The Knight's Temptress (Lairds of the Loch) (2 page)

“If they’re here, ye’ve done well, lad. If they are not—”

The Highlander broke off when a door in the tower
opened. As he watched, a young woman wearing a plain gray kirtle and white veil stepped outside. Another, younger lass with flaxen hair in two long plaits and wearing a pink kirtle followed, then another even younger one in yellow. The third lass boasted a thick, unruly mass of long, light-red curls, kept back from her face by a white ribbon that ran under the mass and up behind each ear to tie in a bow atop her head.

A slender woman came next. Recognizing Lady Aubrey, the Highlander relaxed. One more lass followed, also garbed in gray with a plain white veil. She had a basket over one arm and shifted it slightly as she shut the door behind her.

“Where are they going?” he wondered aloud.

“I… I dinna ken, master. Belike they’ll walk up the glen.”

“We’ll follow them and see,” the big man said, already moving through the woods to avoid losing sight of the women.

He soon saw that the winding path they took up the glen followed the course of Fruin Water as it tumbled down to join Loch Lomond, a mile and a half behind him. Confident that the swift burn would prevent the women from leaving the path, he realized his error a short time later when the red-headed chit suddenly kilted up her skirts and splashed across the burn to the other side.

When his man turned quickly to head downhill, the Highlander stopped him. “Go softly, and do not show yourself. They must not see either of us.”

“They will if we cross yon burn, though. D’ye mean we should turn back?”

“Nay, nay. I want to see where they go. But we’ll wait
until they get into the woods above that meadow they’re crossing. Then we’ll follow them.”

Sakes, he thought when he and his companion reached the woods and could hear the women’s voices ahead, it was almost too easy. If they had been his mother or sisters, they would take armed men along whenever they left home.

The women stopped at last in a small clearing, still talking quietly. The gray-clad maidservant with the basket put it down and opened it. The other one took a cloth from it and shook it out to spread on the ground.

A bird tweeted nearby. Another answered it, and a squirrel chattered.

It was a beautiful and peaceful place, where aught could happen and nae one would be any the wiser.

“Ye’ve done well, lad,” Dougal MacPharlain murmured.

Chapter 1
 

Glen Fruin, near Loch Lomond, August 1

L
izzie, no! Come back!”

Dismayed to see her young companion spur the bay gelding she rode to a gallop and disappear around a turn shortly before the steep, downhill Glen Fruin path met the one along Loch Lomond’s southwestern shore, eighteen-year-old Lachina MacFarlan gritted her teeth, warned herself to keep calm, and urged her dun-colored horse to a faster pace.

A voice above and behind her on the glen path shouted, “Lady Lina, wait!”

Glancing back at the gillie who followed her, Lina did not reply or slow her mount. Nor did she spare more than a fleeting thought for the reaction her good-brother, Sir Magnus Galbraith-MacFarlan, would have when he heard—as he would—that his little sister had broken her word… again.

Although Sir Magnus was the largest man Lina knew—or had ever seen, for that matter—she did not fear his wrath. For one thing, he and his wife—her elder sister, Andrena—were visiting Magnus’s eldest sister and her husband in Ayrshire. For another, she knew that Magnus
would easily deduce that the blame for this mischief lay entirely with the irrepressible Lizzie.

Reaching the shore path, Lina scarcely noted the sparkling blue loch spread before her. Deftly turning the dun gelding southward, she felt relief mixed with exasperation when she saw Lizzie again.

The slim, fourteen-year-old scapegrace rode as if she were part of the horse.

Lina was a competent horsewoman, but Lizzie was spectacular, especially riding astride in her mossy-green cloak with the mass of her long, curly red hair billowing behind her in a cloud of light red and sunny highlights—confined only by a narrow white ribbon at her nape.

Lina’s honey-gold hair lay smoothly coiled against the back of her head under a white veil held in place with an inch-wide band that she had embroidered with pink roses. Her hooded cloak was of soft gray wool that her sister Muriella had spun from their own lambs’ wool. Lina had woven the spun yarn into fabric herself.

It was a fine summer morning. Clouds drifted above and the air was cool, thanks to a breeze blowing off of Ben Lomond. The mountain loomed northeast of them, still wearing its snowcap. The breeze rippled the water of the loch.

Earlier, in the glen, had Lizzie not been ahead of her and eager to reach the loch, Lina might have paused to remove her cloak. Now, in the chilly breeze, she was glad she had not.

Lizzie had agreed that they would ride from Bannachra Tower, an ancient Galbraith holding half a mile behind them, only as far as the loch. That she had turned south told Lina that she had intended to do so all along.

The ever-present, self-critical voice in Lina’s head suggested that she ought to have known Lizzie was up to mischief. She had seen enough in past days to know the lengths to which the younger girl would go to get her way. She knew, too, that Lizzie must have heard her shout, but Lizzie neither paused nor looked back.

Hoping no one else would hear her, Lina shouted, “Lizzie, stop
now
!”

Lizzie pounded on, making Lina wish Mag were with them. He would…

But it was useless to speculate about what anyone who was miles away might do. Moreover, had Mag or the Laird of Galbraith been with them, Lizzie would never have dared to break her agreement.

Lina pressed her lips together. No use to repine about that, either. Repining would not stop Lizzie. Had she been Lina’s younger sister, Muriella, Lina would have reined in and waited for her to come to her senses.

But the only traits Lizzie and Murie shared were occasional lapses of judgment and an oft-spoken desire, common to many people of their age, to enjoy more freedom than they had and to make their own decisions.

Murie could also take the bit between her teeth, but she would not dash into unknown territory as Lizzie was doing—territory unknown to Lina, at all events. Lizzie was a mystery to her in other ways, too. Although Mag and Andrena had been married for nearly six months, Lachina had known Lizzie for only six days.

