Authors: Highland Princess
Handing Hector the vellum roll, he said, “You go with old Cameron and keep this safe. I’ll come last with his grace to prevent any foolish notions.”
Hector nodded and tucked the roll into his jerkin. MacDonald, in his usual placid manner, merely nodded when Lachlan said they would go last. As they were rowed into the choppy inlet, he wished again that he had not drunk so much, but he was pleased otherwise and looked forward to seeing his lass again.
As it happened, he saw her sooner than expected, because as their boat rounded Duart Point into the Sound, they all recognized the little black ship on the banners of the three longboats heading toward them. Their lone, dark-haired passenger stood in the bow of the lead boat in her crimson cloak, waving madly.
MacDonald grinned. “Evidently, at least one person was concerned enough about our absence to begin a search,” he said.
Lachlan chuckled. “I doubt she is the only searcher, your grace, for if she has not turned out your sons and every other man at Ardtornish and Duart to look for us, I’ll own myself astonished. She must be relieved to find us both safe.”
“Perhaps, lad, perhaps,” MacDonald said, gazing fondly at his daughter, now standing on the forward bench, gripping the boat’s gunwale near its high prow.
As her boat bumped against the royal galley, Lachlan jumped to a rower’s bench and held out a hand to her. Accepting it, she stepped up into the galley but flung herself at her father, standing now to greet her, and hugged him fiercely.
“Where have you been?” she demanded. “Ranald thought Duart, but when I did not find you there, I feared something terrible had happened to you.”
“Nothing so dire, my dear,” MacDonald said in his easy way. “’Tis merely that your admiring suitor here killed Niall, abducted the four of us, and carried us off to Dunconnel to resolve a small problem that Niall’s death will likely present.”
“Abducted you!” She stood beside MacDonald looking up at Lachlan, who still stood on the rower’s bench but was no longer smiling. “Is that true?”
“Aye, in a manner of speaking,” he admitted, balancing easily in the rocking boat. “In a manner of speaking ’tis also true about Mackinnon, too, but we bring good news too, lass. Your father has agreed to our marriage.”
“Has he, indeed?” She looked grimly to MacDonald for confirmation.
“Only if you agree to it,” he said.
“I see, and what then of Alasdair Stewart?”
Smiling again, Lachlan said, “Since the stupid fool has not furthered his claim or even presented himself, we need not consider him.”
“If you think that, you are wrong on both counts,” she said. “That ‘stupid fool’ is at Ardtornish now, and certainly means to further his claim. Moreover, if you think for one minute that I would accept the hand of a man who has shown such disrespect as to abduct his liege lord and kill his high steward, merely to further his own selfish aims to gain wealth and power—”
“Now, wait just a—”
“No, you wait,” she interjected. “Alasdair has at least been frank about his reason for wanting me. He said outright that my birthright as a daughter of the Lord of the Isles makes me worth it. I know well that your reasons are the same, for I’ve heard you admit as much. No,” she added, raising a hand as he opened his mouth to object. “Do not say a word, not yet.”
Turning to Hector, she said, “You, sir, have never given me cause to think you would lie to me, and I believe you know your brother’s mind as well as he knows it himself. Can you say to me, honestly, that I am wrong in my assessment?”
Hesitating, Hector looked at Lachlan, who grimaced, knowing exactly what Hector thought, and cursing himself for having never denied it. He knew, too, however, that to do so now would avail him nothing.
Evidently, Hector’s look said enough, because Mairi nodded and turned back to Lachlan, saying, “You are no better than Alasdair, sir. Indeed, you are worse.”
“Now, lass,” he said, bending toward her, unable to keep silent despite knowing any protest would be futile. He’d have done better to hold his tongue, though, for no sooner were the words out than she slapped both hands against his shoulders, snapped, “Don’t you ‘now, lass,’ me,” and shoved hard.
Had he simply sat, he might have saved himself. Instead, he tried to regain his balance by straightening, and the rocking boat betrayed him. He stumbled, caught a foot against the bench, a thigh against the gunwale, and plunged between galley and longboat into the icy water of the Sound.
As it closed over him, shouts of his brother’s laughter rang in his ears.
