Amanda Scott (15 page)

“That’s true,” Isobel interjected before Lady Euphemia could go on. “He said that if you were going to take away both Aunt Euphemia and Mariota, you might as well take me, too, because only you know how to deal with me when I get one of my starts. That’s what he said, and I was very glad he did, I can tell you.”

Mariota said with a sigh, “You are becoming a dreadful chatterbox, Isobel. Pray hold your tongue for five minutes so that the rest of us can speak.”

Isobel tossed her plaits, but did not argue, saying only, “Where are they?”

Cristina smiled at her and said, “They are probably sleeping or playing in front of the fire in the great hall. If you run up that path yonder, it will take you directly there. I can also arrange for you to have a pony to ride whilst you are here, but I must tell you straightaway that Hector has forbidden us to go out alone, so do not expect any of the gillies to let you ride outside the wall without an escort.”

Promising that she would not, Isobel ran on ahead of them.

Watching her, Lady Euphemia frowned. “Do you mean we’re not safe here?”

“No, I do not mean that at all,” Cristina assured her, explaining as she gently urged them up the steps to the castle.

“Then I expect that Lady Mairi also rides with an escort,” Mariota said when Cristina had said such escorts were customary for noblewomen in the Isles.

“She does,” Cristina said.

Mariota nodded, but Cristina noted that unlike Isobel, she did not promise to take an escort when she rode out. Knowing her sister’s propensity for taking her own path, she decided to make certain that she did not defy Hector’s orders, at least not until Cristina could determine for herself just how absolute those orders were.

Although it was another sennight before he returned, it seemed to her that her relatives had barely settled in. They were gathered in the great hall for supper, expecting at least another day or two to pass before his return, so when he and Lachlan strode into the hall, Cristina exclaimed in surprise.

Noting the frown on her husband’s face as he gazed around the refurbished chamber, and the heavier frown when his gaze encountered first Mariota, then Isobel and Lady Euphemia, she held her breath. But he greeted his guests politely as he strode to the high table, took his customary seat, directed Lachlan to another, and ordered a gillie to carve meat for them. Then he said to Cristina, “I hope you have sufficient food for our oarsmen.”

“Indeed, sir, your cook is an excellent creature. Although I did not expect you back so soon, he has been prepared for your return these two days and more.”

“Cristina told him he had to be ready, no matter when you came, sir,” Isobel said, smiling warmly at him.

“That was well done of her,” he said. Returning his gimlet gaze to his wife, he added, “Am I correct in assuming you’ve made many changes here, madam?”

“Aye, sir,” she admitted, watching him warily but feeling her temper stir.

“We must have a talk after supper then,” he said. “You doubtless hope that I shall approve them all.”

Forcing a smile, Cristina turned to welcome Lachlan back to Lochbuie and to introduce her relatives to him. His easy courtesy relieved her tension, but shortly afterward, when she caught her husband’s eye again, it returned in full measure.

Chapter
8

D
uring the previous sennight, Cristina and her guests had formed the after-supper habit of retiring to a smaller chamber off the great hall that they had made cozy with cushioned benches and back stools, where they occupied themselves with needlework or conversation. Therefore, she had made no further attempt to provide entertainment for them. She felt that lack now, however, because she could think of no suggestion to make that would induce the other ladies or her brother-in-law to linger at the table after they had finished eating.

The moment came all too soon, because when Lachlan had eaten his fill, he smiled and said, “Thank you for an excellent meal, madam, the best I have had at this place. You have done a great deal in a very short time. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said sincerely. “I trust you mean to spend the night.”

“I’m grateful for the invitation, but not tonight,” he said. “I’m in a pother to get home to my lass and the bairns, because I have been away more than I like of late, and I’ve missed them. Doubtless we’ll be seeing you at Ardtornish though, if not before, so until then, I’ll bid you adieu.”

Within minutes, he and his men were gone.

Mariota fluttered her lashes at Hector and said brightly, “Cristina told us you went to Finlaggan, sir, to attend the Council of the Isles. But she knew naught of their business, so I hope you mean to tell us all about what happened there.”

