Kilgannon (33 page)

"Oh," said Jamie, and I laughed at them as I paid my forfeit over and over. At last I led the four of them back into the house, swinging a boy's hand in each of mine. Home, I thought. I'm home.

When Alex returned he was filthy and hungry, but they had sold the cattle for a good price and were pleased. That night, when all were clean and fed again, I followed Alex upstairs and watched as he knelt before the fire and stirred the ashes to life. That's just what he does to Kilgannon when he returns, thought. I And to me. "You're very quiet, my love," I said.

He smiled. "I hate cows, Mary Rose," he said. "I dinna want to be there." He unpinned the brooch and pulled off the top of his plaid, handing me the brooch. "Did I tell ye about this, lass?"

"No," I said, looking at the hammered gold brooch, the marks of the tool readily apparent. It did not look very valuable.

"It was my grandfather's. He gave it to me when I was ten. On my tenth birthday, when I had been punished."

"Why?" I smiled at the thought of a ten-year-old Alex being disciplined. "Were you naughty?"

His gaze grew distant. "I had been rude to my father. Or so I was told. I thought I was just telling the truth." He shrugged.

"What happened?"

"It was afternoon and we were preparing for everyone to arrive for the Games. We'd all been clearing the meadow, and I teased my brother Jamie about not doing his share of the work. My father heard me and he hit me. He used to do that a lot, ye ken, when he was in the drink. Which he usually was." He sighed and unbuckled his belt. "I tried not to cry, and when my father asked what I was doing now, I told him I was thinking that whisky made him mean. Ye should have seen his face. Jamie came to stand next to me, and I never forgot that. Jamie was always afraid of our father in a drunken mood—well, he was afraid of him all the time, drunken or no'—but as fearful as he was, Jamie came to stand with me."

"That was very brave of him. How old was he?"

Alex nodded. "Eight, almost. Aye. He was braver than I was. I was not brave; I was stupid. I dinna consider my actions in those days." He smiled a sad smile. "Do ye ken, I still miss Jamie? After all these years, I still miss him." Alex removed his kilt, continuing in a flat tone. "My father beat me until I couldna stand and then he left me there on the ground, crying. I lay there, looking at the dirt beneath me, and then my grandfather was there and he lifted me up. He wasna a young man anymore, but he lifted me up and he carried me to my room. And he took this brooch off his own plaid and gave it to me." Alex cupped his hand around mine and looked at the brooch I held there. "He said that this brooch had been Gannon's, the first Gannon, and that it had been handed down from laird to laird for all that time and that his father gave it to him on his eighteenth birthday and that he was giving it to me." Alex glanced at me, but he was seeing a young boy and his grandfather. "I asked him why he hadna given it to my father, but he said it was his to give and he was giving it to the next laird of Kilgannon. And that I was to remember my duties to the clan every time I looked at it. I do." He smiled. "And someday, when I'm no longer able to lead, I'll give it to Ian." He studied the brooch and I looked at his downcast face, his lashes dark against his skin. I kissed his cheek and he smiled, glancing up.

"So that's why you went on the cattle drive," I said.

"Aye. Not because I like to ride behind cows, lass. I'd always pick a boat before a horse." He wrapped his arms around me.

"Oh, Alex," I said into his chest. "I missed you terribly."

"And I ye, lass," he said. "I may never travel again." He leaned down to his sporran on the chest and withdrew a tiny packet, handing it to me with a smile. "It's vastly overdue, Mary, but I found what I wanted to give ye at last."

"What—" He interrupted me with a wave of his hand.

"Open it, lass. It's
no ‘a
white nightgown to scandalize ye."

I opened the package slowly. Inside the deepest fold was a golden ring, fashioned in an intricate and open pattern. At the front was a small circle banded by roped gold. Within the circle was a tiny rose in profile, the stem leading to the right. Alex watched me open it, his eyes dark.

"It's a rose, ye see," he said as he pointed it out to me. "And the stem is to be leading to yer heart."

