Amanda Scott (24 page)

Lachlan’s thoughts were following a similar track, but much as he would have liked to take her right there on the ground with the hushing of the rain in the trees to accompany her moans of pleasure, he knew Hector would strongly disapprove of any great delay, if only because they risked angering MacDonald.

He had explained that he wanted a chance to speak with Mairi in private, even to take a few moments’ pleasure with her, but as much as he would have enjoyed lingering, he needed time to study MacDonald more before he decided his best course for winning his prize. To jeopardize that for a few kisses and cuddles, or even more, would be daft.

Recognizing that her fervent response boded well for any other liberty he might take, he nonetheless understood tactics as well as strategy, and knew he’d do better to bide his time. Therefore, with reluctance, he ended the kiss, held her close for a moment, and then loosened his embrace to look into her dark eyes as he said, “Tell me what you heard Niall and your father say.”

She sighed and said, “I feared you’d not heeded me, because you only let me tell you what Niall said. His grace said our caring for each other changed nothing, so he said what if you took my maidenhood—might that not prove troublesome?”

“The man is a menace! What did his grace say to that?”

“That it would make no difference, that Alasdair need only lock me up until he was certain any babe I had was his. He’d still enjoy all the benefits of having married a princess of the Isles. What are we going to do?”

“I must think, that’s all,” he said. “Just leave it to me.”

“But it concerns me, too. I don’t know why you always think—”

“It is a man’s business to plan and make decisions about the important things in life, sweetheart. You must know you can safely trust me to do that.”

“But I don’t want to! I want to know what you are thinking and to tell you what I think. I have opinions, sir, and a brain that works perfectly well.”

“And you are shivering,” he said, kissing her again. “Let us see who won, and then we’ll go down to the hall fire so we can get you warm again.”

She glowered up at him from under her eyebrows, but he knew the ways of women and ignored the sour look, urging her to the target to collect their arrows and hoping she would not be too disappointed when she saw that he had beaten her.

She was not disappointed at all.

Her arrow sat dead center on the mark.

Chapter 13

H
ector was waiting at the top of the track, and they hurried down the hill. The rain had eased before they reached the great hall, but they went no farther, opting instead to warm themselves at the great fireplace there.

The Green Abbot and his retinue had gone, but others remained, including their erstwhile companions, who demanded to know who had won the contest.

Mairi said nothing, waiting to see if Lachlan would tell them. He had not told Hector, nor had Hector asked, but to her surprise and delight, he said now with a rueful look, “Lady Mairi won.”

Giles, laughing, said, “No one could expect a man to win with a short bow.”

Angus agreed. “I warrant, even my cousin Ailsa would beat me did I try to win a contest by shooting her wee bow.”

Ailsa and Fiona both cried out against such disrespect for their weapons, and Hector, who had turned from standing their bows against the wall near the fire and was straightening the bowstrings on a bench to dry, looked up and said to Lachlan, “Do you think ’twas merely the bow that cost you the contest?”

Mairi held her breath, but Lachlan shook his head.

“I wish I could say so,” he said, “but I’d as lief not add thunder and lightning to that rain outside, and I’ve no doubt that if I told such a great lie, God would make His heavens ring.” Smiling at Mairi, he added gently, ’Twas her ladyship’s skill and mine own arrogance that beat me, not Lady Fiona’s bow.”

Returning his smile, Mairi moved near the fireplace and took off her cloak, spreading it over a second bench to dry while she warmed her hands. Her dress was still soaked, however, so when Ailsa looked outside moments later and said the rain had stopped, she left the hall with the others to go and change her clothes.

Although pleased that Lachlan had so easily admitted her victory, she was still annoyed with him for assuming she would be happy to put her future in his hands. Having never been one to sit by while others determined the course of her life, she wanted to have her say even if she could do nothing to change things. Her father understood that and encouraged her to form opinions and express them. Lady Margaret did not, however, and had often said that Mairi must learn to obey those in authority over her and submit gracefully to their commands.

Mairi knew she had too much of her father in her to do that. She could no more imagine MacDonald standing aside and letting others order his path than she could imagine him wearing a skirt and curtsying to the King of Scots.

Lachlan and Hector had brought clothing from Duart for supper and the evening’s entertainment, and since the other men were housed in the guest wing, they easily arranged for a place to change. As they left the hall with the others, Lachlan noticed Ian Burk near the kitchen wing, gesturing to him.

