The Devil’s Due

by Boucher, Rita

  His lungs began to demand air, but still he made no move toward the surface. It was a game that he had played often as a boy. He was a selkie, seeking the entrance to the fairie home at the bottom of the loch. They were waiting to welcome him down below, the water folk, for they knew that Duncan had never truly been the MacLean’s son, but the spawn of the selkie King himself. There would be feasting, singing and dancing all night when he returned to claim his kingdom. They would weave him garlands of lilies and crown him with precious stones mined from the deep.

  Suspended almost motionless in the water, Duncan watched as a school of fish slipped within inches of his fingers. It was so tranquil, this silent world, more in focus to his halved vision than the one that he had left behind. What a pity he had never found that selkie portal, he thought as he looked toward the surface. The light seemed so very distant . . . hardly worth the effort to attain . . . lungs were fit to burst . . . a few seconds more might be cutting it too close . . . why bother? No one would care, with the possible exception of Fred. Give a monkey to see the man’s face when he realizes that he’s the sole heir to the MacLean fortune . . . but then I’ll be dead . . . roasting with Papa. . . So dark up there . . . the clouds must have thickened to block the sun . . . storm brewing . . . too soon . . . Kate! The girl! . . .exposed to a storm in the Hellgate.

  Powerful kicks propelled him upwards as he pushed back armfuls of water. Bright spots whirled before his eyes as his air-deprived brain made foolish demands that he open his mouth. With one last powerful thrust, he burst into the surface. Chest heaving, he endeavored to turn himself to float face upward trying to filling his starved lungs in gulps.

  “Maaajor . . .” Fred’s voice floated over the face of the loch.

  Weakly, Duncan turned his head and swallowed almost as much water as air. The shore seemed miles away and his side was aching. Nonetheless, he began to swim.

  “I’m comin’ to get you!”

  From the splash that followed, it was clear that the damned fool actually meant to pull him in. Had he the strength, Duncan would have called out that he was on his way to shore.

  “Over with. . . you.”

  It was unnerving when Duncan felt a strong hand pushing him under. He was about to grab his tormentor by the neck when a particle of sense penetrated his panic. Fred. Forcing himself to relax, Duncan winced at the sharp pain in his scalp as Fred began to pull him toward shore, using hair as a tow-line. The current was working against them and it seemed an age before they finally reached the shingle.

  “What in the devil . . .did you think . . . you was doin’?” Fred panted the question as he collapsed on the lee beside his master.

  “The . . . backstroke?” Duncan answered weakly.

  “Lucky . . .I’m . . . a Thames rat,” Fred coughed out the words. “Learn to swim real fast . . . you do. . . if your Pa tries to drown you. . . six nights out of seven.”

  “You’re . . . a . . . veritable . . .Cockney Spaniel,” Duncan said, trying to catch his breath. “I . . . take it . . . that your father rested . . . on the seventh . . .day.”

  “Drunk as a lord . . . by Sunday . . .” Fred smiled weakly, but the grin vanished as he raised himself on an elbow to gaze at his master, sprawled naked in the mud. The bantam shook his head in silence.

  Duncan shuddered inwardly at Fred’s expression of quiet rebuke. He had expected a tongue lashing, a cesspool of sewer invective at the very least, but this wordless remonstrance was beyond bearing. “I was headed for shore,” Duncan explained.

  Fred sighed.

  “Why don’t you come out and just say it, Fred!” Duncan demanded. “Tell me that I am a careless idiot!” Shaking, Duncan drew himself up on hands and knees. “Tell me that I have skated too close to the edge once again. I would have been alright, Fred, I swear. All that was needed was a few minutes to catch my breath.”

  Fred raised one hoary eyebrow, but said not a word.

  “And so what if I hadn’t? You were a fool to go in after me,” Duncan said, his voice trembling. “I left a revised will with Dewey in Edinburgh. You would have been a wealthy man if you had let me drown, Fred. If I go, everything is yours. Far better you than the Crown.”

  “Damn your bloody ‘ide!” Fred exploded, scrambling to his feet. “Ain’t got the sense the good Lord gave a flea!”

  “I am touched by your gratitude!” Duncan said. “And, as usual, your judgement is entirely correct. I must have been muddled in the mind to think that you would want a blasted fortune.”

