Amanda Scott (34 page)

Lachlan gave him a straight look. “Do not think you will ever please me by sacrificing your integrity to save my hide. Not with my lass, that is,” he added, acknowledging that more than one situation might arise where he would not care if Hector lied through his teeth to save his hide, or Hector’s own, for that matter.

Hector said evenly, “You do want that union because it will bind Clan Gillean closer to MacDonald and the King o’ Scots, do you not?”

“Aye, I do,” Lachlan said. “I’ll not deny that.”

“I’m thinking now, that’s not the sole reason, though.”

“No, nor even the primary one.” He finished fastening the jerkin, flung the cloak over his shoulders, and headed for the door.

“You are going to find her.”

“Aye.”

“And what will you tell her?”

“Nothing,” Lachlan said with a grin. “I’m going to wring the wee vixen’s neck for pushing me into the Sound.”

Mairi knew she was extending her ride for all the wrong reasons. She ought to have ridden to the far end of the field and back as she had promised herself she would, then returned to the castle to prepare for the midday meal. It might well have begun by now, but she knew he would come, and she wanted him to if only so she could tell him exactly what she thought of him for daring to abduct her father. Doubtless, he had extorted the marriage agreement out of MacDonald, too, and what that might mean in the end, she dared not think.

Moreover, she realized as she rode hard to the end of the field for the third time, she had not spared a thought for Alasdair. What would her father do when Alasdair said Robert the Steward was ready to arrange their betrothal and apply for papal dispensation? To her horror, she realized that she did not even know if Alasdair had survived the poison, but decided on the thought that had he died, the first person she had seen that day, in the kitchen, would surely have told her so.

Niall Mackinnon’s countenance leaped to her mind’s eye then, and another pang of guilt struck, stronger than she had felt for Alasdair. At least Alasdair was alive. Still, it was hard to imagine the stern but always watchful Niall gone. She continued to feel as if he would meet her at the door on her return, ask where she had been, and warn her not to keep her mother waiting.

Smiling sadly, she reined the mare’s head toward home, only to find herself suddenly surrounded by men erupting from the forest. Although she shrieked like a banshee, they pulled her from the mare, tied something thick and dark over her head. Then one of them slung her over a shoulder and began to run with her.

“Stop,” she cried, gasping at each bounce, “I’m Mairi of Isla!”

Someone muttered something, and her bearer halted and swung her down again, dumping her without ceremony onto her backside on the ground.

Anger stirred, and she readied herself to give full rein to her temper, but before she could speak or gather her wits, someone grabbed her head with two hands to control her struggling while someone else tied something tightly over her mouth that not only gagged her but nearly suffocated her in the process.

Frightened that the gag might really prevent her from breathing, she made no further protest when whoever it was hefted her to his shoulder again, relegating her energy instead to staying alive long enough to tell MacDonald what they had done so he could order all of them thrown off
Creag na Corp
to die on the rocks below.

Lachlan sought news of Mairi’s whereabouts from the household servants, but when everyone he questioned said she had not returned from her search, he decided that she must have gone for a walk or a ride, and headed for the barn.

Finding Ian doing chores, he smiled and said, “I owe you my sincerest thanks, lad. Had you not warned me, I’d be dead now, and my brother as well.”

Shyly, Ian said, “I’m that glad t’ see ye, sir. ’Twas a devilish thing they’d planned, and no mistake. Hector Reaganach survived, too, then.”

“Oh, aye, and I ken fine that you kept mum, as I bade you, because her ladyship certainly knew nothing about it.” Seeing an alert look spring to the lad’s eyes, he added casually, “I know well that had you told anyone, you’d have told her, and that you’d have to do so if she asked you to.”

Ian hesitated, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, which told Lachlan all he needed to know. “She has been here, has she not, and you did tell her.”

“Aye, sir,” he said with a sigh, “but only then. She were in a rare temper.”

“Not with you.”

Ian shrugged. “I’m no so sure o’ that.”

“Trust me, for ’tis myself who’s vexed her ladyship, not you. Where is she?”

