Amanda Scott (29 page)

“Aye, just a wee problem,” Hector muttered, giving him a look.

Lachlan responded with a half smile. The road ahead was fraught with peril, to be sure, but obstacles were familiar challenges. He had only to identify a course that would avoid the worst of them and take him to his destination.

Leaving the others to dispose of the bodies and deal with their five prisoners, he followed Rankin to the watchtower. Inside, they found the tower prisoner trussed up and gagged, lying on the spiral stairway leading to the battlements.

“He and his companion were atop the tower when we arrived, sir.”

“Take off the gag and bring him out into the light so I can see,” Lachlan said.

Hector jerked the lanky, dark-haired man up, trusses and all, and dragged him outside, saying as he untied the gag, “That storm will be on us soon.”

“Aye,” Lachlan agreed, looking thoughtfully at the prisoner. “You seem familiar. What do men call you?”

“Gil Dowell, but I’ve nowt t’ say t’ ye.”

“I see. Well, I think you do have things to say to me, but we’ve no time for lengthy conversation, so we’ll leave you until his grace’s men can question you and your friends. I warrant he’ll see you’re treated gently, although my lads may not be so gentle whilst you wait. Still, you’ve set your own course.”

The man shrugged.

“Take him away, Rankin. See that he behaves until I’ve further use for him.”

“Beg pardon, sir, but where shall we keep them all?”

“Bury the dead and take the others to Amalaig. The tower there will hold them until I want them. We’ll send a boat from Bellachuan to collect them later.”

“Aye, sir, we’ll look after them till then.”

“You said you found two men here,” Lachlan said. “Where is the second?”

“Yonder, wi’ the dead,” Rankin said, pointing.

“Show me.”

The second man also looked familiar. Suddenly recognizing him, Lachlan exchanged a look with Hector, who nodded. It was Fin MacHugh, which made Lachlan wonder where Shim MacVey might be, before he recalled that Hector had told him that the third witness in Ian Burk’s trial had stayed at Finlaggan.

“Rankin, I’ll need oarsmen for that longboat,” he said.

“Aye, sir, straightaway.”

“We’ll wait for them below,” Lachlan said, signing to Hector to follow.

“Those two louts testified against Lady Mairi’s Ian,” Hector said. “They said he was with Elma MacCoun on her last day.”

“Aye, and whilst they may honestly have mistaken the day, finding them here with Mackinnon makes a man think, does it not?”

“Aye, but we’ve more important things to consider at the moment. How, exactly, do you intend to tell his grace that you’ve killed his high steward?”

“We have no body to produce, which means that no one else can produce it either,” Lachlan said thoughtfully.

“Aye, sure, but I don’t suppose we can just forget about having killed him,” Hector said. “Some of our prisoners must have seen it, and if they accuse us of murdering him, we certainly can’t produce him alive to prove them wrong.”

“MacDonald likes us, and we have our own witnesses,” Lachlan said, speaking his thoughts as they walked rather than trying to suggest any particular solution. Since he had not thought of one, he had nothing to suggest.

“MacDonald is our kinsman and has shown us much honor,” Hector said. “However, one cannot help but expect the death of his high steward to annoy him even if we could persuade him that Mackinnon attacked us rather than the reverse. Moreover, Mackinnon wielded great power in his own right. His clan is large and unlikely to believe anything we say against him.”

“He has also a powerful, most untrustworthy brother who has many sons,” Lachlan said. “Much as the Green Abbot flouts such rules, he will be quick, I fear, to declare a blood feud. And, too, he could well excommunicate us both.”

Hector shrugged. “He is not exactly in good odor with the Pope just now.”

“I do not speak of the Pope but of trouble Fingon can cause us here at home. His local power remains great, and whilst we may not hold by all dictates of the Roman Kirk, we’d find it embarrassing to be shunned by our neighbors who do. Think you MacDougall of Dunstaffnage will welcome your flirtations with his Fiona if the Green Abbot should declare us excommunicate?”

Hector frowned. “We must think of a way to avoid Fingon’s displeasure. Such dissension would anger our father, but in truth, ’tis MacDonald’s wrath I want most like to avoid. If he should name us outlaw, order us put to fire or sword . . .”

He let the words trail to silence, but Lachlan did not require further description of his likely future to make his fertile brain work at top speed.

