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BOOK: Amanda Scott
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Carefully, Isobel crept closer, wondering where the other women were. Mairi was bound to be where she could see what was happening even if all the others had managed to take shelter in one of the boats with men to guard them.

There! She had already spied more than one man wearing no more than a sleeveless leather jerkin and breeks, but only one looked like Michael. At first, she was certain it was he, but as she watched, she grew less certain that it was not Sir Hugo. The man she watched seemed to be here, there, and everywhere, slashing, constantly moving, cutting down anyone who attempted to fight him. Surely, Hugo.

Then it was over, and she heard Hector’s voice echo across the landscape with MacDonald’s war cry. Others followed, including those of clans Gillean and Macleod. They had routed the enemy. Delighted at the victory, she hurried down as fast as she could, and saw boats crossing from Kyle Rhea as she did. By the time she joined the others, Donald Mòr Gowrie was there, too, with a score of men.

She searched the crowd for Michael, then heard Hector shout his name and saw Michael striding to meet him. Picking up her skirt with one hand and holding the plaid with the other, she ran as fast as she could in shoes too loose and uncomfortable without proper hose inside them.

As she approached, Hector clapped Michael on the shoulder and said, “Good lad! Had you not seen them after they disabled our guards, and managed to alert the rest of us, we might have been slaughtered in our beds.”

Isobel stopped where she was, wanting to shout that it had been she who had seen them but knowing that she’d do better to hold her tongue.

Then she heard Michael say in his usual calm way, “You do me more honor than I deserve, sir. ’Twas not I but my lady wife who gave the alarm. She was”—Isobel felt fire surge to her cheeks in embarrassment that he would tell Hector what she’d been doing when she saw them—“wakened by them, and awakened me.”

Hector saw her then and smiled at her approach. “We owe great thanks to you, lass, although I cannot imagine how you were able to hear that lot when our own guardsmen did not. You must have ears of a sharpness I’d not imagined.”

She could think of nothing to say, for she could not lie to him, but Michael said with a touch of amusement, “I had not thought how unlikely it was that she could hear them from our tent. Doubtless she got up to answer a call of nature and is shy about saying so, or perhaps fears to tell us she did so without waking me. You must not go out alone at night like that, lass,” he added gently. “The danger whilst Waldron seeks us is too great to take such a risk.”

She glanced at Hector, expecting him to say more, but he did not. Evidently, Michael had been right and even people accustomed to taking one to task forbore to do so if one had a husband, so perhaps they could be useful creatures, after all.

Michael said, “I doubt you need us any longer, my lord, so we’ll leave you and the others to attend to our captives and seek out their boats.”

“Aye, you’ve done enough, the pair of you,” Hector said. “Get some sleep now, because tomorrow will likely be another long day.”

Michael draped an arm around Isobel’s shoulders and gently urged her back up the hillside toward their tent.

When they were beyond earshot, he murmured, “I thought I told you not to stir from your place of concealment until you heard me call for you.”

His tone was the one that always stirred tension in her body, but it also stirred memory of the demon swordsman she had watched, the man she had first believed was Michael, then Hugo, cutting down every foe that stood in his path.

Certain now who it was, she said, “I thought you were a man of peace.”

“Would you have had me let them attack the camp?”

“Nay, of course not, but neither did I know you could fight like that.”

“When one must do a thing, one should do it well, but you are trying to change the subject, lass. I must be able to trust you.”

The sudden prickling of tears caught her by surprise, and when she choked back a sob, he caught hold of her and turned her abruptly to face him.

“I hope you don’t think to unman me with tears. They will avail you naught.”

“Nor would I attempt such a thing,” she said indignantly as several tears spilled down her cheek. “I don’t know why I’m crying, but it has naught to do with what you said to me. At least,” she added honestly, “I don’t think that it does.”

“Then what?”

“I’m not sure, but I was so worried about you, thinking first that you might have been caught out there and killed or hurt, and then thinking I saw you in the midst of it all and . . . and not being sure. I had to know, Michael. I
couldn’t
wait.”