Nodding toward the hilltop, Ian said, “Yonder, at the practice field, though she said she’d stay only long enough t’ clear her head. She’s been gone now nigh onto an hour or more.”

Lachlan chuckled. “Clear her head, indeed. She’s waiting for me, knowing I’ll seek her out, because she means to hand me
my
head in my lap, but we’ll soon see about that. Have you a horse for me?”

“Aye, sir,” Ian said, “and I’ll bid ye good fortune, too. I’d no go seeking such trouble, myself, but if ye’ve a fondness for fratching . . .” He shook his head.

Grinning, Lachlan said, “Don’t fear for me, lad. I’m looking forward to it.”

But when he reached the grassy archery field, all he saw was Mairi’s beautiful little gray mare, grazing contentedly.

In a heartbeat, his ardent anticipation plunged to cold dread.

Mairi had no idea what direction her captors traveled. At first, by their softly thudding footsteps, she deduced that they walked through the woods, but as most of Morvern was forested, she had no hint of their direction. She had noticed their clothing but only to note that they wore skins and kilted wraps, and were not men-at-arms. She had not noticed if they wore shoes or went barefoot.

Apparently, they had no horses, because they traveled a good distance afoot, and the man who carried her was clearly strong enough to do so without respite, although they moved at speed.

After what seemed hours but common sense told her was no more than thirty minutes, she heard a scraping sound and a rattle of pebbles, and the man carrying her shifted her as if he needed to balance her weight differently. It grew harder than ever to breathe, and her ribs and side hurt where they bumped against his shoulder. Every time she bounced, what little air she managed to inhale was knocked out of her, but she strove to stay calm, and breathed as well and as deeply as she could.

She knew that soon everyone would be looking for her. The mare would return to its stable since the men had not caught it. She knew they had tried to do so, for she had heard them, but surely had they succeeded, they would have slung her over its saddle rather than carry her.

Even if the mare did not return to the barn, men would soon be searching, for she had told Ian she would not be gone long. He would remember that and tell anyone who came looking for her. And if no one else did, Lachlan would, to wreak his vengeance on her for pushing him into the icy Sound.

The thought struck that he might be so angry he would not want even to talk to her. But that was unlikely, and in any event, her father and mother would soon wonder where she was and would begin a search. Ranald would return soon, too, if he had not already, because other castles would have relayed the beacon’s signal quickly, as far west as Mingary and eastward to Dunstaffnage and Dunconnel.

Remembering that it had been nearly time for their midday meal when she left, she wondered if they would wait to search for her until after they had eaten. She had decided she was being foolish to worry about things she could not control when she heard water lapping on the shore.

Until then the men had not spoken beyond the muttering as they had gagged her, but someone said now, “I’ll hand her t’ ye when ye’re in the boat.”

She wished the speaker had mentioned a name. Names were important, because when she told his grace—

That thought ended abruptly when the man carrying her suddenly swung her outward, away from his body. For a startled moment, she thought he was casting her into the sea, but then other hands grabbed her, and a moment later she was half sitting, half lying, awkwardly and uncomfortably, in the bottom of a boat with her back against the sharp edge of a bench or some such thing. When she tried to shift to a more comfortable position, a hand grabbed her shoulder, holding her still.

She wanted to protest that she was not being defiant or troublesome, that she was merely uncomfortable, but since she could not speak, she endured.

“Hector, I want you,” Lachlan said curtly when he strode into the great hall and found his brother already standing at his place, conversing with friends as they awaited the arrival of MacDonald and his lady.

Excusing himself, Hector said as soon as they were beyond earshot, “You’re in a lather. What’s amiss?”

“Someone’s taken my lass—Mackinnon’s lot, most likely.”

“How?”

Lachlan explained, adding, “I think she lingered up there because she had more to say to me. She certainly knew I’d have something to say to her.”

“Aye,” Hector agreed. “But are you sure she’s gone? Could she not be having a game with you?”

“Ian is certain she would not leave the mare loose even if she were up to mischief, because it wanders and she has never done such a thing before. Moreover, the ground at the far end of the field is churned up as if by a struggle.”

“We’d best tell his grace.”

