The Reluctant Highlander

by Scott, Amanda

  “I don’t want to defy him. I just like to walk alone sometimes. If I had always to have someone with me, I would feel . . .”

  “Caged here?” Catriona suggested when Fiona paused.

  “Aye, although I do not want to be rude.”

  “’Tis how I would feel. However, I may have a solution to suggest to him if he is reluctant to let you go alone.”

  “What is it?”

  “Take Eos and Argus,” Catriona said. “I will teach you how to make them mind you. And, with them to guard you, you’ll have no need to be fearsome.”

  Feeling a sudden, inexplicable urge to cry, Fiona caught her lower lip between her teeth and forced herself to inhale deeply and let the breath out slowly. Then, and only then, did she say with what she thought was commendable calm, “Thank you, Catriona. I would like that. I also like to swim,” she added wistfully.

  “So do I,” Catriona replied with a grin. “I grew up swimming in Loch an Eilein, and I confess that I miss being able to walk outside our gate and straight into the water. We had the boats and a raft that we could paddle on the loch.”

  “I was in one of those boats. Have you any place here to swim?”

  “Aye, sure we do,” Catriona replied. “You must ask Àdham to take you to the pool that Fin created for us in the southernmost of our two burns.

  “We must also teach you to speak the Gaelic,” she added. “I had to learn Scots, so I know what a trial learning another tongue can be. But when I realized that Fin and my brother Ivor could keep secrets from me by speaking Scots together, I can tell you, I soon set my mind to learning to speak it, too.”

  “I do think Àdham may be keeping secrets from me,” Fiona murmured.

  “Tell me about your visit to Perth now and how you came so hastily to marry,” Fin said quietly enough that his words would not carry beyond Àdham.

  “I hope our so-hasty wedding truly has not irked you, sir.”

  “I know you, lad, and I’ll wager that the marriage was not your idea or her ladyship’s. So, tell me about it. Then, you can tell me of anything else I missed by staying here at Finlagh, including how you were attacked and Duff was injured.”

  After Àdham briefly described events leading to their wedding and what had happened near Lochindorb, Fin said, “I agree that they were likely Comyns, unless you made new enemies in Perth.”

  “I don’t think I did,” Àdham said. “But Malcolm said that Comyn of Raitt was there for the Parliament. Mayhap, he sent men after us.”

  “Who else attended Jamie’s Parliament?”

  Doing his best to relay what little he had learned about the sessions, Àdham made a glib reference to Sir Robert Graham.

  “How fares your uncle?” Fin asked mildly.

  “He supports Atholl at every turn and opposes his grace.” Adham briefly explained what he’d learned during their overnight stay at Blair Castle.

  “Jamie knows Graham is your uncle, aye?”

  “Aye, for he said as much to me,” Àdham said. He paused then as awareness that Fiona still did not know of that kinship loomed in his mind like a dark cloud.

  As if sensing his line of thought, Fin said, “Have you described your kinships to Clan Cameron, Robert Graham, and the more distant one he provides to Atholl’s lady wife to your own lady?”

  Assuring himself that Fiona still chatted with Cat, Àdham said, “She knows that Ewan is my father, but I have not yet told her that Robert is my uncle.”

  “Tell her, lad. That is the exact sort of detail that, when revealed by someone other than the one involved, to a person experienced with the royal court, can turn an ordinary kinship—even one that is weak at best—into a possible conspiracy.”

  Adham nodded. “I’ll see to it, sir.”

  “Do you mean to make your home here?” Fin asked. “You are welcome to do so for as long as you like, of course.”

  “I’d prefer a home of our own, but we’ll stay here for now. James asked me to use my kinship with both confederations to learn who is prepared now to answer a royal call to arms and who will more likely support Alexander.”

  “Sakes, he must know that few minds have changed since Lochaber, unless Ewan or Cameron of Lochiel has changed his.”

  “Do you think my father could change my mind or would change his own? He is your brother, after all.”

  Fin met his gaze, saying calmly, “Nae, for if Ewan even thought of switching sides again, he’d warn us both. But, kinship or none, you do not want to go poking about west of the Great Glen, where Alexander’s support is strong and will stay so.”

