Highland Master

by Amanda Scott

  “Aye, sure,” she said. Then she grinned. “Granddad has a temper, too. He is the embodiment of our clan motto: ‘Touch not the cat but with a glove.’ ”

  Satisfied that he had made his point, he said, “I will try to avoid stirring coals with either of you. Shall we walk down to yon burn now?”

  Nodding, she led the way again.

  As they walked, he added, “I doubt that I will be giving away any great secret if I tell you that your grandfather seems unlikely to support Comyn’s suit.”

  She glanced back at him. “God-a-mercy, I know he has little use for Comyns in general, and he will not allow any Comyn—even one married to me—to live at Castle Raitt, which is what they really want. Also, Rory’s behavior today will irk him. But Granddad does favor peace, so how can you be sure of what you say?”

  “Because yestereve, when he and I talked, I recalled that you had mentioned troubles here and asked him about them. In describing the Comyns, he called Rory a lackwit. I’d wager that the notion of uniting you with any lackwit displeases him.”

  “I hope you are right, for whatever you may have thought earlier, I loathe Rory Comyn. Granddad will not shove his oar into what is more properly my father’s business, but my father is bound to ask for his opinion.”

  “Lass,” he said, “I never thought you were in those woods to meet Comyn.”

  “That’s good, too. Here is the outflow. Shall we follow it for a time?”

  He agreed, and they started downhill beside the rushing burn in silence. The pebble-strewn path was steep and narrow, requiring close attention.

  Fin saw that the swift, roaring water had carved a deep cleft between two of the steep hills that formed the loch basin. Although the spewing outflow did not produce the sort of waterfall he admired most, the burn leaped noisily over boulders and was soothing and beautiful to watch. “Do you get salmon up here?” he asked.

  “Nay, we are too far from the sea. They swim up the Spey only to Aviemore. But brown sea trout do sometimes reach Loch an Eilein. The osprey catch them before the men can, though—or so Ivor tells me. Are you ready to go back?”

  “I want a drink first, and an apple, don’t you?”

  “Aye, sure,” she said, kilting up her skirt and making her way to the water’s edge. Kneeling with a hand on a boulder to balance herself, she bent low and used her other hand as a cup to scoop water to her mouth and drink it.

  When she stood and wiped her wet hand on a skirt already damp from the splashing water, drops beaded on her lips and cheeks. Brushing a hand across one cheek, she grinned, looking like a merry child although she was not childlike in any other way. She was utterly unchildlike, a woman grown, a woman who could stir…

  Fin looked away, strode to the water, and knelt to get his drink. He splashed icy water on his face, although it was not the part of him that most needed cooling.

  She handed him his apple when he rejoined her. But, as they headed back up the hill, munching their apples, he saw her pause to hitch her skirt higher under her linked girdle to leave both hands free as she trod the rocky, uneven path. He marveled at her ability to walk barefoot on such a path but remembered when he could do so, too.

  Into that amiable silence, a less amiable memory intruded of the day he had flung himself into the Tay. His dilemma remained unresolved, and at any such quiet moment it could step into his mind as if it had a mind of its own. He had discussed it only with a priest, who had told him to pray for guidance and assured him that God would answer him or that he would, in time, find the answer in his own thoughts.

  God had not answered him yet, and as for his thoughts—

  “If you came here from the Borders,” she said, “what were you doing there?”

  “Fighting much of the time,” he said, tossing his apple core up the hill where birds would make quick work of it. “King Henry of England invaded again and tried to take Edinburgh, as you must ken fine.”

  “Aye, sure I do. ’Tis why our men are still in the lowlands, because although the English left when their supplies failed, they may return. You are gey quick and deft with a sword, as I saw for myself. Do you enjoy fighting?”

  “I do enjoy the challenge, I expect, but no one likes…” Remembering what she had said about the imaginary chap she had thought she might marry, he said, “Do you really think that any man who hates war is a coward?”

