would you do?”
“To you or to the villain who harmed you?”
“The villain,” she said.
“We Highlanders believe in vengeance, and I take care of mine own.”
She opened her mouth to ask what he’d do to her but changed her mind when he kissed the top of her head. She tilted her face up then so his lips could find hers.
To her surprise, relief, and ultimate delight,
he scooped her into his arms, carried her to the bed, and taught her more about pleasuring. When she awoke hours later, the sun was up and he was gone. But he had laid out a fresh kirtle and smock for her, along with the boots and netherstocks she had worn the day before.
No matter how late Malcolm had returned to bed, Àdham knew that the old man would be up betimes to get an early start on the long day ahead.
Finding him at the high table in the hall, finishing a trencher of beef or mutton and eggs, Àdham said in the Gaelic, “May we talk, sir?”
“Aye,” Malcolm replied, adding in the same tongue, “Take some bread and meat for yourself. We’ll walk outside. Blair has impressive gardens.”
Splitting a manchet loaf, Àdham speared juicy rare slices of beef from the platter with his eating knife. Piling them in the split loaf, he followed Malcolm from the hall.
When they were outside, Malcolm said quietly, “I’m thinking that your lass must have told you she saw me during the small hours.”
“And that you threatened to tell me you’d seen her if she did not take herself straight back to bed, aye.”
Malcolm smiled. “Did she tell ye all o’ that on her own?”
Returning the smile, Àdham said, “I may have prodded some. See you, I’d wakened earlier and gone out to see to the men. When I learned that Atholl had come, I knew you’d want to know, but you weren’t in your room, so I went to ours and found her gone. I came out as she was returning. You had gone downstairs.”
“I see. And what d’ye make of it all?”
“Fiona thinks that our host and my irksome uncle are plotting against his grace, and I agree. Would it be a kinsman’s betrayal to send a warning to James?”
“It would not,” Malcolm replied firmly. “Does Fiona know Robert?”
“Nae, she recognized his voice, and she knows that Jamie dislikes him.”
“Then ye must tell her of your close kinship with him afore anyone else does.”
“So Marsi advised me,” Àdham said. “I know I must, but I’d liefer wait until we know each other better. Sakes, sir, she asked me if you or I were involved in a plot with them. Learning that Robert is my uncle could make her think so again.”
“Why should it? It is not as if ye did plot wi’ the man or ever lived with him.”
“Or liked him,” Àdham agreed. “But when I met her, she believed all Highlanders were barbarians. She fears even the land itself, I think. Moreover, she has left her home, all of her family, and all of her friends. Her own maidservant refused to accompany her.”
“Catriona will see that she’ll be comfortable enough at Finlagh. ’Tis no as grand as what she kens, but Fin and Catriona have made a home for themselves and their bairns. They will warmly welcome Fiona.”
“I should also tell you I heard that Alexander’s cousin, Donal Balloch, has returned to the Isles. He’s evidently been plotting vengeance since Lochaber.”
“And where did ye come by that news?”
“From the one my lady calls ‘the eloquent scoundrel.’ She told me that men have tried to get messages to Alexander and that some may have succeeded.”
“Sakes, men have tried to free him, too,” Malcolm said, adding, “Your lady got that ‘eloquent scoundrel’ bit from Jamie, I’d wager.” When Àdham agreed, he said, “When did your meeting with Robert take place?”
“He sent for me to meet him on the Inch the day after I arrived in town, to inform me of my disloyalty at Lochaber in supporting his grace against Alexander.”
“I see,” Malcolm said. “Did he alter your thinking about that?”
“He did not. When I pledge my loyalty, I honor my pledge, as you know.”
“I do,” Malcolm said, clapping him on the back. “We must hope that your lady’s loyalty is as dependable. You see to it that she keeps happy at Finlagh.”
“As to that, sir, I will have to be away at times. I promised his grace to find out what I can about the strength of other central Highland chiefs’ loyalties to him.”
“Whose does he fear may be swayed?”
“He named no names. I do not need to ask the Comyns if their loyalties have swayed toward him, but I suspect he does fear that my father’s loyalty may swing back to agree with Cameron of Lochiel’s.”
“If Balloch is raising an army, you must learn how many of our leaders are aware of that. But keep your ears open, lad, for news of Jamie’s other enemies. We know Atholl and Graham have been scheming to free Alexander. If they’re conspiring with Balloch, they are more dangerous than we thought.”
“So Balloch is the true danger, aye?”
“Aye, sure. The lad may be only eighteen, but he is Chief of Clan Donald of Dunyvaig and Alexander’s own cousin. Moreover, he proved at Lochaber that he can gather a sizable army. He is young, angry, already a renowned champion and distinguished tactician, and he is therefore gey dangerous.”
