Amanda Scott (23 page)

She saw that he expected a reply to his command that she not ask questions, and realized that he had not yet answered the second one she had asked him.

“How can rain help us?” she asked again.

Confidently, but with a lurking gleam in his eyes that told her he knew she meant to divert him, he said, “You’ll see.”

She could not imagine how, but auburn-haired Fiona had abandoned Hector and descended on her now with friends, demanding that she go up to the wall walk with them to talk about men and other interesting things. Courtesy demanded that she agree, and in any event, Lachlan had slipped away as the girls approached.

No further opportunity arose the rest of the day to speak privately with him. Niall Mackinnon’s notorious brother, Fingon, the Green Abbot of Iona, had arrived shortly after the Macleans, with his retinue, including the lady of his heart and two of his strapping sons, to take supper with MacDonald. In such elevated company—for it now included numerous clan chiefs and their families—the sons of Gillean figured as minor members of the court and thus, in Niall’s all-important view, of insufficient stature to grace the high table.

Nevertheless, supper was excellent and the entertainment merry.

When the younger women moved to sit together and enjoy the antics of a troop of players after the meal, Fiona said in an undertone, “I warrant the Pope would heartily condemn this revelry should he chance to learn of it.”

“Perhaps,” Mairi said, “but although the Green Abbot has often condemned Lenten revelry, he is laughing as heartily as anyone else right now.”

“Why do they call him the Green Abbot?” Ailsa Macleod, a young blond maiden from the Isle of Skye, asked her shyly.

“I’m not certain, but perhaps because the Pope still has reservations about him and refuses to recognize him as the Mitered Abbot of Iona,” she replied.

“Fingon has many sons and daughters,” Fiona said. “Most popes have an aversion to priests with children, do they not?”

Fiona had been a friend since childhood, and Mairi smiled as she said, “But Fingon follows ancient Celtic custom that allows all clergymen to marry.”

“Aye, but the Roman Kirk is ever at odds with the old ways,” Ailsa said. “I warrant they’ll never see things as we Islesmen and the Highlanders do.”

Another woman agreed but gave it as her opinion that it did not matter. “No one here pays heed to Rome,” she pointed out. “Faith, we dinna heed the King o’ Scots. Why should we heed someone from a much more distant place?”

Mairi enjoyed the evening. During a circle dance, she even held Lachlan’s hand, but they exchanged no private words before he and Hector departed with a few others staying at Duart.

The next morning, she awoke to a heavy mist outside, but it burned off after the sun arose. High, scattered white clouds augured little chance of rain.

She performed her morning duties, keeping an eye out for the Duart boat, which arrived shortly before the midday meal. By then, the morning’s fleecy white clouds had thickened, lowered, and increased in number.

The Green Abbot and his retinue had stayed, so the brothers again took places below the dais. But at a table where the ladies sat to Lady Margaret’s left and the gentlemen to MacDonald’s right, Mairi knew that short of wearing a skirt and veil, even Lachlan the Wily could not negotiate his way to a seat beside hers. Thus, her awareness that the clouds were darkening did much to sustain her through a tedious conversation with the lady on her left.

Several guests who had eagerly looked forward to the archery contest the previous evening had also noted the changing weather. One gentleman warned that the brewing storm might linger into the next day and spoil his grace’s hunt. Others disagreed, insisting that what approached was no more than a squall that would hold off until evening and blow over before morning.

In the Isles, where survival depended on the sea, every man considered himself an expert on the weather. Mairi believed that Lachlan, though fascinating, was as undependable as any other when it came to weather prediction. She would welcome rain but only if it would gain them privacy without spoiling their hunt.

When Lady Margaret stood to signal the formal end to the meal, a number of other ladies elected to return with her to the great chamber. Only Ailsa Macleod and Fiona MacDougall continued to express interest in the archery contest, but both wanted to fetch cloaks and stouter footwear before leaving.

Mairi had dressed for the outing and had worn her cloak to the great hall, but she was content to wait for the others and said so.

“Where do you keep your bow, lass?”

Having been discussing cloaks and boots, she had not observed his approach, but turned with a smile, trying to ignore the way her body tensed and seemed to vibrate, even to hum, when he spoke to her.

She said, “I store my equipment in one of the outbuildings, sir. Ian Burk is fetching my bow, quiver, and shooting gloves now, as well as similar equipment for Ailsa and Fiona. I also told him to be prepared to accompany us.”

