Amanda Scott (10 page)

“You make him sound like one of your hunting dogs, my dear,” Lady Balcardane said, “and in truth, you have always looked after him rather closely. He will have gone into the woods, I expect, or out onto the loch in his wee boat. He frequently does such things, dear sir,” she added, smiling fondly at her husband. “I wonder that you have to ask, really, but so it is, always. Shall I ring for someone to take you up to your bedchamber, Rory dear?”

“Don’t bother,” Duncan said. “I’ll show him. You will want him in the tower room, I expect.”

Balcardane said, “Excellent notion. A good choice.”

“Do you think so?” Lady Balcardane looked doubtful. “It is so high, so many stairs, you know. I daresay some people like the exercise, but I doubt that I have set foot in that room for years. The maids go up, of course, so you will find it perfectly clean and tidy, Rory dear. Indeed, I ordered them to scrub the floor only the other week. But perhaps you would prefer a chamber nearer to the ground.”

“The tower room will suit me very well,” Rory said, wondering at the same time if his cousin had any particular reason for putting him there.

Clearly, his aunt might have chosen another room, but he remembered the tower bedchamber from his boyhood and had no objection to it. From its windows on a clear day he would enjoy views north and east across Loch Leven, west to Ballachulish ferry, and south up the steep, thickly wooded ridge. Not, he reflected, that many days at this time of year would be clear. When he and Thomas had arrived, a thick mist the Highlanders called a
haar
was already gathering. Thinking of Thomas reminded him that he had not seen him since their arrival.

“I did not travel with a party, uncle, but I do have a manservant with me,” he said. “I’d like him housed near me if he won’t be putting anyone out.”

Duncan said, “We can put him in the little room below the tower bedchamber, the one that opens off the half-landing.”

“Didn’t that used to be some sort of munitions room?”

“You have an excellent memory, lad,” Balcardane said, “but we moved all those old papers to a newer wing of the castle. They were getting damp.”

Foreseeing that Thomas was going to be displeased with his quarters, Rory nonetheless made no complaint, and when he entered the tower bedchamber, he found the prospect from the window so agreeable, even through the thickening gray mist, that he was glad he had kept silent.

Thomas came in a few minutes later, bearing a pot of hot water. “Just tell me they ha’ blocked up the fireplace in this room tae save money on fuel, and ye’ll tell me nobbut what I expect tae hear,” he grumbled.

“You malign my relatives, Thomas. As you see, there is an excellent fireplace. It is at least as big as the one I had at Castle Stalker—and it does not smoke, moreover—so let me hear no more complaints from you, if you please.”

Since he did not expect to be obeyed, he was not surprised when Thomas retorted waspishly, “I see plain enough that ye have got a fire, my lord. I do not have one, however, and from what I hear of his lordship’s nipfarthing ways, I’d no ha’ been surprised tae find that he expected ye tae stay warm with nae more than the hot air wafting past your room through yon tower chimney from below. I ask ye, who builds a tower with a stair that winds upward along a warm chimney wall but leaves a whole bedchamber tae suffer frosted walls in wintertime?”

“His lordship did not build the castle, but I collect that your room has no fireplace because the chimney goes up the other side of the stairwell.”

“Did I no just say so?”

“You did. I shall wear the blue velvet with the red and gold waistcoat,” Rory said. “I don’t want powder, but do be a good fellow and shake out that light plaid I brought with me.”

Thomas’s eyebrows shot upward, and he said with disapproval, “The wearing of the plaid, as ye ken very well, is proscribed by law and has been for years past. Do ye, a baron of the court, dare flout the law in such a way?”

“I do, for if you think my uncle will not be wearing trews or full plaid at his dining table, you are mistaken. As
you
know very well, for I’ve heard you complain of it far too often, members of the nobility always think they are above the law. He already takes me for an upstart because of my grand position and tender years, and I do not wish to offend him when I have only just arrived. Moreover, I’ll wager my new tie-wig that Duncan dons a plaid for dinner.”

“He’s a one, that lad,” Thomas said, shaking out clothing. “They do call him Black Duncan in these parts, and not, I’m thinking, just because of that inky hair of his. Looks a mean-spirited lad tae me. Ye’d best watch your back.”

