by Amanda Scott
Fin clearly had not thought about that. Of course, if he meant just to bore his holes, plug them with his rags, and then connect all the rags with his twine—
Another, horrifying thought struck. What if his intent all along had been to sacrifice himself to save them all as penance for killing Clan Chattan men at Perth?
A raindrop slid beneath her kirtle and down her back, jerking her from the dreadful image and restoring her common sense. Fin would not sacrifice himself on purpose. But if his plan was going to work, it had to work that night. Even the daft Comyns would examine their dam by daylight to be sure that all was well. If they saw twine or rags, any chance of removing them later would be lost.
Aware that if she fell in, she would swim better without her kirtle, she nearly took it off to leave it behind. But it occurred to her that the current created by the water pouring out of the loch would likely prevent any return before morning. If so, she would have to face her grandfather and others wearing a soaked shift with her dirk strapped round her hips, and escorted by an equally underdressed Fin.
On that thought, she went back and collected his mantle and decided to keep her kirtle on rather than chance losing it in the dark if she did fall off the raft.
Wet clothes would be better than facing anyone in only a thin, damp shift.
Fin reached shore without seeing any sign of human movement there. Although he knew that a sensible watcher would conceal himself, he also knew that at two hours or more past midnight, all men were less alert.
However, the Comyns would have set at least two men to keep an eye on the narrows between the island and the shore. A short time later, he was satisfied that they had posted only two and that neither need concern him any longer.
Aodán had said that the prisoners were on the hillside above the landing, but Fin could not be sure they were still there or how many guards they had.
His primary objective was the dam.
Moving as fast as the darkness and his night vision allowed and keeping to the grassy verge where possible, he soon realized that the rain had eased although it remained steady. It was also warm. If it continued so overnight or grew heavier again, the rate at which the water rose would increase significantly, because it would melt most of the remaining snow above them on the surrounding hillsides.
The Comyns, without interference and given the time, could raise the height of their dam as high as necessary. The granite cleft into which the outflowing burn passed was narrow with steep sides tall enough so that if their dam held, it could easily force the water of the loch high enough to cover much of the castle.
Fin was glad that he had not promised Catriona that he would do nothing dangerous by himself. He had to do what he could do to avert catastrophe.
He reflected then on the promises that she had made him. At the time they had eased his concern for her, but something about them nagged him now.
A sound diverted his thoughts. Realizing that it was a once-trickling rill ahead, now full of fresh rainwater and snowmelt, rushing downhill to the loch, he focused his mind on other sounds of the night. If he allowed his thoughts to wander again, he risked walking right into trouble.
When he reached the curve where the track forked over and around the hill near the outflowing burn, and slowed his pace, he heard a soft thud as of wood against wood a short distance to his right, on the loch.
Drawing his dirk, he stepped off the path and eased downhill through waist-high shrubs until it felt soggy underfoot. Then he crouched in the bushes to wait.
Freezing in place, mentally cursing her clumsiness in letting the raft bump the shaft of her paddle as, kneeling, she had reached with it to feel for the shore, Catriona knew that she had reached the inner curve just before the shoreline curved outward and around to meet the burn that the Comyns had blocked with their dam. She had often swum near that shoreline and knew it well. Wary now, she remained watchful.
The slope there was steep, as were most of the slopes around the loch, but she managed to float the raft near enough to grasp shrubbery and pull herself toward the granite shelf from which she often swam. The raft made a whispery noise as she eased closer, and she realized that it was scraping over other shrubbery underwater.
Kneeling as she was, she would have to sit to get safely off the raft. She did not want to step barefoot into a bush or fall into the water as she secured it. But she was in a good place. A deer trail led up from the shelf to the path around the loch.
The rain gently continued and dripped from her lashes, making her blink and wipe water from her eyes. She reached for another branch…
“Don’t make a sound,” Fin muttered from the darkness, startling her nearly into a shriek. Only by what she deemed superhuman effort did she stifle the sound in her throat. Jerking her hand back served only to make the raft tilt dangerously, but a warm, strong hand gripped her quickly outflung wrist, steadying her.
“Can you get off now?” he asked. His voice sounded quiet and calm, as if he were only inquiring about the weather or the state of her health.
James would have begun scolding at once. And Ivor would have revealed the side of him that set the earth trembling from his wrath. But Fin…
She wished she could see more than his shape, because although she knew he must be angry, she could hear nothing in his voice to tell her how angry he was.
“Careful,” he said as she used her free hand to shift her skirts out of her way and gingerly swung her bare feet off the raft to seek purchase on the granite.
“I brought your mantle,” she murmured. “And the rope from the raft.”
“You brought company, too,” he murmured as he dragged the raft ashore.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the vee-shaped wake in the loch before it registered that she had neglected to tell Boreas to stay behind.
Fin watched the dog’s silent approach, reminding himself that wolf dogs were naturally quiet animals. Even so, he wanted to shake Catriona, or worse.
Instead, he said, “I’m glad Boreas came with you, because I must leave you here—” Hearing her indrawn breath, he broke off long enough to put a firm finger to her lips, silencing her, before he added, “Just listen, Cat. Don’t speak.”
