Lord of the Black Isle (16 page)

“Aye, lass, ye canna… but ye will…”

I would that you were all to me,

You that are just so much, no more.

—“Two in the Campagna” (1855)

Robert Browning (1812–1889)

British poet

Ailis poked her head through the door, smiled at her brother, and said, “Elisabeth and I are back from the hospital, and we are aboot to take a turn around the grounds afore the sun goes doon. Would ye be wanting to join us?”

He looked up and watched her enter the room and smiled at the eager look on her face, like a child being promised a sweet. “I will receive more benefit from knowing ye are happy to have a female friend aboot, for it has been too long since ye have enjoyed the close companionship of another woman. Just promise me ye will laugh.”

“Oh, I shall laugh. And then I will laugh, and laugh some more,” she said, her words full of lightheartedness and merriment. She kissed him on the cheek, and with a swish of her skirt, she disappeared through the doorway.

He leaned back in the chair, feeling something he had not felt for many a year: complete peace, born of the feeling of pleasure that comes when a long-felt desire has been fulfilled. He would forever hold Elisabeth in high regard, for she had given him something he never thought to have, and that was his happy, smiling sister back.

He leaned back and propped his boots upon the desk, his hands folded behind his head, recalling the memory of Elisabeth standing by the door and how difficult it had been not to take her when he knew he could have. But she would have never forgiven him for manipulating her like that, and it pleased him to know that he won a victory by losing the battle.

It had been a long day, but then, it was always a long day when he had record keeping to be done, and meetings with the clansmen who ran the various day-to-day tasks that had to be performed in order to keep things running smoothly around the castle and with the Murray clansmen.

He never enjoyed the record keeping that went with the title of Earl of Kinloss. He much preferred the day-to-day running of castle interests and mingling with clansmen. He closed the large leather-bound ledger, glad to have today's postings finished. He stood and moved to a small table by a large, wooden chair and poured himself a wee dram o' Scots
uisge
beatha
, that fiery nectar that the ancient Celts produced with great zeal and consumed enthusiastically. He took a swallow and savored the amber liquid, warm and mellow.

He couldn't understand why it took James IV until 1495 to issue the following decree in the Exchequer Rolls of 1494: “To Friar John Cor, by order of the King, to make aqua vitae VIII bolls of malt.” He smiled, remembering when he explained this to Elisabeth and she wondered how much whisky could be made from eight bowls of malt, and he had to explain that a boll was a measurement of six imperial bushels. Whatever the meaning of the word, it was one of the many remarkable things this good king did for Scotland and Scots alike. The worst was getting himself killed at the Battle of Flodden Field three years ago.

David leaned back and put his feet on what he still thought of as his father's desk. He stared at the gray stone floor and remembered playing there as a child, back when his father was young and happy. He wasn't sure when his father began to change, or why. Perhaps it was a gradual thing that worsened with each child he buried. He took another sip and leaned his head back to stare at the vaulted ceiling and then at the sun shining through the mullioned window and casting illusory images on the stones. He closed his eyes and could almost feel the warmth seeping into his bones from the shimmering patterns the sun left there.

He had always liked this room, with its fireplace, fine furnishings, and beloved books, for Aisling boasted one of the largest libraries in the Highlands, and some of the scrolls of parchment and leather-bound books dated back to ancient times. He was surrounded by things he loved: yellowing paper, crackling parchment, a number of leather-bound reference tomes, the smell of ink and steaming tea, the scent of polish, and the perfume of a bouquet of flowers gathered by Ailis; the lingering dew of an early morning rain, the crumbs of an apple scone still sitting on his desk, and the scent of ancient oaken casks in the amber liquid he warmed in his hand.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a woman's laugh. Although it had been a long time since he heard such, he recognized it right away as Ailis's, but it was beyond him what she had to laugh about. He tried to recall the last time he heard the sound of her joyful laugh and decided it had to have been at least two years ago. He stood and walked to the window and saw her walking arm in arm with Elisabeth, their heads together as they talked and laughed. It was a good sound, and one Aisling Castle had done without for too long.

There was power in laughter, he decided, for he could feel the effect of it faster than the whisky that warmed him. He recalled how his father thought of laughter as being connected to irreverence and lack of self-control, and a woman's laughter… well, he thought it naught but sheer folly and quite indelicate for a lady to partake of. But now, listening to the sound of it, which had been missing in his life for so long, he decided laughter was medicine for the soul.