“You should all carry your own equipment,” he said with a smile. “Or do you hope, perchance, to tire the men out by forcing us to climb what is doubtless a very steep hill whilst bearing our weapons?”

Her lips twitched. “I thought you were going to shoot women’s bows.”

“We will for the contest,” he said, “but Angus Macleod and Giles Duffy, the other two still courageous enough to go with us, want to practice with their own bows for tomorrow’s hunt, so we’re all taking longbows as well.”

“Ian can carry your things, too, if the weapons are too heavy for you, and if you men have no servants of your own,” she said mockingly.

“Faith, lass, my point is that we don’t want any servants.”

“Very well, then I’ll tell Ian I don’t need him, but it is a good thing that Fiona and Ailsa want to go with us. My parents would otherwise surely forbid me to go off with a pack of uncouth young gentlemen.”

“Just what I feared myself, so Hector persuaded Fiona that she would enjoy the walk, and Fiona persuaded Ailsa,” he said.

“But if you think Ian would be in the way . . .” She paused meaningfully.

He shook his head, and the girls returned then, so she said no more.

Despite Lachlan’s professed concern, the climb to the archery field was easy, although the field, surrounded on three sides by beech forest, lay high enough above the castle to provide a wide view of landscape and Sound. The path they followed was well beaten, and the field, sheltered from wind by the beeches, was flat and grassy with swaths of colorful flowers. Although a few dark clouds spat rudely at them, the sun still peeked through occasionally, and no one suggested returning.

The four men selected several hay-filled butts and strode off the distance, marking a line in the dirt where they could stand to shoot.

When Lachlan reminded the other men that they could use only women’s bows for the contest, Angus Macleod, a round-faced cousin of Ailsa’s from the Isle of Lewis, replied with a challenging look, “Aye, sure, but I’m thinking the four o’ us should hold a contest first amongst ourselves, t’ see which man be the best shot.”

Lachlan cast an eye skyward and looked at Hector. “What do you think? I own I’d like to rehearse with a proper bow before trying to shoot the shorter one.”

The four debated the matter until Mairi said, “If you want your own contest, you should not waste any more time. It looks as if it may rain any moment now.”

Lachlan nodded and deftly strung his bow. “Who will go first?”

Giles Duffy said he preferred a clean target and Hector said he wanted to see how the others did before he shot, whereupon Angus looked at Lachlan, who gestured for him to shoot after Giles.

The first two arrows struck within inches of the center mark.

Hector nodded at Lachlan, who said, “Nay then, you go first. I won’t have you splitting my arrow with yours as you did last time. I might need it tomorrow.”

Chuckling, Hector put up his bow and let fly. As nearly as Mairi could tell, he did not pause to aim, but the arrow flew straight and true to the center mark. Clearly, she decided, he would win the contest.

Lachlan took his place at the line, squinting narrowly at the target as if it were hundreds of yards away. At last, he raised his bow with the arrow nocked.

With a thumping twang, the arrow struck shaft-against-shaft with Hector’s.

“Faith, my lad, if you’ve broken my arrow off in that butt, I’ll have something to say to you,” Hector threatened as the four men strode forward.

Mairi followed to see if the two arrows were as close as they appeared, but she was not surprised when Lachlan dropped back to walk beside her.

“I don’t know how well you shoot, lass, although I wager you’ll hit your mark, but take your time. Don’t be trying to shoot quickly to impress anyone. And see that you let the other lasses shoot first.”

Annoyed as she was that he seemed to think she required lessons, she said only, “Aye, ’tis only polite, and I like the challenge of watching others do well.”

He shot her a grin of approval, then said so quietly that she knew his voice would carry only to her, “I, too, love a challenge, sweetheart.”

Heat flooded her cheeks, and she refused to look at him again.

They discovered that only a hair’s width separated his arrow from Hector’s, but as the men exclaimed their astonishment Mairi pointed out that if they wanted to keep their bowstrings dry for the next day’s hunt, they had better get on with it, and everyone hurried back to the line.

Ailsa and Fiona agreed to shoot first when Mairi suggested it, but to her surprise, Lachlan said, “Those clouds are dripping already and will soon let loose a flood. I’m thinking, to speed things up, the women should shoot against each other as we did. Afterward, we’ll have the women’s winner shoot against the men’s.”

