Amanda Scott (15 page)

“Well now, I think we ought to discuss that. Did you find my pretty cousin?”

“Aye, I found her.”

“Then where is she?”

“Black Duncan Campbell’s got her; that’s where she is.”

Breck took a sip of his wine. His expression gave away none of his thoughts.

Accepting that Breck was not going to leave, Ewan went to fill a glass for himself from the sideboard. “At least you didn’t drink all my claret.”

“It’s palatable, but I prefer brandy. What is Duncan doing with her?”

“He
says
he’s taken her under his protection,” Ewan said sourly.

Breck snorted, but then his expression turned thoughtful. “If rumor does not lie, Balcardane has plans for Black Duncan. I’m told that he envisions an alliance between his house and the house of Caddell.”

“More suitable, that. Caddell’s another damned Campbell.”

“Aye, and his land lies between Dunraven and the Duke of Argyll’s seat at Inveraray. Balcardane thinks first about his pocket in all things, they say, and the Lady Serena stands to be a considerable heiress.”

“She’s got a brother, hasn’t she?”

“Aye, and he’s married, too, but he’s sired five daughters with nary a son. They say his lady will be in the straw again soon, but no one is holding much hope. In any event, Caddell has only the one daughter, so he is bound to dower her well.”

“Perhaps I should cast an eye in her direction.”

“Much good it would do you. The winsome Serena is already a guest at Balcardane, and you’ve small hope of breaching any wall of that stronghold.”

“How do you know so much about it?”

Breck smiled over his glass. “I’ve eyes and ears the length and breadth of Argyll and Lochaber, my lad, but don’t look so glum. I’ve decided to help you.”

About to tell him he could take his help and himself straight off to hell, Ewan held his tongue. He harbored no illusions about Breck’s reason for the offer, but the man’s abilities were legendary. It might be wiser, he thought, to exploit those abilities until he had no further use for them, or for Breck. One thing was certain. Allan Breck would not get his greedy hands on the MacCrichton treasure.

When the riders entered the courtyard at Balcardane, Duncan jumped down and lifted Mary off her horse before she could dismount. His hands felt firm and warm around her waist, and until then, she did not realize how cold she was. He urged her toward the impressive entrance, but her legs felt stiff and reluctant to obey. Pausing to look up at the Earl of Balcardane’s crest, carved and colored above the doorway, she knew her reluctance had nothing to do with stiff knees.

“Bannatyne,” Duncan said as they reached the front step, “take these children around to the kitchen and see that someone feeds them and looks after them.”

“Aye, master. Come along, you bairns.”

“Just a moment,” Mary said, halting the three in their tracks. Turning to Duncan, she said, “Do you have other children in the castle, sir?”

“I have no children at all that I know of, mistress.”

“I meant servants’ children, of course,” she said, not bothering to conceal her exasperation.

He shrugged. “I don’t pay heed to scullery brats. Bannatyne?”

Shooting Mary an apologetic look, the man said, “I don’t know, sir.”

Mary said, “If your cook is unaccustomed to children, she may dislike having these two cast into her kitchen without so much as a word to her about them.”

“She will do as she is told,” Duncan said.

“Very likely she will,” Mary said, grimacing, “but Pinkie has already endured abuse in Ewan’s kitchen. I don’t want that experience repeated, and before you say it would not be, sir, let me suggest that you won’t know anything about it.”

He looked ready to explode, but he controlled himself, muttering through clenched teeth that perhaps she might also like to suggest what he should do instead.

“I don’t know,” she admitted frankly, “but until you can offer more options than merely to fling the child into someone else’s care, I would like to keep her with me. Chuff is accustomed to hard work, and I daresay you can find a place for him in the kitchen.”

“Someone can find one for him, certainly,” Duncan agreed harshly.

Chuff said, “I’d like fine tae be a stable lad, I would. I dinna like kitchens.”

Hastily, Mary said, “You must do as you are bid, my dear. Now, go along with Bannatyne, and take Pinkie with you to get something to eat. When you have finished, perhaps someone will show her where I am to sleep, and she can wait for me there.” She looked challengingly at Duncan. “Have you an objection, sir?”

“None. See to it, Bannatyne. And now, mistress,” he added, giving her a little push toward the entrance, “perhaps you will allow me to take you inside.”

