Stuart, Elizabeth (57 page)

Francis
nodded. "I thought that might give them pause."

"Some
of his troops had fought Highlanders before," Edmund continued. He blinked
at Francis impassively. "You'd not believe the tales of savagery that were
rampant among the men."

"Exaggerated
by yourself no doubt," Francis said with a chuckle.

"Actually
I denied them most vehemently, as I recall."

"Making
the men all the more certain of their truth."

Edmund
shrugged. "For the first time in his life, Glenkennon found he couldn't
terrify his men into obedience. He was beside himself with rage, knowing he
hadn't the gold to mount another expedition of the like. I added fuel to the
fire with news a move was afoot at court to recall him from Scotland."

"And
was there?" Francis asked, leaning forward eagerly.

"Not
that I know of," Edmund replied with his twisted smile, "though I
know our beggar king was growing tired of Glenkennon's requests for money.
Jamie'll cajole little more gold from his suspicious English subjects to pour
willy-nilly into Scotland."

He
sipped his whiskey thoughtfully. "Glenkennon's determination to see you
dead had become an obsession. It led him to act unwisely, thus he played into
our hands. He hoped to lure you out of Camereigh and destroy you himself,
thinking once he'd removed you, the clans would be demoralized and his men
could easily hack them to pieces." Edmund's cold, lashless eyes met
Francis's gaze unblinkingly. "He didn't count on you gaining the upper
hand. Glenkennon thought himself indestructible. It was his greatest
weakness."

Silence
pervaded the room for several long moments. Francis emptied his glass and set
it down on the table. "What think you of my chances for avoiding a
hangman's noose now, Edmund?"

"How
fast are your horses, lad?"

Francis
leaned back with a grim smile. "That bad, eh? Well, my horses are fast
enough to leave the English in a cloud of dust, and I've a ship waiting to carry
me to friends in France should it become necessary."

"I'd
keep them ready," Edmund said seriously. "England must view this
affair as a challenge to her right to control us. After all, Glenkennon was the
acknowledged voice of the crown here. Any attack on him is an attack upon
England. However, it's not hopeless. James's English nobles have been clamoring
for the constant unrest here to be ended, though they've not wished to advance
a shilling toward it."

Edmund
placed his palms together, studying his long white fingers thoughtfully.
"And it would be an excellent opportunity for Jamie to repudiate
Glenkennon's debts." He glanced up. "I've my suspicions Douglas was
sent to Ranleigh to nose out what he could of Glenkennon's dealings with the
Scots. I made it my business to watch him. I even allowed him to stumble on
information suggesting the earl's agents stirred up unrest for the sole purpose
of having him called in to put it down. Naturally, it was then his duty to
seize the lands of the families involved."

"Douglas
didn't like Glenkennon," Francis said softly.

"No.
It wouldn't surprise me to learn you've a friend at court."

"I
pray God he's successful," Francis said with a heavy sigh. "I've no
regrets myself, but I'd hate to drag Anne into an outlaw's existence."

Edmund
nodded and cleared his throat uneasily. "I deeply regret what happened to
her at Ranleigh, Francis. It was all over and done before I'd an inkling of
what Glenkennon planned. Believe me, I'd have risked all to stop it if I'd
known."

Francis
shook his head. "It was my own fault, Edmund. I should have had her out of
there weeks before."

"None
of us could have foreseen what that devil would do," Edmund returned.
"The world thought her his daughter. I erred greatly in thinking that
protection enough."

"Aye,
but the two responsible are dead, and in time Anne will forget." Francis
smiled slightly. "I've reason to think the lass happy enough with the
present state of affairs."

Edmund
chuckled. "Yes, save for me. I'm not entirely sure..." He broke off
as Conall poked his head through the door.

"Edmund,
you cold-blooded bastard! You know I'm glad to see you, but couldn't you think
of some entrance save holding the lady of the house at knife point?" He
chuckled and advanced farther into the room. "You've set the whole house
by the ears, and Donald and I have had the devil's own time calming things
down."