“I’ll do that, and we’ll want Ranald, Godfrey, and their men out when they return, too. But while you wait for them, get word to our lads, as many as you can, to listen and watch. I looked for tracks but found none worth following, so we’ll need horsemen, too, to seek them in Morvern, in case they went north.”

“Morvern is not Mackinnon territory,” Hector pointed out.

“Aye, so I’m thinking they may go that way to put us off the scent.”

Hector nodded. “Fair enough. We should check all routes, in any event.”

“Aye, so do you get started, and I will tell his grace.”

When MacDonald and Lady Margaret entered the chamber, he met them at the door. “Forgive me, madam,” he said with a swift but graceful bow, “I would speak briefly with his grace if I may.”

“Certainly,” she said.

He had hoped she would walk away, but she stood waiting patiently, and when he hesitated, MacDonald said, “What is it, lad?”

Without further ado, Lachlan said bluntly, “Lady Mairi has disappeared, your grace, and I believe the Mackinnons have taken her.”

Lady Margaret gasped and gripped her lord’s arm.

MacDonald patted her hand, saying in his calm way, “Rest easy, madam. No one will harm our lass. If someone has taken her, it can only be in hopes of forcing us to comply with some demand or other. We’ll hear soon enough what they want. Meantime, I mean to eat my dinner. Sit with me, lad. We’ll discuss this further.”

Ruthlessly suppressing his compulsion for haste, Lachlan said, “Aye, sir, thank you.” He could take action only when he knew what action to take. First, he needed more information, a direction at least, and therefore, until Hector and their people learned something useful, he could do no more than he had done.

His capacity for patience being small, it was as well that Hector joined them before the end of the meal. MacDonald, seeing him, motioned him to the head table and ordered a space cleared for him beside Lachlan.

Thanking him, Hector sat and began piling his trencher with food as he went on to say, “I’ve sent a boat to collect our prisoners in the hope that someone amongst them will know where they might have taken her,” he said. “That will take hours, though, and I’m thinking we should not restrict our thinking to Mackinnons. Could someone else or some other happenstance not be responsible?”

MacDonald looked at Lachlan and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Anything is possible,” Lachlan said, repressing impatience again. “But the plain fact is that she’s been safe here until today. Even should we discover some other happenstance, I’d still believe the Mackinnons responsible. We know Fingon rarely heeds consequence, and since Niall cannot be behind it, I’ll wager anything you like that the Green Abbot is.”

“I agree,” MacDonald said. “In troth, I know no other man bold enough to do such a thing—excepting present company,” he added with a sardonic smile.

“Your grace,” Lachlan said, “you have been kinder to me than I deserve, and I believe I must apologize—aye, and deeply—for my outrageous tactics earlier.”

“Must you, indeed?”

“Aye, sir. The document notwithstanding, you have both the power and right to punish me for what I did, and to phrase the charges against me as you will. I beg only that you will let me see the lady Mairi safe before taking any such action.”

“Have no fear, lad. I gave you my word, and I’ll keep it. I’d have listened to your version of the incident in any event, but I know you had no reason to believe that your words could outweigh what Niall’s kinsmen said. I’d known him most of my life, and the position to which I’d elevated him would make most men think as you did. My only concern now is to find Mairi, and as you now command my men-at-arms and my fleet, I expect you to do that, and right quickly, sir.”

Hector said, “It may help to know that one man with whom I spoke said he’d heard a gillie here boast of possessing facts his grace would give much to know.”

“You’ve sent for this braggart, I trust,” Lachlan said.

“Our lads will tell us the minute they lay hands on him.”

The message came a quarter hour later, and excusing themselves, Lachlan and Hector went to speak to the supposed witness. They found a lad awaiting them, clearly frightened, and since Hector still carried Lady Axe in her sling over his shoulder, and Lachlan’s patience was strained taut, he knew the lad had cause.

“What is your name?” he demanded.

“Sym Love, an it please ye, laird.”

“What do you know of Niall Mackinnon?”

“That he fell dead this very day, God save him.”

“What else? Come now, we know you’ve bragged that you know much his grace would like to know. I am now his first in command, and have the power to order you put to death. Do you understand me?”