“Then we must get word to his grace of the meeting here tonight, aye?”
“Aye, but I’ll attend tae that . . . after we leave here,” Malcolm said. “I can send someone less likely to be known than your lads or Ivor’s. I’m thinking, too, that the less notice we draw from Atholl, the better.”
“Caithness knows I’ve married Fiona. I don’t know if Atholl knows or not.”
“He knows,” Malcolm said. “Nowt happens within the royal court of what Atholl calls his ‘thankless nephew’ that Atholl does not hear. Moreover, your wedding was such that everyone in town knows about it. Don’t be surprised if Atholl demands to know why ye neglected to invite him.”
Àdham soon had cause to be grateful for Malcolm’s warning, because when he entered the great hall, he saw his bride at the high table, sitting in the place of honor at the Earl of Atholl’s left, chatting animatedly with him.
Fiona had been watching for Àdham and noticed his entrance to the hall but kept her attention on her host. Atholl had invited her to join him and Caithness on the dais when she had come downstairs in search of her husband.
Atholl said, “’Tis a pity ye be leaving us so soon, madam. We would be pleased tae ha’ your company, all o’ ye, for some days if ye change your mind.”
Aware that Àdham did not look happy to see her on the dais with Atholl, and wishing she were almost anywhere else, Fiona drew on her experience with the royal court and smiled, saying earnestly, “I wish the decision were mine to make, my lord, because Blair Castle is one of the finest houses in Scotland. I did see your splendid gardens from our window. You are most fortunate in your gardeners.”
“They are adequate,” Atholl said. “I must say, I was surprised tae hear o’ your so hasty wedding. I expect ye must ha’ been surprised, too.”
Blinking as Leah did whenever she was at a loss for words, Fiona said, “Surely, my lord, your daughters obey you just as I obeyed my lord father.”
“So the wedding was Ormiston’s doing?”
Taking refuge this time in feminine flutter, she said, “Why, I do not know how to answer that, sir. Do you discuss your decisions with your children?”
“He does not,” Caithness said bluntly from beyond Atholl. “He demands obedience just as any father does. Do you not, sir?” he added with an innocent air.
“Has it become customary in your circles, sir, tae interrupt another conversation at table?” Atholl demanded.
“Och, aye, I fear that it has,” Caithness said. “Sithee, sir, my friends rarely stand on such ceremony that one must keep silent until one is bidden to speak.”
“This is my table, however,” Atholl retorted.
“Aye, sure, it is,” Caithness agreed. “Although I do confess that I had expected it to be my table whilst my guests were here. One does wonder why, after telling me that you meant to stay in town until the end of the month, you followed so hard upon our heels yestereve, instead.”
“As I had nae notio
n that ye’d invited guests, I came here for reasons that do not concern ye. Nor do I mean tae discuss them wi’ ye.”
“But you had guests, too,” Caithness said. “Or have they departed?”
“I dinna ken what ye mean, nor do I like your tone,” Atholl said. “Nor do I answer tae ye for my actions or my friends. Ye, on the other hand, do answer tae me for yours.”
“I answer first to his grace, the King, though,” Caithness replied. “He said he might send me to Glen Mòr, to aid Mar at Inverlochy Castle, if the many Islesmen undaunted by his grace’s imprisonment of their lord stir more trouble there.”
“Ye’d do better tae aid your own father, me lad,” Atholl retorted.
Fiona quaked inside, fearing that she had landed Caithness in the briars.
Fortunately, Àdham approached then to ask if she was ready to depart. Agreeing that she nearly was, she cast a rueful look past Atholl to Caithness.
He grinned at her and winked.
Àdham greeted Atholl politely, adding, “I must thank your lordship for your hospitality and your extraordinary courtesy to my lady wife.”
“In troth, I was attempting tae learn just why your wedding took place wi’ such unseemly haste,” Atholl replied bluntly.
Stiffening, Àdham said in a coldly disbelieving tone that Fiona had not heard from him before, “Unseemly?”
Caithness muttered something, but Àdham ignored him. He continued to look the Earl of Atholl straight in the eye and to await a response from him.
Blandly, Atholl said, “Ye canna be amazed that ye’ve stirred curiosity, lad.”
Feeling his jaw clench and noting that Malcolm had skirted the trestle tables in the lower hall and was approaching the far end of the dais, Àdham drew a breath.
Collecting his wits, he said evenly but loud enough for Malcolm to hear, “I do not know how his grace’s suggestion that such a marriage could improve his relations with landowners in the Highlands and Lothian can have stirred curiosity in anyone who knows him as well as you do, your lordship. But mayhap you are unaware that it was his grace who arranged our wedding.”
The Reluctant Highlander Page 19