  “If I’d ‘ave lived to enjoy it!” Fred retorted. “Just what did you think would ‘appen if you turned up drownded with a will like that one fresh made? Finger would be pointed at yours truly, sure as the Devil loves London. Lucky I come along when I did, seen you dive and not comin’ up . . .” The little man shivered, as much from the thought as from his wet clothing. “I’d ‘ave ended my days dancin’ from the nubbin cheat, like as not.”

  It was chilling to realize that his man was quite probably right. Servants had swung on the noose for far less circumstantial evidence. “I am sorry, Fred, I hadn’t considered that,” Duncan said, chastened. “If you would prefer, I can alter the terms of the will.”

  “Aye, Major. You can leave me a goodly sum if you’ve a mind to,” the servant said. “But not all. Wouldn’t be proper.”

  “Nor, as you say, prudent,” Duncan added, with a touch of mockery. “How much of a sum would you deem ‘goodly’?”

  “Enough so as not to give me no motervations.” Fred shook his head solemnly. “Long with what you owe me in me back pay and what I won off you in wagers, I’ll be well set.” He gave his master a long look. “Right soon too, with the way you seems to be bent on stickin’ your spoon in the wall. Between that horse of yours and runnin’ on the edge of death’s blade”

  “What in blazes does that mean?” Duncan asked, indignantly hauling himself to his feet.

  Fred just rolled his eyes heavenward.

  “Just because there have been a few close calls of late does not mean that I am attempting to put a period to myself,” Duncan protested.

  A harrumph of patent disbelief was his only answer. “I did break Selkie to saddle,” Duncan asserted. “Didn’t I? And got him for only half a guinea.”

  “Damn near broke your neck, more like it,” Fred retorted. “And the beast’s master would of given ‘im away. Already killed a stable ‘and, and near bit a groom’s fingers off. And what about the dray, eh?”

  “I didn’t see it coming,” Duncan maintained. Or had he?

  “Just stood in the middle of the bleedin’ road! If I ‘adn’t ‘ave pulled you out of the way . . .”

  “Yes, yes . . . I know full well what could have been,” Duncan said, his temper returning along with his ability to breathe. “You have saved my skin more times than I care to admit, Fred, but it was entirely accidental this time.”

  “Aye.” The word could scarcely have been more skeptically delivered. “And last night when she could’ve blowed you to Kingdom Come.”

  “That is absurd. Any fool could see that she is not the kind to pull the trigger,” Duncan maintained.

  “Any fool,” Fred repeated, “don’t walk up askin’ to be shot.”

  “That ancient fowling piece should never have gone off,” Duncan mumbled, looking at his feet, rooting out a pebble with his bare toe.

  “But you were better than ‘alf ‘opin’ it would, weren’t you?” he asked.

  Those rheumy eyes focused on Duncan, daring him to answer. The glint of tears was almost as unbearable as the pain in the older man’s gaze. Duncan plucked a pebble from the bank and tossed it toward the loch’s center, watching the ripples spread as he tried to find words. There was no denying that the thought of ending it had been tempting.

  “It weren’t your fault, Major.” Fred broke the silence. “‘Twas them what chose to cut and run when you told them to stay put, bloody fools. The Frenchies picked them off the beach like bleedin’ fish in a
barrel.”

  Duncan clenched his fists as he looked unseeingly out onto the water. “They were my men, my responsibility.”

  “They were arses!” Fred maintained. “Stupid officer arses who wouldn’t follow orders. You weren’t the one what got them into a Frenchie prison, but you’re the one what got them out.”

  “No, it was me that got us into prison,” Duncan disagreed, picking up another rock to toss it with controlled fury. “Had I not been fool enough to confront Vesey before the battle we would never have been in that situation. I have little doubt that he was behind the orders that sent us straight into the enemy’s lap.”

  “‘ee meant you to be killed, Major. That’s certain and never mind ‘oo would die with you,” Fred reminded him. “But you are alive, man and there be a reason for that, sure as my name’s Fred Best! So far it seems you weren’t meant to die from takin’ a flyin’ leap, or drownin’, or at the end of an old flintlock, so stop trying to find out ‘ow you’re going to die and figure out ‘ow you mean to live! And if you feel you owe them men somethin’, you take better care to stay among the quick.”