Her misgivings returned in full force. That she was on Campbell soil, in the heart of the sole Campbell stronghold in country that once had held only Stewarts and others loyal to the Stewart cause, seemed more than incongruous. No one would want her here. If the earl did not order his strong-minded son to fling her outside the gates at once, he might order her locked up or even thrown into the pit he doubtless kept for serious miscreants.

Since Culloden, most Scottish noblemen no longer held the powers of the pit and gallows, but she did not think anyone would try to prevent a man as powerful as the Campbell Earl of Balcardane from exercising his ancient rights and privileges. Just thinking of the pit chilled her very soul.

The reality of meeting his lordship was quite different from what she had expected, however. Crossing the threshold, she and Duncan entered a great hall two stories high with a wide, elegant angle staircase soaring up from the left rear. Tall double doors opened off the hall to left and right, with a third, smaller one at the back, just visible in the shadowy alcove beneath the stairway’s half landing.

Shadows and shapes on the dark paneled walls showed that many weapons had once hung on them, as they had in most Highland households that could afford to display their strength. The sight reminded her of the hall at Shian, with its racks of pointless lances.

Here, however, a musket hung over the fireplace in what seemed a direct defiance of the ban. Not that anyone would complain about actions taken by a kinsman of the mighty Duke of Argyll, of course. The oddity was that they had taken down the other weapons. Mary wondered if they lay hidden somewhere or had been turned in to the authorities, as the law said they should have been.

“We’ll look for my father first,” Duncan said, gesturing toward the pair of tall doors on the left side of the hall.

Mary felt her heart begin to pound. She had met Balcardane only once, when he had visited Maclean House the night of Ian’s murder. The earl had been dazed with grief then, but later, when she had several times seen him from a distance during James’s trial and hanging, he had shown no weakness and no compassion. He was a hard man with an ingrained hatred of Jacobites, and Mary’s kinsmen had been, to a man, strong fighters for the cause. The earl represented their enemy.

The room they entered proved to be a large library, for which someone had collected an astonishing number of books. Shelves of them lined two walls from floor to ceiling. A third wall boasted two tall windows overlooking the courtyard, with an arched, gilded pier glass between them. Candles in girandoles on either side of the glass, along with the cheerful fire and a lamp burning on the huge desk near the hearth, cast a friendly glow throughout the room.

The burly, gray-haired figure rising awkwardly from behind the desk to greet them dispelled the warmth of that glow, however, leaving her feeling stiff and chilly. After one hasty glance, she kept her eyes modestly downcast in the manner she knew such a powerful man would expect.

Duncan stepped forward. “With your permission, sir, I have extended the protection and hospitality of Balcardane to Mistress Maclaine and two servant children who find themselves dependent upon her.”

“What led you to do such a thing?” The earl’s voice was as gruff and gravelly as she remembered it. He went on in a carping way, “More visitors, Duncan? It’s winter, lad. I hope you realize that we cannot simply ride to Fort William if we run out of supplies.”

“I don’t think her presence will tax the castle stores much, sir. She isn’t very big, as you can see for yourself, and both children are accustomed to working for their keep.”

“Aye, well, but still, she’s one of that Maclean lot that fought so hard against us in the late rebellion, and again when we were trying to put an end to James of the Glen and his lot of damned conspirators.”

“James was not guilty, sir,” Mary said quietly, looking up and then quickly down again, careful not to let Duncan catch her eye.

Balcardane snapped, “Nonsense, of course he was guilty, but we won’t fratch over him, lass. He’s dead and gone now, and that makes one plotter the less to worry us. You must agree that Appin’s been devilish quiet since he met his Maker.”

“She can do nothing to alter that,” Duncan said, relieving her of the necessity of contradicting her host. He added evenly, “You will not deny her simple Highland hospitality, sir. No proper Highlander would do that. Moreover, had I left her where I found her, Ewan MacCrichton would have forced her to marry him.”

“That villain! I’ve no more use for that man than I had for James. Ever since the king pardoned MacCrichton—a grave error, in my opinion—he has been trying to control south Appin and has even dared to stick his oar into Campbell country.”

