The Knight's Temptress (Lairds of the Loch) (34 page)

With a nod and a barely concealed grimace, Muriella sat back on her stool.

“Sakes, what a din!” Alex exclaimed as he, Rob, and Ian were going downstairs to Dunglass’s great hall for their midday meal.

Ian realized that his meeting had already begun.

“What we hear proves you were right,” Alex said to him as they neared the great hall entrance. “Everyone has a plan. And
no
one likes anyone else’s.”

Entering the hall and striding to the dais, Ian scanned the men already seated at the high table with his father. Lady Colquhoun was taking her meal in the solar and would be leaving Dunglass soon to stay with Ian’s sister Susanna.

At least a dozen lairds and knights were present. Most came from areas away from Loch Lomond. Of them all, he easily deduced that the two most powerful Border lords, the Earl of Douglas and Scott of Buccleuch—both much older than Ian himself and accustomed to command—would take the lead if he let them.

Douglas saw him first. “Just the lad we want,” he declared in stentorian tones. “Ye’ve a supple mind, Ian Colquhoun. We need that now, for we’ve come to the dismal conclusion that none o’ these damnable plans can succeed against Dumbarton. We might take the town and secure the harbor, but that castle remains invincible. Nowt we’ve heard yet suggests otherwise.”

“Does everyone here agree with your assessment, my lord?” Ian asked, scanning the gathering again as he stepped onto the dais.

“I say we should let your father handle this, lad,” another, rather bull-like laird declared brusquely. “Colquhoun’s reputation for persuasion is unsurpassed. He has met with James Mòr once and will soon contrive another meeting.”

“Sakes, d’ye want to sit by whilst such talks plod on?” the dark-haired, wiry Buccleuch demanded. “James Mòr kens fine that nae army can take that castle.”

Argument erupted on every side. Voices from the lower hall, although quieter, echoed those of the noblemen.

Ian said loudly, “I do have a plan that may work.”

Those nearest him fell silent, and the silence spread rapidly outward.

He waited until he knew that everyone would hear him.

Colquhoun was watching him intently, sternly.

Meeting his gaze, Ian said, “I would suggest that my lord father invite James Mòr and the whole garrison to join him for a day of deerstalking and a grand feast.”

Taking leave of the others who were still at Tùr Meiloach’s high table, Lina and Dree went silently upstairs and met Tibby on her way down.

“I’ve put fresh sheets on the bed, m’lady,” she said. “Your things, Lady Lina, be in your own old room now.”

“We used your bed,” Lina confided when Tibby had gone on downstairs.

“I’m glad you did,” Andrena replied. “With such a hasty wedding, you certainly had no time to prepare. And Ian is nearly as tall as Mag is.”

No sooner had they shut the door to Andrena and Mag’s chamber, though, than Andrena turned and said, “I know that you and Murie sensed something amiss with me, Lina, just as I knew that something horrid had happened to you.”

Lina grimaced. “I thought
your
worry was about me. But it wasn’t, was it?”

“Nay. I ken fine that Mam has not told you—”

“That you are with child?” Lina said, moving to the washstand. “Nay, she said naught about that. But I suspected it before you left. When did you tell Mag?”

Andrena smiled ruefully. “Not until we reached Ayrshire. I feared if I told him at once, he’d not let me go, and I wanted to meet Wilhelmina. I knew he’d be wroth with me for not telling him until then. But I also knew he’d understand.”

Pouring water into the basin, Lina glanced at her. “Then you got sick, aye?”

“Right after he left,” Andrena said, deftly undoing her laces. “Oh, Lina, I’ve never been so sick. Wilhelmina found a skilled herb woman, but I wanted
you
. Mag says now that the bairn must be a wee lassie just as contrary as
I
can be. I thought that I would lose my baby, though, and I was terrified.”

“I suspect that, after he learned how sick you had been,
he was even angrier about your failure to tell him,” Lina said, handing her a wet cloth to wash her face.

“He was furious,” Andrena said. “And even more so when he learned that I’d sensed your danger and tried to leave to look for you. In faith, I’ve seen him angrier with me only once.” She sighed. “I’m still sick now and now, but not like I was then. And I know you’ll have something to help me.”

“I can concoct something, aye. But I have a question for you. Have you sensed anything amiss with Mam?”

“Only when she feared that our father might lead an enemy to his charters. I’ll admit that I felt some alarm at that, myself, though.”

“I did, too, aye,” Lina said, relieved. “I expect that’s all it was.”

“Good,” Andrena said. “Now, tell me about Ian and how you came to marry him. By my troth, I doubt that you’ve ever surprised me as much as you did today.”

They chatted comfortably until Mag came upstairs a few minutes later.