His hands gripped her shoulders tighter. “That isn’t good enough, Isobel. I ken fine that you don’t know me well yet, but I tell you now that you can trust me with a weapon in my hand. I don’t flaunt my skill, lass, but I am an able fighter with almost any weapon.”

“You are certainly able enough with a sword,” she agreed.

“Aye, well, it was the wish of my grandfather and my father that their male children learn the skills they themselves knew. Henry also has the ability, but he, too, conceals it. ’Tis an odd thing about men, that many of them, when they know another man possesses skill with weapons, yearn to test theirs against his, and will challenge him for no cause other than to test him. Therefore, I was taught, and Henry likewise, to keep our abilities to ourselves whilst constantly striving to improve them.”

“Was Waldron, too, taught in such a way?”

“He was, albeit not by the same people, and with at least one other important difference. You heard Hector Reaganach speak of the Knights Templar.”

“Aye,” she said.

“They were known throughout Christendom as the world’s greatest military force. ’Twas proficiency similar to theirs that I learned from my foster father.”

“Where did you foster?”

“One day I may take you there,” he said. “As to Waldron, although his training in weapons was much the same as mine and Henry’s, I think he selected only what suited him from the many philosophies we studied, and ignored the rest. He was always greedy, and although my father insisted on seeing him well educated and trained, Waldron’s greed has colored everything he’s done.”

“How so?”

“The combination of his skills and his belief that everything is permitted to him inclines him to believe that he can do as he pleases and take what he wants.”

“But how can any man believe such a thing?” Isobel asked. “No one can simply do whatever he wants.”

“Aye, well, now that Waldron has allied himself with the Kirk of Rome, he believes that any battle he fights allies him with God. And he is not alone in that belief. Many believe, as he does, that God protects all soldiers of Christ, including the Templars, and will absolve them of any sin they commit. That is why Waldron believes that he can do as he pleases.”

“But if you trained as he did, do you not believe the same thing?”

“I do not,” he said. “Such training produces excellent soldiers, and soldiers are often needed quickly, without sufficient time to train them. That is why my father arranged for us to train as we did. He believed that since Scotland will not be safe until the English agree that we are an independent nation, we are likely to need good soldiers again. But you keep changing the subject, lass. I want your word that, henceforward, if I give you an order in the midst of a crisis, you will obey it.”

She hesitated, uncertain what to say and aware that in his own way, he was also seeking to change the subject, but he waited patiently. At last, she said, “I understood that you wanted me out of harm’s way, and I did obey you without question. But I do not think it is right or fair to insist that I should have waited for you to collect me after the battle. What if you had been killed?”

“Eventually Hector or someone would have called you,” he said.

“Aye, when it finally occurred to someone that I was missing,” she said.

He did not answer at once, but then he said evenly, “Had we lost the battle, you would have been safer up here on the hillside.”

“Had we lost the battle, I would not have dashed down to find you,” she said, uncertain even as she said the words that they were true. She knew that even then she would have wanted to know if he were injured or dead and, if he were injured, would have wanted to be with him. Lest he see the contradiction in her expression, she added quickly, “You said before that you trusted my judgment at the cavern, Michael. Surely, you could at least try to trust me not to do anything so dreadfully foolish as to rush into the heat of a battle to find you.”

“Aye, lass, you’re right,” he said. “I’ll try to remember your words. But you must understand, too, that I have been taught that protecting women is my solemn duty because they are weaker than men and not skilled in weaponry.”

“But I am neither weak nor helpless,” she pointed out.

He smiled. “Your wee dirk gives you confidence beyond what I believe to be wise, and although I do trust you not to run foolishly into danger that you can see and understand, I also know that you can be impulsive and may rush into danger you don’t recognize when it stands before you.”

She opened her mouth to insist that she was not such a fool, then remembered how they had met, and shut it again.

He grinned. “Aye,” he said. “I’ve seen your impulsiveness for myself, and whilst I cannot say now that I am entirely sorry for it, knowing that it exists does give me pause. I’ll try not to leap to judgment of your behavior without more cause than you gave me tonight, and to treat you instead more as I would a lad with similar knowledge and training.”