“I’ll catch up with you,” he told Hector, turning aside and waiting until everyone else had gone into the main tower before joining Ian. “What is it, lad?”

“Good sir,” Ian said, “be it true that you and Lord Hector mean t’ hunt wi’ his grace’s great tinchal tomorrow?”

“Aye,” Lachlan said. “What of it?” When Ian hesitated, chewing his lip, he added tersely, “Do you disapprove of our doing so?”

“Nay, sir,” Ian said hastily. “But a man has his loyalties, ye ken. I ken fine where me duty lies, and wi’ respect, sir, it doesna lie wi’ Clan Gillean.”

Lachlan narrowed his eyes but held his tongue.

Grimacing, Ian looked straight at him as he said, “I’m thinking now that it doesna lie wi’ the Mackinnons either, but solely wi’ his grace.”

“I begin to understand you, lad,” Lachlan said. “His grace’s high steward makes no secret of his disdain for the men of Gillean.”

“He’d as lief see all o’ ye laid underground, sir. ’Tis why I be thinking ye’d be wiser to occupy your time otherwise tomorrow.”

“But surely, his grace’s steward is not a man of violence,” Lachlan said.

Ian barely managed to stifle a disrespectful snort. “Men do say he’s a fine swordsman, sir,” he said, “but he’ll no be dirtying his hands an he can help it.”

When Lachlan nodded without comment, he sighed and, measuring his words as if trying to explain the obvious to a dolt, added, “The steward has others who serve him, sir—at least two who be expert bowmen.”

“Indeed,” Lachlan said softly. “Do I understand then that you know these two marksmen and their purpose?”

Ian’s expression froze.

“Come now, lad. Only a noddy could think that two such highly skilled bowmen acting on the steward’s behalf might waste their arrows on deer.”

“But I didna say that,” Ian said, growing visibly more uncomfortable with each word. Finally, however, when Lachlan continued to eye him steadily, he nodded, his expression warier than ever, as if he feared the next question.

But Lachlan was not such a fool as to demand names from a valuable witness over whom he held no authority. Knowing he would gain more by letting Ian decide on his own to tell what he knew, he looked thoughtfully heavenward instead, as if he pondered an interesting puzzle. “I should think,” he said, “that even a man with as much confidence in himself as the steward would hesitate to order the cold-blooded murder of two of his liege lord’s honored guests.”

“Aye, sure,” Ian agreed. “But there be two fractious stags in Mull’s herd that want culling, he says, and he’ll be but setting a pair o’ his best archers t’ the task. Even the best man, he said, might miss his target and strike some poor innocent.”

“I see.”

“Aye, sir, so mayhap ye and Hector Reaganach should be elsewhere on the day. Me lady would be sore vexed, I’m thinking, should aught happen to either o’ ye. She likes ye both gey fine, she does.”

“I’ll take care that no harm befalls us,” Lachlan assured him. “You can do your part, however, by saying naught of this matter to anyone else, most especially not to her ladyship. Do you understand me?”

Ian swallowed and nodded. “Aye, sir, she’d worry, so I’ll keep mum.”

“See that you do,” Lachlan said. Satisfied that Ian would obey him, he pressed two coins into his hand and went looking for Hector, finding that he had not changed but lingered yet in amiable flirtation with a curly-headed laundry maid.

“Leave that poor lass to her duties and take a turn on the ramparts with me.”

Although Hector paused long enough to plant a kiss on the maid’s rosy lips, he did not object or even mention the interruption until they reached the wall walk and could be sure no one would overhear. Then he cast Lachlan an inquiring look.

Lachlan said, “A problem has arisen that requires a solution.”

“The lady Mairi proved uncooperative then? I had thought otherwise.”

Shaking his head, Lachlan refused the bait. “’Tis not my lass who seeks our blood, nor would she.”

“Our blood?”

“Oh, aye, for according to my earnest informant, we shall both shortly fall victim to a pair of badly aimed arrows.”

“Ian Burk, of course. The deer hunt?”

“You are not always dimwitted. Almost do I see promise in you.”

“I’ll show you promise, my lad, if you serve me any more sauce,” Hector said. “Does someone truly plot murder as a diversion for his grace’s guests?”