"It's beautiful, Alex," I said in wonder, turning it in my hand. "I've never seen such a pattern." "It's a Celtic love-knot pattern," he said, pleased. "If ye look closely ye can see that the weave of it is constant, one piece woven onto itself. It represents a love that never breaks."

"Oh, Alex," I said, my voice faltering as I fought the tears. "It is so... " I wrapped my arms around him.

His voice was tender. "Do ye like it,
Mary
Rose?"

"Do I like it? Alex, it's so beautiful! Thank you, my love."

"I love ye, Mary Rose, and now ye can see it every time ye look at the ring."

"Alex, thank you. But, my love, I have nothing to give you."

His mouth twisted as he gave in to the grin and leaned back. "I'll think of something," he said, reaching for me.

Winter began early with a fierce storm, but we were ready for it, and though restless within walls, we were safe and well fed. The men trained daily in the armory. I hated to think they would ever need their training, but I understood now why they did. At night we'd gather in the hall, where Murreal would sing or Thomas would tell another of his fantastic stories to an enraptured audience. His favorite was about the fairies stealing a horse and changing it into a water horse who lived in a loch in the Western Highlands. So much for Alex's explanations, I thought, and the swimming. From the look on Jamie's face he'd probably not even drink water again, let alone swim in it. Even Matthew and Gilbey sat listening, and I hid my smile. Gilbey Macintyre was, I suspected, a bit younger than I had at first believed.

The boys settled into daily lessons with Gilbey, and Gilbey into daily lessons with Angus. As the months went on he added weight and muscle, filling put that lanky frame, and soon could not be recognized as the same young man who had arrived in August. When I asked him about his family he gave me a sad smile. "My family are dead, Lady Mary," he'd said, lifting his chin. "And I've made my own way. I'm not afraid to work hard. I am glad to be here and I'll stay as long as you'll have me. I am very happy to be with the MacGannons."

"We're very glad you're here too, Gilbey," ! said, and we smiled at each other.

I thought of that conversation just a few weeks later as I sat in the crowded hall while the MacGannon men lined up to pledge their loyalty to Alex and the clan. Gilbey was on one side of me, Ellen on the other, we three outsiders watching the pageant. Gilbey was entranced. The oath-taking was held every year just before All
Hallows’ Eve
, when clansmen filled the hall and every room of the castle, arriving with their families for the ceremony. I had been told that the oath-taking in other clans could be dangerous, for the men pledged by drinking with the laird and the drinking continued for most of the night. But at Kilgannon it was a festive evening, the men pledging in the hall before the whole clan, their individual families cheering as each man promised his loyalty. It was not dangerous, but it was loud and raucous, and my head ached with the noise. How Alex could drink so much and still be vertical I did not know. He stood firmly on the dais at the end of the hall, dressed in his finest, his hair shining as it fell to his shoulders. He was armed—for show, he had told me—and looked very fierce and regal. Every inch a, leader, I thought with pride as I watched him. This is my husband, I said to myself. Let the world know, this one is mine. Angus and Matthew were on one side of him, Ian and Jamie on the other, and he turned often to them, making them laugh. As the line lengthened and at last dwindled, he spoke warmly to each man who approached him, drawing smiles and comments from them. The room echoed with laughter, and then the pledging was finished and the dancing began. Benches were cleared and the musicians struck a lively tune as the center of the room filled with eager dancers. Alex walked through the crowd and reached for my hand. As I stretched my hand out to take his, wee Donald reached for Ellen's.

Alex slapped Donald on the shoulder. "Behave yerself, man," he laughed. "That's a fine lass."

"Aye," Donald said. "That she is." And taking Ellen's hand, he led her onto the floor as we watched.

"You're enjoying yourself tonight, my love," I said, looking up into Alex's face. He squeezed me to him and nodded.

