Amanda Scott (14 page)

“Doubtless, you think yourself safe, since no member of the gentry has yet been arrested for carrying weapons, but don’t be too cocksure. If you go in peace, I’ll overlook the fact that you waved a pistol in my face, but if you don’t, I promise you the authorities will listen when I report that you threatened me with one.”

“What about the lass? She’s mine, I tell you!”

“I’m a man of my word,” Duncan said. “You can take your case to court if it amuses you to do so. I won’t try to stop you.”

“I think I’d rather kill you where you stand,” Ewan said. “I’d be doing the whole of Appin country a bloody great favor if I did.”

“That is another alternative, certainly,” Duncan said with the same amazing calm. “You would not then be able to take your case to court, however.”

“No, and why not?”

“Because, you great stupid lout, you will be dead within a minute of firing that shot. Your pistol holds only one bullet, and even if you’ve got another in your pocket, you won’t have time to load it before my men rush this house, and if you think they’ll reward you for murdering me, you are a fool as well as a lout. They revel in making sport of traitorous knaves like you.”

Ewan paled but said stubbornly, “You would still be dead.”

“True, and that’s why I won’t object to your peaceful departure. I don’t want to annoy you so much that you put your life second to the joy of stealing mine.”

Behind Mary, Chuff stirred.

Fearing that he would say something to irritate Ewan, she reached back and touched his arm warningly. The silence lengthened then until her knees felt weak.

Ewan said, “I don’t trust you.”

Duncan said, “Have you heard anyone accuse me of breaking my word?”

Ewan hesitated, then shook his head.

“You won’t find anyone, either. My word is good, even when I offer it to the likes of you.”

“I’m keeping my pistol out, nonetheless,” Ewan declared with bravado. “At the first sign of any man drawing arms, I’ll shoot you or the lass.”

“So very much do you love her,” Duncan murmured gently.

“I meant the wee lass,” Ewan spat. “No one would even miss her, but I warrant you don’t want harm to come to her, all the same.”

Mary’s hand tightened on Chuff’s arm, but he reached out with his free hand to draw Pinkie closer.

Ewan was watching Duncan.

“I’ve made my offer,” Duncan said.

“Aye, and I’ll take it for now, but that lass is mine. I mean to see to it.”

Silently, Duncan stepped aside to let Ewan and his henchman pass, making no move to follow them.

Mary said hastily, “Your men won’t—”

“They’ll do nothing unless they are threatened, mistress. My word is good.”

“I did not mean to imply that it isn’t, sir. I feared that without word from you, your men might act impulsively.”

“They know better. Come here.”

She moved obediently to stand before him, then started when he caught her chin and tilted her face to look more closely at her cheek.

“Why did he strike you?”

“He threatened to make me his wife by habit of cohabitation. I expect you know what that is.” When he nodded, frowning, she said, “His intention was to force my submission here and now, believing I would then make no objection to returning with him. I said I had already told you I did not want to marry him.”

“And that’s when he slapped you?”

“I-I said I would claim rape if he laid a hand on me.”

“That was foolish,” Duncan said, releasing her. “You should not have taunted him, mistress.”

“I suppose you think I should simply have lain back and welcomed his attentions,” she retorted bitterly.

“Don’t fling your sarcasm at me,” he said, turning to look out into the yard. “I am not your enemy.”

“I’m not so sure,” she muttered.

“Have you things to pack?”

“Goodness, what for?”

“You cannot stay here.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t be daft. Because he will come back for you, of course. I told you as much yesterday, and you did not believe me. Surely, you see now that I was right.”

“Won’t he fear that you will go after him if he tries it again?”

“Fear won’t stop him. You saw that he nearly decided to shoot me just to see me dead before my men came for him. Had I not believed he might, I’d never have made such a bargain with him, but for all I knew, his man had another pistol. In any event, once I was dead or badly wounded, they could easily have killed you and one or both of the children before my men could have stopped them. I couldn’t take that chance, nor will I chance trusting him now. You will not stay here, mistress.”

“I prefer to make my own decisions, sir. You have no authority over me.”