"Not
being blessed with your engaging address, cousin, I did what was necessary to
avert disaster," Edmund replied impassively.

"Well,
I don't mean to interrupt, but I feel it wise for Francis to show himself
below." He grinned at Francis. "Your people are getting more anxious
by the moment."

"We're
done," Francis said, rising. He turned and glanced down at Edmund.
"One more question before I explain you to my household, Edmund. Was young
Randall with his father's men?"

"No.
He's still in the south searching for his sister."

"God's
wound! You mean he doesn't know she's safe here?"

"I
didn't dare inform the lad before things were settled with Glenkennon. I'm not
sure Charles will look on her marriage with favor."

"He
must be told of his father's death and Anne's marriage," Francis said
bluntly. "See to it."

***

Some
days later, Anne was sitting with Janet in the parlor when a door downstairs
slammed and running feet sounded on the steps. Anne glanced up from her
needlework and met Janet's questioning look. Rising, she moved to the parlor
window and gazed down into the courtyard. Two sweating horses were being led
toward the stables, while the men below stood in small groups, talking
excitedly.

She
turned to Janet. "Do you suppose it's news from England?"

"It's
scarcely been a week since Glenkennon was buried," Janet returned calmly.
"I doubt Jamie Stuart could have acted so quickly."

"I...
I think I'll go downstairs," Anne murmured, trying to match Janet's calm
tone.

Janet
nodded and returned to her sewing.

Anne
gathered up her skirts and hurried down the stairs, her heart beating heavily
in her chest. She knew it was too soon for news, yet with every rider that
entered Camereigh's gates, she feared—and hoped—word would come.

Francis
had tried to reconcile her to the possibility that the news would not be good,
yet she prayed fiercely he would be pardoned. For herself, she cared not where
or how they lived, but she wondered how a man who lived and breathed for his
clan might live apart from them and be happy.

When
she entered the hall, Francis looked up from the circle of men about him.
"Is there news?" she asked, holding his gaze.

"Aye,
but not what you think. Your brother'll be with us on the hour."

"Is
he alone?"

"He
rides with a dozen men," Edmund MacKinnon put in, taking her arm and
leading her to a chair. He poured a glass of wine and placed it in her hand.
She sent him a grateful smile. She had quickly grown accustomed to Edmund's
presence, even to the point of wondering why she had thought him such a
sinister creature at Ranleigh. He was unusual looking, to be sure, but he was
possessed of a mind that could untangle any problem. And Francis admired him;
that was enough for her.

"Do
you think he's coming to see me?"

"We've
no way of knowing what's on the lad's mind," Francis returned. "I've
just struck down his father, Anne. He may be coming here to avenge
Glenkennon."

She
gripped her glass tightly. Would the nightmare never end? The vengeance and
killing just begat more killing. "You won't fight him will you, Francis?
Your shoulder's just starting to mend."

"I've
no desire to cross swords with Charles, but we must see what the lad
intends."

They
hadn't long to wait. Charles's party of horsemen clattered through the gates
while MacLean clansmen emerged from all sides of the quadrangle, hands hovering
near their weapons.

Anne
watched as Charles dismounted and pushed his way through the circle of
MacLeans. His eyes found hers, and his pace quickened. "Anne... Anne,
thank God!" he exclaimed, grasping her by the shoulders. "I've been
half out of my mind with worry! Are you safe?" He jerked her into his arms
in a rough embrace. "Are you truly well?"

She
smiled up into his anxious face. "Yes, I'm fine, Charles. I'm sorry you've
been worried."

He
held her an arm's breadth away, still studying her intently. "I've been
combing every inch of the coast, imagining you in every possible danger. Ever
since Bess told me about—" He broke off abruptly, drawing her into his
arms again.

