The elaborate diversions she and her sisters had gone to the trouble to devise--to confuse those who might be searching--had kept their minds active during a time of great distress. But now, alone in the Highlands, she simply hadn’t the time for any such nonsense. Her simple trap would just have to do.
Opening the door to her chamber and spotting the chest where she’d left it brought an immediate frown to Catherine’s face. Moving closer she cast a cursory glance at the lock. It appeared untouched.
Picking up the Stewart tartan that lay across the foot of her bed, Catherine draped it about her shoulders. Catherine turned and looked around the chamber. Perhaps she was being too obvious, she thought suddenly. After all, she’d simply left the wooden casket in the open.
Moving briskly to the head of the bed, she tucked the small chest beneath pillows and bedding, piling everything back on top of it. Standing back with an approving nod, she turned and headed out the door.
As she returned to her friend at the stairwell, Catherine again considered what she and Susan had learned that morning.
Having cornered Auld Mab on her way to the kitchens, the two had tried to glean a bit more information about the past than Catherine had learned from the dowager.
More than anything, they now wanted to know who Adam’s mother was. But Auld Mab’s lips were sealed on that point. Glaring alternately at Susan and Catherine, the old woman had pointedly told them that she would never reveal anything that might still be hurtful to the dowager or any other lady hereabouts! She knew the truth, by the Cross, but she planned on keeping it to herself!
As Catherine reached the stairwell, it struck her, and she stopped dead in her tracks.
“What’s the matter?” Susan asked.
“Adam’s mother!” Catherine said quietly. “Auld Mab told us she’d not reveal anything that might hurt Lady Anne or any other lady hereabouts! ‘Tis a noble woman, and she lives nearby!”
“Aye!” Susan said excitedly. “It must be! Why else would Auld Mab still be so defensive about it?”
Together, the two women turned their steps down the stairwell.
“Who else can we ask?”
“There is no one else in this keep--that I can think of--who might remember back that far.”
“What do you know of the dowager’s friends?” The two women stepped past the entrance to the Great Hall. “Has she ever spoken of people that she and the earl might have been friendly with years back? There must be someone whom Lady Anne has spoken of.”
Susan followed Catherine toward the door to the earl’s outer chamber. “Well, I’ve heard her speak of the earl of Bothwell and his wife.”
“The parents of Patrick Hepburn, the bishop at Elgin Cathedral?”
“Aye.” Susan frowned then and shook her head. “I met the countess of Bothwell once, though, at my parent’s holding near Linlithgow. I cannot imagine her having an affaire d'amour with someone else’s husband. She’s a tiny, timid woman with only one good eye...and she’s very devout. A model of piety, you might say.”
“Some women are not pious from the beginning. Some become devoted to religion later...because of what life brings them.”
“Still,” Susan shook her head. “I think ‘tis safe to rule her out.”
Trusting Susan’s judgment, Catherine nodded and took a burning wick lamp from the wall as the two of them stepped into John Stewart’s chamber. An unlit fire had been set in the hearth, and Catherine now lit the dry tinder beneath the logs. In a moment, they were sitting in two chairs before the crackling fire. It was important that they sort out whatever they could before Athol returned from Huntly Castle.
“Can you think of anyone else?”
“Well, the earl of Moray and his wife are old friends of the family, but I do not think the countess is a likely paramour. I’ve never met her, but I know that a horse fell and rolled on her when they were out hunting. They’d only just been married, as I remember it, and she’s been crippled in both legs ever since. She’s never borne children, Catherine.”
Catherine got up and moved to one of the narrow windows. Opening the shutters, she looked out into the gray mist that was now falling. “I guess there is not much chance of her being Adam’s mother.”
“The Earl of Huntly has been another close friend. But he never wed.” Susan turned in her chair and looked at Catherine. “And then there are others more distant. The Macpherson clan has a great holding down the River Spey, and the Ross clan has a number of castles farther to the east. And the MacI...”
