Amanda Scott (17 page)

“Indeed, sir, I do not believe I understand it myself,” she admitted, meeting his gaze easily enough now. “Everyone we have met hereabouts has been kind to me and to them, and most welcoming, too.”

He nodded. “As long as you ride near Lochbuie, that will be true, but Clan Gillean does have enemies on the island, not the least of whom is your father’s friend, the Green Abbot.”

“Fingon Mackinnon?”

“Aye, he bears little liking for us.”

“But why? He has always been courteous to me.”

“You were a Macleod, lass. Now you are one of us . . . even if it be just for a short time.” Although the pause made him seem less firm than he had been before when referring to his annulment, she was more interested in the Green Abbot.

“I am still the same person I was, and still my father’s daughter, sir,” she said. “Surely, Fingon would not harm me.”

“He and his kinsmen would do nearly anything to harm me, however, and if he believes you to be the wife of my heart, as you say others do, then harm may well befall you. Moreover, if he believed he could cause trouble for me by abducting you or one of your sisters, he would certainly do so.”

“But why? That would be to offend my father, too, would it not?”

“Perhaps, but we cannot trust Fingon Mackinnon to think of that.”

“Faith, sir, but the sons of Gillean must have done something horrible to inspire such hatred in him. Will you tell me what it was?”

He met her gaze and seemed to search it for a long moment. Then, and again to her surprise, he nodded and said, “He blames Lachlan and me for his brother Niall’s death. The fact that the Mackinnons attacked us does not weigh with him. That Lachlan killed Niall is all that does.”

“I did hear that his brother died violently,” she said, remembering vaguely that her father had told her as much. Having never met Niall Mackinnon, she had paid little heed to the details, if Macleod had bothered to relate them to her. “Niall Mackinnon was Chief of the Mackinnons, and also high steward of his grace’s household before your brother assumed that position, was he not?”

“He was, and a right scoundrel as well,” Hector said. “The first year that Lachlan and I served in our father’s place at the Council of the Isles, he took umbrage at our representing such power without what he considered to be the proper age and experience to go with it. There is more to the story, of course, but now is not the time for it. Where the devil are your sisters?”

They had entered the barn and found only two gillies inside, tending ponies.

“Has either of you seen Lady Mariota or Lady Isobel?” Cristina asked.

“Aye, mistress, we both did,” the older of the two responded, glancing warily at his master. “The lady Mariota said ye were no going t’ ride wi’ them after all, and that if ye did come looking for them, t’ tell ye they’d be back in an hour or two.”

Hector said ominously, “Lady Mariota said that, did she?”

The lad swallowed visibly. “Aye, master.”

“Henceforth, you are not to allow either of Lady Cristina’s sisters to leave the castle without an armed escort,” Hector said. “Do you understand me?”

“Aye, sir. We did say we should go along, but she said she didna want us.”

“The lady Mariota?”

“Aye.”

“Then henceforth,” Hector said evenly, “you will not ask her. You will simply go with her. If she tries to stop you, you will unsaddle her horse.”

“Begging your pardon, laird, but she didna want a saddle neither. Nor does the mistress ever want one, come to that.”

Cristina bit her lip, but her husband said only, “We are not discussing your mistress’s habits. You are not to allow Lady Mariota or Lady Isobel to ride out alone again, or you will suffer my wrath. Is that clear?”

“Aye, sir.”

“We shall want our horses at once.”

“Aye, sir, yours be saddled yonder, because your man said ye might want him, but it will take a few moments for Lady Cristina’s if ye want the saddle on.”

“I don’t want it,” she said firmly.

Hector looked at her, but she met the look.

“A lady’s saddle is most cumbersome, sir, and I can ride much faster without it,” she said. “If we’re to catch up with them, I must ride as they do. You need not worry,” she added with a touch of asperity. “I won’t fall off.”

“I don’t fear that, lass,” he said. “I begin to think you capable of almost anything you attempt.”

His tone was grim, even sardonic, but the words warmed her to her toes.

Chapter
9

A
s Hector and Cristina rode west above the rugged southern cliffs of the island, she let him determine the course. She had no idea exactly where her sisters might have gone, although the lad had pointed west, but Hector seemed to have at least a strong notion. Except for the hour-long journey from Chalamine to Kyle Rhea, she had not ridden with him before, but he was an excellent horseman, an unusual skill in an Islesman, particularly such a large Islesman.

She knew that men of the Isles rarely traveled where they would need horses. When they traveled, they went in boats, so most of them were highly skilled boatmen, capable of handling any size craft from the smallest fishing coble to the largest galley or birlinn. But Hector Reaganach seemed as much at home on horseback as he did in his longboat.

