Stuart, Elizabeth (53 page)

Bess
darted a quick glance down the shadowy hallway, wondering if she dared make a
break from the man. If Charles had not returned, this man would surely kill
her!

As
if reading her thoughts, the tall soldier grabbed her arm. "Don't even
think it, girl! I've not the patience fer a tussle tonight," he snarled.
"Now come along. My lord's awaitin' upstairs."

Bess
followed the man up the steep, spiraling dungeon stairs, her heart hammering so
loudly in her ears she could scarcely think. What could she say; what story
could she give Glenkennon that he would not immediately know for a lie?

They
traveled a maze of dark, intersecting hallways, climbing several more sets of
stairs until the soldier stopped short, so unexpectedly she stumbled into his
broad back. Taking a key from his belt, he unlocked a wooden door and thrust it
open. The cool rush of the night wind touched her face with the fresh scent of
dewy grass and damp heather. Above her head a thousand stars glimmered across
the dark heavens, winking in and out of the racing clouds.

"Come,
lass," the man said low. "We've a scant half hour before a guard'll
be posted on this side of the wall. I've rope here to see us over the
battlements and two good mounts waiting just beyond the loch. Have you the
stomach for it?"

Bess
stared at him in amazement. "But aren't you Glenkennon's man?"

He
shook his head. "Only for such time as was necessary."

"Then
y... you're not going to k... kill me?" she stammered, still trying to
gather her scattered wits.

His
teeth flashed white against the dark of his bushy beard. "I'm no' the man
to mistreat so comely a lass," he whispered. "Besides, I've my
orders. Your mistress has need of you at Camereigh, lass. Now let's away before
these bastards discover the trick."

The
following day dawned with a bustle of activity no one could have predicted.
Anne hurried down the corridor, intent on finding Kate. The MacDonnells had
finally arrived, but one of the maids had foolishly given the room set aside
for Anne's uncle to Euan Grant and there was no space left in the comfortable
east wing save the rooms prepared for the Camerons. Rearranging guests would be
a great deal of trouble, but Anne was determined her uncle would not sleep in
the far north barracks.

Rounding
the corner before the stairway, she paused in surprise at sight of a boy some
eight or ten years of age halfway to the first landing. Seeing her, another
lad, several years senior to the first, halted on the bottom step. "Your
pardon, mistress, I don't believe we've met. I'm sure I'd have remembered,"
he remarked, staring up at her with a disturbingly familiar smile.

Before
Anne could speak, there was a commotion in the hallway, and Francis walked in
with a tall, auburn-haired man. Taking in the situation at a glance, Francis
strode to the foot of the stairs, an unholy gleam of mischief shining in his
eyes. "Come down, lass, and meet the gentlemen I exchanged you for last
spring. My nephews, Will, here and Evan." He nodded up the stairs.
"And this is Jamie Cameron. Gentlemen, may I present Anne MacKinnon
MacLean, late of Ranleigh... now my wife."

There
was a moment of stunned silence. Will's handsome face stained a dark, angry
red, and Evan stared up at her, blue eyes round as saucers. Anne gazed at them
in dismay. This was not the way she had hoped to be introduced to the Camerons.

"Francis,
how could you?" Janet demanded, suddenly sailing around the corner with
Kate trailing in her wake. "To be wed without waiting for your own sister!
I'll never forgive you," she scolded, brushing past him and heading up the
stairs toward Anne.

Anne
started down the steps, and the two met and embraced halfway. "Anne, this
is wonderful! Now I have a sister." Janet threw her grinning brother an
exasperated glare. "Francis, you know I've waited years to see you wed.
Could you not have waited one more day?"

Francis
leaned an elbow on the carved newel post. "I thought it best to get the
thing accomplished before Lord Robert joined us for the ceremony. But I'd be
happy to do it over if you like."

Jamie
Cameron moved to the foot of the stairs and sent Anne an engaging smile.
"Come down, lass, so I can give you a proper welcome to the family."

