Amanda Scott (8 page)

“Aye, I would,” Hector said. “Does the lass ken who you are?”

His warning tone told Michael that it was past time to speak plainly.

“No, my lord. Without knowing whom else she might tell, I deemed it safer under the circumstances not to tell her. I collect, though, that you do know me.”

“Aye, of course I do.”

“Does Lachlan Lubanach also know?”

“I believe so. Of the two of us, it is my business to know such things so that he need not concern himself, but instinct tells me that he also recognized you.”

“I have never formally met either of you,” Michael said.

“So you assumed you could continue to play your game here, did you?”

Feeling a sudden, urgent need to prevent his believing that for a moment longer, Michael said, “You misunderstood me, sir. I meant only that since no one had ever formally introduced us and since we’ve attended but three or four large gatherings in common, I hoped I might have a short time in which to weigh what options I had before confiding the little I know about this matter to anyone here.”

He realized that he had braced himself again for censure or worse, and tried to relax, but Hector did not berate him. Instead, he stood for a long moment, gazing at him thoughtfully, until Michael, accustomed to more volatile men, began to wish he would speak.

At last, with a slight smile that was anything but reassuring, Hector said, “I believe that your own actions have limited whatever options you may have had.”

“Have they, sir?”

“Aye, because they’ve left you no choice now. You’ll have to marry the lass.”

Chapter 6

I
ndeed, sir,” Michael said sincerely, “I have no objection to marrying Lady Isobel if she will agree to it. I believe she’d make me an excellent wife, because she is the most intrepid woman I’ve ever met, the most fascinating, and the most beautiful. But she has made it abundantly plain that she has no wish to marry, ever.”

“You can safely leave it to me to persuade her otherwise.”

Unable to resist, Michael smiled as he said, “She tells me she knows exactly how to manage you, sir.”

Hector chuckled, surprising him. “Does she now? Well, we’ll see.”

Relaxing, astonished at the sense of satisfaction those words gave him, Michael said, “May we sit, sir? I own, my energy tonight is not what it usually is.”

“We’ve no need to dally here any longer,” Hector said. “I wanted to speak to you privately only because, once Isobel made it plain that she either could not or would not identify you properly, I wanted to forestall any inclination you might have had to deceive us and to learn what had brought you to such a pass. You must tell us, you know, but you may elect to tell me now, or speak openly to us all.”

“I believe—”

Hector stopped him with a gesture. “I’d advise the latter course because I have no secrets from my brother and few from my wife. Lachlan and I likewise trust Mairi. And as to Lady Euphemia, we can send her to her chamber if you like, but for all that she may seem like a chattering magpie, she is not.”

“I will reveal as much as I can to you, sir, and as much as you think I should to the others,” Michael said. “I still believe, however, that Lady Isobel, and indeed the other ladies, should know as little as possible, lest my enemies come to believe the women know what they want to know. When they learn that I have been here, as they will, they may suspect everyone here of having that information.”

Hector frowned. “Just who are these enemies of yours?”

“One is my cousin Waldron of Edgelaw.”

“I do not know him.”

“He’s the bastard son of one of my father’s cousins, who sent him to be raised in France with a branch of our family there before allowing his return to Edgelaw, near Roslin, about ten years ago. Waldron resents our wealth and his baser position, despite the generosity of my father and his cousin, and now that of my brother. He believes he can improve his estate by aiding a greater enemy of ours.”

“And that enemy . . .”

“The Kirk of Rome,” Michael said. “Apparently, his Holiness Pope Urban—like Pope Gregory before him—and certain others, as well, believes that something was taken from the Kirk that must be returned.”

“Sakes, lad, stop talking in riddles! What did you take?”

“I took naught, sir, for the incident happened nearly a century ago. Indeed, I do not even know exactly what is missing,” Michael added. “I’ve known all my life that we guarded a secret, but my father died before telling us what it is. Rumor suggests, however, that great treasure is involved, and my cousin thinks I know its location, but I swear to you on my honor that I do not have the slightest notion.”

“I see,” Hector said. “In that case, I understand your concern, but we must get back to the others soon, or they will all be down upon us. Not even my brother possesses enough patience to sit out there quietly whilst you and I discuss this matter more thoroughly. We will talk more of it, however. That I promise you.”

“Aye, sir, I’m agreeable. I could use a strong ally in this business.”

“Have you no friends involved in it now?”

“The only one who knows or suspects the whole is my cousin Hugo Robison, who is presently in Kintail. I arranged to get word to him, so I expect he’ll turn up here tomorrow or the next day. I . . . I let Lady Isobel think him a servant of mine.”