“The royal galley is eminently seaworthy,” he said musingly, “but she does not travel as fast as a longboat, especially against the wind. Nor does his grace have special cause to travel fast. I’d wager he is not yet halfway to Ardtornish.”

Hector’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you bring that up now?”

“He has but eight oarsmen, having left the others behind this morning to make more room for his guests. We will have sixteen.”

Hector nodded. “I ken fine that you take note of such details, and that our lives may depend on the course we choose now. But if you are thinking we should catch up to the royal galley and kill them all to protect ourselves, I—”

“Nay, nay, for Lords Ranald and Godfrey, not to mention Mairi, would soon see us sped if we took such a daft course. Moreover, I like MacDonald and infinitely prefer him as an ally.”

“Just how do you propose to keep his friendship after killing the man who was not only his friend and high steward but also chief of the Mackinnons and a councilor of the Isles?”

“We’ll do what’s necessary, of course. We’ll abduct him and persuade him of the excellence of our character and our unwavering loyalty.”

Chapter 16

T
he oarsmen and helmsman were hurrying down the hill, so Lachlan cut off Hector’s protests until they were in the longboat, moving at speed. The sky was low and heavy with the approaching storm, and although the clouds had not begun to spit, the wind and resulting waves in the Sound made visibility uncertain.

“’Tis a mad course,” Hector said. The two faced each other in the bow, leaning close to keep their words from carrying to others on the wind.

“Mad indeed,” Lachlan agreed, “but ’tis our only hope.”

The oarsmen, pulling hard, were too intent on rowing to heed them, he knew, but it would not matter if they did. They were loyal to Clan Gillean and he was the designated successor to their chief. They might know the brothers disagreed, but they would never let him down. Nor would Hector.

“We might as well kill MacDonald then,” Hector muttered. “He’d forgive us for that, I’m thinking, more readily than for abducting him.”

“You are not thinking,” Lachlan said. “We have neither the right nor the disposition to kill him, and if we did, ’twould be a grave mistake.”

“And abducting him is not?”

“Perhaps it is, but the other is certain, because if we killed MacDonald, we would incur the wrath of every clan, not to mention Ranald of the Isles, who would take command of his grace’s men. I’ve already pointed out the danger the wicked abbot presents, and that was without the suggestion that we murder MacDonald.”

Hector made a rude noise. “You know that I would never commit murder,” he said grimly. “I kill without compunction any man who attacks me or mine, but I’d not kill to avoid deserved punishment, nor would I kill my liege.”

“Nor I, so listen and heed me well. I value your trust, and you can trust me with this. If Mackinnon’s men get to his grace first—the Green Abbot, for example—we cannot know what will happen. But if we capture him, I can make him hear our side of the incident, and he will judge us fairly. We simply must gain his protection before he hears from the others—”

“Most of whom are already dead or prisoners,” Hector interjected.

“Only those we saw,” Lachlan said. “You may be certain that Mackinnon took counsel with others, perhaps even the wicked abbot, and for Ian Burk to learn of his plan, at least one of those others must have spoken out of turn. We cannot know more until we can question Gil Dowell, or his grace does.”

“Aye, that is all true, but would MacDonald not listen to both sides in any event? As you say, he is fair, and I warrant the lady Mairi would be even quicker to speak for you than she was for Ian Burk.”

“Only if matters take the course they should. ’Tis more likely we’d meet with treachery before we’d face a fair trial. Recall that Mackinnon has friends on MacDonald’s Council of the Isles, and recall, too, how they followed his lead in their treatment of us. Do you think they would easily accept him as a villain? Might they not prefer us in the role?”

Hector was silent.

“Now, consider this,” Lachlan said, leaning closer. “Even to discuss the matter with MacDonald, we must first have his ear, and without debate from any who would undermine our position. He is not a difficult man. Nor are MacDougall or MacDuffie, let alone MacDonald’s body servant. Moreover, MacDonald is practical and dislikes violence. Faith, he said himself that he dislikes fratching.”

Hector was peering narrow-eyed into the distance. “I’m thinking that may be a gold banner ahead,” he said, “with a little black ship in its center.”

“Then what say you? Think what may come of making him our ally.”

“Aye, much could come of it, I agree, but whether it does or not doesn’t matter. You know I’m with you, even an it means sailing into hell.”