Anne
studied his face uncertainly, searching for any sign of hostility. She had
dreaded this meeting with the Cameron men, knowing they had reason for hating
Glenkennon.

As
she descended the last few stairs, Jamie smiled encouragingly and reached up to
take her arm. "So you're the lass that's caused all this uproar," he
teased. "Forgive the inspection, but I'd a lively curiosity to meet the woman
our Francis couldn't live without. Welcome to the family, indeed!"

The
words and the look that went with them gave Anne a warm feeling of acceptance.
"I'm sure, 'twas the other way around, sir," she said with a shy
smile.

Young
Evan presented himself then, bowing formally over her hand as an older man
would do, but shooting questions at her with the honest straightforwardness of
childhood. Only Will remained aloof. In the excitement of getting acquainted,
no one noticed him edging away from the group.

Feeling
the draw of his gaze, Anne turned, catching the animosity that blazed in his
eyes before he looked away. She took a hesitant step toward him. "William,
I'm pleased to meet you at last. Francis has spoken of you and Evan so often I
feel I know you."

"Well,
I've no claim to knowing you, but I've had the pleasure of meeting your
father." He eyed her contemptuously. "I can't believe Francis has
been so taken in."

"Will!
Keep a civil tongue in your head, boy!" Francis snapped.

"Well,
it's true! She's Glenkennon's daughter, and if the rest of you have forgotten
our stay with the earl, I haven't. I'd sooner see you dead than married to one
of his blood!" Will snarled.

Francis
scowled and started toward him, but Anne caught his arm. "Francis, don't!
I understand how he feels. I expected it from all your family."

She
turned to the boy. "You've bitter memories of the man you call my father,
Will, but they can be nothing compared to my own. You were in his power only a
few weeks, but I've lived with it all my life." She returned his glare
with a steady look. "You can tell me nothing of his cruelty. I know it far
better than you."

The
boy's eyes shifted uncertainly before her searching look. For a moment, no one
spoke, then Anne turned to Kate as though nothing unusual had occurred.
"Kate, would you show the Camerons to the rooms we've readied? I'm sure
they'd like to get settled this afternoon." Her gaze swept the group.
"If you'll excuse me now, I must find space for my uncle."

Giving
Janet a warning look, Anne gathered up her skirts and moved down the corridor.
She had expected this—oh, yes, she had expected this and much worse treatment
from Francis's friends and family. But she would show them, she vowed. She
would show them she was nothing like Glenkennon.

A
short time later, Janet Cameron found Anne busy in one of the upstairs
bedchambers. Drawing the door closed behind her, she moved quickly across the
floor. "Oh, Anne... I'm so sorry about what happened!"

Anne
shook her head. "Hush, Janet. 'Tis nothing to me."

Janet
studied Anne's face. "Yes, it is," she said softly. Taking Anne's
arm, she led her toward a pair of chairs flanking the fireplace. "Sit with
me, Anne. I'd like to explain something," she said, settling into a chair.

"Will's
worshiped Francis ever since he was old enough to tumble about and pull himself
up by my brother's boot tops," she began slowly. "Seeing Francis give
his love and loyalty to any woman would have been hard for the boy, but in
normal times, he'd have had a chance to get used to the idea. This was just so
sudden, so unexpected, he's had no time to adjust."

"And
Francis has betrayed him by falling in love with his enemy," Anne remarked
bitterly.

Janet
nodded. "That beating he took, those weeks in a dungeon cell changed him.
He's not yet a man with a man's understanding, but he's learned a man's
hate." She clasped her hands together anxiously. "It's so difficult
to stand by and watch him struggle with it, Anne. It's Francis he's always
turned to, even when he couldn't talk to Jamie or me... yet now he feels
betrayed. I know he'll understand once everything's been explained... once he's
had time to think."

"I
hope so. I've no wish to cause a rift between Francis and his family,"
Anne replied. Her troubled eyes lifted to Janet's face. "And how do you
and Jamie feel about our marriage?" she asked, holding her breath.