He was glad Elisabeth was here for many, many reasons and pleased that she and Ailis had become close, but his attention wasn't really on his sister, but upon Elisabeth, for they had stopped not far from his window and they seemed to be looking at something on another floor of the castle, or perhaps the roof. That gave him an unobstructed view of her face from not very far away. He was struck by her beautifully expressive green eyes, the dark burgundy hues of her auburn hair, and somehow even the curl fit her, for like her, it had a strong will of its own, was pleasing to look upon, and made him want to wind his hands in it and pull her lovely face close enough for a kiss.

The kiss would have to wait, he knew, for he hadn't handled things with her too well, save his suggestion to use the abbey for a hospital. She was a very well-educated woman from another time where women were equally educated, and he had to admit her sharp mind, her intelligence, and her quick wit were what he most admired about her. He doubted he would ever grow tired of her or become bored in her company. This pleased him… at least for now. However, there was caution riding gently in the back of his mind, for he knew that she was also a formidable foe and a woman to be reckoned with, and any man who tried to bring her into his fold would not find the task easy.

He pushed such thoughts away and watched the two of them when they paused for a moment, and then Ailis hugged Elisabeth and departed. Elisabeth remained there for a moment, as if trying to decide if she wanted to go inside or somewhere else. Then she turned away and walked in the direction of the kennel and mew. He decided to follow her, thinking perhaps she heard that the bitch had whelped pups the night before.

He found her in one of the stalls where she had lowered herself, with her skirts billowed out around her, as she examined the tiny deerhound in her hand, then she put it down. She stroked the mother's head and said softly, “It's a fine litter of pups you have, and all six of them look fit and healthy.”

He took a step closer, and when the hay rustled, she quickly turned her head. “Oh! You startled me.”

“It was not intentional. I see ye have found the new litter of pups.”

“Yes, I have always had a fondness for any kind of babies, be it human or animal.”

“'Tis her third litter,” he said. “She whelps guid pups.”

Elisabeth stood and looked around as if she was searching for an escape route, and it pained him to think he had made her feel this way. He wanted her trust, not her fear or uneasiness around him… he simply wanted her. “I am sure ye must find Scotland rough and uncivilized.”

“Yes, just like some of the people,” she said, keeping her green eyes upon him and leaving little doubt as to who she was referring to.

He realized then that he had two choices. He could be angry, or he could see it as an example of her keen wit and sharp mind. He decided to lean toward the latter. He actually liked her outspoken ways, for he would never have to wonder where he stood with her. “Your sister… does she have this habit of speaking what she thinks?”

“To some degree, but she softens the bite of her words. It has always been a Douglas habit to be outspoken.”

“Aye, I know aboot Douglas opinions.”

She smiled. “I am speaking of the Douglases of the future.”

“'Twould seem they havena changed all that much in six hundred years,” he said.

Her brows went up. “So you do believe me about coming back in time?”

“Aye, for the time being, or until ye prove me wrong.”

“You have sent your cousins to Màrrach to get the Mackinnon's word that what I say is true?”

“Aye, Duncan and Branan are on their way to Mull as we speak.”

“Good.”

“Hmmm,” he said, thinking. “That is all ye have to say on the matter?”

“Yes, why?”

“I dinna remember ever hearing ye stop with only one word.”

She opened her mouth and then shut it.

“Surely ye are not left with naught to say? Ye canna possibly have no opinion.”

“I have an opinion, but I restrained myself.”

“Why?”

“Because I saw there was no purpose to be served by my cutting you down to size.”

Were all women where she came from this way? He was wondering how a man in her time ever managed to get through to a woman, how they progressed from fencing with words to communicating about matters of love and lovemaking. Her eyes were lovely, alive, and flashing with intelligence. She was both beautiful and desirable. And there was absolutely nothing demure or soft-spoken about her. She would challenge a man at every crossroad, and she was as stubborn as the most stoic Scot and much too strong. She was also too wise, too understanding, and too willful, too educated, and certainly too determined to have her own way. There was no way the two of them would ever get along, and yet, getting along with her was precisely what he wanted.

He was about to turn away, but her eyes stopped him. Those green eyes… there was something alluring about them that pulled a man in and devoured him. He could read so much about her in her eyes, for they were like a mirror to the inner workings of her being, a passageway to her heart and mind, that allowed him to see all the things she would rather he not see… her determination, the goodness of her soul, the fire of her spirit, the strength to grab onto something or someone and not let go, her joy of life, and something deeper that she kept hidden, something that caused her grief and deep sorrow, something that pained her still. But, the thing he wanted to see the most was not there, and that was what she truly thought of him. After all, he was holding her here at Aisling against her will.

He started to say something, but instead, his arms went around her and he covered her mouth with a kiss.

For a moment she responded, and then she broke the kiss and pushed him away. “I cannot be what you want me to be.”

“And how would ye know what I want?”