  “Not for hating it,” she said. “All sensible people hate war, as I hope you were about to say. A man who refuses to defend what he loves must be a coward, though. Sakes, I’d think the same of any woman who did not at least try to protect her own.”

  “Sometimes, though, people say or do things hastily without knowing why.”

  “Sakes, people often behave so, all of us. It is called acting without thinking first and is generally not to be encouraged.”

  “Sometimes one has no time to think.”

  “One always has time to think,” she said. “Sometimes one just has to think faster than other times.”

  “But if a person thinks too fast, his thinking gets muddled or he neglects to consider all the likely consequences of his actions or his words.”

  She had reached the top of the hill where the path widened, and as she moved aside to make way so they could walk abreast, she gave him a shrewd look. “This is an interesting subject for discussion, sir. But I’m beginning to wonder if it might have aught to do with why you came here.”

  Fin searched his thoughts for a reply that would be true without revealing more than he yet wanted to share with her.

  Into that silence, she said, “Did some such thing happen to you, something that troubles you now?”

  Fin’s silence told Catriona much about his thoughts. Doubtless, he thought his face was inscrutable, a warrior’s face. But her brothers, father, and grandfather were all warriors, and she had learned from childhood to read certain signs.

  She could tell when they had secrets, when they were preparing for war, when they were angry, and when they simply did not want to talk.

  He seemed to show consternation now, as if he had not realized that she might draw such a conclusion from his comments.

  Casually, she said, “If you go to Lochaber from here, remind me to tell you where to find that splendid waterfall along the way.”

  “I don’t recall suggesting that I might go to Lochaber.”

  “Perhaps not, but it was your childhood home, so I assumed you must have family there and would visit them whilst you are in the Highlands. And we did talk of waterfalls yesterday,” she reminded him. “Sithee, I just thought, from your reaction to my question, that you might prefer a change of subject.”

  “Sakes, lass, we were just making conversation,” he said. “I like to discuss matters on which people have differing views and was but seeking to learn some of yours. I cannot think why you might think me troubled. I just wanted to know if you agree that certain events might occur so fast that one does not have time to consider all that one should before acting… or speaking.”

  “I see.”

  “Then what would you say?”

  “Without a specific event to consider, it is hard to imagine how one could lack time to consider at least the likely consequences of any act.”

  “Aye, well, you live a more peaceful life than most men do,” he said. “I can tell you that in the pitch of battle, a man has no time to think. Merely to survive, he must act quickly, relying only on instinct and his training.”

  “Is one’s training not what creates those instincts?”

  “Not always. In troth, sometimes one’s training, even one’s loyalties and sense of duty, can obstruct rational thought. For example, men often obey blindly, without thinking, when a superior gives an order. Or one agrees to something simply because one respects and trusts the one demanding agreement.”

  He reached to cup her left elbow as the trail plunged into a declivity. The warmth of his touch through the thin camlet sleeve sent a tremor up her arm and a warmer sensat
ion through her body that reached places never touched so before.

  She turned to him. “Did you fear that I might trip over my feet?”

  He did not answer but continued to support her elbow as he put his left hand gently on her right shoulder and continued to hold her gaze. The sensations roaring through her body now were disturbing, and so was the look in his eyes.

  She knew exactly what he would do next.

  Fool! The word exploded in Fin’s mind but had no effect on his body’s response to her. She was too close to him, too desirable, and too enticing. Moreover, she was too quick to read the truths in his words and much too easy for him to talk to.

  She had said that she tended to speak her thoughts aloud. The idea that such a thing might be contagious disturbed him. He had rarely revealed his thoughts even as a child. And, later, he had learned that it was safer to keep them to himself.

  For one thing, he served a powerful royal prince who did not take kindly to having his actions or words discussed outside his presence. For another, his equally powerful enemy had ears in unexpected places, so one did not discuss one’s plans or anything else of import even in pleasant company unless one trusted the companion.

  But now, Fin had a strong urge to tell her exactly what he was thinking and an even stronger one to kiss her thoroughly. He settled for kissing her cheek.