Cristina had noted that Hector’s gaze drifted to her lovely sister from time to time throughout their meal, but she could scarcely blame him, because Mariota was looking her loveliest that evening. Her emerald green gown matched her eyes, and since they had expected no company, her hair hung in loose curls held away from her face by a pair of plaits that began near her small, well-formed ears and intertwined around the top of her head to resemble a royal tiara.

Hector smiled at her comment but shook his head as he said, “’Twas men’s talk, hours of it, that would bore you witless to hear, lass.”

Surprised, Cristina said, “But surely women attend the council meetings, sir, for Lady Mairi told me that she frequently did so before her children were born. Even as a child, she did.”

“Aye, well, Lady Mairi is his grace’s daughter, and he is wont to indulge her whims,” Hector said without looking away from Mariota.

“I suppose he might be,” Cristina said. “Still, I thought . . .” She fell silent without finishing the sentence when she realized that he was not listening.

Hector was smiling at Mariota, who smiled back, sending waves of delight through him. Sakes, but she was magnificent! How cruel Fate was, he thought, to have conjured up such a mess to envelop him!

Aware of an odd silence, he wrenched his gaze from her and glanced at the others, realizing that Cristina was eyeing him with a frown that made him search his conscience in much the same way he had when his mother had gazed at him so.

The memory caught him unawares, but he heard the echo of his last words to her in his mind and realized that he might have sounded critical of MacDonald or of Mairi. He realized, too, that the usually verbose Lady Euphemia had said not a word. Meeting his wife’s frown with one of his own, he said, “What is it?”

She hesitated, but Isobel said bluntly, “She was speaking to you, but you were not listening because you were gawking at Mariota.”

“He was not gawking,” Mariota said indignantly. “You are the most impertinent child in the Isles, Isobel, and I think you should leave the table at once if you cannot behave properly.”

“I only said—”

“Hush, Isobel,” Cristina said gently. “You need not leave, but you should not answer questions that are not addressed to you, love. I was merely going to say, sir, that I believe you ought to answer Mariota’s questions. Surely, a woman need not be his grace’s daughter to learn what goes on in the Council of the Isles.”

“Aye, lass, that’s true,” he said, grateful that she had dealt so diplomatically with her sisters and glad to have something unexceptionable to say. Nevertheless, he felt the need to add, “I meant naught of criticism by my words, only that womenfolk usually take small interest in our business at Finlaggan.”

“But Mariota is interested, and doubtless Aunt Euphemia is, too.”

Irritation stirred, and had Lady Euphemia not been sitting there, watching them with birdlike interest, he might have curtly commanded his wife not to address him as she would a three-year-old.

Isobel said, “You must be very important, sir, to take part in meetings with the Lord of the Isles. Is he a nice man?”

Turning to her with relief, he said, “He is a powerful man, lass, but also a thoughtful one. I think most folks would agree that he is kind—unless they disobey the laws of the Isles, at all events,” he added. “Are you enjoying your visit here?”

“Oh, yes,” she exclaimed. “Cristina has arranged for me to ride every day.”

He glanced at Cristina. “You do not encourage her to ride alone, I hope.”

Grimacing, Isobel said, “I do not know why you think she should not, sir. I have frequently ridden alone at home.”

“Does she ride alone?” he asked, meeting Cristina’s gaze with ease this time.

“No, sir,” she replied calmly. “We have all been mindful of your orders.”

“I should hope so,” he said. Then, smiling at the others, he said, “I hope you will forgive us if we leave you to entertain yourselves for the rest of the evening. As you might imagine, I have several matters I want to discuss with Cristina.”

Mariota pouted. “If you were truly concerned about my welfare, sir, I should think you would know better than to leave me with no more entertainment than my aunt and little sister. A true gentleman does not abandon his lady guests with naught of interest to amuse them.”

Isobel chuckled. “If you seek amusement, Mariota, you have only to watch the kittens at play. I think they are in the kitchen. Shall I fetch them for you, or would you prefer to play a game with me?”

