169. A Cheiftain finds Love (The Eternal Collection)

by Barbara Cartland

It was unbelievable and horrifying that, apart from the Englishman, these two Scotsmen should contemplate murdering the Duke who was their Chieftain.

  She had been brought up to believe that every Scotsman revered his Chieftain as a father figure and he was therefore prepared to follow him and fight for him to the death.

  Then Rory spoke again,

  “I thinks I ken where this mark on the map might be.”

  “Can you show it to us?” the Englishman exclaimed excitedly.

  “Aye, that I can, but we’ve to go there on a moonlit night for we canna take a light with us.”

  “That is true,” the Scotsman agreed. “A light, if it was seen from The Castle, might alert some nosey parker that something untoward was happening.”

  His voice deepened as he added,

  “You understand, Rory, that you shall have your share of any treasure we find, but we do not wish anybody else to be involved except ourselves.”

  “Aye, sir, I ken fine what you mean,” Rory replied, “but I canna be sure ’til I look at the place more careful like in the daylight.”

  “Can you do that without attracting attention?” the Scotsman asked.

  “Aye, I can.”

  “Would you mind, Rory, going outside for a second? I want to discuss this with my friend.”

  “Aye, sir, I’ll wait ootside ’til you calls me,” Rory agreed.

  Listening, Isa knew that he must have walked out of the cave and for a moment there was only the sound of the soft lap of the waves.

  Then she heard the Scotsman speak in a low voice directly below her.

  This meant, she knew, that they had moved further back into the cave so that they would not be overheard by Rory.

  “We will have to let him look first without us,” the Scotsman said.

  “Can you trust him?” the Englishman enquired.

  “I think so and even if he does find the treasure, he can hardly move it all by himself.”

  “I think we are taking a risk in letting him have the map.”

  “Don’t worry,” the Scotsman replied, “it’s not the original. I have put that under lock and key and this is a replica of it.”

  “That was astute of you!” the Englishman remarked.

  “I thought it was safer,” the Scotsman said. “I could not take any risks with something that is worth millions of pounds!”

  “If it is, then the Duke will undoubtedly claim it for himself and his Clan,” the Englishman warned.

  “That is why, once we are in sight of our objective, he cannot be allowed to interfere.”

  There was a hard note in the Scotsman’s voice that made Isa shiver.

  “Are you prepared to finish him off with your own hands?” the Englishman enquired.

  The Scotsman laughed and it was not a pleasant sound.

  “I am not such a fool as that! In this part of the world a man can have an accident with his gun on the moors, tumble over the cliffs into the sea or fall from the tower of his Castle.”

  “I see what you mean,” the Englishman said slowly. “At the same time it is a risk.”

  “Everything is a risk,” the Scotsman pointed out. “But if we find the treasure, is anything else of any relevance?”

  “No, of course not,” the Englishman agreed, “and I am glad that I was wise enough to approach you in the first place when I realised the value of this map.”

  “I am very grateful,” the Scotsman replied. “Shall we now tell Rory to go ahead and investigate the place where he thinks that the treasure might be?”

  “Yes, of course,” the Englishman agreed. “Then he must get in touch with us, or rather you, immediately. After that we can go and see if what was hidden all those years ago is still intact.”

  “Age does not deteriorate gold, silver or jewels,” the Scotsman said.

  There was a note of greed in his voice as he mouthed over the words.

  “Tell Rory to get on with it,” the Englishman said, “and give him some money to keep him sweet.”

  “I was hoping you would do that,” the Scotsman said.

  The Englishman gave a little laugh as if the suggestion was what he had expected.

  Then Isa thought that they moved towards the entrance to the cave.

  One of them gave a low whistle and a few seconds later Rory was with them.

  “We have decided that you can go ahead, Rory,” the Scotsman said.

  “And here are a few sovereigns for any expenses that you may incur,” the Englishman added.

  “Thank you, sir, thank you,” Rory murmured.

  “Now we leave one by one,” the Scotsman said sharply. “You go first, Rory. Keep to the shore and go beneath the cliffs so that you cannot be seen by anybody up on the moors.”

  Rory must have touched his bonnet with his forefinger and then moved away.

  Then there was silence until the Scotsman said,

  “Goodbye, old boy. I will be in touch with you as soon as Rory has anything to report. You are staying where you were before?”

  “Yes, it is very comfortable and I shall be there until you send for me.”

  “Good. And I hope that will be in a day or so.”

  Isa thought that the Englishman then walked away in the opposite direction from Rory, in fact the way she had come.

  Then there was silence.

  She was just about to raise her head and look down to see if the cave was empty when she heard just a faint sound.

  Perhaps the man had knocked his head against a rock, but it made her stiffen and lie rigidly still with her head down.

  It would have been terrifying, she thought, if she had moved too quickly and he realised that their conversation had been overheard.

  She was quite certain that the Scotsman would not hesitate to dispose of her as he intended to dispose of the Duke.

  If he killed her and left her body where she was now, it was very unlikely that it would ever be found.