She nodded, which he thought was wise of her. Boreas, emerging from the water a short distance away, shook himself and waited where he was.
“I’m going to leave you both here, and you will stay,” Fin said, “because I must see what lies ahead. I don’t want the distraction of wondering if you will keep silent or if one of you will somehow warn them of our approach.”
When she nodded again, he took his finger away.
“How long?” she whispered. The whisper indicated naught of her emotions. Nor did he want to know what they were.
“It will seem long to you, staying here,” he said. “I’ll make my way up that hill to see what I can from the top. I must know how many guards they’ve set near their dam and how high it is. I’ll leave my tools with you.”
“I can be patient if you will be careful. I just hope you can find us again.”
“I’ll find you,” he said. “But do not be congratulating yourself, lass, because I am displeased with you. Your coming here makes my task more dangerous than it would be without you. Moreover, you promised—”
“I promised only not to worry about you,” she reminded him. “If you recall—”
“I do, and I recall, too, that afterward, when I said I wanted a second promise from you, you cut me off and said, ‘Aye, aye,’ did you not, as if you—?”
“I did, but I—”
“You did, and you know I took it to mean that you understood the promise I sought and had agreed to it. Nay, do not try to defend yourself,” he added, hearing her draw breath to do so. “You ken fine that you are in the wrong, Cat. But if you want to pretend that you don’t know it, I’ll make it quite clear to you later.”
Catriona squirmed, feeling none of her usual eagerness to debate with him. His tone made his
feelings as clear as they would be if she could see his expression. Indeed, she could easily imagine it, and she had come to know him well enough to be certain that she did not want to test his tolerance now by reminding him that she had also said earlier that she would not promise not to follow him.
“We’ll wait for you,” she said. “I should tell you, though, that even if you punish me sorely for this, sir, I’m glad I came. If aught should happen to you—”
“I know, lass, and I wish I could promise you that nowt will happen, but I cannot. Your grandfather thinks nowt of the Comyns, but they did succeed in this venture, and they may even have men surrounding the loch now, watching and waiting until Rory Comyn summons them.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“I don’t. But in my experience, it is better to assume that the other fellow knows more than I do and is as smart, or smarter, and as skilled with a sword.”
“God-a-mercy, even Ivor says that no one can best you with a sword. I worried about you swimming here with it, but I’m glad that you did.”
“I have my dirk, too,” he said. “Now, take these things we brought, and Boreas, and go uphill till you find a place where you can see the path but not be seen from it.” He paused. “I must know that I can depend on you this time to obey me.”
“I will, sir.” Following him up to the path, she clicked her tongue to Boreas.
When she could discern the dog’s moving shape, she gestured widely toward the hillside and felt more confident when she saw Boreas cross the path and begin to range back and forth. Fin said no more to her and soon vanished into the darkness.
By the time she had settled where she could still make out the path, she decided that he must have reached the hilltop and would return before she knew it.
The rain eased more. The minutes crawled by.
Taking his time, Fin wended his way to the top of the hill, careful not to disturb any Comyn who might be nearby. Telling himself that he needed to live at least long enough to deal properly with his erring wife, he knew that his true intent was to live long enough to make love to her until they wore each other out.
Despite that pleasant fantasy, his battle-honed senses remained alert. The rain eased to gentle mist. When he reached the crest and found a vantage point, he soon discerned movement beyond the dam, near the silent bed of the dammed-up burn.
A male voice drifted to his ears. “Be they all asleep below?”
Another said, “All save two watchers, aye, and all be nigh the burn. D’ye think this thing will hold? Because they’ll get a right dousing down there if it fails.”
“Aye, sure, it will hold. We’ve piled wood and rocks high to hold the planks in place against the rising water. It be rising quick now, too. If this rain picks up again, it may get high enough to drown the lot o’ them by morning and mayhap Shaw’s men, too. I just hope our lads a-watching them do keep themselves safe.”
“I’m surprised Rory didna want them all kept below with the others.”
“He didna want to hear them Mackintoshes bemoaning their lot all night, he said. Come what may, I mean to find me a place to sit well above this great pile.”
“Me, too, aye. But we’d best keep one o’ us to each side like Rory did say.”
Satisfied with what he’d heard, Fin shifted to a better position, drew his dirk, and waited for the one who would guard that side of the dam to come up to him.
The result was almost too easy, because the man came carelessly, paying heed to naught but where he put his noisy feet.
Clapping an arm around him from behind, Fin put his dirk to the man’s throat. “One squeak and ye’re spent,” he muttered, affecting the local accent. “How many watchers d’ye keep round yon loch?”
“Two at their landing, and three others, if ye dinna count us two here.”
“Who guards your prisoners?”
“Them other three I told ye about. All the others returned to our encampment below. Nae one else be out yonder, for nae one can see nowt tonight!”
“How many sleep below?”
“Nigh a score to send out and about at dawn. That be all o’ them, I swear!”