“Thank you,” she said with sincerity.

“Aye, well, but woe betide you if you show poor judgment and run yourself into danger because of it. If a man under my command foolishly risked his own life or the lives of others, I’d punish him severely, and you
are
under my command. Do not doubt that, for when you agreed to marry me, you gave me that authority, and I do not want to hear you say that you did not mean to do so, because that is irrelevant now. In the eyes of the world—aye, and by my own instinct and training—I do bear responsibility for you, and the authority that goes with it. So do not ask that I shirk that responsibility or surrender it to you or to anyone else, for I will not.”

For once, she could think of nothing to say, and his tone, not to mention his surprisingly reasonable reaction to her previous protest, made it impossible to argue with him. Even so, his warning gave her pause, because she hated restrictions and knew that she tended to resist them with all her might. She considered explaining that to him but decided she would be wiser not to try to do so just now.

They had reached their tent, and Michael moved ahead to straighten out the furs and plaid again. When she joined him there, he drew her close enough to make her wonder if he meant to make love to her again, but he only kissed her, gave her a hug, and the next thing she knew it was morning.

The boats got underway as soon as the tide flowed in far enough to make it safe for them to pass through the narrow kyles, and after that the flotilla followed the Inland Passage north, keeping careful watch for enemy ships. They saw none, and although their journey took several more days, the time passed more swiftly than Isobel had expected. When Kirkwall’s U-shaped harbor appeared at last, the number of ships she saw there astonished her. She had thought the Lord of the Isles’ fleet was large, but clearly, that of the St. Clairs was larger yet.

They could see the great yellow cathedral and sprawling bishop’s palace as they debarked into smaller boats that carried them ashore, and from the landing, Michael escorted her up a path and into the palace, to its cavernous great hall. The hall was well appointed, comfortable looking, and boasted roaring fires in two huge fireplaces to offset the chill that enveloped the Orkney Islands even in midsummer.

Their host, awaiting them on the dais with two women, looked like an older version of Michael, although Sir Henry’s hair was much lighter. Watching him as he greeted Princess Margaret, Isobel thought his manners pleasant, his welcome sincere.

He presented the ladies with him as his mother and his wife, and then motioned Michael forward. Since Michael’s hand grasped Isobel’s firmly, she went with him, and as he shook hands with Sir Henry and presented her to him, and to their mother, Isobel made her curtsies, noting that although Sir Henry and his lady smiled warmly at the news of Michael’s marriage, his mother did not.

Isabella of Strathearn, a willow-slim, elegantly attired woman of apparently much greater haughtiness than Princess Margaret, seemed to glower at Isobel, making her feel a distinct chill.

Sir Henry, clearly unaware of his mother’s demeanor, said cheerfully, “Your taste has always been excellent, Michael, and I believe our father would approve. I certainly do. I trust your journey was not too taxing, my lady.”

“Not at all, sir,” Isobel said, returning his smile. “I love being on the sea, however long the journey might be.”

“I, too,” he said. “One day I mean to sail to the edge of the earth if not beyond.”

“Beyond the edge?” She was shocked. “How could anyone do that?”

“I once saw a map, my lady, that suggested the earth is as round as a ball.”

His mother made a slight, impatient sound, and after a guilty glance at her, he added with a twinkle, “But we can talk more about that later. I am wont to get carried away on the subject, and I do not want to spoil Michael’s surprise.”

“Surprise?” Michael said, frowning.

“Indeed, my son, and a great honor, too, as I am sure you will agree,” Isabella, Countess of Strathearn and Caithness, said, smiling at last.

“Prithee, madam, not another word,” Henry said with an indulgent chuckle. “You promised that this surprise would be mine to unveil. Michael, I know you will share our delight when I tell you that someone we have not seen for too long a time has come to help us celebrate my installation. Moreover, he has brought another with him who will doubtless confer great consequence upon your marriage by giving it his blessing. Come out now, cousin, and show yourself.”

BOOK: Amanda Scott
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