  “Aye,” Duncan conceded focusing on the distant shore. “Vesey will pay, I swear it.”

  “Never known you to break your pledged word, Sir,” Fred emphasized, satisfied for the moment with the vow that he had extracted. He could only hope that the force of that oath might be enough to keep Lord MacLean from stepping off the edge of despair. But once that promise of vengeance was fulfilled . . . Fred stifled a sigh. Perhaps by then, Duncan MacLean might have something to live for. “Let’s find your clothes. Won’t be no good to no one, if you make lung fever your next test.” He put a hand on Duncan’s arm.

  Duncan reached over and grasped his servant’s hand. “How many times now, have you saved me from myself?” he asked.

  “Not near as many as you saved me ‘ide,” Fred said, giving himself up to recollection. “They would ‘ave flayed me to pieces, if you ‘adn’t come along when you did, plucked me right off the whippin’ post. And that minds me of the time . . .”

  The man’s fingers were like tentacles of ice. “Tell me when we have reached an even score, Fred,” Duncan cut him off, “You fetch your horse and get back to the castle to dry off. I shall attempt to locate my trousers and shirt, though I confess it scarcely worth the effort considering their sorry state.”

  “Ain’t goin’; not without you,” Fred said, his teeth chattering.

  “I will be fine,” Duncan said, giving Fred a gentle push. “You need not worry about me now.”

  “It ain’t you what’s the matter.” Fred jerked his head in the general direction of the castle, his teeth chattering as he spoke. “‘The besom with the skillet ‘as me shakin’ in my shoes. I know ‘er kind. Looks to be a right sweet armful, but an ‘eart like a stone.”

  Duncan chuckled at the thought of Kate’s companion as a “sweet armful.” But his amusement faded at the rumble of distant thunder. “She likely won’t be there, Fred, so you need not fear,” he said, squinting at the sun, trying to ascertain how much time had passed since he left the castle. “When last I saw them, the women were intent on leaving. Kate is likely convinced that I am the devil incarnate.”

  “Must ‘ave more ‘air then wits, to quit with a storm brewin’,” Fred commented, his brow furrowing. “Is the way we took over the mountains the only road ‘ere?”

  “Aye, ’tis called the Hellgate.” Duncan nodded. “And by the feel of it, I’d say the wind is blowing from the north. The pass will become a veritable mudslide when the torrent hits.”

  “Barely fit for a goat when we got by,” Fred observed.

  “And they’ve a wee bairn with them,” Duncan added, worry seeping into his voice.

  “I left me ‘orse tied up on the causeway,” Fred said. “It was from there I saw you. I’ll bring ‘er up and unload ‘er straightaways. We got more than enough time to fetch them back afore the storm ‘its.”

  “I shall meet you at the castle,” Duncan agreed.

  “If we ‘ave to ride pillion,” Fred called over his shoulder as he mounted. “Daisy’s on your saddle.”

  Chapter 5

  Duncan snatched up his garments, pulling on small clothes and trousers, nearly tripping over his own feet as he tried to hop into his boots at a half-run. The squall was moving far faster than he had anticipated, the clouds already hiding the peak of Beinn Airidh Charr. Fred was correct, of course. Even if the women had left immediately, a man on horseback might easily catch up with them well before they reached the Hellgate. There was really no need for him to rush about like a headless chicken.

  Deliberately, Duncan forced himself to slow down, tying the arms of his shirt about his waist. He would change to a clean one. Aye and a pair of unsoiled breeches would feel good. And perhaps, a self-mocking voice continued a shave and a haircut? Might as well put a razor to an ape, MacLean. Dress a monkey in pumps and a chapeau bras and he’s still a beast, worthy of mockery at best, pity at worst. Do you honestly think that she would come back, that she would trust a man with a face like yours?

  The courtyard was empty, the bundles gone from beside the door.

  Have you no pride? That you would go chasing after a woman who would only have you as the best she could make of a bad bargain? The voice asked. Are you a dog then? That you would beg for any bones that she might throw you?