“’Tis no anonymous someone. The villain, young Ian tells me, is none other than our good friend Niall MacGillebride Mackinnon.”

“That man is stretching my patience,” Hector said. “So now he prefers our deaths to our company?”

“Apparently,” Lachlan said, and related what Ian had told him.

Hector’s frown deepened as the tale progressed, and at its end, he said, “The plot is unworthy of the man. Does he not realize that one or both of his so-called experts might hit a true innocent rather than one of us?”

“I doubt he would consider anyone an innocent except another Mackinnon.”

“You can’t be including Lady Mairi,” Hector said. “She means to hunt, for she said so, and you’ll never suggest that he doesn’t care what happens to her.”

“Nay, I’ll not say that,” Lachlan said evenly.

Hector gave him a steady look, but he ignored it, forcing himself to think.

“I’d dislike missing that hunt,” Hector said. “’Tis a great honor his grace bestows on us, and it pleases our father. ’Twould be churlish to disappoint them both. Still, we don’t want to cause an innocent’s death or injury. Mayhap we should create some excuse and forgo our pleasure in the greater cause.”

“You would allow Niall Mackinnon to frighten us away?”

“I never said I was afraid,” Hector snapped.

“Hold your temper, then, for I mean us both to hunt, and without risking death. No one will shoot a single arrow at us, I promise you.”

“Aye, well, that’s fine then,” Hector said. “Does it occur to you that if the man is capable of such murder, he may already have committed others?”

“It does, indeed. Especially since the dead lass appears to have granted her favors to all and sundry. Mackinnon’s wife died some three years ago.”

“He’s a bit of a stick, though,” Hector said. “I don’t see him fornicating with a servant, although one of her duties was tidying his room. Ian MacSporran’s, too.”

Lachlan chuckled at the thought of the plump, self- important purse keeper seducing Elma, but Mackinnon was another matter. “Our Niall seems to care more about others’ behavior than about his own. If Elma was handy . . .”

“’Tis certainly possible, but you may just be annoyed that Mackinnon looks at Lady Mairi the way he does, so your judgment may not be clear in his case—or it may, for that same reason, be clearer than mine,” he added thoughtfully.

Lachlan thought his view of Mackinnon was perfectly clear, but he saw Hector’s point and would not dismiss his subtle warning.

As they descended the stairs a few moments later, Hector said lightly, “I trust everything else is going well.”

“Well enough, but we’ll not discuss it here in the stairway, if you please.”

“As you like. Tell me about tomorrow instead. I know we arranged for our own horses from Amalaig to be stabled at Duart, but I don’t know more than that.”

“Apparently, a swarm of gillies will cross the Sound to Craignure Bay tonight with supplies, and set up for breakfast before the hunt,” Lachlan said. “In the morning, everyone else will pile into boats and go across, and MacDonald will provide mounts for the other hunters. I expect someone will explain it all at supper.”

“No doubt, but I was sure you would know,” Hector said. “Moreover, if we don’t hurry and change, we’ll miss supper altogether.”

When Mairi entered her bedchamber to change her clothes, Meg exclaimed at her bedraggled appearance.

“Me mother would ha’ said I’d less sense than a mouse did I get caught in the rain like ye’ve done, but we’ll ha’ ye out o’ them wet things straightaway.”

“We had a shooting contest, Meg. I told you.”

“Well, thanks be ye didna wear anything nicer. Ye’d ha’ it all over muck.”

Resisting the temptation to point out that she had worn a plain skirt for that very reason, Mairi allowed Meg to divest her of her wet clothes and wrap her in a thick, warm robe. Then, sitting on a stool, she relaxed as the older woman began to brush her hair dry before the fire.

They were chatting quietly when Elizabeth entered, saying, “Oh, good, Meg, you are here. I want to change for supper, too, but I’ll unbind my hair whilst you finish drying Mairi’s. This caul has given me a dreadful headache.”

“When you’ve taken it off, dampen a towel at the washbasin, mistress, and put it over your eyes. That will ease your pain some.”

“I almost wish I’d gone shooting with you, Mairi,” Elizabeth said, pulling off her caul and unpinning her hair. “Angus Macleod is a man I should like to know better, if only because he is kin to our Marjory’s Roderic.”