Amanda Scott (22 page)

“Aye, but ye can stand for her, or Sir Neil can.”

“Not Neil.” She had barely spoken two words to him since learning of the cattle raid, and in any case, she would not trust him on such a mission.

“Aye, well, Colin would listen to you best, lass,” James said. He added with a self-conscious smile, “That isna the whole of my news though.”

“What more then?”

“I got a solicitor to present our case before the Court of Sessions,” James said. “That’s the highest court in all the land, and only see what came of it.” With a flourish, he extracted a sheaf of papers from inside his coat and held them out.

“What is that?” Mary asked.

“’Tis called a sist, or a stay of execution,
sine die.
The Latin bit means till an unspecified date, so there’s no end to it, not till we say there is or the court does.”

“Oh, James, that’s wonderful,” Diana exclaimed. “How clever you are!”

“It ought to keep us going until we can present our case to the Barons’ Court and get the evictions set aside.”

Impulsively, Diana said, “Can we show it to Red Colin straightaway, James? Oh, how I shall enjoy that!”

“Slowly, lass, slowly. I ha’ never done anything like this afore, ye ken, so I want to do it right. I’d best no be party to it myself, for it must be done peaceable and proper, with a solicitor present, and all.”

“Do we know a solicitor whom we can trust?”

“I’ve a kinsman who will do it. I’ll take it to him tomorrow. There’s one thing more,” he added with a note of hesitation.

“What?”

“No one is obliged to join the delegation that takes the sist to Glenure, but I’m afraid each of them who would avoid eviction must promise to take the oath.”

“I cannot be sure Mam would agree to that,” Diana said. “What can we do?”

“Well, don’t be thinking ye can whisper the oath yourself and be done, lass. The tenancy is in her ladyship’s name. I know, because I drew up the papers myself. If ye act in her behalf, ye must promise she will take the oath at first opportunity.”

“I’ll have to think about that, James.”

“Aye, and so I knew. We’ve plenty of time before we must present the sist, but I’d as lief do it quick now that I’ve got it in me hands.”

“I understand.” She did, but she did not like it. Lady Maclean would hate the notion of swearing an oath of allegiance to the British king. Diana hated it, too.

“Did you glean any other news in your travels, James?” Mary asked.

He grimaced. “Only that our Allan is making more mischief. I met him at a dramhouse in Lochaber, and when I told him about the evictions, he said the folk of Appin are spineless for not ending Glenure’s career. Spoke verra loud, he did.”

“What can he be thinking?” Diana demanded. “He must not make himself so visible, or he will soon have all the Campbells chasing him again.”

“Aye, but he’s ale-mad. In Glen Coe, I heard he’d offered a man a good price for Colin’s skin, as if it were a fox’s pelt. I never could curb that lad’s temper. He declares that before he returns to France he’ll teach Colin a sharp lesson. I hope he’ll not attempt any such daft thing, I can tell you.”

Diana hoped so, too, but knowing Allan had a tendency to talk big when he drank too much, she discounted his threats. She had to decide what to do about Red Colin and the eviction. She tried to discuss it with Neil, but he offered no help.

“Do what you please,” he snapped. “You will anyway.”

She did not press him, but early the next morning when Ian came to call, bringing Calder with him, she was in no mood to cope with either of them. Though she had not spoken to Calder since the day of the wildcat attack, she had thought of him frequently, and now, thanks to Neil’s encounter with him after the failed cattle raid, his appearance at Maclean House put her instantly on the defensive.

Mary greeted the two men with unfeigned pleasure, saying, “Neil has gone out with his friends for the day, so you find only Diana and me, I’m afraid.”

“We did not come to see Neil,” Ian said, smiling at her. “You must wonder why you have not seen me in over a sennight, so I’ll confess at the outset that my father has forbidden me to set foot in Maclean House again.”

“Then why have you come?” Diana said curtly, avoiding Calder’s gaze.

Shooting her a look of surprise, Ian said, “Cousin Rory expressed an interest in visiting the Isle of Mull today, and perhaps climbing Dun da Ghaoithe. We thought you and Mary might like to go with us.”

“Not today,” Diana said. “We have more important things to do.”

Looking annoyed, Mary said, “Faith, Diana, what have we got to do?”