Ian stood facing his father in Colquhoun’s inner chamber. The two were alone but would not be so for long, because Douglas and Buccleuch had demanded to be party to any discussion of Dumbarton. Ian knew that if his father stood against him, the others would, too. Any chance to take Dumbarton would end then in chaos.

Colquhoun sat behind the big table where he had stood after the rescue of Lina and Lizzie. That table was where he usually attended to the accounts for his estates. However, he sat now as he had often sat when calling his sons
to account. His face was stony, his demeanor anything but receptive.

“Prithee, sir, I can explain what I propose to do,” Ian said. Tempted as he was to continue and explain as fast as he could, he knew better than to do that.

Colquhoun would cut him off as coldly as he would have before Ian earned his knighthood, but the silence between them lengthened, straining Ian’s patience.

His mind suddenly produced an image of Lina—calm, unflappable, even serene, despite being held prisoner by a villainous rogue and an erstwhile prince of the realm who yearned to be King of Scots. Her image steadied him.

If his lass could retain her composure, even her precious dignity, under such circumstances, he could constrain himself while he stood before the man who had sired him and who loved him despite his many faults.

“Aye, then, I’ll hear ye out,” Colquhoun said at last. “But I think ye’re daft to be suggesting a day’s stalking to the men ye’ve got here as a way to take back Dumbarton, and so I tell ye. I’d be remiss in my duty as your father if I did not.”

“I know it sounds daft,” Ian said, taking care not to address him as “my lord” or even “sir.” “In troth, that is the very reason I think it might succeed.”

Colquhoun motioned toward the nearest stool. Then he stood and fetched a jug of wine and two mugs from a niche beside the fireplace.

Recognizing both gestures as indications of his father’s greater willingness to listen, Ian drew the stool closer to the table and sat down.

Leaving Andrena with Mag, Lina went down to the kitchen where she found a pot of warm water on the hob and put it over the fire.

Turning to one of the cook’s minions, a skinny lad about Pluff’s age, she said, “Prithee, take a mug from the shelf yonder and fill it with barley for me.”

When the lad had dashed off with a mug, she went to the pantry to find the wee covered pot of ginger powder and some close-woven linen mesh.

By the time she returned to the kitchen, the boy was there with the barley.

Mixing it with the ginger powder, Lina poured the mixture onto a square of linen mesh and tied it into a ball with string. Then, she dropped the ball into a crockery jug, scooped boiling water over it, covered the jug, and left it to infuse.

Afterward, she found Mag and her father near the hall fire, talking.

“Is Dree asleep?” she asked Mag.

“Went straight off,” he said. “I promised to wake her for supper.”

“She told me what was wrong, sir. You
have
told Father, aye?”

“I have, but she does not want it to become common knowledge,” Mag said. “She fears…” He hesitated.

“I ken fine what frightens her,” Lina said. “It must be horrid to feel such a fear. But in troth, although I usually feel such strong emotions
with
her, I cannot. I have tried, but something inside me resists. Instead, I feel as if all will be well.”

“Then I hope you have inherited your mother’s gift, lass,” Mag said.

Lina shook her head. “Nay, how could that be? Would I not know if I could see things before they happen?”

“Such gifts are rare,” Andrew said. “My lady cannot foresee things at will and has experienced such events only two or three times in her life before now.”

“My words were but wistful thinking,” Mag said. “I don’t want my lass to worry whilst I must be away.”

“I wish I could reassure you,” Lina said. “The truth is, though, that the gifts I do have are not nearly as strong as those that Murie and Andrena have. Sakes, I did not even sense Dree’s fears or her illness. I did have a sense that she was worried. But that was all. Sithee, I selfishly assumed that she was just worried about me.”

“She
was
worried about you,” Mag said. “So I’m glad I returned to Ayrshire. When I arrived, she was in a rare tirrivee with my good-brother, Erskine, because he had forbidden her to try to find you. I saw straightaway that she was gey sick.”

Andrew frowned. “She looked hale enough to me.”

“She is better,” Mag said. “But the bairn makes it hard to keep food down, and she must take care of herself. But now I know that Lina will look after her.”

“I will, aye,” Lina said. “I am brewing a tisane now to ease her sickness. I know some foods that will be easy for her to digest, too, and Mam can help. After all,
she
birthed six children.”

“So she did,” Mag agreed. “I’ll be leaving Dree in safe hands, then.”

“Ye are, aye,” Andrew said. “Ye might put a drop o’ whisky in that tisane o’ yours, though, lass. Cures any ailment, whisky does. Then, as long as we can fend off Pharlain and his gallous son if they try to steal ye back, we’ll all do fine.”

Lina smiled. “I don’t think they will do that now, sir.
What could they hope to gain by such an act other than to bring the Colquhouns down on them?”