“What about the MacInnes clan?” Catherine asked, facing Susan. Even as she said the name, she knew she must push aside her uncertainties about the past that her husband and Joanna MacInnes shared. Nay, she chided herself as she returned to her chair, focus on the answers that they were seeking regarding Adam’s origins. “The two families had arrangements of marriage for their children, I understand. There must have been a connection of some sort.”
Susan brightened. “You are correct. I forgot the most obvious. From what I’ve heard from Auld Mab and the dowager, the two families have been allied since the time Duncan MacInnes first brought his family to Ironcross Castle.”
“With their lands adjoining,” Catherine couldn’t help from saying, “of course, it only made sense for the future earl of Athol and Joanna MacInnes to...”
Her voice trailed off, and Catherine felt her face redden.
There was a long pause, and when Susan spoke, her voice had taken on a reassuring tone.
“I do not think that you need to fear anything from that quarter, Catherine. I believe there was a great deal more speculation about that union than there was truth to it. I’ve only been at Balvenie Castle for little more than half a year, but I have had the opportunity to get to know Joanna MacInnes Kerr fairly well. And I speak honestly when I say that she is a woman who is in love with her husband. And I have never seen any intimation by either Joanna or Athol that they were anything but good friends before her marriage to Gavin Kerr.”
In an instant, Susan’s words washed away a doubt that had been nagging at Catherine from the time she first heard the name ‘Joanna MacInnes.’
“As far as the family, though,” Susan continued, “I would be hard pressed to say much about them...well, aside from the...” She paused. “Well, other than what I know of Joanna and her grandmother, Lady MacInnes, the history of the women in the family is a wee bit of a jumble.”
Catherine noticed Susan visibly shiver, and she started up to close the shutters again.
“Nay, do not close them. ‘Tis not the weather, Catherine.”
“What is it, Susan?”
“I see no one has told you the tales of Ironcross Castle.”
Catherine shook her head.
“Well...” The young woman paused and gazed into the fire. “‘Twas known for a long while, centuries maybe, that Ironcross Castle and those who lived there were cursed.”
“Oh, Susan! You do not believe in--”
“Not a laird--for as long as anyone remembers--died but violently there. And many of their families, too. There are horrible stories, Catherine, of a thousand women buried in a crypt deep beneath the castle.”
Catherine gaped as her friend paused. Clearly, Susan believed the stories. “Did the dowager tell you all this?”
“Nay, she never speaks of Ironcross Castle or the MacInnes family. Auld Mab told me these things when I went to visit the place for the first time.”
“And this...this curse has never been lifted?”
“Aye, it has. Auld Mab says that Joanna and Gavin Kerr managed to put an end to it somehow.” Susan’s face brightened into a gentle smile. “I do not know what the place was like before, but Ironcross Castle is now the most peaceful place you could care to visit. Of course, that is, when their wild band of urchins are not whooping after the dogs in the Great Hall or getting themselves stuck climbing in the chimneys. In fact, with the new twin bairns in the keep, I’m certain Ironcross must be in eve
n more of an uproar. Never mind what I said about peaceful.”
Catherine smiled, as well, at the image. She hadn’t yet told Susan about her own good news. The thought of young children taking charge of the somber passages of Balvenie Castle was a most enchanting notion. But also, the prospect of taking a trip to Ironcross Castle and meeting this family held a new charm for her.
“I believe that Lady MacInnes, Joanna’s grandmother, has lived in Stirling for many years, though Mab hinted to me that in her time, she suffered greatly at the hands of--”
“Her husband?” Catherine asked excitedly.
“Aye. ‘Tis only recently that she has moved back to the Highlands. She’s living now with--”
An abrupt knock at the door interrupted Susan’s words. Calling for whoever it was to come in, Catherine watched Tosh enter, carrying a sealed letter in his hand.
“From the earl?” she asked, anxiety suddenly evident in her voice.