  Alternatively there was the sea and there would be nobody to see her being drowned.

  At last, after what seemed an interminable passage of time, she heard him move out of the cave.

  Then, because she could not help herself, she raised her head.

  She had a quick impression of a man of average size silhouetted against the sunshine on the sea before he walked away to the North, as Rory had done.

  Because she was afraid that he might come back, she did not move for a very long time.

  Then slowly she climbed down from the flat rock, finding it somewhat painful for her bare feet and was relieved at last to be walking on the soft sand.

  She walked slowly step by step towards the mouth of the cave.

  The tide was coming in and it would not be long before it reached the cave.

  Now she moved quickly Southwards, praying that no one was watching to see where she had come from.

  Because she was afraid she began to run to where in the distance she could see silhouetted against the moorland the roofs of her home.

  Only as she neared it did she slow down and ask herself what she was going to do about what she had overheard.

  ‘I will tell Papa,’ she thought.

  When she was a child, she had always turned to him for the solution to any problem.

  And then she knew that it would be a mistake.

  He was now much more frail than when she had left home and it would be unkind to worry either her father or her mother with such a momentous problem.

  Moreover it suddenly struck her, as if a blow from a weapon, that their lives might be put in jeopardy.

  The Scotsman, whoever he might be, was prepared to murder the Duke, who was the most important personage in the whole area.

  It would then not trouble him in the least to dispose of an ageing Colonel and his wife.

  They were completely unprotected except for two servants, who were nearly as old as they were themselves.

  ‘Whatever happens,’ Isa said to herself, ‘I must not involve Papa in this.�
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  Then she knew that the only decent and sensible thing to do would be to warn the Duke.

  But the thought made her laugh at her own presumption.

  How could she, of no importance and no significance whatsoever, approach the Duke of Strathnaver?

  He was the Chieftain of the Clan and, as she had been told ever since she was a child, in this part of the world he was King in his own right.

  She had seen the Duke only once and that was the year before she went South.

  It was when the games took place, as they did every year, at The Castle.

  The McNavers came from miles around to participate or to watch the Highland dancing.

  They could also take part in tossing the caber, in the running and the wrestling and, what every strong man amongst them most enjoyed, the tug of war.

  In the tug of war it was a struggle of hamlet against hamlet until one became the winner of the year.

  After the games, venison and an ox would be roasted on the green and the pipers would play without ceasing until it was time for everybody to go home.

  The last time that Isa had attended the games was with her father three years ago.

  The Duke had put in an appearance late in the afternoon, looking magnificent in the full Highland dress of a Chieftain.

  There were the black cock’s feathers in his bonnet and his white sporran was hung with three tassels held by a silver chain.

  She had not been at all close to him and, when she asked her father why he did not speak to the Duke, he had replied,

  “The answer is quite simple, my dear, I am not important enough – a mere member of the Clan.”

  Because she was curious, Isa had asked questions.

  She found that, although the Duke entertained lavishly at The Castle with large parties for shooting and fishing, he never included any of the locals.

  There was, she learned, a certain amount of resentment because of this.

  It had not troubled her herself, but she had felt that it was insulting to her father, who had commanded a Battalion of the Black Watch and won the Medal for Gallantry when he was serving abroad.

  Her mother too was related to the Chieftain of the Hamiltons and she was very proud of her lineage, even though they were a Lowland Clan.

  ‘Well, if we are not good enough, we are not good enough,’ Isa told herself philosophically.

  At the same time she would have liked to see the inside of The Castle, which she was told was very impressive.

  It stood high above the sea surrounded by magnificently kept gardens and protected from the winter winds and snow by tall fir trees.

  Now she told herself as she walked home that she could not possibly be brave enough to arrive uninvited at The Castle and tell the Duke what she had just overheard.

  Then she asked herself how she would feel if he died suddenly and mysteriously.

  Could she live with the knowledge that she could have saved him if she had wished to do so?

  She argued with herself all the way until she reached the garden gate she had walked out from onto the moorland.

  Then her chin went up and she told herself that, whatever else she might be, she was not a coward.

  She was not afraid of the Duke. Why should she be?

  ‘I will not say a word to Mama or Papa,’ she decided, ‘but I will ride over to The Castle tomorrow to tell the Duke what I overheard in the cave. After that he can look after himself!’

  She did not realise that she tossed her head in a defiant little gesture as she reached her decision.

  Then, as she moved through the garden and up towards the house, she was holding her chin high with a pride that was in her blood.

  Chapter Two

  The Duke of Strathnaver threw himself down in a comfortable chair.

  “Four before breakfast,” he said, “and two more now. That is not bad for a morning’s fishing!”

  “You might have told me that you were going out so early,” his friend the Honourable Harry Vernon complained.

  “My dear fellow,” the Duke answered, “you were so tired last night after that exhausting journey that I thought it would be sheer cruelty to drag you out at such an early hour.”

  “I admit I cannot really see the attraction of rising with the dawn,” Harry said.

