Amanda Scott (41 page)

Pinkie said, “Will you, indeed, sir?”

“I will. I want to talk to you,” he said. His expression was stern.

Bridget said sourly, “You’ll get used to his imperious ways in time, Pinkie. He never asks anyone else what they want to do. He just assumes that they want what he wants, and if they don’t, he runs roughshod right over them.”

Frowning, Michael turned toward her, but before he could speak, Chuff said, “I warrant you have a good deal to say to Pinkie, sir, and she deserves to hear every word, so I’ll see to everything here and meet you at Dunraven.” To Pinkie, he said, “Find a shawl or a cloak, lass. You still must be chilled from your swim.”

B
Y THE TIME PINKIE
returned with the shawl she had borrowed from one of the servants, she found Michael alone in the hall except for Mrs. Conochie and another woman, who had begun to prepare Sir Renfrew for his coffin.

Warily, Pinkie smiled at her husband. “Have you murdered your sister, sir?”

“No, Chuff spared me the effort He offered to show her the highlights of Shian, including the bottle dungeon. When I suggested that she might like to experience it overnight, she bore him off, saying she would be delighted to see every stone in the castle if it would keep her from having to look at me.”

“He cannot have taken her to see the dungeon,” Pinkie protested. “The door to it is under that rug yonder by the entry from the stairwell. You cannot get into it any other way.”

“Then maybe he means to drop her into the well,” he suggested.

“That’s not funny, sir. Chuff’s people drink from that well.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk about Bridget. Shall we walk, my lady? We’ll take Cailean with us.”

“When must you return him to Glenmore?”

“I don’t intend to return him,” Michael said. “Menzies and I have failed so far to get the law of exclusive proprietorship changed, but as a result of our efforts, more English noblemen have expressed interest in owning deerhounds. Therefore, I mean to offer Glenmore two pups in place of Cailean, and give him his choice from my next two litters. He’s said before that he’d like to breed deerhounds if there were only a market, and I mean to help him do it, so we can build up the breed again.”

Pointedly, he offered his arm, and still wary of his uncertain temper, she placed her hand on it. It felt reassuringly warm. He said nothing more until they were beyond the walls of Shian, walking up the hill toward the woodland with Cailean following behind. The dog’s gait was not as exuberant as usual, but it seemed to be recovering swiftly from its injury.

“What
were
you thinking?”

“That I am glad Cailean will get better.”

“That’s not what I meant. In London, what fiend possessed you to go after her as you did?”

She sighed. “I thought only of Bridget, I’m afraid, and of you—how you would suffer if she succeeded in eloping with her admirer. I did not realize it was Sir Renfrew until I caught up with them. I had thought until then that I should have no one but Bridget and some callow youth to deal with. It was foolish, I know.”

“Well, I didn’t realize that he was her admirer either, so I won’t hold you accountable for that. You should have waited for me to return, however.”

“But I did not know how to find you, and I was afraid if I waited, it would be too late to catch them! I did leave word wherever I could, and Mary sent a courier posthaste with a message for Duncan and Chuff, so they could find us, too. I told you all that in the note I left you.”

He was silent for so long that she looked at him to see if she could read his temper from his expression. When she could not, she said bluntly, “Are you truly angry with me, Michael?”

“No, sweetheart. I was just thinking of what else you wrote in your note—about your parents and thinking I knew nothing about them till Bridget told me.”

Astonished, she said, “Did you know, then?”

“Aye. It was one reason I thought Balcardane and your brother might agree to an arranged marriage with our family.”

Trying again to read his expression, she said, “But if you thought that, why did you agree to…that is, why did you offer to marry me?”

He grinned appreciatively at her careful choice of words. “I thought they might be willing because I knew many people would disapprove of your parents, perhaps even fear to form the connection, but I think I knew the minute I clapped eyes on Balcardane Castle that most families would overlook any scruples they had about a man called Daft Geordie to ally themselves with Balcardane’s power.”

Her heart sank. “Is that what you did?”

“Nay, sweetheart, although after reading Bridget’s fool letter, I cannot blame you for asking. I lost my heart when you put your hand in mine and stepped out of that sedan chair in the hall at Faircourt House.”