Mairi had kept a close eye on the sky as the oarsmen rowed for Ardtornish. It looked increasingly as if later boats would be in for a soaking, but more worrisome was the possibility that the Sound might turn into a dangerous, boiling cauldron if the winds grew stronger. As the ladies’ boat and the three behind it pulled into the sheltered bay below Ardtornish, the waves of the Sound were just a nuisance; however, stronger winds from the west could render them lethal.

On the landing, she spoke to one of the lads and learned that the Duart boat had arrived much earlier with Dougald MacHenry and his lady. More surprising was that the boat had not returned to Craignure or Duart but had gone around to MacDonald’s safe harbor in Loch Aline.

Walking up the cliff stairs with Elizabeth, behind Lady Margaret and the other women, she said, “Do you not think it odd that the Duart boat would bring only two people when eight from there hunted with us this morning?”

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth agreed, “but only one other woman was in that party, and she walks ahead now with our lady mother.”

“That still leaves five men,” Mairi pointed out.

“But only one you care about,” Elizabeth teased.

“Aye,” Mairi admitted, certain she was blushing.

“Do you want to marry him?” Elizabeth asked over her shoulder as they entered the laird’s tower and followed the others upstairs.

“Faith, Elizabeth, what a thing to ask!” Mairi exclaimed. At least the others were well ahead of them, chattering merrily, and had likely not heard her.

“Well, do you?”

“Hush! Our father would never allow it.”

“But do you want to?”

“Lachlan Lubanach can be a most irritating man,” Mairi said, remembering that he wanted her only for the wealth and power she would bring. Also that he had ignored her all day except for that moment at the beginning when, without even a by-your-leave, he had lifted her to her saddle.
And
that he constantly insisted she leave everything to him as if she had no brain of her own, no skills, or capabilities.

Elizabeth smiled. “I think you
do
want to marry him.”

“Even if I did, which I don’t, I should still have to marry Alasdair.”

“Oh, a pox on Alasdair!” Elizabeth said as they entered the great chamber.

“One hopes you do not mean that, cousin,” drawled a vaguely familiar voice. “So disfiguring, the pox is, and one has one’s splendid appearance to protect.”

“Oh!” Elizabeth, eyes wide, clapped a hand to her open mouth.

Mairi, too, stared in dismay at the fair-haired man standing just inside the doorway, smiling sardonically at her. Alasdair Stewart had joined the court at last.

In little more time than it took Lachlan to explain to his men what he expected of them, the longboat caught up with the much slower royal galley and eased alongside.

MacDonald greeted them cheerfully. “Come aboard, lads,” he said. “You’ve made excellent speed, but I see that Niall has lent you his longboat, and with the weather as it is, I wager he wants it to return for him as soon as it can.”

“Well, sir, in a manner of speaking, he has lent us his boat,” Lachlan said, obeying the command to climb aboard. “We bring sad news, however.”

“Indeed?” MacDonald watched, visibly puzzled as Lachlan’s men shipped oars and began boarding the royal galley. “Should we not send his boat back?”

“There is no need, your grace.”

MacDonald’s eyes narrowed as the empty longboat bobbed beside the royal galley on the churning waves and two of Lachlan’s men lashed them together, but he said only, “Sit then. You’ll be glad of a drink, I’m thinking, for I would myself.”

Lachlan and Hector found places to sit between MacDougall of Dunstaffnage and MacDuffie, the hereditary keeper of the records, and across from old Cameron of Lochaber, and MacDonald gestured to his body servant.

He poured brogac into five silver goblets from a nearby basket, the first one for MacDonald, and then for the others.

Accepting his, Lachlan said, “I regret that our news will distress you, sir, but to speak plainly, we have all put our trust in a traitorous villain.”

“Have we?”

“Aye, sir, for although he pretended to be your friend, even to count himself one of your family, he schemed against you. In the course of that scheming, he sought to take one of your greatest assets and also to kill Hector and me.”

“Am I to understand that you speak of Niall Mackinnon? I should find it hard to believe such villainy of him.”

“I am deeply sorry, sir. I do speak of Mackinnon.”

Lachlan realized as he said the words that his sorrow was sincere, because loyalty was the true coin of their realm, and Mackinnon had betrayed his liege lord, the man to whom he owed his greatest allegiance. “He betrayed not only you, your grace, but the Kingdom of the Isles. From the first, he was—”