  “I agree,” Àdham said. “Sir Robert himself told me that Alexander’s cousin, Donal Balloch of Dunyvaig, is raising an army to take back what James calls ‘every stick and stone on the mainland’ that Alexander claims as his own.”

  “I’ve heard such rumors, too. But I doubt young Balloch can seize any land this side of Glen Mòr. After all, Mar defeated Alexander himself at Lochaber.”

  Àdham shook his head. “Despite Balloch’s youth, I ken fine that you have also heard what a skilled tactician and warrior he is. Moreover, he has likely exchanged messages with Alexander at Tantallon, and Malcolm told me that men have even tried to free him. We—that is, Malcolm—sent word to his grace from Blair, warning him that they may be plotting another such attempt.”

  “Aye, your lady’s account of what she overheard at Blair Castle may suggest that,” Fin said, nodding. “You do realize that, if Jamie knows you are kin to Sir Robert and thus indirectly related to the nefarious Atholl as well, his faith in you must be strong.”

  “I don’t mean to let him down, sir. I just hope he knows what he’s doing.”

  “I, too, lad,” Fin said dryly. “I met him when he was nae more than a bairn but have not clapped eyes on him since. At the time, he was wise beyond his years, and bold, albeit a mite too imperious and outspoken for his own safety. We must hope that the years and his trials have blessed him with more wisdom.”

  Àdham kept his less certain opinion of his grace’s wisdom to himself.

  Chapter 16

  Aware that she had neglected Katy while she chatted with Catriona, Fiona turned to the girl with a smile and said, “Forgive me if I seemed to ignore you. Are you sure you cannot finish your chores soon enough to walk with us after we eat?”

  Katy grimaced but quickly altered the expression to a rueful smile. “I ought not to have extra chores at all. But ’tis mine own fault, and ’twas kind of Mam not to tell you the whole. I am to forgo your companionship this afternoon because I spoke thoughtlessly earlier and must mind my tongue more carefully hereafter.”

  Fiona said sympathetically, “I do understand. My older sister brings out the worst in me, and I often found myself in just such a coil as a result. My father also takes umbrage at”—she searched for the right words—“speaking without due forethought. So do my brothers,” she added with a sigh.

  “You are cursed with brothers, too?”

  “I am,” Fiona said. “I have three of them, all years older than I am. Each one thinks he has every right to order my life even when Father is at hand.”

  “Sakes, we have just two elder brothers. We see them only three or four times a year, though, so they do not plague us as much as when we were small.”

  “When you were twin nuisances plaguing them dreadfully,” Catriona said, speaking across Fiona. “Finish your meal now, dearling, and let Fiona eat hers.”

  “Aye, sure, Mam.” With a wink for Fiona, she returned to her trencher.

  Clearly, Fiona thought, although Katy fit Davy’s notion of “saucy,” her manners were as refined as Fiona’s. Several noblewomen she had known with the Queen’s court displayed less assurance and far less poise than Katy did.

  Katy’s father, Fin of the Battles, was likewise different from what Fiona had expected. He was ster
n, but he was no barbarian. She was sure that she would like them all. She just wished she could feel as confident about what lay beyond Finlagh’s walls.

  An hour later, the lush green woods on the southwest slope below Castle Finlagh were alive with birdsong, and leaves whispered as Fiona, Catriona, and Clydia passed by. Ahead, the two wolf dogs ranged back and forth, sniffing the air and ground but ignoring squirrels and other beasts, moving silently through the shrubbery.

  “They’re so big,” Fiona said quietly, loving the serenity of the woods but unable to resist satisfying her curiosity. “How did you learn to control them, madam?”

  “Just Catriona or Cat, love,” Catriona reminded her.

  “Yes, ma— Faith, I am so accustomed to calling women older than myself ‘madam’ that it falls off my tongue despite your wishes!”

  “We Highlanders are less formal,” Catriona replied. “Lowland women, like English and French ones, are more submissive, I believe.”