She looked away, as if by doing so she could come to grips with the confusion she felt. She cared for him, but she wanted more out of life than to be seduced by every nobleman she encountered. His intentions could be honorable, or she could simply be someone he kept around for his pleasure. But the biggest fear she had was if they became lovers it would sabotage her work on the hospital, and that was something she wanted to do above all things. She put her hand to her head, where confusion reigned. She did not know what she wanted. The hospital, yes, but what about David? She could not answer that question. She would simply have to wait and see where things went from here.

The thought no more than entered her mind when things really went off in a different direction.

“Is there someone else?” he asked.

She was shocked at his question and it caught her off guard. She stared off into space for a moment, and then she said, “There was someone, yes.”

“Someone from back in yer time, someone ye loved? Is that why ye are sad? Ye have left your sweetheart centuries in the future? 'Tis naught ye can do aboot that, lass. Ye said yersel' that ye canna go back.”

“He was not from my time. He is… was at Màrrach Castle… and before you ask, his name is Ronan Mackinnon… Alysandir Mackinnon's brother.”

His face darkened and she saw the muscles clench in his jaw. “I ken who Ronan Mackinnon is. 'Twas yer marriage that the King's regent stopped when he ordered Ronan to marry Bosworth's daughter, wasn't it?”

“Yes, shortly before the wedding.”

“And that is why ye left and ye went to Soutra Aisle.”

“Yes.”

He was quiet, pensive for a moment, for he did feel compassion for her, and he knew how that must have pained her. “And ye were robbed of yer wedding night and the man ye loved.”

“Yes, without an opportunity to do more than to say good-bye.”

Her words were like salt to a wound, for he had imagined this beautiful, spirited woman would be his and only his, and the thought that she had loved someone, known someone before him cut to the heart of him. He saw the way she was looking at him, waiting to see what he would say. He could not speak of it in anger, for it would make things impossible to heal if he let his anger and disappointment do the talking. He kept reminding himself that she was from a different time where people behaved differently and he could not punish her for that, no matter how he felt about it.

Yet, he could not help feeling angry at her, and at the same time, he was disappointed with himself. He knew he was better off saying nothing. So, without a word, he turned and walked away.

Life may change, but it may fly not;

Hope may vanish, but can die not;

Truth be veiled, but still it burneth;

Love repulsed,—but it returneth.

—
Hellas
(1821)

Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792–1822)

English poet

His feelings were like raw edges, and his hurt was deep and painful. He knew it wasn't fair to keep her here and he wished he could send her away, but he cared too much for her to let her go. And it went against his code of honor. He did not know why it bothered him that she had known a man before him or that she loved Mackinnon, but it did. In time, he would deal with it and it would be a thing of the past, like a wound that heals, but now it was new, raw, and festered.

He did not want to deal with it, and he knew her well enough to know she would want to talk about it in that calm, persistent, knowing manner of hers. But if they talked about it with him feeling as he did inside now, she would be repulsed and turn away. He needed time to come to peace with what she revealed and not take it out on her. So, he did the only thing left that he could do. He began to avoid her. And that made him moody, which caused him to spend too much time in his study thinking and mulling things over with a dram o'
uisge
beatha
, and then another and another.

Torn over the direction of things between them, he began to avoid dealing with other things as well, preferring instead to hunt with his cousins, and staying up late laughing and drinking in the great hall. Whenever Elisabeth or Ailis tried to talk to him, he threatened to have his knights haul them to their rooms and stand guard by the door.

Once Elisabeth cornered him and said, “Lord Kinloss! You listen to me. It is far better to talk about what bothers you than it is to keep it bottled up inside. Why are you behaving this way?”

He wanted to tell her, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to that point. He knew that because he tried it more than once and ended up drunk. Even now, watching her from where he stood kept him twisted in knots. She was so beautiful with her glorious hair gathered about her face like a dark thundercloud that he wanted to drag her into his arms and kiss the memory of Mackinnon away, but he warned her instead. “One more word and I will confine ye to yer room.”

“So confine me, but you are not behaving like the Earl of Kinloss, the chief of your clan. I know you are angry and hurt, but this isn't the way to…”

“Silence!” He slammed his hand down on the desk and called for the two guards at the door. “Escort her to the hospital and tell her to use her abounding determination to change things there.”

Ailis came to speak with him, but before she could utter one word, he threatened her. “It would behoove ye to hie yersel' to the hospital as well. I want no lectures from ye.”

She shook her head, her expression confused, and he hated himself for what he was doing, but he could not seem to stop. He began to sink deeper and deeper into the gloom that consumed him. He sent away those who criticized him or tried to change things, and that included most of the staff. And things slid downward after that.

And then, one afternoon, Ailis went to the hospital to find Elisabeth.