“We have seen where your decisions lead,” he said flatly. “If you have nothing to pack, we can leave at once.”

She made a last attempt. “I don’t want to go, and you cannot possibly want to be saddled with the children. In any case, where would you take us?”

“To Balcardane, of course. Get your things.”

“Faith, sir, you cannot take us to Balcardane. Your father won’t want us there, nor will your mother. For that matter—”

“Mistress Maclaine, I have already exerted more patience today than anyone has a right to expect. If you don’t want me to pick you up and carry you out of here without a stitch of clothing other than what you stand in, pack your damned clothes. We leave in five minutes’ time.”

“Ye canna talk to our Mary like—”

Duncan snapped a grim look at Chuff, and the boy instantly fell silent. His small echo did not utter a sound.

“That’s better,” Duncan said softly. “Do not think for one minute, young man, that I will treat impertinence as gently as MacCrichton did, for I will not. Have you anything more to say to me?”

Chuff shook his head, looking at his feet.

“I would like a proper answer, if you please.”

“No, sir.”

“Good.” He glared at Mary. “Does your singular lack of movement mean that you’ve got nothing to fetch?”

She fled upstairs, where she flung into a battered satchel an old dressing gown, a clean chemise, her gloves and hat, and a pair of old dresses that she had not thought worth taking to Shian. Looking swiftly around, knowing that Duncan might come in search of her at any moment, she snatched up a pair of her aunt’s shoes. They wore the same size, and she knew she would be grateful for something to wear later in place of her half boots. Shoving them into the satchel atop everything else, she tied it shut and hurried down to the kitchen to fetch her box of remedies. She had not taken any to Shian, but with the children, she decided she would need them.

When she returned to the parlor Duncan was waiting, holding her gray cloak. The harsh look in his eyes eased, and he said, “I thought you would take longer.”

She met his gaze. “You must think me very brave then, sir.”

To her surprise, he smiled, and although it did not quite reach his eyes, it softened his expression. She did not think she had ever seen him smile before.

“You’d better hope,” he said dryly, “that the day never comes when I tell you exactly what I think of you or your behavior, Mary Maclaine. I can promise you would not enjoy the experience.”

T
HE CHILDREN ENJOYED THE
ride to Balcardane Castle more than Mary did. Not only did they each get to ride pillion behind one of Duncan’s men and make new friends, but Mary felt nearly as resistant to Duncan as she had to Ewan, as if she really had accepted salvation from the devil. Rather than feeling as if Duncan had rescued her, she felt as if she had been a bone over which the two men had fought, a bone that Duncan had successfully carried away with him.

She was riding in the same direction that she had ridden only two days before, but the journeys were vastly different. After all, she had at least gone with Ewan voluntarily, and as she thought now about the disastrous result of that, she imagined that the end to this journey could only be worse.

Once again, they passed the desiccated body of James of the Glen, hanging in its horrid chains. But in the dim gray light of an overcast afternoon, the sight was not nearly so stark as when it had cast a grim black shadow against the orange and gold blaze of a setting sun. No breeze made the chains creak today, either, she noted thankfully, but although the corpse hung still and silent, it stirred sad memories nonetheless. One of the soldiers guarding it saluted Duncan. He nodded, and Mary turned away, gazing resolutely ahead.

“You should have brought a warmer cloak,” Duncan said, interrupting her reverie. “If those clouds open up, it’s cold enough to snow.”

“Do you think it will?” she asked. The low-pitched, even sound of his voice was more pleasant than her drifting thoughts, but she did not want to discuss her choice of clothing with him.

He glanced at the sky. “It might hail or sleet instead, I suppose.”

She did not want to discuss the weather either. She really did not want to discuss anything with him. The farther they rode from Maclean House, the more she wondered what he would do with her at Balcardane.

Without thinking about the wisdom of bringing up such a topic, she said, “Your father will not welcome me to his house, I’ll wager.”

A glint of amusement lit his dark eyes. “What do you imagine he will do?”