His first, barely sensible thought was that at least he had had the foresight to entrust his precious document to Hector’s safekeeping. His second, that his lass was going to pay dearly for her unfortunate burst of temper.
M
airi stared at the empty bench where Lachlan had been hunkered down just moments before. Knowing his strength, she had not expected him to budge when she struck him, let alone to topple overboard.
With mixed emotions, she watched the nearest oarsman leap up and lower his oar to the water. Part of her feared for Lachlan’s safety. Another part feared they would pull him back in before she could get away, and as the two emotions warred inside her, a third part retained a strong sense of outrage at what he had done.
The latter emotion was bracing, however, and without looking to see if he was safe, for she knew he would be, she glowered at Hector, still doubled up with laughter, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You may think it funny, sir,” she snapped. “Indeed, I hope you laugh yourself to death, but you may tell that odious brother of yours that I’d accept Alasdair before I’d marry
him.
”
MacDonald put a calming hand on her arm, and much as impulse stirred her to shake it off angrily and stomp away, being on a boat limited such behavior, and the thought of tossing her father’s gesture to the winds sent prickles up her spine.
She had never blatantly defied him and doubted that she would ever have the courage to do so.
Therefore, sternly repressing a strong desire to throw a childish tantrum, she said with immense dignity instead, “I pray that your grace will excuse me. Now that I know
you
are safe, I have duties at home to attend.”
“Running away, lass?” MacDonald murmured dulcetly.
“Aye, sir, perhaps, but not out of fear, if that is what you are thinking.”
He shook his head. “I know you do not fear him, certainly not aboard this boat. But do you not think you owe him an apology? Your behavior was unseemly.”
“His was outrageous, sir. If I must apologize, I will do so later unless you insist that I do it now.”
“Nay, child, I’ll not insist, but if you are going, you’d do well to go quickly. I know of no man who could rise from an icy bath like that one in a good humor, and I’d as lief not have to call anyone to order over this business.”
A quick glance revealing that men in her longboat were already helping Lachlan from the sea, she said, “Your grace, may I ask that your helmsman signal one of the other boats to collect me and take me home?”
With a wry smile, he nodded and signed to the helmsman, and moments later she was on her way back to Ardtornish. Arriving there, knowing Ranald and others still searched for MacDonald, she sent gillies to the parapets to light beacons that would be passed on to let them know his grace was safely home again. Then, not wanting to discuss marriage, men, or Niall’s death with anyone, preferring instead to ride the fidgets out of her head, she strode to the barn in search of Ian.
Finding him brushing the gray mare, she said without ceremony, “I want to ride, but you need not saddle her. Just put her bridle on and give me a leg up.”
“Aye, sure, mistress. I heard ye found his grace and them safe and sound.”
“We did.”
Ian shot her a speculative look as he set down the curry brush and lifted the mare’s bridle off a nearby hook.
Knowing she had sounded curt, she smiled wearily and said, “Forgive me. I’m talking as if I’d swallowed a thistle, and you have done naught to offend me.”
“Ye’ve been that worried about his grace,” Ian said sympathetically, “and doubtless about Lord Alasdair’s illness and Niall Mackinnon’s death, too.”
“How did you hear about Niall?” she demanded. “I heard the rumor at Duart very early this morning but learned it was true only an hour ago.”
He looked uncomfortable, “Och, well, it come t’ me the same way as the other bits did, come t’ that.”
“What other bits?”
Looking more uncomfortable than ever, Ian said, “About Niall Mackinnon plotting t’ kill Lachlan Lubanach and Hector Reaganach.”
“What!”
Raising both hands defensively, Ian said, “I swear, mistress, I’d ha’ told ye, but Lachlan Lubanach said I mustna say a word to anyone, especially yourself.”
“Aye, well, of course he would not want you to trust such news to me,” she said, not bothering to hide her fury at Lachlan’s decision, once again, to handle things alone. “But pray explain to me, if you will, why he did not tell his grace.”
“Faith, mistress, I’d guess ’twere ‘cause the man didna believe it himself.”
“So that is why you told me they might not ride with the hunt.”
“Aye, for he did say they would take care, and since I had warned him that they’d threatened t’ murder him, I thought—”
“I understand now what you thought,” she said. But he had also reminded her that he had known of the threat, and Niall. “Who told you about Niall, Ian?”