She
pressed her cheek against his shoulder, closing her eyes. "It's all right,
Charles. You've made everything all right," she whispered.

"And
what of Bess?" he asked after a moment. "While I was gone, she
disappeared from Ranleigh and I could find nary a trace of her."

Anne
pushed away and glanced back at her husband. "Francis had her brought
here. We were afraid of what might happen to her."

Charles
swung to face Francis, keeping one arm protectively about Anne. "Is it
true you've wed my sister, Mac-Lean?" he asked, his eyes going hard.

"Aye.
We were married a fortnight ago."

He
glanced at Anne. "If you were forced into this, it won't stand."

"No,
Charles, it was nothing like that. Francis and I have wished to be married for
months," she said, taking his arm. "Please come inside. I've much to
tell you."

Charles
followed them stiffly into the hall, gazing from Anne to Francis in growing
consternation. "God's love, woman! Can you be happy knowing your husband
killed our father?"

"Glenkennon
was not my father," Anne said at once. Quietly but firmly, she recounted
the story of their mother and the tragic MacKinnon clan, finally describing
Glenkennon's plots against Francis and his last ill-fated attempt to destroy
the MacLean chief.

Charles
heard her out in unmoving silence. When she reached the end of her recital, he
rose wordlessly, walking to the table to pour a tankard of ale. "He was an
evil man... I suppose I've known it a long time now," he whispered, his
throat working convulsively.

He
took a long swallow of ale, staring blindly at the table. "But God, it's
hard to admit of a man whose blood runs in your own veins! I kept trying to
make excuses for him, even after I learned what he did to you, Anne. I went
after Campbell, telling myself Father didn't realize the man Percy was. I
blamed everything on Campbell..."

He
glanced up in sudden outrage. "And do you know what Campbell did? He
laughed! He actually boasted about the deal he'd struck with Father!" Charles
swallowed hard. "About what he'd done to you."

Turning,
he smashed his clenched fist onto the table. "God, I wish Campbell were
alive again, so I'd have the pleasure of running him through once more!"
He leaned forward, closing his eyes. "And Father... I should have left his
house long ago."

"Was
anyone with you when you fought Campbell, lad?" Francis asked curtly.

Charles
shook his head. "We were alone when I challenged him, though his servants
came running fast enough when he started squawking like a damned capon.
Christ's mercy, the coward didn't deserve to die by the sword! I'd have hanged
him from the beams in his own hall if I hadn't needed to shut his mouth before
he spilled his filthy tale to half the world."

Anne
rose and went to his side. "It doesn't matter anymore, Charles," she
said placing a hand on his arm. She stared up into his tired gray eyes,
suddenly realizing her words were true; the pain was gone. She smiled at
Charles wonderingly. "It doesn't matter at all," she repeated softly.

Charles
gazed at her silently. "I suppose we're only half brother and
sister," he whispered. "Do you hate me, Anne... do you hate me for
being part of him?"

Her
hand tightened on his arm. "You were never part of him, Charles. And as
far as I'm concerned, you're my brother—the brother I'll always love."

Francis
moved to join them at the table. "I'm in your debt, Randall. Campbell was
my responsibility."

Gray
eyes lifted to blue uncertainly. "You know I came here to meet you for
Father," he admitted slowly. "But now..." He shook his head, his
words trailing off.

"Aye,
lad. I'd a hunch you'd think your honor demanded it," Francis said. His
eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "No man can decide for you, but to my mind
there's been enough blood shed a'ready."

Charles
nodded. "And what honor can a Randall claim, after all?" he asked
bitterly.

"A
man must make his own honor—or disgrace," Francis replied. He caught
Charles's shoulder bracingly. "You're tired, lad. Rest the night with us.
Your sister would be thankful of your company."

Francis's
eyes reassured Anne across the room. "I'll see to the lodging of your men
and animals now and engage for the good behavior of my MacLeans. Kate will
bring you food."