“Is that counting Albany’s army or that of the Douglas?” Fin asked dulcetly.
His captive stiffened but kept silent.
“Ah, now, ye’re a fine honest chappie,” Fin said. “A feather in your chief’s bonnet, ye be. I’ll just go and see if your friend yonder be as fine and honest, shall I? Nay, now, cease your wriggling. I’ll no disturb ye more, I trow.”
Catriona was sure that something horrid had happened to Fin. She had heard nothing since he had left her with Boreas, and the dog lay dozing beside her.
She kept her dirk in hand, just in case, and had wrapped herself in Fin’s mantle. Although she was grateful for its warmth, its dampness permeated to her skin, making her think longingly of the hall fire at Rothiemurchus.
The dog raised its head, and a moment later, silently, a shadow loomed over them. “God-a-mercy, I hope that’s you,” she muttered, gripping her dirk tighter.
“It is, aye,” Fin said. “I’ve come to fetch that sack and your rope.”
“How many guards are there?”
“None who will disturb us,” he said. “Now, come, for I want to get this done. Albany’s army will come round the Cairngorms and Douglas from the south through Glen Garry. They could be here tomorrow if Ivor, Shaw, and their men cannot stop them. Albany expects the Comyns to capture Rothesay and Alex Stewart for him, and as many Clan Chattan prisoners as they can. I won’t let that happen.”
Indignantly, she said, “Neither will my father or Ivor. And even if they should somehow fail, do you think Rothesay and the Lord of the North are such cowards that they would leave those of us here to face Albany and Douglas alone?”
“Nay, but if Albany captures them, it will put everyone here in danger, because he will declare us all part of their conspiracy. I agree that Shaw’s men and Ivor’s from Lochindorb will likely stop Albany’s armies or the terrain and bad weather will, because neither leader has experience in the Highlands. But if Albany is determined enough to get his hands on Rothesay and Alex, he may just do it.”
“In this weather, we cannot use our signal fires to bring more aid,” she said.
“Nay, but if we can avoid armed confrontation, we’ll sort things out. However, we must defeat the Comyns here. Then, if Albany does win through, he’ll have to deal with your grandfather. The Mackintosh can handle him if anyone can.”
“He has cowed fiercer men than the Duke of Albany,” she said. “And my father and Ivor will succeed. But what about Rothesay and Alex? Neither one will like being out of the action and neither is easily persuadable.”
“I hope that Alex will persuade Davy to go with him,” he said. “But I cannot think about that. First, I must see if I can perform a feat of magic with this dam.”
“What can I do? And, prithee, do not tell me that I can do naught.”
“You and Boreas are coming with me to keep watch whilst I bore my holes and plug them,” he said. “Three watchers guard the prisoners on the hill above your landing, but the two watching the dam expected no relief for anyone before dawn.”
“How do you know all that?”
“I asked them.”
“You asked them?”
“Aye, sure, how else was I to get such information?”
“But you said they won’t trouble us. If there are two, won’t they rouse—?”
“Nay, they will not. Now, are you coming?”
Realization of what he must have done struck hard, and remembering his first words to her about the guards, she knew that she ought to have taken his meaning then. She did not speak, not knowing what to say.
He kept silent, too, so she knew that he was waiting for her to ask him if he had killed them. Instead, she stood, shook out her skirts, and said, “I am wearing your mantle, sir. Do you want it, to warm you as we go?”
“Nay, it must be damp, too,
and my tunic will suffice as long as I keep moving. I see no sense in warming up just to go back into that water.”
They went quickly back to the dam, with Boreas loping silently ahead of them, ranging back and forth as he always did.
“Don’t let him get too far ahead,” Fin warned Catriona.
“He won’t,” she said. “When he comes to the fork, he’ll wait for us. And, as you’ve seen, he’ll also stop if he senses anyone approaching.”
Going around the hill instead of over it as Fin had before, they reached the front of the dam without incident. The water had climbed several feet above normal.
He thought that he could stand up to bore many of his holes but knew that he would have to bore others with his head underwater just to get the angle of the auger right. The planks near the bottom were the most important ones, because no matter how high the dam was, it would all go when its underpinning went. Even so, he could not be sure that his plan amounted to more than wishful madness.
As he stripped off his sword and tunic, he handed her the latter and said, “I’ll be in the water for some time, so tuck this under the mantle to warm it against your body. But go back to the top of the hill now, and keep hidden in the bushes.”
He moved nearer the water and was putting his sword down close to where he would be working when she said quietly, “How are your feet?”
“They’ll do. They’ve toughened since I came to Rothiemurchus.”
The truth was that they hurt, but the pain was bearable.
He could feel her watching as he picked up the sack and waded down the granite slope toward the center of the dam. The water there was up to his armpits.
“How are you going to manage that sack and the auger?” she muttered.
Without taking his attention from what lay before him, he replied in the same tone, “I’ll hold it in my teeth, lass. Now, go. You must keep watch.”
Hearing only a brief rattle of pebbles in response, he felt relief sweep through him. She would be safer atop the hill, with Boreas.