“Lady Lina, dinna ride any farther! Ye mun turn back!”

Realizing that while she had been lost in thought, the gillie had caught up with her, she looked over her shoulder and said, “I think Lady Elizabeth wants to see if Duchess
Isabella has returned to Inchmurrin, Peter. Galbraith told us that the King had given her permission to come home.”

“We’d ha’ heard summat more if the duchess was there, m’lady.”

“Aye, perhaps. But we cannot turn back and just abandon her ladyship.”

“But the pair o’ ye mustna ride south!” Peter exclaimed. “There be danger there. The rebels! The laird gave strict orders, too. Ye ken fine that he did.”

She did know about the Laird of Galbraith’s orders. She had heard him issue them, and so had Lizzie. But he had issued many orders before his departure the previous day in response to a summons from the Colquhouns of Dunglass.

That stronghold, Lina knew, lay ten miles south of Loch Lomond on the river Clyde, not far from Dumbarton, the royal castle that the rebels had seized.

She knew the Colquhouns, because their lands along the Loch of the Long Boats abutted the southern boundary of Tùr Meiloach, her father’s estate.

Suppressing a sigh, she said, “We must catch up with her, Peter.” Leaning forward, she urged her horse to a faster pace. Thickets of shrubbery and scattered copses of trees dotted the loch shore and the hillside above it. The track they followed disappeared into dense woodland ahead.

Surely, Lizzie would not…

“That hibbertie-skippertie lass be a-heading right into them woods, m’lady!”

“I see her, Peter,” Lina shouted back. “Just ride! And mind your tongue when you speak of the lady Elizabeth!”

“ ’Tis what Sir Mag calls her,” Peter said. “I ken fine that I should not. But—”

Evidently realizing he had said more than was wise, he fell silent.

Lina saw then that Lizzie was slowing her horse. Perhaps she had come to her senses. Even as the thought presented itself, Lina felt a strong sense of unease.

The woods ahead seemed ominously to darken.

“Was that not a grand gallop, Lina?” Lizzie called out as Lina and Peter drew near and slowed their mounts.

“What you want, my sweet, is a taste of your brother Mag’s temper,” Lina said, reining in but keeping her eyes on the woods. Her unease was increasing. “Whatever were you thinking to ride off ahead of us like that?”

Lizzie shot a glance at Peter. Then she looked back at Lina with one eyebrow raised before saying, “Even Mag would not scold me in front of a gillie.”

“You chose the setting,” Lina said. “You might have considered the fact that, since I’m four years older than you, your lord father will likely blame me for this.”

“He will not. Nor will Mag. If they were here, they would scold, to be sure. But they are not here. And, by the time they come home, anyone else who may learn of it will have forgotten. So, you need not fratch with me, Lina. I want only to see if the Duchess of Albany is in residence yet.”

“We can see Inchmurrin’s towers from here, Liz. No banner flies there, let alone a ducal one. Forbye, we are defying your father’s orders. Do you think he will
not
hear about that?”

Lizzie shrugged. “Peter is
your
gillie. He won’t carry tales about me to my father. Will you, Peter?” she added, flashing her lovely smile at him.

“It won’t matter who tells him,” Lina said.

“No one will. And we are nearing Balloch now. Since
the duchess inherited all of her late father’s properties and Balloch Castle is one of them…”

“The King is unlikely to let her keep all of Lennox’s properties,” Lina said, trying to ignore her growing sense of urgency and at least
sound
patient. “Recall that Balloch was a royal estate before the first Duke of Albany gave it to Lennox when Isabella married Albany’s son, Murdoch. We must turn back, Lizzie,” she added.

“But I’ve never seen a duchess,” Lizzie protested. “Nor have I—”

“Listen, m’lady!” Peter interjected.

Lina heard then what he had heard and wished that she had her sister Andrena’s keen ability to sense when others were near her.

“Horsemen,” she said, looking at Peter.

He nodded. “Armed ones,” he added. “Ye can hear weapons clanking.”

“Mayhap they are royal men-at-arms, escorting the duchess,” Lizzie said.

“Or rebel forces in such number that they fear no one,” Lina replied. She felt in her bones that soldiers were more likely than the duchess.

“It could as easily be my father, returning from Dunglass,” Lizzie said.

“I hope it is,” Lina declared. “You’ll be well served if he finds us here, aye?”

Lizzie grimaced.

Peter said, “We mun turn back. If we set our horses tae a gallop—”

“They will give chase,” Lina said flatly. “We cannot outrun them, Peter. Our horses are not fresh. Theirs may be.”

“We are noblewomen,” Lizzie said, tossing her head. “They won’t harm us.”

Lina nearly contradicted her. But she decided that she would be wiser to let Lizzie believe what she wanted to believe.

Meeting Peter’s worried gaze, Lina said, “Ride into that copse yonder above us, Peter. They won’t hear just one horseman on that grassy slope. But they would hear three. Nay, do not waste time arguing,” she added when he opened his mouth. “They’ve not yet seen us, and that copse is dense enough to conceal you and your horse. Also, whoever they are, they
are
unlikely to interfere with us.”

“But, m’lady—”

“Go,” Lina said. “If they are enemies, you may be our only hope of rescue.”

Without another word, Peter wrenched his horse’s head toward the hillside and spurred hard. He disappeared into the trees just as Lina caught sight of the first mounted riders through the woodland foliage ahead.

“Don’t you dare look toward that copse again, Lizzie Galbraith,” she said fiercely, trying to think. “They fly a Stewart banner. But it is
not
a royal one.”

“Oh, Lina, what have I done?” Biting her lip, Lizzie watched the path ahead.

Minutes later, rebel men-at-arms surrounded them.