“Nay, m’lady. A message from Ironcross Castle. ‘Twas sent to the earl, but the messenger had word that he was to give it to you or to Mistress Susan if the earl was not in the castle.”
“Not to the dowager?” Catherine asked with surprise.
“Nay, m’lady,” Tosh replied, a frown creasing his battle-scarred face. “To you or to Mistress Susan, he said.”
The two women turned and looked at each other. Catherine took the packet from Tosh, and with Susan looking over her shoulder, she broke open the seal.
The two of them read it silently and knew immediately what needed to be done.
“Tosh, I want someone to take a message to Huntly Castle,” Catherine said decisively. “And we’ll be needing an escort for a short journey of our own.”
*****
Huntly Castle’s gates were no more than an hour behind them when Athol and his men surprised the two outlaws coming over a boulder-studded hill.
The two put up very little struggle, overwhelmed as they were by the earl’s warriors. Under Athol’s steady gaze, the blood drained rapidly out of Roy Sykes's normally ruddy face, and the other goodly-sized Highlander--whom Sykes had called by the name of Ren--grew sullen and surly in captivity.
Moving quickly, Athol and his men checked to see if any more of the outlaw band were in the vicinity--they were not about to be surprised themselves. There were, however, no signs of any other brigands.
Saying nothing to them directly, Athol ordered that their hands be bound and that the prisoners be tethered behind the horses of two of his men. As they worked their way up and down the rugged hills toward Balvenie Castle, he could hear his men talking with grim humor about how far methods of torture had advanced since the days when the Spaniards had raised the practice nearly to an art form.
After learning what Huntly had deemed appropriate to tell him, John’s initial reaction had been simply to let the two go, forgiving even Roy Sykes’s disloyalty. With good reason, John Stewart had lost what zeal he had for bringing to justice those outlaws who had been plaguing him for the past six months.
But as he considered freeing them, he realized that somehow he must find a way of contacting Adam of the Glen--and these men might just provide the means. He would take them to Balvenie Castle, but he would not punish them. Perhaps through questioning them--not by means of torture, though--the Highlander might learn of Adam’s whereabouts.
The last thing he wanted now was for his half-brother to disappear for another lengthy span of time before they had a chance to resolve their differences.
They were nearly halfway back to Balvenie Castle when, passing a particularly suitable tree for hanging, the ugly outlaw named Ren planted his feet and nearly jerked the warrior leading him off his steed.
“M’lord,” the burly Highlander croaked, dropping to his knees while Roy Sykes looked on, his mouth hanging open. “Hang us here and be done wi’ us. Have mercy on us two, poor, beggarly creatures. We ne’er hurt none o’ yourn. On ‘is Bones, I swear!”
Athol stared at the two for a moment and then glanced at the tree, before looking back again.
“Very well,” the earl said with as fierce a look as he could muster. “Say what you have to tell me, and I’ll consider hanging you here.”
In a few moments, the two men had conveyed a fairly concise tale of Adam’s activities--always swearing that no one was ever hurt. This much Athol had already known, and he did not hesitate to tell them as much with a menacing growl. The next information the two revealed, however, drew his interest immediately. When asked why they were separated from the rest of their band of blackguards, Roy Sykes had blurted out in tones that were probably heard in Elgin.
“He has dispersed all his men, m’lord,” the red-haired stable hand cried out. “After returning from Huntly, the master gathered us together, divided what we had between us, and directed us to go our separate ways. Adam told us the days of raiding your lands were over, and that he’d skin us himself if he ever heard of any of us stealing from your crofters or your flocks.”
Athol frowned at the two men. “Did he say where he himself was going?”
“Nay!” Ren croaked. “Swear, ‘e said nothing!”
Roy Sykes crossed himself and looked steadily into the earl’s piercing gray eyes.
“Nay, m’lord! Many of us offered to stay by him--to do whatever he asked of us. But he said nay to that. He said, what he had to do and where he was going, he didn’t know himself. He told us to go south and try to find a respectable living.”
