by Alisa Adams
Lyle howled with laughter. “Davina!” He was bent double with mirth. “Bad dog! I am going to use that saying myself. You are truly the soul of wit, Davina!” His laughter was infectious and soon Davina and Athol had joined in. Eventually, when they had all stopped, they thanked her.
“Next time at my house,” Athol assured her, smiling as he mounted his horse.
“I look forward to it.” Davina waved and turned to say farewell to other guests. In ten minutes, she had forgotten him completely. At last, it was finished and all the guests had gone.
“Well, that went well,” Una remarked, smiling.
Davina nodded. Her eyes were shining. “Mother.” Davina linked her arm through Una’s. "It’s your birthday soon. Can we have another one?”
“I met someone last night that I would like to get to know better,” Athol said thoughtfully. “Her name is Maura McKay. Do you know her?”
Lyle looked at him in disbelief. “Athol,” he said patiently, “this is McKay country. Every second soul you meet is called McKay. Which one of the ten thousand McKays do you mean?”
“The one with long, red hair,” he replied.
Lyle thumped his knuckles against Athol’s forehead.
“Grrr!” he growled, “are you pretending to be stupid or is it a natural gift? Every McKay has some shade of red hair! What was she wearing?”
Athol looked blank. “I don’t know.”
* * *
“What was Davina wearing?” Lyle asked patiently. “And her mother?”
“Davina was wearing a dark green dress,” he said with certainty.
“Wrong,” Lyle said triumphantly, "it was brown and her mother was in red. You probably didn’t notice your girlfriend’s dress because you were busy looking at her other assets!”
Athol looked slightly shamefaced. “How am I going to find her?” he asked plaintively.
“Davina will know,” Lyle answered, “she invited everyone.”
“You are a genius, Lyle!” Athol laughed. “What would I do without you?”
“I have no idea,” Lyle sighed dolefully.
“See that tree over there?” Athol pointed to a massive fir tree a few hundred yards away and Lyle nodded. “Race you!” Athol’s horse Jock bounded away, but Lyle’s horse was smaller and faster. It reached the tree first by a ten-yard margin.
Lyle held his hands up in triumph. “The winner!” he cried.
Athol laughed, but he was still preoccupied with his problem. “I can’t just barge in there and ask Davina,” he said.
“Why not?” Lyle asked. “It’s not as if you’re courting, betrothed, or married to someone else. Asking a question is not a crime.”
“I’ll ask her mother!” Athol said triumphantly. “Come with me for moral support.”
“Pfft!” Lyle flapped a hand at him then looked at him in disgust and disbelief. “You really are a big Jessie! If you want to speak to Davina’s mother go and do it yourself! You are a big boy now, or am I mistaken?”
The two friends looked at each other, their gazes challenging, then Lyle spurred his horse into a canter and rode away. Athol had annoyed him and he knew it. He hated himself because Lyle was the very best friend a man could ever have; he was honest and straightforward to a fault. If Athol ever said anything out of place or objectionable Lyle would tell him to his face. It was one of the reasons why Athol loved him so much; he often thought that if he’d had a brother he’d have wanted him to be just like Lyle.
He knew that the next time they met each other their quarrel would be forgotten, but the subject of women and marriage was coming up more and more. Soon he would have to do his duty and take a suitable bride. The fact that he might love the woman he married had not occurred to Athol until his parents had mentioned it a few evenings before. He slowed Jock to a walk and ambled home, thinking.
7
Maura
Maura McKay was a strikingly beautiful woman, and wherever she went she turned heads. She lived in Fort Augustus, near Inverness, and had been visiting her cousin Annabella when the invitation to the ceilidh had come. Both girls were eager to go. Annabella was already betrothed, but Maura was still free. She had turned down every man her father suggested and now that he was dead it was too late for him to help her, which was just the way she liked it.
No matter, she thought with an inward smile, I will pick my own husband. So she did.
When the invitation came she had been excited and even if there were no potential husbands there it would still be fun. She had long wanted to see the inside of Craiglochan Castle with its commanding view over the sea. The inside of the building was rumored to be sumptuous, and the food even better. Apparently, their food was the best in the Highlands and a spice merchant, Auguste Chevalier, came to see them from time to time to make sure their cuisine was the best in the district. Maura could not wait.
When she walked into the great entrance hall she saw at once that it was lit with the gleams of thousands of candles, quite a few of them in polished gold and silver sconces. This must have cost a fortune! she thought as her gaze roamed over the silk wall-hangings and colorful Turkish rugs. She resolved there and then to restore her own shabby residence to its former glory. It was old, run-down, and the estate was going to seed, but as yet she had found no husband with enough money to restore it to a state that was fit to be seen.
Maura was very fussy. Not only did her husband have to be rich but exceptionally handsome too. She could not be seen going around with an ugly husband; it would make her look desperate. She did not have a very smart residence, but she could afford to wait. Anyone who looks like me will not wait long, she thought. Her gaze drifted to the wooden chairs around the wall, each one intricately carved by a master craftsman. What a great, great pity she could not marry the laird of this castle. But there was only a daughter and two women could not marry each other. She laughed inwardly at the thought.