Rory had already decided that it would behoove him to do that. He did not know what had stirred his cousin’s temper, but that it was volatile was clear. A peaceful man himself, most of the time, he had no wish to stir coals that might burst into flame without warning.

As he dressed, he found himself thinking yet again of Mab MacKissock and realized that he was not so peace-loving as he had thought. He still wanted to throttle the wench or beat her soundly, and if he could find her, he would certainly do one or the other. It occurred to him as he sat to let Thomas pare his nails that he was expending a good deal of mental effort on a mere maidservant. He had told himself more than once that he wanted only to see that she got her just deserts, but he knew it was more than that. Had he wanted only to punish her, he would not, he knew, keep thinking of her golden-hazel eyes, her slender but curvaceous figure, or of her eminently kissable lips. MacKissable lips.

“Your other hand, my lord,
if ye
please,” Thomas said in a tone Rory knew he had copied from the duke’s extremely pompous valet.

Recalled to the moment, he obediently held out his right hand, forcing his thoughts to matters nearer at hand. He would find Mab MacKissa—He would find the wretched wench soon enough and teach her not to make fools of her betters. In the meantime, he had to deal with his irascible uncle, his ill-humored cousin, and his duty to the Exchequer, all without stirring up a hornet’s nest or worse.

Appin country had long been an unstable area and still harbored more than its share of rebels. Even if the rumors of an impending uprising proved unfounded, there were many folks who could be stirred to mischief with a single misspoken word. He knew now that Mab MacKissock was a member of that faction, and although she deserved to be served up to justice, he did not want to incite the threatened rebellion himself merely to soothe a base desire.

“For revenge,” he said firmly, aloud.

“What’s that ye’re muttering now?”

“Nothing, Thomas, nothing at all. I shall go down now, and you may do as you please for the rest of the evening. I shan’t want you again till morning.”

“Ye’ll undress yourself then? Or mayhap ye’ve spied another obliging maidservant. The good Lord knows the last one proved a superior morsel.”

“That will do, Thomas,” Rory said, adjusting the light plaid he wore draped over his left shoulder. It was, he knew, no more than a token gesture, but perhaps before making it, he ought to have made sure no company was to dine with them.

He knew no one would dare call him to task—indeed, no member of the gentry had yet been punished for ignoring the diskilting law—but he believed in setting a good example. His position allowed him to carry a weapon in the Highlands, and his baggage contained both a pistol and a sword, but he did not wear either on his person. To flaunt his right to bear arms would not endear him to the Highlanders. Still, he was no fool. That they might threaten him because of the Campbell alliance with the hated English government was the very reason the authorities allowed him to carry his weapons in the first place.

Not every Campbell enjoyed that right, of course, but he would have wagered a good deal that his uncle had weapons hidden on the premises, weapons he had not given up to the authorities when ordered to do so. No doubt Balcardane was certain that no one would challenge him, and he was right. No one would.

Rory learned when he joined the others that he had been wise on two counts. Not only did Balcardane and Duncan both sport full plaids at the table, but neither man had powdered his hair.

At dinner Rory met the fourth member of the family. He was pleasantly surprised to find that Ian Campbell was a quiet, conservatively attired gentleman of nineteen, with a calm demeanor and a lurking twinkle in his light blue eyes.

Ian smiled, saying, “Forgive me for being away when you arrived, cousin. I barely remember your last visit, but I have heard much about you over the years.”

“At least some of it good, I hope,” Rory said, returning the smile.

“Lud, sir,” Lady Balcardane said with a laugh, “’Tis prodigious amazing that your ears did not ring with it all. Why, my dearest Balcardane is forever singing your praises. ‘A well set up lad,’ he said after your visit years ago, ‘quick of mind and able to hit his mark with any weapon.’ And you only eleven at the time. Just to think of it!”

Rather startled, Rory said hastily, “I am glad he did not say such things to me, ma’am. My head would have swelled like a bullfrog’s throat, so puffed up in my esteem as I’d have got. My father would have brought me speedily to my senses, of course,” he added, turning to Duncan. “I hear you still offer excellent fishing in these waters, cousin. Do you often try your luck?”

“I’ve better things to do with my time,” Duncan said. “Get Ian to take you. The young fool likes sitting on a bank with a rod in his hand, doing nothing and like as not forgetting even to wear a coat. Doubtless that’s where he was today.”