  Her eyes widened as he did it, but he detected regret, too. The combination sent a surge of satisfaction through him, and something else, less pleasant.

  “Don’t look at me like that, lass,” he said. “In troth, I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I came out of the water this morning. But I should not have done it.”

  “Well, don’t do it again!” Then, more gently she added, “I’ve enjoyed this walk with you, sir. But if my grandfather should hear even a hint of misbehavior on our part, he’ll not let me out of his sight again until you are safely gone.”

  The dangerous moment had passed. He could not burden her with his problem, nor did he want to, but he felt no relief. Instead, a strong notion struck him that before long he would have to tell her the truth.

  She would call him a coward when she learned that he had swum away from the battlefield at Perth, because anyone of sense would call him so.

  At least, if she scorned him then, he would never have to reveal to her the sacred bequest that he had sworn to accept.

  Chapter 6

  When they returned to the castle, the midday meal was over and hours still remained until supper. Parting with Fin at the entrance and believing that he must be as hungry as she was, Catriona went down to the kitchen. Boreas followed her.

  Because her rambles nearly always ended the same way, the cook was accustomed to her raids on his kitchen. He provided a sack with succulent slices from a leftover roast, two manchet loaves to eat with them, and scraps for Boreas.

  Thanking him, she said, “This should stave off starvation till supper.” Then seeing Tadhg poking up the kitchen fire, she said, “Run up to the hall, lad, and tell Sir Finlagh that I have food if he is hungry. He’ll find me in the woods to the north.”

  “Aye, I’ll tell him, m’lady,” the lad said, brushing ashes off his breeks. “Did they tell ye above that someone special be a-coming here anon?”

  Hope leaped within her, “My lord father and my brothers?”

  “Nay, nay, it be someone else,” Tadhg said. “Everyone be all secret-keeping about it, but he’ll likely be coming shortly, they say.”

  “Do they say aught else about him?” she asked, amused by the lad’s ability to glean knowledge that he was not supposed to have.

  “Aye, sure,” he said. “He comes from Perth and a host o’ men wi’ him. That will no please Himself, they say, ’cause he said the man shouldna bring so many.”

  “Then is the one who comes here an enemy?”

  “Nay, for the lads do be stirring their stumps so much to tidy up the place that ye’d think his grace the King were a-coming. But I asked, and he isna the one.”

  Smiling, she thanked him, but he had stirred her curiosity. Recalling that Fin had ordered his equerry to Perth with a message, she suspected that his man must have let something slip. In any event, she was sure that Fin knew who was coming.

  Clicking her tongue twice, she summoned Boreas, who hastily finished the last scrap the cook had given him and trotted after her.

  “I have met your two men,” the Mackintosh said when a gillie admitted Fin to the inner chamber. “Your Ian Lennox told me that ye’ve a new tale to unfold.”

  “Did he, sir?” Fin asked, drawing the stool up to the table, where the Mackintosh sat as he had before.

  “Aye, but he said that the tale was not his to tell me. And since he did say that our Catriona was safe and I ken fine that two boats set out after men on our wall saw visitors approach ye, I’d wager that the pair of ye had an adventure.”

  “We met Rory Comyn and two of his men,” Fin said. “He was displeased to find me with her ladyship and foolish enough to draw his sword.”

  “I did tell ye that the lackwit expects to wed with her.”

  “She says she won’t have him.”

  “She says that, aye,” Mackintosh said. “But a lass does not always get her say-so, even an she declares it as frankly as our Catriona does.”

  “So I told her,” Fin said, watching him carefully.

  “ ’Twould be a foul thing to wed that saucy lass with a lackwit, though.”

  “It would,” Fin agreed, satisfied that he had read him correctly earlier.

  “Ye did not kill him,” Mackintosh said. “I warrant he’d have liked to put that sword of his through ye, though.”

  “He might have liked to do that. But I knocked it into the loch. Then my equerry, Toby Muir, and Ian Lennox arrived with Comyn’s men in tow. Toby said they were gey careless and easily caught. There is one other thing, too.”