"Aye, lass, for the whole of it, it was verra good." He looked across the hall and then back to me. "But: did ye notice who's not here?" His mouth was smiling, but now I saw the sadness in his eyes. Malcolm, I thought with a pang. I had not even thought of Malcolm. And Alex had written to him to remind him to attend tonight. I had put it out of my mind, preferring to ignore that Malcolm would soon be among us again. But he had not come, nor had he sent word that he would not be here. And the whole clan had seen that he had not attended.

"Oh," I said, watching his face. "What now?" "Well, now, Mary Rose, now I dance and let my anger fade," Alex said, raising his eyebrows and looking at me. "And then tomorrow, when I have not had too much whisky, I'll think on it. And I'll come up with the perfect remedy. As I always do."

I laughed, and he grinned at me. But he had no time to think of a remedy, for the letter from his cousin in France arrived three days later.

I never got to read the letter from his cousin in Paris. Angus did, of course, for the letter was to him. I was in the laundry with Berta, trying to
find
even more hanging space for the washing that took so very long to dry, when the letter arrived. We were considering whether lines could be strung above the armory and what the men would say about that when I heard Angus bellowing for Alex. Angus never shouted, he never lost his temper, he never even showed much emotion, so for Angus to be raving through the castle yelling at the top of his lungs was enough for everyone within hearing distance to stop and stare. Berta and I stood like ninnies with the other women and watched Angus race through the corridors.

"Where's Alex?" he shouted. "Where is he?"

"I don't know, Angus," I said, and watched as he stormed past, going up the stairs three at a time. Matthew stood at the foot of the stairs with his mouth open. "What is going on?" I asked him.

Matthew stared at me blankly for a moment. "I dinna ken,
Mary
," he said at last. "My da opened a letter from his cousin

Ewan—the one who's in Paris, ye ken—and he started shouting."

"Does he usually do this when Ewan writes?" He shook his head. "No."

Jamie skidded to a stop next to us, his expression anxious. "Da is with Thomas in the orchard. Shall I get him?"

"Yes, love," I said brushing his untidy hair back from his face. 'Tell him Angus is very upset." We could hear Angus roaring Alex's name through the upstairs hall and I decided I should tell him where Alex was, but as I put my foot on the first step, Angus barreled down past me. "He's in the orchard," I said to his back. Angus made an indistinguishable noise and disappeared into the corridor. I followed. Whatever had enraged Angus had to do with France. And that's where the Stewarts were.

I found them together, framed in the garden gate, the opening arched over their heads with the last drooping leaves. Alex was reading the letter while next to him Angus boiled, talking in a low voice and hitting one clenched hand against the palm of the other. He waved a finger in Alex's pale face, and I stood where I was. Whatever the news was, it was not good and I. didn't want to know it. I watched as Alex read and then reread the letter, turning it in his hand to look at the address and then handing it to Angus, and I watched his anger grow. Dear God, I wondered, what is it? Alex raked his hands through his hair, but he paid no attention to it as it fell about his face. He listened and
nodded, then
looked over at me, his expression changing as he saw me. He said something to

Angus and walked toward me with slow steps, his face bleak. The rain, which had been threatening all day, started falling in a light drizzle, but Alex did not seem to notice. I did not speak as he took my hand, leading me through the corridors, past the curious men in the hall. He gave his sons only a cursory glance as they pounced on him. The dogs had better sense, keeping their distance, for once motionless as we crossed the hall.

Ian stopped in front of his father. "Da, what is it?"

Alex's tone was grim. "Ian, go back to yer lessons." He did not look back to see the boys staring after their father.

He led me through the courtyard and the outer gate. The rain was falling harder now, but I did not complain as he walked to the loch and stared over the water at the three brigs moored offshore. I do not think he saw them. The Mary Rose had arrived today from London, bringing letters from Louisa and Will and, apparently, from his cousin. The ships rocked in the surge as the tide moved in and we stood there, getting wetter by the minute. He dropped my hand and crossed his arms across his chest and I watched him, wondering if I should speak. At last I did.

"It's getting very damp, my love," I said. He turned to me as if from a great distance, his eyes hard and his jaw tight, but he nodded, wrapping an arm around me. I turned back to the castle.