“I canna understand what is happening to my brother. I found him in the great hall with Duncan, and they were feeding crickets. The little black beasties were a-running all over the floor. Faith, I fear they will overtake the castle.”

Elisabeth then shared with Ailis how concerned she was over the lack of attention to the castle. “He has sent much of the help away and those who are left try to avoid him. Things are looking dismal. The castle needs a good cleaning, but who will do it? It would take more than the two of us.”

With no answers, they focused their energies on the hospital, where they spent the rest of the day trying to get their minds off what was happening inside the castle. Later that evening, when they returned, they avoided the great hall, as they had begun to do of late, and went straight to the kitchen to eat before going upstairs to disappear into their rooms. This became a pattern until one day Ailis came rushing into the hospital and asked Elisabeth to come quickly.

They both rushed back to the castle and into the great hall and came to a sudden stop. From what she could see, it seemed to Elisabeth that the beautiful great room had been turned into sort of a “Renaissance gymnasium” for sport—drinking, gaming, swordplay, and obviously on more than one occasion, shooting arrows into priceless wall tapestries, for arrows were hanging limply from several of them.

“Have they gone stark raving mad?” Elisabeth asked, turning toward Ailis.

“I fear that may be so. Have ye seen the peacock in the great hall?” Ailis asked.

“The peacock? No, you mean you've actually seen a live peacock in the great hall?”

“Aye, we've been invaded by one of the peacocks, and I fear the other eight we have may decide to join him.”

A few days passed before Elisabeth met the ill-tempered peacock with an overly aggressive attitude. He was coming up the stairs as she started to go down. Unfortunately for the peacock, this was about the time that Elisabeth, not a timid, retiring creature to begin with, was primed and ready to take on the earl, his cronies, and his overly aggressive peacock all at the same time. The peacock walked on by in his unruffled elegance as Elisabeth slipped to one side and went to the kitchen to fetch a broom. She was worried that the peacock might encounter one of the children that resided here, and being very aggressive birds, they could do serious damage with their metatarsal spurs to an adult. She shuddered to think about one attacking a child.

So she carried the broom back to where she had seen the creature, and she engaged the peacock in a duel on the second floor. A battle ensued, with her swinging the broom at the irate peacock and him counterattacking and emitting a shrill, ear-splitting screech as she whacked him with the broom and chased him back down the stairs.

And she didn't stop there; rather she kept after him, ruffled plumage and all, until she drove him to the long gallery that led to the main entry. And then, to everyone's astonishment, for by that time a crowd had gathered, Elisabeth, who used to be quite a slugger for her high school softball team, hit a home run with the peacock through the castle door held open by Ailis and witnessed by Lord Kinloss, his cousins, and several of the Murray clansmen.

Broom still in hand, she turned around and asked, “Who wants to be next?”

It was the first act toward restoring peace in the castle.

“Weel, that was quite a hit ye delivered,” one of the men named Ian said.

“Aye,” Cailean agreed. “It was quite a feat for such a wee lassie. Mayhap it will become immortalized as the tale of ‘Elisabeth and the Peacock,'” which was truly something, Cailean being very smart and studious and the quietest of the brothers.

“The best thing for that peacock would be to immortalize it with a wild rice stuffing,” Elisabeth said, still feeling the effects of a rush of adrenaline. And then the castle erupted with such laughter that even her thoughts were drowned out.

Later that night, when she was lying in bed thinking about that arrogant peacock, she started laughing and wished she and Isobella were lying next to each other, as they used to do, so they could enjoy their reminiscing together. She sighed, about to fall into a pool of soggy melancholy, when suddenly she recalled Shelley's words regarding his visit to the home of Lord Byron in Italy: “I have just met, on the grand staircase, five peacocks, two guinea hens, and an Egyptian crane. I wonder who all these animals were before they were changed into these shapes.”

That reminder made her worry a little about the other animals in residence at Aisling, being eight or ten deerhounds, five or six cats, an eagle, two red kites, and six falcons. Lord, what would they do if the entire menagerie was invited and decided to accept the invitation to take up residence inside the castle?

That was when she began to hope in earnest that the home run with the peacock would be the first step toward restoring the castle to its former normalcy, and over the next few days, there was so much talk regarding Elisabeth's episode with the peacock that she received smiles and a “thank you” from the help who were still in residence, the fortunate few who were not sent away by Lord Kinloss.

Ailis mentioned to Elisabeth that she had noticed a change in David, for he seemed in better spirits and even refused a glass of whisky with his cousins. He then told Ailis to enlist Elisabeth's help to “Bring back the fired help and get the castle back in shape.”

“Catastrophe avoided,” as Elisabeth said, and that night she slept for nine hours, straight through to the next morning.