She had no idea that she was being watched by a young laird-to-be, and he was just right for her: tall, handsome, and best of all, rich. She was asked to dance by a slightly older, gray-haired man and accepted. She did not really want to concern herself with mature men, but she had to be noticed. So, she went through the steps of ‘Strip the Willow’ with a bright smile on her face. She was wearing a green dress that enhanced her hand-span waist and picked out the color of her big green eyes perfectly. She was the center of attention and she was enjoying it very much.
There was one man who suddenly caught her eye. He was tall and dark with long brown hair and warm hazel eyes, just the kind of man she liked. To her delight, she saw him approaching her after the dance had finished. He smiled at her and two lovely dimples appeared on his cheeks. He bowed over her hand and kissed it.
“Athol Murray at your service, mistress,” he said eagerly, “and who do I have the honor of addressing?”
“Maura McKay, sir.” She gave him a little curtsey and a coy smile.
“May I say that you are the prettiest lady I have seen for an age, mistress?” he said gallantly.
“You may say it as many times as you like, sir,” she replied, laughing. “Thank you. A lady never becomes tired of hearing such things!”
“Does the lady dance?” he inquired politely.
* * *
“She does,” Maura confirmed.
Athol bowed once more and led her onto the dance floor. They could not speak during the dance because of the noise of the music and when they left Maura was whisked away by someone else, so they had no chance to talk, but Maura knew she would see him again. She would make sure of it.
When Athol saw Maura his jaw almost hit the floor. She was lovely beyond his power to express it and as she moved in and out of the dancers on the floor he watched every move she made. She was as graceful as a swan and looked radiantly happy. His eyes followed her until the dance was over and then he approached her. He was nervous since even Davina had turned him down that night.
She will not bite you, Athol, he told
himself sternly, but when her beautiful green eyes looked up into his he was immediately reassured that all would be well. She had obviously been born to dance, and he realized that he had never enjoyed dancing so much in his life. However, after their dance the most he saw of her was her bright hair flying as she went from partner to partner, looking as if she were enjoying every second of the evening. She had probably forgotten him already, he thought miserably.
But Maura had not forgotten him. She was not one of the guests who was staying overnight and as she rode home, he was still very much on her mind. She would have liked to find out who he was and get as much information as she could about him, but she was cautious. Her father’s castle was far away and he could not make trips to see her very often. Besides, she had other plans for him. Little did Athol know that he had fallen into the clutches of one of the cleverest and most devious women ever born.
Athol was too busy to go to see Davina or her mother the next day, and the next, and the next. Eventually, he decided to write a note and have it hand-delivered by his manservant, Hamish, with instructions to give it to either Lady Una or Davina. It was addressed to Una so he was fairly sure that Davina would not open it.
Hamish delivered the letter to Una, who thanked him with a puzzled frown. Why would Athol Murray be writing to her? She broke open the seal and began to read.
Dear Lady Anderson,
I hope this letter finds you well. I have a small problem which I hope you may help me solve. I am in search of a lady called Maura McKay whom I met at the ceilidh on Sunday. I was unable to do anything but ask her name so I do not know where she is staying. If you cannot help me, perhaps Davina can do so. Many thanks.
Your servant,
Athol Murray
Una read the letter through, frowning as she did so. What a nerve, she thought, tapping the letter against her chin. She debated whether to tell Davina or not and turned it over in her mind for a few minutes. Eventually, she decided that since Davina did not seem interested in Athol Murray, if she ever really had been to start with, that she would let her daughter see the letter.
Davina looked at it carefully. “He does not say why he wants to see her,” she remarked, “but I know she was staying with her cousin Annabella. It was a short visit, so she may be gone now. I will take a reply and ride over there now. It’s a good day for a bit of exercise.”
She was hoping against hope that she could deliver the letter and make a hasty exit but unfortunately, as she rode into the gate Athol was riding out. He smiled his widest and most seductive smile at her and she smiled back in a slightly less encouraging fashion.
“Davina,” he said happily, “it’s good to see you! How are you?”
As you see me,” she said, handing him the letter her mother had written. “Here is the answer to your question.”
He took it from her and he put it in one of his saddlebags, then she turned Daisy around so that she could go home again. “I expect you’re wondering why I wanted to find her,” he said.
“No, it’s none of my business, Athol.” Her voice was cool, then there was silence for a moment.
“I have never known a woman not to be curious before,” he said, smiling.
“Well, you’ve learned something today,” she replied. In truth, she was dying of curiosity. She just didn’t want him to find out.
“I’ll tell you anyway,” he sighed, "I want to court her and maybe marry her. I was so struck by her beauty I-I couldn’t stop thinking about her.” He looked at Davina. "I’m sorry, do you want to hear this?”
Davina sighed in exasperation. “Athol,” she said irritably, “tell me or don’t tell me. I care not either way. Who you court or marry is none of my affair.”
“But I thought—” He was nonplussed for a moment.
“That I cared for you?” She gave a little, cynical laugh. “A momentary fantasy, Athol. You think too much of yourself. Now if you will excuse me I must get home. Good day!”