“Truly?”

“Aye, though I did not know it then. I was too concerned about debts, and thinking too much about my troubles to recognize love when it clouted me on the head. I never cared a whit about who your parents were or what names they had. It might have been different if your father had been mad, because madness does seem to haunt families once it begins, but I knew he was nothing of the sort. In his own way he was clever. It was he, after all, who saved the family’s groats, was it not?”

“Aye, it was.” She smiled. “I’m glad you are not angry with me.”

“You frightened me witless, but I know you did what you thought best,” he said. “I own, I’ve spent the last few days in a rage, but my anger was aimed mostly at Bridget for drawing you into danger. I want to know everything that happened. Can we walk in the woods for a while before we cross to the other side?”

She agreed, and while he admired the woodland, she told him everything that had happened to her since leaving London. Midway through her discourse, he found a small clearing with a fallen log at one side of it large enough and, thanks to a thick canopy overhead, dry enough to sit upon. He drew her down beside him, and by the time she had finished her tale, she was leaning comfortably against him, warm and contented, enjoying the tranquillity of the woods.

“Michael, where are you?” Bridget’s voice, raised in a strident shout, shattered the woodland peace.

With a near growl, he turned his head and shouted back, “Here!”

A moment later, she emerged into the clearing with Chuff at her heels.

Chuff said, “Sorry to intrude, Michael, but she would come after you, and I did not think she should wander about out here alone.”

“She shouldn’t wander about at all,” Michael said grimly.

“If you are going to be mean, I won’t tell you what I came to say,” she said crossly, “and then you’ll be sorry.”

She looked sulky rather than angry, so Pinkie wasn’t surprised when Michael said more gently, “What is it then, lass?”

“Well, I have decided to forgive your debt, that’s what.”

“What?” He stared at her. “I cannot let you do that.”

“Yes, you can. Indeed, you must, for I won’t take it. It’s not right to take your money. It should be as much my duty as yours to repay Papa’s debts. Indeed, if you were to die without issue, all your lands would come to me, would they not?”

“Not now that I—”

“Oh, hush, and let me have my say. You think you know everything, but if you died, and I were your sole heir, I would inherit the debt, would I not?”

“Since you put it that way, aye, I suppose you would at that.”

“Then I should have to pay myself. It’s absurd, Michael, but if that is truly the case, then surely I can forgive the debt now. Indeed, you must allow me to forgive it, because I mean to tell everyone that you’ve paid it in full, so there!” And with that, she turned on her heel and walked back the way she had come.

“I’d better go after her before she gets lost,” Chuff said. “She nearly did before. When we didn’t see you cross to the other side, she insisted on coming out to find you, and she just charged into the woods. It’s a wonder she didn’t surprise a wildcat or a poacher. And in case you’re wondering how she came to…”

“I am,” Michael said firmly. “I cannot let her do it, you know.”

“Well, I think you should,” Chuff said. “The reason she’s doing it is that I told her Sir Renfrew was most likely smuggling tobacco. Duncan told me that if it seemed useful, I should warn Sir Renfrew that the tobacco board can exact a heavy fine for his activities. I saw no reason not to warn Bridget that they can exact such a fine from the estate if they learn what he did, and that the fine could be more than you owe. She said surely Duncan was powerful enough to stop such an action if he chose, and I said he could, but that from what he had seen of her selfish ways…”

“Say no more,” Michael said when Chuff paused, clearly pleased with himself. “Whatever I decide to do, I shall find it easier with her in such a mood. You have my thanks for that, and you may convey them to Balcardane, as well.”

Grinning, Chuff turned and loped after Bridget.

Pulling Pinkie close again, Michael kissed her. The kiss deepened, and his hands began to move over her body in a way that stirred all her senses.

After a somewhat lengthy but enjoyable interlude, she drew back and smiled at him. “Do you mean to claim your husbandly rights here and now, sir?”

“Don’t tempt me, lassie. If the ground were not damp…”

She chuckled, leaning against him again and closing her eyes, letting herself bask in the peace of the moment. A short time later, he drew her to her feet, and they walked companionably toward the crossing. When they emerged from the woods, she paused to enjoy the view.