He chewed his lower lip for a long moment, but when she merely waited, arms folded under her bosom, he said finally, “It were Ewan.”
“Ewan Beton?”
“Aye. Said he heard them plotting but that they didna seem t’ care that he heard. Said Shim had been kind t’ him ever since he’d found Elma MacCoun’s body after Shim told him he’d find salmon leaping at Loch Gruinart. Said it were Shim’s regret at sending him there that made him friendlier than usual now, but Ewan couldna hear about murder without telling someone, so he told me.”
A chill shot up Mairi’s spine, and she uncrossed her arms, looked around the empty barn, and then leaned close to Ian to say in fierce undertone, “You are to say nothing to anyone else about such things, do you hear me?”
“Aye, mistress. I’d ha’ said nowt t’ ye did ye no command me.”
“I know, Ian, and I know too that if Lord Ranald or Lord Godfrey should command you, or his grace, you will answer them, too. But heed me well, because ’twas Lachlan Lubanach who killed Mackinnon, and the Mackinnons must know all about it if Ewan told you. Doubtless, the Green Abbot will declare a blood feud against the sons of Gillean soon if he has not already done so. And if they should suspect that you had any hand in the matter, that you warned Lachlan . . .”
She paused and, seeing his face whiten, knew she need say no more.
“I’ll take care, my lady,” he said solemnly. “Will I put ye up now?”
She nodded, let him give her a leg up, and said, “I’m riding to the hilltop near the archery field to blow my fidgets away, so if anyone comes looking for me, tell them that, Ian.” She had a second thought. “I’m thinking now that if you see Hector Reaganach, you should perhaps tell him about Ewan and Shim.”
He nodded, and she rode out of the yard, past the castle, and up the hill. At the practice field, she paused, surveying the damage from the night’s storm. Despite the shelter that the forest bounding three sides of the field provided, the wind had toppled butts and scattered hay everywhere, but it was nothing their men could not easily set to rights. That they had not done so yet merely indicated that everyone’s thoughts were on the preparations for the next day’s Paschal feast.
From the hilltop, she saw the royal galley approaching at last, followed by the other Duart boat and the longboat she had set out in early that morning. She could see Lachlan, too, hunched and doubtless shivering after his icy bath. Her father’s words echoed in her mind, but she did not need the reminder to know that Lachlan would seek vengeance. The thought made her smile.
Tempted as she was to linger until she saw him looking for her—and she was sure he would—she knew Lady Margaret would expect her to heed their guests now that she had returned from her successful search. She would gallop to the end of the field and back, just far enough to exercise the mare and clear her own head.
Hector had given Lachlan his cloak, and having disdained the offer to set him down at Duart long enough to change, he sat wrapped in its voluminous folds, freezing and plotting revenge. She was furious with him, and believing what she did, she had good reason, false though that belief was. Doubtless MacDonald felt satisfaction in having explained things as he had, for he understood his daughter’s nature, and had clearly known exactly how she would view his abduction.
Lachlan admitted—albeit only to himself—that he had behaved badly, but necessity had ruled at the time, and the result had been more than expected. MacDonald understood him if anyone did, because he would act in exactly the same way to gain a similar advantage for Clan Donald.
Lachlan had no regrets about what he had won. Nor did he doubt that in the end he would win all. She was angry, but he was certain that she loved him. She would not, in any case, marry Alasdair Stewart.
When the state galley eased up to the wharf, he realized that he could not have the scene he envisioned with her in wet clothing, and sought out Godfrey’s body servant to beg dry clothes, Godfrey being the only man at Ardtornish of a size with him. His brother followed, and watched warily as Lachlan accepted leather breeks, a shirt, a quilted jerkin, and a dark cloak from the man.
Lachlan let Hector wait in silence, a small punishment for laughing.
Dismissing the servant abruptly, Hector said, “Art vexed with me, lad?”
“Only for laughing at me, but you’d do that any chance you get, so it does me no good to bark about it.”
Hector grinned. “I ought to have told the lass you want her for herself.”
“You could scarcely do that when you don’t believe it.”
“Still, it would have been the loyal thing to do, and would have saved you from a soaking.” A half smile touched his lips at the memory.