Then she urged Daisy into a trot and was soon far in front of him. Athol felt hurt. He liked to think that girls were breaking their hearts over him. Oh, well, he thought, plenty more fish in the sea.
8
A Mystery Solved
When Athol sent a message to Annabella McKay enquiring about Maura, he was disappointed to find that she was already making the journey back to Fort Augustus the shortest way: by sea. The journey on horseback would be long, tiresome and uncomfortable, but the sea voyage could be perilous and he worried about her. He had seen her once for a few moments, but that was enough to have made a deep impression on him. He was reluctant to let her go, but there seemed to be no other choice. The next time he met her she would probably be betrothed or even married.
He had torn open the letter that he had received from Annabella, longing to find a glimmer of hope in it somewhere, but there was none. There was no hint that she would be coming back and no indication that she had even mentioned his name.
He had been right. She had forgotten about him, so it was time to forget about her, but that was not so easy. He thought about her most of his waking moments, dreamed about her and fantasized about her. Eventually, though, the passage of time and the general business of life got in the way and she assumed less and less importance in his life. Then one day he found that he had not thought of her for weeks, and he realized that he had moved on.
But he was wrong; Maura had not forgotten about him...
9
One Year Later
Another summer passed another birthday and another Christmas. Davina had given up on the idea of betrothal and marriage. No man wanted her. She had no idea why. She really was not so very fat or ugly and her face was reasonably pretty—not beautiful, but by no means hideous. She thought about Maura McKay. Now there was a beautiful woman, with her copper-red hair and apple-green eyes. The only woman she had ever met who surpassed her in looks was Shona McGregor, said to be the most beautiful woman in the Highlands, if not the whole of Scotland. It was said that she had saved her husband from the jaws of the Loch Ness Monster, but Davina knew a fairy tale when she heard one!
Davina had bought the mare she wanted and had unexpectedly found that she was pregnant. Instead of returning her to the dealer, she kept both mare and foal, reasoning that two horses for the price of one was a very good deal. She called the chestnut mare Penny and the foal Dandy. He was coal-black, with a perfect heart-shaped white patch in the middle of his forehead. He had an affectionate nature and she began to love him a much as she loved Daisy. He was now nine months old and growing at a rate that she had never seen with any foal before. When he began to develop a feathery growth of soft hair on his hooves she realized that his father must have been a heavy horse of some description, perhaps a Clydesdale or a Percheron.
At any rate, he was beautiful and he gave her the idea that perhaps she could begin to breed horses to sell. She would have to give it some more thought, but it was a tempting proposition and she resolved to talk it over with her father. She was brushing Dandy in the stable one day when Lyle came into the courtyard. She smiled widely at him and curtsied. He bowed and smiled back, but she noticed that he was tense.
“How are you?” she asked politely.
“As you see me, Davina,” he answered, “well, as always. And you?”
“The same. Have you come to see me?”
“No,” he replied, looking nervous suddenly. “I must speak with your father. Is he at home?”
“You are in luck,” she replied, “he has just arrived and is in his office. I’ll take you there.”
They walked upstairs and along to Ruaridh’s office. It was a plain room with dark-paneled walls and a massive carved mahogany desk in the center. A huge brown mastiff lay in front of the open log fire and thumped his tail on the wooden floor when they entered.
“Father,” Davina opened the door to let Lyle enter. “Mr. Shaw has come to see you. Would both of you like you like a drink?”
Lyle put up a hand and shook h
is head. “Mistress Davina,” he said, frowning. “I have a very urgent and private matter to discuss with the laird. With your permission, of course, sir.”
“Certainly,” Ruaridh said. He looked a trifle puzzled. “We will send for it a little later, dear.”
Davina nodded and closed the door, wondering what the matter was. She decided that it was none of her concern and went outside to start brushing Dandy again.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Shaw?” the laird asked. He laced his fingers in front of him and faced Lyle across the desk.
“M'laird,” Lyle began. He paused and rubbed his hand across his eyes. “This is very difficult. May I ask that Lady Anderson be here too? This matter concerns both of you and Davina, although I would rather speak with you first. You will know best how to handle it."
Ruaridh was immediately alarmed. “My God,” he said heavily, “it sounds extremely serious.”
“It is,” Lyle replied. “Very serious.”
When Una came in, she looked tense and pale. Lyle greeted her then she sat down and took a deep breath. “M'laird, milady,” he began, “I have some distressing information to pass on to you. What you do with it is your own affair, for I am merely the messenger.” He paused and looked up at the laird. “M'laird, I have found out why no man in the area wants to marry Davina. This is very upsetting, I am afraid, but I thought you should be the first to know.” He paused again, and Una put her hand on his arm and looked into his eyes.
“Does it concern Davina?” she asked anxiously.
“Yes,” he replied, heavily. “There is a scurrilous rumor being put about among the lairds, gentlemen, and barons that Davina is not a virgin. In fact, the stories say that she is a woman of loose morals and that she has a child which was adopted by a couple in the Lowlands. You know that she is a little overweight, so a pregnancy would not be too difficult to hide. The rumor has only been circulated among lairds whose sons are of marriageable age and not already betrothed.