Laughing, Ailsa said, “You’ll have to shoot again against Hector then to decide which of you competes against our winner.”

“Aye,” Mairi said, “and you should both shoot with smaller bows. Indeed, mayhap you ought to hold your men’s contest again, using the short bows.”

“Nay, for I’ve my reputation to consider,” Hector said. “Bad enough to risk losing to a female. To try to outshoot one with a bairn’s bow . . .” He shuddered.

“Coward,” Lachlan muttered, but he smiled and Hector took no umbrage.

“No need for a second contest then,” Angus said. “You equaled Hector’s shot, and I’ve no more wish than he does to prove myself against a woman.”

When Giles agreed, Lachlan said, “Then we are agreed that I’ll shoot against the lass that wins the ladies’ contest.”

Mairi knew he expected her to win, but she also knew that Fiona was a fine archer. She did not know Ailsa well, because Skye was far away. But Dunstaffnage was not, and she saw Fiona whenever MacDonald was in residence at Ardtornish. They had often competed against each other.

The women each shot three arrows, and Ailsa proved at once that she was no match for Mairi or Fiona. Mairi’s first two arrows hit the mark, but all three of Fiona’s were near it, and Mairi’s third was farther away. Not until everyone looked closely did they agree that since Mairi’s two were right in the center and all three of Fiona’s barely within the mark or just outside, Mairi had won.

Grinning his approval as he helped collect arrows, Lachlan said, “You shoot first, lass, and I’ll use Fiona’s bow. I’m thinking you’ll make a fine adversary.”

They took their places, and feeling suddenly nervous, Mairi drew a deep breath, took aim, and let fly. Her arrow had no sooner struck than Lachlan’s first one followed it. Nocking a second arrow, she raised her bow.

So intent on the contest had they become that when the rain came—not with spatter but in a sudden, heavy shower—all three women shrieked. Mairi dropped her bow, and they grabbed for the cloaks they had taken off in preparation to shoot.

The men began to assist them, with Hector shouting at them to hurry, when Lachlan said in mild protest, “But we’ve not finished our contest.”

Mairi looked at him in dismay, but his eyes were dancing.

“You’ll be near drowned as it is, lass, running down the hill. What difference can a few minutes make but to decide a winner. Or are you afraid I’ll win?”

Fiona, laughing again as she so often did, said, “We are not staying to watch, sir, beg how you will. But pray do keep my bow if you lack sense enough to run inside where it’s warm and dry, with the rest of us.”

Hector was shaking his head and frowning. “You cannot stay here alone, just the two of you,” he said.

“True,” Lachlan agreed. “So you will stay with us for propriety’s sake. Unless you fear lightning,” he added with a mocking grin.

Hector shot him a look but said nothing, continuing to shake his head.

Laughing at them, the others hurried off.

Another look passed between the brothers, and Hector turned away, moving to the edge of the field, where he could watch the others on their way.

“We are not really going to shoot, are we?” Mairi asked.

“Nay, we’ll let the arrow closest to the center declare the winner. Come with me to the trees yonder though, and we can have our talk. Hector will watch to see that no one disturbs us.”

The rain was pouring down, and she cast a sympathetic look at Hector. “Won’t he mind getting so dreadfully wet?”

“Sakes, lass, he’s been a sight wetter, I can tell you, anytime he’s gone over in a boat or been caught in a storm on some journey or other.”

“Well, we’ll not stay long,” she said as she let him pull her hand into the crook of his arm and urge her toward the trees.

“We’ll see,” he said, chuckling. “I own, I did not mean for our cloaks to be soaked before we’d taken shelter.”

Laughing now too, she said, “Did you honestly think we’d have time to do more than talk?”

“A man seizes his opportunities,” he said, pulling her under the spreading canopy of a beech tree and into his arms. “Kiss me first. We’ll talk in a moment.”

His lips claimed hers, and delighted, she kissed him hard and moaned when he thrust his tongue into her mouth. Briefly, she wondered if Hector could see them from where he was, but when Lachlan’s hand moved inside her cloak to stroke her breast, she decided that she did not care. Even when he pushed her cloak off, letting it fall in a wet heap on the ground, she made no protest, and she knew that if he suggested they lay atop it, even if they got soaked, she would do as he asked. The thought sent tremors of hope through her body.