She had not expected the question, but it diverted her thoughts from the gruesome sight they had passed. “I don’t know what to expect. He is your father. I know he does not approve of me or my family, for he forbade Ian to visit our house.”

“I, too, forbade him to visit Maclean House,” Duncan reminded her.

“We have discussed that before, sir.” Remembering some of what she had said then, she decided she owed him a partial apology and said at once, “When you said you supposed that Ian had never spoken kindly of you, I replied that you had only yourself to blame. I believe that is true, sir, but I may have misled you a trifle.”

“Only a trifle?” The look he gave her was derisive.

Determined not to let him bait her, she said carefully, “I should also have told you that Ian knew you cared, sir. He knew that you were only trying to protect him. I would not want you to believe that he was unaware of your regard for him.”

“I could wish that awareness had kept him home that night, but clearly what little influence I wielded was no match for your wiles, mistress.”

“You dislike me, sir. You make no secret of the fact, so why are you helping us? You cannot want to see my face ten times a day at Balcardane.”

“Perhaps I am doing it for Ian’s sake. Did you think of that?”

“Perhaps you would do that,” she said doubtfully.

He looked sharply at her. “Do you think it so impossible?”

“Not impossible, only unlikely,” she replied honestly. “I confess, I find you much different now from what you were just a year ago. Nevertheless, I think it more likely that you still just order people to do what you think is best for them without considering what they might prefer.”

“Do you?” A note of danger sounded in his voice.

She smiled. “I have offended you again, but you asked the question, you know. You should not ask questions if you do not want to hear honest answers.”

“I’ll give you more good advice, mistress. You should think before you speak. Experience with MacCrichton must have taught you how dangerous it can be to say whatever comes into your head, and although you may not know it yet, he is far less dangerous than I am.”

Mary wrinkled her brow thoughtfully. “Perhaps that is so, sir, but I fear him. I do not fear you.”

“That would be your second sight at work again, I expect.”

She could not mistake his sarcasm, but she said, “I don’t think the Sight has anything to do with this conversation. I merely state facts, sir. Perhaps you would also beat me if I angered you sufficiently, but I do not think you would knock poor Chuff halfway across the room with the back of your hand, or threaten to shoot Pinkie merely to convince someone of your fierce nature.”

She saw the muscles in his jaw tighten before he said, “Are you telling me that MacCrichton hit the lad, too?”

“Aye, and I believed he would shoot Pinkie.”

“I, too, but although I do not brutalize children, mistress, I will tell you what I told Chuff. Don’t think you can disobey me without consequence, because I will enforce my orders as and when I find it necessary to do so. Do you understand me?”

“Aye, sir,” Mary said with a sigh.

They fell silent after that. Ahead, on the hillside overlooking Loch Leven, she saw the great square tower of Balcardane above the trees, and a few minutes later the formidable grey stone castle loomed into view.

Concealed on the hillside above Maclean House, Ewan had watched Black Duncan’s party ride out of the stable yard. He remained still, glowering at them, wishing he had the means to murder Duncan and all his men and carry the vixen away with him. He would soon teach her to mind him.

He did not speak to anyone on the way back to Shian, and no one tried to engage him in conversation. As they rounded the curve in the road overlooking Castle Stalker’s island, he recalled Duncan’s warning about patrols. He had seen none, but he knew Duncan had been right. The soldiers might not arrest him for carrying a pistol, but given the slightest chance, they would harass and threaten him. They were Campbells, after all, paid by the English government to enforce the laws it had imposed on the Highlands after the tragedy at Culloden.

Darkness had fallen by the time he and his men rode into the courtyard at Shian, and Ewan tossed his reins to MacSteele with an order to see to the horse. Thinking now only about getting his dinner, he strode inside and up the spiral stairs, coming to an astonished halt on the threshold of the great hall.

“Welcome home, MacCrichton,” Allan Breck said, raising a glass half full of wine toward him. “I wondered when you would return. Did you find her?”

“What the devil are you doing in my house?”

Breck shrugged. “Seemed the safest place for me just now, unless of course you’ve murdered someone and you’ve got a patrol at your heels.”

“Don’t be absurd. I don’t want you here.”