  Duncan picked up his saddle and headed for the stables. Although the stalls themselves were a near-ruin, the sheltered pasture behind was still relatively secure. “Come on laddie,” he said, as Selkie whickered a greeting. “‘Tis an errand of mercy that we undertake.”

  With a snort that was too close to a laugh for Duncan’s comfort, Selkie tossed his head. “Remember, were it not for me, you would be a gelding by now, so take care if you think to mock me," Duncan warned. “I will admit that my motives are somewhat selfish. Dewey said it could be months before the tangle is unraveled. Can you imagine a winter with only Fred and a deck of cards for company?”

  The horse whinnied softly. “Aye, you can well afford to affect scorn. Grass and oats are bread and meat to you, laddie. You’ve no need to endure Fred’s cooking; and mine is worse by half. Mayhap we can convince the ladies to stay once we bring them back?”

  He was about to hoist the saddle onto Selkie’s back when he heard a bark that seemed to be coming from the upper pasture. There was a chorus of angry squawks and the whirr of frantic wings before a covey of birds burst from the cover of the trees. The pheasant had barely gained the sky when it plummeted earthward, landing nearly at Duncan’s feet. He picked the bird up by the protruding arrow shaft. A poacher. While Duncan had no objection to a hungry man taking a bit of game, he could not like anyone hunting so close to the castle.

  The rustling noise from the far corner of the pasture sent Duncan seeking for cover. Bow-hunting was often a poor man’s means of conserving precious shot. However, there was a fair chance that the poacher might have more than arrows at his disposal. Unarmed and possibly outnumbered, it would be extremely unwise to confront his crofters now and ring a peal over their heads. Considering the legacy of regard that his father had cultivated they would be more likely to shoot their new laird than listen to him.

  . . .

  Kate leaned her bow and quiver against the ramshackle fence before scanning the pasture. There was no sign of the fallen bird, but the sight of the stallion capering near the stables was almost enough to make her forget the game. A magnificent creature. Even though Marcus’s stables had been accounted excellent, they had contained nothing to match the sheer power that was apparent in the animal’s every move. Besides, she thought glumly, even if Marcus had owned that stallion’s match, she would never have been permitted to ride him. How she had loathed those timid lady’s mounts! Walking was far superior when one was perched on side-saddle, dogged by grooms and confined to discreet trots at fashionable hours. She had endured it all for Marcus’s sake, trying to be the wife that he wanted, the
porcelain doll, wrapped in the cotton batting of convention. But that cozy world had been an illusion.

  The stallion had noticed her and he galloped toward the gate.

  “Ah, you are a handsome brute,” she crooned admiringly.

  Her voice carried clear across the open field. Kate? It was Kate! Duncan took a measured breath, trying to understand this strange feeling of elation, knowing full well it was beyond the bounds of reason. Why did the fact that she had chosen to remain matter? But this was no time for contemplation, he reminded himself, not with poachers skulking about. However, before he could step from his concealment and warn her, she spoke again.

  “Did you see where my pheasant fell, my beauty?” she asked the stallion. “I know that it must have hit ground nearby.”

  The huntress? Although the idea seemed absurd on its face, somehow it fit. Duncan peered cautiously beyond the crumbling stone wall that shielded him from view. Kate was half-hidden by the brush and the fence, but he could see the bow leaning against the gap. He still could not quite believe that she had gotten off her arrow so rapidly and accurately. Then again, the woman seemed to have a veritable quiver full of surprises.

  The stallion ceased his prancing, stopping just short of the fence to rear and pawing the air. But instead of drawing back in fear, Kate laughed. The sound was wonderfully startling, wholly at odds with Duncan’s expectations. Slow and mellow, her mirth rose from some source deep in the very heart of that small body. Never before in Duncan’s experience had there been anything like it, incredibly sensual in its earthy contralto range, running up his spine like fingers on a pianoforte. Her head was thrown back, her neck a long column of sun-gilded porcelain. Though he knew it was madness, he allowed himself to recall the feel of her skin, the silken touch of her hair.

  “You are a braggart, to be sure. Do you think to impress me with your airs?” she asked, with a grin that seared Duncan to his core. By thunder, was he jealous of a horse now? There was no deceiving himself any longer. It was neither fear of Fred’s company nor his cooking that was causing this insanity, Duncan knew as he watched her hungrily.