“I see,” Hector said. “You may come to regret much of what you led her to believe. However, I’ll let you deal with that. For now, I suggest you tell us all how you came to meet her, what you can of how she aided you, and what exactly brought you here. You should be able to negotiate any obstacles that arise in discussing those points, and I’ll help you where I can. If you step into truly deep water, I’ll end the discussion. And, sithee, lad, if the Kirk be involved in this, I agree that the less our womenfolk ken of your treasure the better it will be for us all.”

Michael nodded, relieved.

“We’ll have to tell them who you are, though, and that straightaway.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Since I’ll tell Lachlan all that you have told me, you should know that he is likely to want to take part in any future talks we have.”

“I have no objection to that.”

“Then you and I are agreed on the matter of your marriage to Isobel, but what of your family? Might they have objections?”

Meeting that stern gaze, Michael said dryly, “My brother may have other plans for me, sir. He often does, but I have not seen him in months, nor have we discussed any alliance in particular. In any event, I am my own man. The decision as to whom I shall marry will be mine.”

Hector’s eyes twinkled. “You put me in mind of myself at your age, lad. However, Sir Henry is your liege lord, is he not?”

“Aye,” Michael said. “And, as such, he commands my loyalty. But I made it plain to him long ago that I would choose my own bride. Whether he chooses to recall that or not may prove another matter, but it can make no difference. Indeed, my mother will be more difficult than Henry, but I have as much confidence in my ability to manage her as Isobel had when she said she could manage you. I’ll wager my record speaks better for itself, though,” he added with another smile.

“Very well, then,” Hector said, offering his hand. “Now we have only to inform Isobel of the great honor in store for her.”

Michael followed his host back into the hall, but although he smiled as he thought about Isobel, he could not pretend to be as confident as Hector.

The lass had made her position clear.

Earlier, when Hector and Michael left the hall, Isobel had watched them go, lending only half an ear as Cristina explained that Princess Margaret had accompanied Mairi and Lachlan because MacDonald was ailing and they were unsure that he would be able to travel north with them to celebrate the installation of the new Prince of Orkney.

Mairi said, “Because it is to be such a grand occasion, if he cannot attend, we are agreed that she will go with us to represent him. And since we had already planned to spend the night here tonight, she elected to come with us.” Smiling at Isobel, she added, “I think it is delightful that you were able to return whilst we are here, my dear. We’ve missed you dreadfully.”

“Did you think to ask someone to bring up your baggage?” Cristina asked.

“I brought none,” Isobel said with a shrug as she returned Mairi’s smile. “I had no opportunity to pack, Cristina, because one doesn’t during an adventure. I mean to tell you all about it, but we should wait until Hector and Michael return.”

“He is very handsome, your Michael,” Mairi said.

“Mairi!” Cristina exclaimed as Isobel gasped.

“Mercy on us all, madam,” Lady Euphemia said in the same breath, “I trust you are jesting. Our Isobel is not so lost to her own worth as to think we would let her marry a man like that. Why, he is . . .” She hesitated, clearly at a loss.

“He is one of the handsomest men I’ve ever clapped eyes on,” Mairi said. Twinkling at her husband, she added, “Not counting anyone here, of course.”

“I should hope not,” Lachlan retorted with a loving smile. The smile vanished, however, as he turned to Isobel and said, “Where did you meet him, lass?”

Having been about to declare that she had no intention of marrying anyone, let alone Michael, Isobel recognized the same deceptively gentle tone in Lachlan’s voice that she had heard so often in Hector’s. Stifling the denial on her tongue, she said politely, “Near Glenelg, sir.”

“When?”

Wishing she had the nerve to tell him it was none of his business, or even that she did not want to have to explain everything twice, she said, “Yesterday.”

“Yesterday!” Cristina and Lady Euphemia exclaimed in one voice.

Unable to suppress her resentment, she glowered at Lachlan but relaxed a little when she detected a twinkle in his eyes. She braced herself nonetheless, knowing that he had opened the door to sharper interrogation.

Cristina and Lady Euphemia both began talking at once, whereupon Lady Euphemia said apologetically, “I beg your pardon, my dear Cristina. I know that I should hold my tongue. She is your sister
and
your foster daughter, of course, so you should be the one to demand that she explain herself.”

Before Cristina could do so, Mairi interjected with a laugh, “Have mercy on the poor child, both of you. Would you force her to explain everything to us now only to have to repeat it all as soon as Hector and her Michael return?”

