Amanda Scott (11 page)

She pressed her lips together, knowing that if she said more, she would just reinforce his opinion because, whether she liked it or not, what he said was true.

Chapter 6

A
lthough Lachlan was certain that Mairi wanted to say much more to him, she remained silent, staring straight ahead as they approached the causeway.

Deciding to see how long she could keep quiet, he tried to emulate her by looking straight ahead, but it was not long before he gave in to the urge to look at her again, and then again moments later.

By heaven, he thought as he glanced at her for the third time, fascinated by the rosy smoothness of her left cheek and the fullness of her soft lips, she is not only the most beautiful woman in the Isles but also the most alluring.

Abruptly he said, “Could you not persuade him?”

She looked at him, nibbled her lower lip in the way he had decided meant only that she gave thought to her answer, then said, “I have little say in it, sir.”

He wanted to nibble that lip for her, to lick it, to savor its taste, to—

“I don’t know why you look at me like that, for surely you must know my father won’t change his mind simply because I ask him to,” she added.

Quickly regaining focus, he said evenly, “I believe that you wield more influence than you know.”

“His grace will not alter his plan for me any more than your father would if your sister tried to persuade him to let her choose her own husband.”

“I have no unmarried sisters.”

“If you had one,” she said, audibly gritting her teeth, “or if one of them had tried to persuade him to— Mercy, sir, you know perfectly well what I mean!”

Ignoring her irritation as well as the subject of sisters, he said, “I’m thinking ’twould be more useful to know why your father did not formally betroth you to yon fool Alasdair Stewart long ago. He might easily have done so as soon as you achieved your seventh birthday. Faith, by law, he could even have arranged for the marriage to take place on the day you turned thirteen.”

The very thought that she might already have been married to Alasdair Stewart annoyed him enough that he drew a deep, steadying breath as she said, “But I know why he did neither of those things.”

“Why, then?”

“’Tis plain enough,” she said. “My grandfather may stand next in line to the throne, but the King and his present wife have been married only two years and may yet surprise everyone by producing any number of children.”

“Davy was married to Joanna for thirty-four years before she died, and they produced no offspring,” he reminded her.

“Be reasonable, sir. They were both children of four when they married, and Joanna spent the last five years of her life in England.”

“That may account for half of their years together, but they still had plenty of time to produce offspring,” he insisted. “Moreover, he visited her often in England.”

“Aye, well, perhaps she was at fault. Margaret is much more . . . That is to say, I’m told that she . . .”

When she stopped without finishing for the second time, he said helpfully, “Margaret is indeed a lustier wench. She certainly would have produced a child by now, could she have done so, because she is just that sort of troublemaker.”

“Perhaps,” she said, “but then perhaps my father was not so eager to see me married and living elsewhere that he pressed for an early marriage.”

“Or perhaps your grandfather is not sure he wants you to marry Alasdair, or Alasdair is such a profligate fool that he does not want you,” he added gently.

Mairi opened her mouth to deny that last suggestion indignantly but shut it again when she realized she did not know what Alasdair thought. Although she had met him several times, he did not interest her, even though her father meant her to marry him. She trusted MacDonald, dutifully believing that he must know what would suit her as well as he knew what would suit his kingdom and Clan Donald.

Her awareness of how late she was increased as she and Lachlan crossed the causeway. Although Lady Margaret was generally mild of temperament and slow to anger, Mairi knew that if MacDonald had looked for her or if someone had seen her with Lachlan and suggested that she had behaved foolishly or dangerously, her mother would be displeased. And she found Margaret’s mildest displeasure more discomfiting than outright anger from nearly anyone else.

Lachlan had not spoken since suggesting that Alasdair might not be delighted to marry her, and she missed their easy discourse. She had not known any man before who seemed so interested in what she had to say.

Ranald and Godfrey were easy enough to talk to, although the former was as likely to laugh at her as to take anything she said seriously. Godfrey was the easiest one to discuss family issues with, but she frequently suspected that he was just kind, that he often humored her without really agreeing with what she said.