Athol looked away and breathed a deep sigh of relief. At least his brother was done raiding his lands. But he still had to find Adam and offer him the life that he should have had for all these years.
“Cut them loose,” he said to his men before looking into the two stunned faces of the former outlaws. “You are free to go, but if I see either of you...or any of your band...again, I’ll string you up and make you food for the crows. Now, do as your master commanded, Roy Sykes. Go and find a respectable living.”
CHAPTER 22
Adam didn’t know what to say or what to ask when they met. He didn’t even know if he would be angry or joyous when they finally came face to face.
But more important, he didn’t have any idea how to get through the legion of Kerr warriors sure to be guarding the gates of Ironcross Castle once he got there. Wiping the mist from his face, Adam spurred his horse on and tried to imagine how would he ever get to the woman.
The earl of Huntly had mentioned her name only briefly. A mention, in passing, of her interest a year or so earlier in knowing what had happened to Adam, about his situation in prison, about what had been done to free him. Her anger that Huntly’s own efforts to have him freed from the English prison had not borne fruit.
The earl had not once, though, named her as Adam’s mother. But what else could he have meant?
When he had been freed from the Tower of London, spirited onto the sleek sailing vessel waiting in the Thames, he had been fully aware that there were still other Scots languishing in the English prison. For the past six months, Adam had puzzled over the identity of his benefactor. Now he knew.
Now it was time to meet Lady Agnes MacInnes.
When Huntly had told him about John Stewart’s complete lack of knowledge of everything that had befallen Adam over the years, his ignorance even of having a half-brother, Adam had felt the breath knocked out of his chest. It had always been so much easier for him to focus on Athol as the object of his hate--so much simpler to plan his revenge against someone that he knew would feel the cutting edge of his rage.
But now, learning that his half-brother was innocent, that he himself had been unjustly tormenting Athol and his people without cause--without Athol even knowing what lay at the bottom of it all--Adam felt more like a petty thief than an avenging crusader.
So he had sent his men on their way.
What he needed now was to find and speak to Lady MacInnes. Deep in his heart, he could feel that hope that had never died, pinching and clawing and gnawing at
him. Perhaps she was indeed his mother. He would never know until he could see her, speak to her, look into her eyes.
Beyond that, he could not think. Perhaps once inside Ironcross Castle, his days would be numbered. He didn’t care. Perhaps spending so many years in prison had preserved the sentimental child in him, rather than crushing it out of him. Whatever it was, he would have his answers. Whatever it was, he would know why both his parents had rejected him.
He was no fool, though. Adam knew that, if and when he received the answers he sought, they would probably be more condemning than any he might have imagined himself. But he still needed to see some purpose, some end to the searching of these past six months.
And then, guiding his steed through a grove of pines lining the steep hillside, Adam realized what his next move had to be. That is, after he was done speaking to Lady MacInnes.
He had no future in the Highlands. He had no kin and no interests in the Lowlands. But Ambrose Macpherson, the diplomat who had negotiated his freedom, had ships. If Adam wanted to try his hand at that, he’d said...
He had no training as a sailor on a ship, but there was no task that he could not learn. Aye, that was it. He’d sail the seas--perhaps even fight his old jailers.
As his mount worked his way along the hill, Adam cast a glance far down the steep hillside to the loch lying wreathed in mist. At the mere thought of leaving the Highlands again, he felt the tightness in his chest.
But it was not the land that pulled at him. It was the love he felt for Susan.
He had warned her to stay away. He knew from the first day that they would never have a chance together. But then, his own untrustworthy heart and her stubborn persistence had won out. There had been no turning back for either of them from that first day in the stand of trees beneath the village.
When he’d gathered his men together and ordered them to go their own way, there had been only one thing he’d asked of them to keep silent on if they were ever caught. And that had been Susan.
Dreamer (Highland Treasure Trilogy) Page 25