“I warrant Hector is getting the full tale as we wait,” Lachlan said dryly.

“Not if he knows what is good for him, he isn’t,” the wife of his bosom said roundly. “I want to hear it all without anything left out. Come and sit beside me, child,” she added. “I have much to tell you, and I want to hear all about your sisters. How does Adela fare? Has she tired yet of running your father’s household?”

Isobel sighed, fearing that tempers would rise before the night was over and feeling grateful for Michael’s milder temperament. Even as she reassured herself, however, she wondered how he could possibly defend himself against four such unyielding personalities—five if one counted Lady Euphemia, as indeed one had to these days. She had long since abandoned the meek, overly compliant disposition she had assumed years before, while living in her brother’s household at Chalamine.

Mairi soon turned the conversation to her children and those of Hector and Cristina, reciting for Isobel a number of amusing things they had done during her absence. In this manner the time passed swiftly until Hector and Michael returned.

As the two approached the dais, Isobel tried to judge how much Michael had suffered from whatever Hector had said to him. He gazed directly at her, but although he smiled and appeared to be his usual calm self, he did look a bit wary.

Hector, however, was smiling broadly. He walked up to Isobel and rested a hand gently on her right shoulder as he said to the others, “I have excellent news for you. Sir Michael St. Clair, Master of Roslin and brother to Sir Henry St. Clair, soon to be installed as Prince of Orkney, has done Isobel the great honor of asking for her hand in marriage. I have agreed, and they will therefore be married as soon as we can make the arrangements.”

“No,” Isobel gasped, attempting to jump to her feet and set matters right.

Hector’s hand remained firm on her shoulder, holding her in place.

Long experience having taught her that it was useless, even foolhardy, to defy him, she simmered but remained obediently still, biting her tongue to keep from shouting at them all that they could not coerce her into marriage, not to any man.

Lachlan arose, held out his hand to Michael, and said in a reflective tone, “I thought you looked familiar, St. Clair.” Then, looking with barely concealed amusement at Isobel, he added, “’Tis a good match you propose, but I’m guessing that our lass here did not even know your proper name until now.”

“Nay, my lord, she did not,” Michael admitted, also looking at her.

Isobel did not trust herself to meet his gaze. She wanted to leap up and tell him, and Hector, too, exactly what she thought of such an absurd proposal, but with Hector’s iron hand still clamped to her shoulder, that option was out of the question. She noted that Cristina stared at her as if she would like to say something, but she remained silent, too, so Isobel knew she would gain no support from that quarter.

The news had apparently rendered Lady Euphemia speechless.

Even Mairi, for once, was silent.

“Sit down, lad,” Hector said genially, indicating the place next to Lachlan as he took his own seat at the end of the table, thus neatly using his brother and Mairi to separate Isobel and Michael. “I know you have much to tell us, but first I should present you properly to the Princess Margaret, and to my lady wife and my brother’s wife, as well—and to Lady Euphemia Macleod, my lady’s aunt.”

Lady Euphemia, finding her tongue at last, said, “To be sure, we are honored to meet you, Sir Michael, but I hope you will forgive my bewilderment—indeed,
our
bewilderment. For how can this be, Isobel?” she added, shifting her gaze from Michael to her grandniece. “Indeed, since you traveled here together today without benefit of any other female to lend even a semblance of propriety to your journey, we must be glad that you traveled with a man who desires to take you to wife, but ’tis nonetheless quite improper and all very sudden. Is it not?” she asked the others in general. “I do not even want to think of what Murdo will say to this!”

Isobel nearly smiled at the expression on Michael’s face as he remembered that she had a father, and one, moreover, who would most likely have a good deal to say about the suggested marriage of his daughter to a man he did not know.

Turning to Hector, she said stiffly, “You cannot suppose that my father will be pleased about this notion of yours, sir. Surely, he must give his permission.”

Hector’s eyes narrowed in that annoying way they had when something she said or did, or the tone she used, stirred his displeasure, but this time she did not care. He was trying to dictate her future, and she had every right to speak her mind on that subject. She held his gaze until, surprisingly, his expression softened.

Gently, he said, “When your father agreed that you should foster here, lass, part of that agreement was that I should bear the responsibility of providing you with a suitable husband. Thus, he has already given his permission, and since he has declared more than once that we have spoiled you beyond reason, I doubt he will be much amazed to learn that you have chosen your own husband.”

“But I didn’t!”

“Aye, but you did, Isobel,” Lachlan said. “Whatever were you thinking, to travel here in a galley full of men with Sir Michael as your sole protector?”