“Beltane is but two days hence,” Diana said stubbornly. “The grates must all be cleaned and new fires laid. Morag has all her baking to do, so we must help.”

“We have plenty of time,” Mary said. “Most of that must be done on the day, anyway. You said you wanted time to think, Diana. You can do so as easily in a boat sailing to Mull as in the parlor, or while you’re cleaning a grate.”

A brief silence fell before Calder said gently, “I hope you will come. Ian knows about Mull, he tells me, but not nearly as much as one who grew up there.”

She met his gaze and felt warmth surge into her cheeks. It was ridiculous, she thought, the way she allowed the man to affect her. Perhaps the best thing would be to submerge herself in his company until she tired of him and could put him out of her mind as he deserved. No doubt he expected her to thank him for protecting Neil. He would have a long wait.

“Very well,” she said abruptly. “We’ll go. Morag will have to pack food—”

“We’ve got food,” Ian said cheerfully, “and I’ve brought my boat. We sailed at dawn from Balcardane, and the wind is from the northeast, so it will give us good speed to Mull. We can return on the tide late this afternoon.”

In the boat, when they had pushed off, Mary moved swiftly to help Ian with his sails and rigging, leaving Calder and Diana alone in the stern.

“Do you know what you are doing with that tiller?” she demanded.

“Would you like to man it?” he asked calmly.

“No. If you think I am going to thank you—”

“For what?”

“For not turning Neil over to Black Duncan, or Glenure.”

“I require no thanks. Just be sure he understands that I could not have helped him had his confederates been caught and spoken against him.”

“No one was caught.”

“They were fortunate.”

“They were indeed.” She sighed, looking at the water. He said no more, and after a few moments, she began to feel the sea’s calming effect, as she always did.

From amidships she heard Mary call to Ian, and his reply. Gulls shrieked overhead. Two flew alongside the sleek sailboat, clearly hoping someone would fling them a crust. She did not look at Calder. After a moment she closed her eyes, listening to the rush of water as the boat skimmed the waves, to the flapping of sails when they luffed and the snap when they filled with air. Rigging clinked, gulls cried, and she could hear sea lions barking from distant rocks.

“What troubles you so that you must give particular thought to it?”

His voice was low and sounded almost at one with the hushing of the water. She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I must think how to prevent your kinsman from evicting us, of course. James has found a way to stop him, but it requires that Mam swear the oath. I daresay you can guess how she will feel about that.”

“Is her pride worth more to her than her home?”

“That’s so easy for you to ask,” Diana said scornfully. “What do you know of principle, or honor?”

“My principles and honor are intact,” he retorted, glancing toward the bow as if to see if the others could overhear. “Now, answer me. Will your mother allow her pride to keep her from taking the oath if that is the only way to save your home?”

“I don’t know,” Diana admitted.

“Can you talk to her?”

“Not easily. She is some distance from here.”

“I see. Is her presence required to prevent the eviction?”

“James says not, only her promise, which I could give on her behalf. Everyone, even Red Colin, knows she would not refuse if I promise for her.”

Mary moved to sit nearby, and conversation turned to other matters until they reached the Island of Mull and beached the boat near Craignure Castle.

“They’re letting it fall to ruins,” Diana said, glaring at both men.

Ian said defensively, “It is not our fault. It belongs to the Crown.”

She said no more, leading them instead up a sheep track behind the castle’s thirty-foot curtain wall. The track followed a burn that spilled in waterfalls over rock terraces along the way up. Though Dun da Ghaoithe dominated the northeastern quarter of the island, climbing it was easy. In less than two hours they reached its stony summit, where drifting puffs of mist had begun to form.

Between the puffs, they enjoyed fine visibility. Diana pointed out the peaks of Skye in the north and scattered houses of Oban to the east, then Grass Point to the south. Looking down on a landscape spattered with cattle, sheep, and thatched white houses, she felt the onset of homesickness and a sense of sad defeat.

“I say,” Ian said, “there are an awful lot of cattle down there. Do you think any of them are ours?”

“If it seems like a lot,” Mary said, “it’s probably because the drovers are gathering them to move them to the high pastures after Beltane. And if any of those cattle are stolen, Ian Campbell, it is only because people here have few other ways to feed themselves.”