“Do not make me tell you again to hold your tongue, Isobel, because you will be very sorry if you do,” Mariota said sharply. Then, pouting prettily again as she turned back to Hector, she said, “Do you see how it is, sir? Most unfair!”

He grinned at her, amused by her flirtation, but when Cristina stood and signed to the gillies to finish clearing the high table, he recalled that he had much to say to her. To Mariota he said, “I promise I’ll make it up to you, lass. No good host should allow his guests to suffer boredom. I collect that you like to ride.”

“Aye, I do, and I brought a very becoming riding dress with me, too.”

“Then mayhap I’ll take you out in the morning after we break our fast.”

“Me, too?” Isobel demanded.

Much as he would have liked to refuse, he knew that he could not do so without drawing censure for attempting to turn a simple outing into a private matter. Nor did he want to disappoint her, however, because something about the child appealed strongly to him. So he smiled and said, “Aye, lassie, you, too. And now, if you will all forgive us, we’ll bid you good night. Come, my lady.”

He put a hand to her back to guide her toward the door, noting that her right hand shook as she lifted her skirts to go with him. It was just as well, though, if she was a little afraid of him. From all he had seen so far, the chit had taken far too many liberties in his home. He needed to remind her that he was master here.

Cristina fought to control the anger that had surged through her when Hector responded so flirtatiously to Mariota’s blandishments, but the emotion increasingly plagued her, and she did not know why it should. She loved her sister very much, and although she had frequently noted the effect Mariota had on men, never before had it bothered her, because she had believed Mariota felt her worth too much to allow her flirtations to cross the line in any way.

Now, however, matters were different. Her own sense of guilt at depriving her sister of the husband she had apparently decided she wanted after all, added to her irritation with Hector’s behavior since his return, had turned her emotions inside out, making her fear she might give way to them in a most unseemly, even dangerous way. She could vaguely remember succumbing to high emotion from time to time as a child and being roundly scolded or punished each time. The punishment for an adult would be far worse, surely, in loss of respect if nothing else.

A lady simply did not allow her emotions to overwhelm her. At least, ladies other than Mariota did not. But Mariota was different, and had always insisted on different rules for herself. She said she thought emotionally rather than logically, because that was just the way she was. In time her family had come to realize that they must not expect her to act as the rest of them had to act. Her nature was therefore freer than most women’s, certainly more so than anyone had ever allowed Cristina’s nature to be. Mariota had been a merry child, impulsive and into mischief all the time, a child much like Isobel, although never as intrepid as Isobel was.

Macleod doted on Mariota—spoiled her, Lady Euphemia said. If Mariota was naughty, Macleod would scold Cristina because she was older and should have watched her sister more carefully. And Cristina had accepted that responsibility. Then, as more sisters joined the family, she had accepted responsibility for them, too, especially after their mother died.

Lady Anna’s death had shocked them all, but outwardly Mariota had seemed to suffer the most. For weeks, she had scarcely spoken. Then she had abruptly pulled herself out of her grief, throwing herself instead into tasks that had never interested her before. She refused to allow the maidservants to tidy the bedchamber she shared with Cristina and Adela, insisting on doing it every day herself. That phase lasted only a short time before she tired of it, but she had seemed unnaturally fragile for months, easily upset, easily hurt, easily angered, even enraged.

Such emotions were not for Cristina, however, and the fact that she wanted to scream or throw something now, preferably at her husband, disconcerted her. As she walked silently beside him toward the stairway that wound up through the thick north wall of the central tower, she dared not speak even to ask him where they were going, lest she say aloud the other words fairly shouting in her head.

Her greatest fear was that someday her mental conversations would erupt in real shouts, born of a rage to equal any of Mariota’s tantrums. If that ever happened, she feared that the earth might split beneath her feet and swallow her—or that some equally cataclysmic fate would overcome her.

When they reached the stone landing outside Hector’s bedchamber, he pushed the door open and indicated that she should precede him inside. Following her, he stopped at the threshold and gazed about in astonishment.

“Sakes, you’ve even turned my room upside down!”