"Very
pleased," Janet said promptly. "I've no doubt you're the woman to
make my brother happy. After you left here last spring, the change in him was
incredible. I worried about him so. It was as if nothing mattered to him
anymore."

Anne
dropped her eyes, staring into the fire. It was a time she could not yet bring
herself to discuss. The pain was still too close beneath the surface, the scars
not yet healed. "The summer was a difficult time," she said.

Janet
chuckled unexpectedly. "Of course, I'd an inkling what Francis intended
when he arrived at our gates and demanded my mother's necklace. Those rubies
have been worn by the bride of every MacLean laird for generations. I was but
keeping them till Francis found himself a wife."

"And
I actually threatened to sell them," Anne gasped, looking up.
"Francis was so impossible at first, and I was so angry, I—"

She
broke off, staring at Janet in horror.

Janet
began to laugh. "Oh, Anne, I can't wait to hear everything! I know you
must see to your uncle now, but first thing in the morning, you and I are going
to have a long talk."

***

The
next day's dawn made a poor showing, muffled as it was by dark, rolling clouds,
which swept along before a cold, driving wind out of the northwest. Rain
slashed against the leaded windows, its driving beat the only sound in the
laird's room save the crackling of the flames in the great fireplace.

Francis
drummed his fingers restlessly upon the arm of his chair, longing to ride out
into the teeth of the storm. He was tired of the press of people about him and
the endless frustration of waiting for Glenkennon. Just this morning, he'd had
word that the earl's army was still three day's march to the south. It was
reported that the men were moving slowly, and morale was not good. Two
deserters had been shot at a river crossing, their bodies hung from the gnarled
limbs of a stunted oak to serve a grim warning to others of like mind.
"Damn," Francis muttered. He was ready to have the thing done!

An
insistent knock brought his head up with a jerk. Christ, couldn't a man have a
moment alone in his own house? "Come in," he snapped, scowling at the
offending portal.

The
door swung open, and William Cameron stepped over the threshold. "I've
been looking all over for you," he said stiffly. "I'd have speech
with you, sir."

"You've
found me. Say your piece, if you must."

Will
moved to stand before the desk, his lips pressed into a stubborn line.
"You've not spoken to me since yesterday, sir. Your displeasure is
obvious." He took a deep breath. "This is your house—I've no desire
to remain if you wish me to leave."

Francis
leaned against the chair back, his dark face impassive as he studied his
nephew. The boy was obviously struggling to maintain his dignity. "Leave?
No, I don't wish you to leave. We'll need every able-bodied fighting man these
next few days." He picked up a pen and toyed with it a moment. "I
didn't speak to you last night because Anne didn't wish it. She was afraid I'd
rip the insolent tongue from your head if you provoked me again." His
piercing eyes lifted to Will's closed face. "I didn't give you the
thrashing you deserved yesterday only because she would have been
distressed."

Will's
blue eyes flashed fire and his fists clenched tightly against his thighs.
"My father's already given me a tongue-lashing. You've no right!"

"I've
every right," Francis rejoined coldly. "As you pointed out, this is
my house."

Will
drew a deep breath. "I didn't come here to fight with you." He moved
to the window and stared miserably out into the rain-drenched courtyard.
"I don't remember ever being at outs with you, Francis. I... I don't care
for it."

"Nor
do I."

Will
shot a sideways glance at him, then returned to his study of the courtyard.
"You must... care for her a great deal," he said in a tight voice.
"I never thought to see the day you'd turn your back on your family and
imperil your clan because you were besotted with a pretty face."

"Is
that what you think I've done?"

Will
whirled to face him. "Can't you see this is all one of Glenkennon's plots?
He gambled on you becoming enamored enough of the girl to bring her into your
confidence. Don't you find it strange he dangled her under your nose here for
weeks? That he let you into Ranleigh with such ease, then out again without
mishap? Francis, she could be betraying us even now! God's blood, she's his
daughter!"