  “Ye suspect that Rory Comyn had summat to do with your injury yesterday.”

  “I do.”

  “Aye, well, I suspected as much. He has shown himself on our land afore without invitation. But although he does delight in making trouble—”

  “With respect, sir,” Fin interjected, “if he has been troublesome before, why have you not kept her ladyship on this island rather than letting her wander the hills alone? If Comyn wants her, what is to stop him from taking her?”

  “Knowing that Clan Chattan would wipe out every last Comyn if he dared such a thing,” Mackintosh said grimly. “Their clan is weak, unprotected by any other. I’ve bided my time to see if our young Lord of the North would protect them, but Alex Stewart trusts them less than I do. Forbye, but ye need not worry about our Catriona. As long as she keeps Boreas close by, she’s safe enough.”

  “The arrow that struck me could as easily have killed the dog,” Fin said.

  “I expect that it could have. But that just puts us back to the Comyns’ weakness. They hope to gain power by allying wi’ us. Sakes, if I thought they’d change their ways, I would welcome them, because a confederation that grows is stronger than one that does not. Ye do ken that fact for yourself, I warrant.”

  “Do I?” Fin asked, tensing.

  “Ye do, aye. I have spent nearly every Christmas of my life at Tor Castle, lad. D’ye think I don’t recognize the son of Teàrlach MacGillony when I see him? MacGill!” He snorted. “Your da would clout ye good, did he hear ye call him MacGill. What were ye about to be saying such a thing of him to my lady wife?”

  “In troth, sir, I thought it unwise to reveal my full identity whilst I was here for Rothesay. It might have stirred up our old enmity and complicated his dealings with you. My presence is solely as his envoy and has nowt to do with Clan Cameron.”

  “But so ye would say, nae matter why ye had come here. Did Rothesay not consider the likelihood that your presence alone might complicate matters?”

  That was getting to the core with a vengeance, Fin thought with reluctant admiration. But the facts would do. “Roth
esay and I met when we were two of the winning knights at her grace the Queen’s Edinburgh tourney two years ago, sir, not long after he’d gained his dukedom. He knows me only as Fin of the Battles.”

  “That be nobbut rubbish, that. Ye’ll not make me believe that that canny young scoundrel did not demand every detail of your past afore he took ye into his service. He’d do it just to be sure his wicked uncle hadn’t sent ye to spy on him.”

  “You underestimate Rothesay, sir,” Fin said. “He knows some whom he does trust, and I was able to provide him with three such excellent references.”

  “If he did not question ye, they must have been good. Who recommended ye to him, then, whose word he did heed? I might like to question them myself.”

  “His grace the King, her grace the Queen, and his reverence the Bishop of St. Andrews were all kind enough to recommend me to his service.”

  Mackintosh raised his eyebrows. “Bishop Traill himself? And their graces?”

  “All three, aye, by my troth, sir.”

  Mackintosh’s eyes narrowed. “Which of them recommended ye first, then?”

  “Bishop Traill.”

  “I see.”

  Meeting that intelligent gaze, Fin had the feeling that it saw too much. But he did not know how the canny old man could know more than Fin had told him.

  “Ye’ve given me nae cause yet to doubt your word,” Mackintosh said then. “But do not be thinking that the royal safe conduct Davy Stewart gave ye will protect ye against his uncle Albany if Albany learns what Davy is up to. Sithee, ye were right to say that Albany has nae scruples. But I have another question for ye.”

  “Aye, sure,” Fin said, wondering what was coming.

  “ ’Tis about our Catriona. For all her wild ways, she is an innocent maiden. So I want to know if ye’ve spoken yet for any woman, elsewhere. Ye look to be about five-and-twenty, so it would be only natural if ye had.”

  “Nay, sir,” Fin said, startled. “Nor am I on the lookout for a wife. I’ve not seen my own family for years, and my brother, Ewan, is our chieftain now. Until I see and talk with him, I should not be making any such plans.”