John Og was no confidant at all, being married and living in Kintyre. He and Freya were presently interested only in the arrival of their second child, hopefully the son he so desperately wanted that he had even asked Niall Mackinnon’s brother, Fingon, the Green Abbot of Iona, to bless one of that Holy Isle’s green stones for Freya to wear on a chain around her neck to bring them luck.

Mairi’s half sisters were all married and living elsewhere. Her younger sister Elizabeth was too much of a chatterbox to make a good confidante, and the other children were simply too young to fill that role.

She and Lachlan were nearing the entrance to the stable enclosure when he broke his silence at last to say, “Will you ask him?”

Mairi rolled her eyes. “You must be daft.”

“Nay, lass, just purposeful, and to learn the answer to any question, it is first necessary to ask it.”

“Then you ask it,” she said. “’Tis your place to do so, not mine.”

“Not after I’ve been told you are spoken for,” he pointed out. “Moreover, I’ll warrant your father will more likely think before he replies if you ask him.”

“I’d still be wasting my breath.”

“You will not know that until you speak to him.”

“I know it now,” she insisted.

His gaze intensified as it caught and held hers. “Will you ask him anyway?”

His voice was low-pitched, sensually so, and her nerve endings tingled in response. She told herself she could look away if she wanted to, and then wondered how it was that he made it so hard for her to do so.

At last, with a sigh, she said, “I will consider it, but it seems senseless to ask him a question to which I already know his answer.”

“But you will think about it?”

“I have said that I will.”

“Good enough, then.”

They had reached the barn, and Ian Burk and a second gillie came running to hold their horses. Mairi greeted Ian with a smile, and swung her leg over to slip off Hobyn as usual, but Lachlan had already jumped to the ground, and he grasped her firmly around the waist. Lifting her off the gelding without further ado, he set her on her feet and offered an arm to escort her back to the laird’s hall.

His attitude was nearly avuncular, so much so that she said provocatively, “Thank you, sir, for lending me your escort. I felt quite safe, I promise you.”

Without a blink, he said, “’Twas my pleasure, lassie, I promise
you
.”

“You sounded a hundred years old,” she muttered the moment they were beyond earshot of the gillies.

“Sometimes, you make me
feel
a hundred years old.”

She chuckled. “At least no one will be telling my father that we arranged some sort of clandestine meeting.”

“Not yet, at all events,” he said, smiling.

The smile shot new sensations along her sorely tried nerves, but she managed to walk beside him with her head high, knowing better than to engage him in a battle of wits in full view of anyone who chose to glance their way.

As they crossed the great hall yard, the chapel bell rang the midday hour, and she realized the men had already come down off the roof.

“Mercy,” she exclaimed, “I paid no heed to how high the sun had risen. I knew ’twas late but not
so
late! ’Tis nearly time to dine.”

“Have you so many duties to attend before we do?”

“Nay, not today, but my mother will be vexed by so long an absence, and when she is vexed, my father’s temper can likewise be uncertain.”

“I have no doubt you will know how to manage them,” he said. “You will certainly have better sense than to annoy your father whilst you are pondering the best time to ask him so important a question.”

She made a face at him but did not deign to reply.

They had reached the forecourt, and when he showed no inclination to leave her, she stopped and turned to face him.

“Do you intend to escort me all the way up to my mother’s solar, sir?”

“If you invite me, I shall accompany you gladly, but if you’ve no further need of me, I’d like to find my brother and be sure he has not created any mischief in my absence. Shall I see you in the hall?”

“Of course. I doubt anyone will forbid me to dine.”

“This evening, too? Will you sup with the rest of us tonight?”

“I believe so. His grace rarely sups privately when he has guests at Finlaggan.”

“Until then,” he said, “I depend on you to think hard, lass.”

Knowing of nothing she could say to that, Mairi bobbed a curtsy and fled upstairs to her mother’s solar.

Learning that his brother had left Finlaggan with Lord Ranald, bent on some mysterious mission, Lachlan hurriedly made himself presentable for the midday meal. But he decided he might have spared himself the effort when he learned that the meddlesome high steward had moved him to the left end of the high table and put MacDuffie of Colonsay, hereditary keeper of the records, at Lady Mairi’s side.