“Speaking of food,” Calder said mildly, “how about breaking out what we brought, Ian? I’m starving.”

Mary smiled at Ian then, and he grinned back at her.

Conversation while the four of them ate was desultory. When they finished and started back down the track, Diana moved to lead, but Calder caught her arm and said, “Let them go ahead. I want to talk to you.” She obeyed reluctantly, and he said, “Tell me how James can stop the evictions.”

Glaring at him, she said, “You just want to know so you can stop him.”

“Have I tried yet to prevent anything you’ve done?”

That was unanswerable. At last she said, “He obtained a thing called a sist from the Court of Sessions in Edinburgh.”

“Did he indeed? James is a wilier man than I thought, then.”

“Do you even know what a sist is?”

“I do. It will delay the evictions, just as you said.”

“There is a rub.”

“Your mother and the oath.”

“How can she swear it? Even if she were to agree, she would no sooner show her face here than they would arrest her and send her back to Edinburgh.”

“Is that all that’s keeping you from presenting the sist to Glenure?”

She nodded, amazed that he could think such a point trivial.

“What if I could prevent her arrest?”

“Could you?”

This time he nodded. “I never thought it was right, you know.”

Without thinking, she blurted, “But you are Argyll’s man.”

“I am close kin to him,” he said, “but you can count that a point for your side this time. Will you trust me?”

Meeting his gaze, feeling its intensity, she suddenly felt as if she were alone with him, as if the rest of the world had vanished into the mist. The look in his eyes warmed her to her toes. She reached out to touch him, feeling surprise when his waistcoat felt rough and real.

His hand clasped hers and held it against him. “I can make it safe for her to return if she will agree to swear the oath,” he said quietly, looking into her eyes.

She pulled her hand back, collecting herself. “I … I don’t know. Can I trust you? You are a Campbell first and foremost, after all.”

“If you do not trust me, what then? You would be wisest to protect what little remains of your property, mistress.”

They were still high enough on the mountain to have a wide view, and gazing down at what her family had lost, Diana knew he was right.

Accordingly, when the little deputation called upon Red Colin two days later, on the morning of the feast of Beltane, she and Mary went with them.

Greeting the group with astonishment, Red Colin said harshly, “Don’t ask me to let you keep your homes. It’s too late. I’ve already let them to other tenants.”

“Then you must unlet them,” Diana said, handing him the sist.

He stared at it in shock. “Where the devil did you get this?”

“Read it, Red Colin,” Diana said, unable to keep the note of triumph out of her voice. “We have our own fair copy, so you may keep that one for yourself.”

As the group turned and strode cheerfully away, Mary muttered in an undertone, “Don’t gloat yet, Diana. I’ve got a very bad feeling about this.”

D
IANA STARED AT MARY I
n dismay. “What do you mean, a bad feeling?” she demanded. “What sort of bad feeling?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Mary admitted, pulling her cap from her head and loosening her tawny hair in a way that would have drawn censure if Lady Maclean had been present. The solicitor and the other men who had gone with them to Glen Ure walked ahead, striding rapidly to get back to work they had left to be part of the deputation. “I can’t think with my hair all twisted up,” Mary said.

Diana chuckled, looking fondly at her. “You look like a bairn with it spilling down your back like that.”

“Well, hair needs to breathe, too,” Mary said defensively, “and it’s not like I keep it in a fashionable state at the best of times.”

Diana laughed aloud at that, for her cousin’s idea of a grownup hairstyle was to twist it into a knot at the top of her head with bits escaping every time she moved or turned her head. No hot irons, curl papers, or powder for Mary Maclaine. “It does help,” Diana said, “that your hair curls all by itself.”

“Oh, aye, but it is heavy all the same, and piled all on top, it gives me a headache, so I cannot think.”

“Well, think now. Your bad feelings often mean someone has died. It’s not that sort is it?” She felt a rush of panic, thinking of Lady Maclean, of Neil, and oddly, of Calder. All three images collided in her mind’s eye.

But Mary was shaking her head. “It’s not that sort of feeling at all. I would never describe
that
as a mere feeling, Diana. A vision is far, far more powerful.”