  “Virgin water, my dear boy! The early bird who gets to the river before it is disturbed by other fishermen, dogs, cattle, stags, anything you like to name, has a better chance of catching, in this case, his salmon than anyone who comes later.”

  “You have certainly proved your point,” Harry smiled, “and I shall try to equal your catch this afternoon.”

  “I shall be extremely annoyed if you do!” the Duke said and they laughed.

  They were both exceedingly good-looking.

  They had become friends when the Duke’s father had surprisingly sent his only son not to Edinburgh, as he had been advised by his Elders, but to Eton.

  He had wisely realised that it was time that Scotland began to open it borders and its industries to the South and he had been aware that the tradition of keeping themselves to themselves had already damaged the economy of the country.

  Such a policy would make the majority of the landlords more poverty-stricken than they were already.

  The Duke was in the fortunate position of having married a wife with a very large dowry.

  Because he was extremely astute, he managed to make a profit from his tenants and his flocks as other Chieftains seemed unable to do.

  A great deal of the land he owned was moorland. but there were other parts which were fertile and which he had been shrewd enough to develop either for grazing or for crops.

  His only son, Bruce, was at first very unhappy in England.

  He was used to being treated as if he was a Prince and having his own way in every particular.

  When he tried to assert himself at Eton, he was kicked by his contemporaries. When as a ‘fag’ he had dared to answer the older boys, he was either bullied or beaten.

  At first he thought of running away and then he decided that he would not be intimidated by anyone, especially Sassenachs.

  He therefore set out to excel in games and nothing could have endeared him more quickly to an English boy’s heart.

  He played in the cricket First Eleven, he was Captain of the football team and, when he had time to row, proved himself a first class oarsman.

  By the time he left Eton he was a member of ‘Pop’, admired and toadied to as a leader, and had also made a number of friends his father approved of.

  His closest friend, the Honourable Harry Vernon, came from an old English aristocratic family.

  Harry always spent his holidays in the early autumn at The Castle, looking on it almost as his second home.

  If Bruce could offer him excellent grouse shooting, stalking and fishing, he in turn invited him in the Christmas holidays to one of the best pheasant shoots in England.

  His father took him to Race Meetings where his colours were invariably first past the Winning Post.

  The two young men went to Oxford University together and only when the Marquis served in the Cameron Highlanders were they separated.

  A year ago the old Duke had died, his son had resigned from the Regiment and came North to take his place as Chieftain of the McNavers.

  As this was the first time for six months that Harry had been able to join him, the young Duke, after long sessions with the Elders, and even longer ones with his factors, felt like a schoolboy at the start of his holidays.

  “Now what have you planned for me?” Harry asked him.

  “I am determined that you shall enjoy yourself,” the Duke replied, “so today I have a party of beautiful young women arriving from England.”

  “Who are they?” Harry asked suspiciously.

  “Lavinia Hambleton for me,” the Duke replied, “and Dorothy Waltham for you.”

  Harry laughed.

  “I don’t believe it! How on earth did yo
u persuade them to come so far North?”

  “You really cannot be as modest as all that,” the Duke replied mockingly.

  Harry did not reply, but merely enquired,

  “Do you intend to marry Lavinia?”

  “I am in no hurry to marry anyone,” the Duke answered, “although I realise that I must eventually produce an heir and my father was always bitterly disappointed that he had only one son.”

  There was silence and then he went on,

  “At the same time is it possible that Lavinia would ever settle down in Scotland?”

  “If you are asking me, you are expecting too much,” Harry replied. “Lavinia is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, but I have the feeling that, if you are sensible, you will marry a Scottish girl.”

  The Duke made a grimace but Harry went on,

  “She will be used to the long winters, the endless conversation about sport and, of course, the inevitable complaints of the Clansmen over one thing or another.”

  The Duke rose from the sofa and moved towards the window with a serious expression on his face.

  He looked out over the sea noticing the mist over the house and the warning lights to be seen on the hill that stretched out beyond The Castle.

  Together with the small harbour that he could just see before him he thought that it was the most beautiful view he had ever seen.

  And yet he was sensible enough to realise that for a woman it might be monotonous and boring.

  It certainly did not include the glittering lights of London, the noise of traffic and the sounds of dance bands.

  “If you marry,” Harry said from behind him, “I advise a Scottish lass, who would be wildly excited because you had landed six salmon or if you managed to shoot a stag to fill the larder.”

  The way he spoke made the Duke give a short laugh.

  Then he said,

  “Have you ever met a Scots lassie who did not have thick legs, large feet and a face like a spinning wheel?”

  Harry laughed and replied,

  “I suppose you are a plain race where the womenfolk are concerned, while the men, like your father, are magnificent!”

  The Duke glanced up at the portrait of his father that hung over the mantelpiece.

  The fourth Duke of Strathnaver had been painted in the full regalia of a Chieftain with a plaid over his shoulder caught by a large silver brooch with an enormous cairngorm.