  Fiona chuckled. “Some Lowland women may be, but ’tis rare to hear of such. My home is across a river from the true ‘Borders.’ But our roots there lie deep, and few would ever call Border women submissive. We have minds of our own.”

  Clydia’s lips twitched. “But whilst serving in her grace’s court, certes . . .”

  “Aye, sure,” Fiona said, “maids of honor must oft behave submissively. But about the dogs, Catriona . . .”

  Smiling, Catriona said, “I’ll teach you signs that Eos and Argus obey, and you’ll learn more by spending time with them. Today, we’ll visit some of our people nearby, to introduce you and to invite them to Finlagh for a cèilidh.”

  “What is a kaylee?” Fiona asked, hoping she was saying it correctly.

  “It is a grand social gathering to help celebrate your wedding. And we must do it before Àdham has to leave again. But, as we go, watch how the dogs behave.”

  “We have sleuth hounds at home to hunt reivers who steal livestock,” Fiona said moments later. “Our dogs sniff only the ground, but yours sniff everything.”

  “Aye, they do, but Eos and Argus can sense lurking danger, too, and warn you of it,” Catriona told her. “When they do, you must heed them.” With a laugh, she added, “My first wolf dog introduced me so to Fin.”

  “Mercy, how could a dog do that?” Fiona asked.

  “I dinna ken how, but he did,” Catriona said. “’Tis a tale for another time, though. For the nonce, can you whistle?”

  “Aye, sure,” Fiona said, remembering how she had boasted of her ability to Àdham the night they met.

  “Try doing it like this,” Catriona said. She gave two sharp whistles, one high, the other lower pitched, similar to a bird’s chirps.

  Both dogs stopped where they were and looked over their shoulders at her.

  Fiona watched in wonder as Catriona showed her other things the dogs could do simply by obeying short whistles, clicks, and silent hand and arm gestures.

  “Why do you not speak your commands?” Fiona asked.

  Clydia gave a gentle shake of her head.

  Catriona said, “Our woods are safe enough if we stay west of our hills. But strangers going to Nairn or Inverness do sometimes pass through. So a woman walking alone is wise to avoid drawing attention to herself. The dogs will alert you when they sense others approaching. They’ll also let you know if those who approach be friendly or not.”

  “Sakes, how can they tell the difference?”

  Clydia said, “They know a person or they don’t and they distrust strangers, just as we do. Katy and I usually walk together, but Mam said that you’d often want to walk alone, as she does. So you must heed what the dogs tell you, and never fear that you might fail to recognize such a warning. They will see that you do not.”

  “Look yonder, Fiona,” Catriona said, pointing. “My Ailvie’s mam’s cottage sits in that clearing, so we’ll visit her first. As auld Rosel is also Bridgett’s granny, you may meet Bridgett there, so you can decide if she’ll suit you as a maidservant.”

  Clydia said, “Granny Rosel kens much about herbs, and people say that she has experienced the Second Sight.”

  “I have heard of the Sight,” Fiona said. “But to see something happening elsewhere or in the future sounds most unlikely to me.”

  “Granny Rosel will explain it to you,” Clydia said.

  Fiona could see the cottage now, framed by a thatched roof, the edges of which nearly touched the ground. Its upper front wall was wattle and turf, much like Border cottages, with a base of dry stonework. The wood door stood ajar. As they drew nearer, she saw that the cottage front boasted one narrow window.

  Catriona called out a few words in Gaelic, heard a reply, and they went in.

  The light came mostly from the open door and the glow of embers in a central fire ring. The sole occupant, a little gray-haired woman, greeted them in the Gaelic with visible and voluble delight. Although Fiona could not understand a word she said, Catriona and Clydia translated their exchange of greetings.

  They stayed with Granny Rosel only long enough for Fiona to learn that, unlike rumors she had heard of the mysterious Sight, the rare incidents of it in the Highlands had occurred only while extreme violence such as a great battle was taking place a good distance away. Some women, Granny said, had been able to describe, at the time, exactly how and when a loved one died. But none had ever claimed to see into the future.

  “How does she know that no one has?” Fiona asked as they were walking away.

  Catriona said gently, “Granny Rosel saw her husband die at Harlaw, so it is a subject in which she has taken much interest.”