Heretofore he had spared little thought for Niall Mackinnon despite the man’s obvious distaste for Clan Gillean. Having been sure it stemmed from land issues on the Isle of Mull, he wondered now if it might signify something other than simple lust for larger estates. The man certainly seemed protective of Lady Mairi.

Although Lachlan could see her occasionally from where he sat, he could not converse with her, and he had better sense than to keep looking toward her like a lovelorn lute player. Thus, he focused his attention on those nearer him at the table, and soon initiated a lively conversation rife with political opinion, in the course of which he learned a few interesting things that he had not known before about goings-on at King David’s court.

He knew that many Islesmen believed he had more knowledge than anyone else of what went on in the western Highlands and Isles, even at the Scottish royal court. He both treasured and encouraged that reputation, cultivating contacts with many strategically placed gentlemen, and even the occasional rattle-tongued lady. And he maintained a vast correspondence with the former if not with the latter. Gifted with the ability to make friends easily, he rarely made enemies. Thus, the attitude of Niall Mackinnon was an aberration and one he would investigate.

Having already heard rumors that Mackinnon thought himself indispensable to MacDonald, and knowing that since his wife’s death three years before he had remained unmarried, Lachlan wondered if it could be possible that Mackinnon’s attitude toward the lass was more possessive than protective.

He would look into that, but for the moment, he contented himself with making one or two casual, complimentary remarks about Mackinnon, knowing that they would be repeated in the right quarter. If the tactic accomplished nothing else, it might at least lead Mackinnon to decide that Lachlan the Wily was a fool, and if it did that, the “fool” might well gain the upper hand.

Even with so many to serve, the meal was a speedy one, as midday meals were in most households, and only those who were not councilors or interested spectators lingered afterward to talk. Most followed MacDonald to Council Isle, where the Council of the Isles would continue its official duties.

Noting that Lady Margaret had already left the chamber and had taken her daughter with her, Lachlan knew he had no choice but to attend to his duties with MacDonald and the other councilors at least for the afternoon, and postpone further dalliance until evening. And if the family failed to join their guests and retainers for supper, or to linger afterward for conversation and amusements, he would simply continue to enjoy the companionship of his new friends.

As experienced as he was in the art of negotiation, he knew well that an apparent lack of interest in any outcome could prove helpful, whereas too much interest could spoil the brew. Although maintaining a disinterested air for any length of time was always difficult, the prize this time was worth the effort.

That Lachlan Lubanach had not been seated near her again at the high table did not surprise Mairi, because that honor was rarely accorded to the same person at every meal. However, the wave of disappointment she felt surprised her, especially since she had been dreading the question he was sure to ask.

Although Lady Margaret had not scolded her or even asked where she had been, she did give her a look that led Mairi, in her guilt, almost to wish that her mother had reprimanded her. Instead, Margaret had asked her to walk to one of the cottages near the stable enclosure after they dined to look in on Agnes Beton, who was ill. Since Agnes was Ewan Beton’s mother and a cousin of Elma MacCoun’s, she looked forward to the visit, if only to learn more about Elma’s last days.

She had not seen MacDonald, for he had ordered food served to him in the sole building on Council Isle, where he kept a table and chair, and where much of the paraphernalia for the council meetings was stored. And although she was glad to have missed any opportunity to ask him how firmly he was set on her betrothal to Alasdair, she knew that merely telling Lachlan that she had not seen him would not satisfy him. He did not care about Alasdair. He clearly wanted her for himself, but she did not know how she could propose that to MacDonald. Young women simply did not tell their fathers whom they wanted to marry.

The thought startled her, and she mentally amended it. It was not that she wanted to marry him. If any young man wanted to marry her, he should present himself to her father as a suitor and ask the question himself. Moreover, Lachlan Lubanach, with his reputation for skilled negotiating, would doubtless have a more facile way with words than she ever would on such a topic.