Michael stood beside her, his arm comfortably around her shoulders.

Looking toward the castle, she said, “It’s a lovely view, is it not? I hope Chuff got Bridget safely back again.”

Feeling Michael stiffen, she looked up at him, saw that he was staring toward the woods, and turned to see what had drawn his attention.

The two figures strolling together a short distance away at the very edge of the woods were not Chuff and Bridget Neither paid heed to the thick-growing trees or dense shrubbery, and as always, both man and dog seemed unaware of watchers. Neither made a sound, though they passed so near to shrubs that would have snagged ordinary folk that they seemed to pass through them. The ground beneath their feet was damp from the rain and covered with a thick carpet of leaf mold, which might account for their silence, but still it was eerie and unnatural.

Cailean lifted his head, cocked his ears, and murmured low in his throat.

“That’s a Mingary plaid,” Michael said quietly.

“You really can see them.”

“Aye, lass, I can, and I think Cailean does, as well. The dog looks like pictures I’ve got at home of Aeolus, the sire of his line.”

“The man looks like you,” she said.

“Aye, perhaps,” he agreed. “I think your ghost and my dream are part and parcel of a whole tale.”

“Mary told me that he came in search of his true love but arrived just after she had died in childbirth, and that he died of a broken heart soon afterward.”

“There is a tale at Mingary that long ago a young heir disappeared whilst seeking his fortune. Rarely have Mingary’s heirs been lucky in love since that day.”

“Perhaps their luck has changed,” she said, smiling at him.

Holding her tight, he said, “It has, sweetheart. It has, indeed.”

The two shadowy figures on the hillside paused and turned toward them. The man lifted a hand in farewell.

Their arms still tight around each other, Michael and Pinkie waved back.

“Perhaps they, too, have found what they sought,” she said.

“Aye, perhaps they have,” Michael agreed.

They watched as the two figures turned again and vanished. Then, arm in arm, they crossed over the loch and walked on to Dunraven.

Dear Reader,

I hope you have enjoyed
Highland Spirits.
For those of you who ask where the author gets her ideas, I can tell you that the seed for this story was a Highland legend. A woman told her son and anyone else who would listen of a house about which she often dreamed. She was familiar with every corner of it, and years later, visiting Ballachulish House, she was astonished to find it the house of her dreams. So familiar was it that she was able to tell the owner about a staircase that had once been a feature of the place but had been bricked up and was out of sight. The visitor herself was even more amazed, however, when the owner told her that
she
was the spitting image of a little lady who had haunted Ballachulish House for years.

The next seed sprouted when I was watching the Westminster Dog Show on TV and a commentator said that at one time only earls could own Scottish deerhounds. I learned about the law of exclusive proprietorship and how it nearly put an end to the breed. Lord Menzies and others fought for years to get it changed but did not succeed until the early nineteenth century. Fortunately it was not too late, and the breed survived.

Tobacco smuggling posed a problem only until the American Revolution freed Americans to sell their tobacco anywhere in the world, and the profitable British tobacco trade collapsed. Much of the capital that had supported it went into building up the new cotton industry, which in its turn superseded linen and dominated the Scottish economy for the next hundred years.

The English discovered huge reserves of Highland timber after the ’15 Rising, when General Wade drove his roads into previously inaccessible areas. English laws against the smelting of iron with wood had to be obeyed, but the English and Scots alike disregarded the Scottish forest protection laws. At the time of maximum production, over a hundred bloomeries were operating in Scotland. The plantations of conifers we now see covering many hillsides are brave attempts by some great landholders to replace the timber, but the alien trees are no substitute for the old-growth oaks and Caledonian pines which were lost. There are still a few ancient forests remaining, however, one of the best of which is Lettermore Wood, near Ballachulish, where Colin Glenure was murdered in 1750.

If
Highland Spirits
entertained you and you want to know more about the Highlands, Chuff, Pinkie, Mary, and Black Duncan, you might enjoy
Highland Treasure, Highland Secrets,
and
Highland Fling.
Also, please watch for
Border Fury,
coming in October, 1999.