Flushing, Ian said, “I’ll show you the best places anytime you like, Cousin Rory. Pay no heed to Duncan. He would rather fight than fish, and thinks me a weakling merely because I am not as belligerent as he is.”

“Belligerent, am I?” Duncan began to push back his chair.

Ian looked wary, but Balcardane said with a laugh, “Sit down, Duncan, sit down! Would you floor your brother in front of our guest on his first night at Balcardane? If you must punish him, for God’s sake do it in a good cause. Ain’t nothing amiss in owning to a bit of belligerence. At least you show allegiance to your clan and don’t suffer impertinence from outsiders, which is more than Ian can say. I’m pleased to see you wearing the plaid, Calder, I must say. Shows proper loyalty, that does, and I should like to see a deal more of it.”

“Indeed, my dear sir,” Lady Balcardane said as Duncan settled back in his chair, “I do not know why you and Duncan become so out of reason cross with Ian. I am sure he says nothing that would anger anyone of sense. Well, not sense,” she amended hastily, “but of ordinary sensibility. Of course, you will both say that it is a matter between gentlemen and not anything of which I have the smallest knowledge or understanding, but Duncan, I do think your father is wise to suggest that you wait at least until you know your cousin better before—”

“Let’s hear some of those messages you’ve brought me, nephew,” Balcardane said, cutting in without apology. “Been months since I was next or nigh Inveraray—or Edinburgh, come to that.”

Despite what he was rapidly coming to recognize as plain rudeness to Lady Balcardane, Rory was happy enough to divert his uncle’s attention, and the rest of the evening passed in ordinary discourse. Duncan, making no secret of his boredom, left them soon after dinner to pursue his own activities, and by the time Rory retired to the tower bedchamber, he had much to think about.

That his uncle’s parsimonious nature might drive more than one member of his family to distraction was clear. That Balcardane set great store by clan loyalty was equally clear, as was the fact that like most clansmen, his respect for Argyll stemmed from blind loyalty rather than real devotion to the duke.

There was nothing amiss with that, of course, but Rory suspected that Balcardane harbored a lack of confidence in his nephew’s loyalty to Clan Campbell. More than once during the evening the earl had raised the subject of Colin Glenure, reiterating his faith in the man’s ability to serve as Crown factor.

Rory began to wonder if Balcardane really had faith in Glenure. Not until the earl chanced to mention that the factor was a first cousin born the wrong side of the blanket did Rory understand his anxiety. Doubtless Balcardane had recommended Glenure because of their kinship, and he feared now that if Glenure failed, others might see the failure as partly his own.

Before long, these thoughts had run their course, and Rory found himself thinking idly of the golden eyes and pert manner of Mab MacKissa—

Diana lay in bed staring up through the darkness at the ceiling. Thick mist surrounded the house, so not a bit of light showed in through her window. It was as if the
haar
had swallowed the outside world. A guilty shiver passed through her at a sudden fear that Calder’s bindings might have been too tight, that he and Thomas MacKellar might still be lying where she and the others had left them.

That fear dissipated quickly. Calder was a capable man, too capable not to have escaped long since. He had said he was making for Balcardane, which meant he had passed within a hundred yards of Maclean House. The dirt road between the high meadow in which the house sat and the loch shore it overlooked was the only road suitable for horses between Balcardane and Castle Stalker. Had she kept an eye on the road, she would know for certain, but there had been no opportunity to do that without arousing more of Mary’s curiosity.

Mary had been curious anyway, of course, but Diana had managed to answer her questions without volunteering any unnecessary information. Neil had said little, too, because that was his nature and because his thoughts had no doubt drifted to the latest target of his amorous inclination. If Mary read more in Diana’s evasions than in her words, she did not comment. And although she was quiet the next morning when Allan Breck came to tell them he was on his way to Rannoch Moor, Diana saw nothing odd in that, since Mary was not fond of Allan.

Allan’s behavior gave no indication that he was aware of Mary’s coolness, however. He greeted both young women with a cheerful smile, saying, “Have you errands for me? I’ll be back before long, you know. I shall be here, there, and about, looking for lads ripe for recruiting.”