  By the time they returned to the castle, Fiona had met curvaceous, dark-haired Bridgett, welcomed as her maidservant, and had met at least a dozen other such friendly tenants. She had also grown accustomed to the giant wolf dogs.

  Surely, she thought, Argus and Eos would intimidate any straying enemy.

  Àdham and Fin had likewise taken their conversation outside.

  As they headed uphill along one of the streams providing water for the castle, Fin said, “What did you think of his grace the King?”

  “I think he creates problems for himself by pitting clergymen and nobles against each other, and ignores their ire in pursuit of his own goals.”

  “Kings behave so by nature,” Fin said. “Sakes, most men of power will seek more of it. They ignore all who are powerless to stop them and act as they please whenever they can. You saw as much for yourself before you met James, aye?”

  “Aye, but the men against whom his grace pits himself are not powerless.”

  “Art thinking of anyone in particular?”

  “Atholl,” Àdham replied flatly. “He would not be the first of his grace’s uncles to think he should rule Scotland, and he does have supporters.”

  “So does Jamie,” Fin pointed out. “And Jamie, whatever else he may have grown to be, is stout of heart and not a conniving snake like Atholl.”

  They fell silent then, and Àdham began to relax, feeling a surge of pleasure when the woods began to come alive again. He was home. He hoped he might stay long enough to help Fiona feel as much at home at Finlagh as he did.

  When the castle hove into view again and Fin turned toward it, Àdham said, “I mean to walk farther, sir. ’Tis a fine day, and—” He stopped, because Fin was grinning. “What?”

  “I’m thinking you heard that your beautiful wife meant to walk out with Cat and Clydia and hope to meet her or you mean to climb to the crag above Raitt to see what you can see. I’m hoping it is Fiona, lad. She is a good match for you.”

  Àdham smiled but decided not to admit that he had thought of climbing to the northern crag in the upthrust of hills between Finlagh and Raitt to see if there was activity at Raitt. But Fin’s mentioning Fiona had stirred his body’s interest, so he reminded himself that he had barely spoken
to Cat or Clydia since his return.

  “Remember to tell your lass about Robert Graham,” Fin added gently.

  Drawing a deep breath to cool his body’s other notions, Àdham nodded.

  The woodland music soon soothed him again, and he quickened his pace. His uncle was right, and since he had to talk to Fiona, it would be wise to do so at once.

  When the women came into view at last, his gaze caught hers.

  She smiled, warming him through again. He was reluctant to initiate such a conversation with others listening, but having heard her ask Cat earlier if Finlagh offered a place to swim, he knew exactly how they could find some privacy.

  “Where are we going?” Fiona asked when Àdham, having informed Catriona and Clydia that he wanted time alone with her, turned back toward the castle.

  “I have something that I must tell you,” he said. “But, first, I want to show you the pool that Fin created.”

  “So, you heard us talking about swimming. But if you have something to say to me, sir, say it now and be done. Faith, if I have done aught to displease you—”

  “Nae, lass, nae,” he interjected swiftly. Then he hesitated, and had he not been so tall and broad, he would have looked like a bairn caught in mischief. The thought nearly made her smile, but she said, “What is it, Àdham? Just tell me.”

  “I have not been as forthright as I should have been,” he replied bluntly.

  “About what?” she asked, thinking instantly of Caithness and Atholl.

  Instead, he said, “I fear that your ‘eloquent scoundrel’ is mine uncle.”

  Frowning, certain that she had misunderstood, she said, “Sir Robert Graham?” When he nodded, she put two fingers to her lips to avoid declaring her loathing for the man, and said instead, “So that is why you were talking to him on the Inch that day. Why did you not say so at once when I asked if you knew him?”

  “I scarcely know him. He is my late mother’s brother,” Àdham said, guiding her up the steep incline with a hand to her waist. “He visited us at Tor Castle once or twice when I was small and again after Mam died. He took no interest in me then. But, learning that I was in St. John’s Town, he sent for me and tried to persuade me to support Alexander and others who oppose his grace—and to convince my father to do likewise. I refused.”