“I’ve just returned from Dunraven,” Duncan reminded his father. “Our men have things well in hand there. I doubt that MacCrichton wants to do more than crow on his own dung heap, but I could not allow him to abduct the lass.”

When Balcardane did not reply, Mary regained enough of her confidence to look at him at last, only to find him regarding her in a measuring way. Meeting that scrutiny by raising her chin, she was nonetheless shocked by his altered appearance. He was not the man she remembered. His grey-green eyes were flat, as if the once fierce light in them had gone out. Dark hollows lay beneath them, his sunken cheeks looked grey, and his mouth seemed to have turned down permanently.

“I’m sorry to be a nuisance, my lord,” she said quietly, “but Black Duncan insisted that I come here. I hope you are not vexed.”

“Nay, lass, not vexed. Your presence brings back sad memories, that’s all.”

She swallowed hard, understanding at once why he seemed but half the man he had been. Grief had taken a sad toll of the earl. With sincerity, she said, “If the memories are too sad, sir, I can simply go away again.”

“Where is Sir Neil? Why ain’t he looking after you like he should?”

Giving her no time to reply, Duncan said, “He and Lady Maclean have gone to Perthshire, sir. You know that Rory and Diana are expecting her confinement soon. It is not so amazing that her mother desired to be with her.”

“Everyone is having bairns except you, Duncan,” the earl complained. “I should have thought Diana’s cousin would want to be with her, too.”

“I can go to Perthshire if my presence here distresses you, my lord. I would prefer that myself now, I believe, if it comes to that.”

“I suppose you think you can just get on your horse tomorrow and ride off to Perthshire,” Duncan said harshly. “Or do you perhaps imagine that I will supply you with an escort of my men?”

“Here now,” Balcardane protested, “we’re not sending a lot of your chaps into Perthshire. They’re expensive enough to keep here. Think what it will cost for board and keep when they’re cut off by the snow and have to stay there all winter!”

Meeting Duncan’s sardonic gaze, Mary said, “I would not want to put you to so much trouble as that, sir, but if you will take me back to Maclean House, I promise I will set forth at once. I can take some of our men with me, I expect.”

“Which ones?” Duncan demanded.

Pressing her lips firmly together to keep from snapping at him in a like tone, she took a deep breath before she said, “I do not yet know which ones. That will depend upon who amongst them knows the direction and can protect me.”

“That means none of them,” he retorted. “Your men are naught but shepherds and hinds, lass, and the minute MacCrichton gets wind of your departure, he will be hard on your heels. You’ll stay here, and there’s an end to it.”

Mary had never thought herself a violent woman, but a sudden overwhelming urge seized her to throw something at him, preferably something hard and heavy that would knock some civility into him. With nothing of the sort at hand, she managed to keep her temper, saying firmly, “We shall see about that, sir.”

“We’ll see nothing. It’s decided. Now the next thing is to figure out what you can wear while you are here. You cannot possibly have stuffed enough clothing into that little satchel you brought to serve you properly here; however, my mother may be able to help, or perhaps Serena will have a few things you can borrow.”

“Serena?” She looked blankly from one man to the other.

Balcardane cheered up at once. “Mistress Maclaine will make excellent company for Serena. She is Caddell’s daughter,” he explained to Mary, “and I think she must be very near you in age, for she is but one- or two-and-twenty.”

“I shall be twenty the end of January, sir.”

“Just as I thought,” he said, nodding. “Duncan, you take her along to your mother and Serena, lad. They’ll look after her, and I’ll see you both at dinner.”

Back in the hall, Mary said, “He did not ask anything about the children.”

“No reason that he should. He does not concern himself with servants. That is his steward’s duty, and I will tell MacDermid about them when I see him.”

Crossing the hall, he opened the double doors opposite the library and let Mary precede him into a pleasant yellow saloon. At the far end, four tall, narrow windows overlooked Loch Leven. At first she wondered if such windows might invite enemies to attempt an invasion, but soon she saw how steeply the grassy hillside fell away below. Although the saloon was apparently at ground level, its windows were fifteen feet or more above the ground.

A plump lady wearing a frilly white cap and a gown of flourished golden-brown paduasoy sat on a claw-footed sofa near one of the end windows. She held a tambour frame, plying her needle with a lassitude that suggested the task did not enthrall her. Even so, she did not look up at once when they entered.