His lips had tightened again into that formidable straight line, and his jaw was set. He did not seem to be anticipating the forthcoming meeting with Mariota with pleasure or eagerness. She opened her mouth to remind him that Isobel was only twelve and would have followed her elder sister’s lead, but she shut it again. He most likely did not need reminding, and if he did, she could create some sort of diversion when the time came. It was enough that when he learned what they had done, he hadn’t gone after them alone and sent her back inside the castle.

“You ride well, lass,” he said a moment later.

“Thank you,” she said. “I have ridden almost daily since I was a child.”

“Is it true that Macleod allows you and your sisters to ride alone?”

She hesitated but answered honestly, “He did not like it when we did, sir, but the area around Chalamine is Macleod land for miles, and completely safe for us. Our neighbors are all clansmen and allies, so no one would molest us, and if we had trouble with a horse or broke a rein, we could easily find help.”

He nodded. “Seil is like that, too, as is Morvern for MacDonald, but Mairi was nonetheless abducted once from the hillside behind Ardtornish.”

“Faith, someone took a great chance in doing that!”

“And suffered the proper fate for his temerity, but my point is that nowhere is as safe as one tends to think it is.”

“Mayhap not, but such a thing has never happened in Glenelg. Indeed, my father raises the issue only when others are around, and it is my belief that he does so because he wants to demonstrate that he has sufficient men to spare even to ride with his daughters, and thus increase his consequence.”

“It is nonetheless your duty to obey him and not your business to determine if his judgment is sound,” he said sternly. “I hope you do not intend to flout any orders that I give.”

“I have not done so.”

He looked at her, and she thought for a moment that she detected a twinkle in his eyes, but it vanished before she could be sure, and he said, “You would be wise not to do so in future either.”

Casually, she said, “Lady Mairi told me that Isleswomen must be strong and able to do much of what their men do, because their men are so frequently away from home. My father was also frequently away.”

“I’d not advise you to follow Mairi’s lead,” he said so gently as to send a shiver up her spine. “She is different, after all, being his grace’s daughter.”

“Indeed, I found her most knowledgeable and helpful. But what then do you expect of me when you are away?”

“I expect you to seek advice from my steward and from Alma Galbraith.”

“Ah,” she said, seeing nothing to gain by telling him that both his steward and housekeeper had already formed the habit of turning to her for direction. Deciding that diversionary tactics were in order, lest he press the point by telling her just what she should leave to which servants, she said, “You keep gazing at the ground, sir. Are we following their tracks?”

He smiled, and she found herself instantly wishing again that he would do so more often. “We’re following someone’s tracks,” he said. “It looks as if two ponies are headed in the general direction the lad said they took, so I’m hopeful, although I cannot say I like this route. There were other tracks leading north, but if they’ve headed toward Duart, they’ll encounter no danger. Most of the land between here and there is under our control or that of our kinsmen.”

“But this way lies Mackinnon territory?” she guessed.

“Aye,” he said. “And those two deserve to be put across my knee for this.”

“Well, I hope you will do no such thing,” Cristina said. “They are your guests, after all.”

“Faith, lass, they are my sisters now as much as your own and deserve to be treated as I would treat any sister. If the only way to persuade them to obey my orders and keep them out of danger is to punish them, then that is what I must do.”

She held her tongue. Knowing Mariota as she did, and his usual reaction to her, she did not believe he would carry out his threat. She understood his point, though, and feared that if she debated his decision with him, he would become more determined to carry it out.

“We’ll go this way,” he said, turning off the narrow path they had been following and urging his horse up the steep, rocky hillside. Scrubby, wind-battered trees fought with boulders for space there, but Cristina’s pony was nimble, and she was easily able to follow the route Hector picked through the rocks and shrubbery.

The scents of the sea were strong, blowing in from the southwest. The sun shone brightly, and the air was warmer than it had been for months.

He was frowning again, his gaze fixed on a point ahead of them, but his expression showed growing concern rather than irritation.

“We should have come upon them by now, should we not?” she asked.

“I did expect to find them before now,” he said. “But mayhap they ride faster than we expected or took a different track.”

“Mayhap they knew we would follow,” Cristina said. “Mariota did say she wanted to ride along the south coast, and although we have not taken this route before, I think she would keep her word, in case I did try to catch up with them. She might think that if she put distance between us, she might enjoy her ride longer.”

He looked grim. “You should have said as much to me before now.”

She shrugged. “To what point, sir? The lad said they had ridden west, but I knew as well as you that she might well have gone elsewhere.”

“Does she do such things often?”

Cristina sighed. “She does not like constraints, sir, and I’m afraid she does her best to ignore them. My father has much indulged her.”

“Sakes, if she flouts his commands with impunity, he has spoiled her beyond reason,” he said roundly.

Cristina had thought as much from time to time herself, but Mariota was her sister. She said, “I doubt that he would agree with you, sir. She is so charming and sweet most of the time that one finds it hard to stay angry with her.”

He grunted, but as he did, a sound reached them from a distance. Cristina thought it was a bird’s cry until Hector gave spur to his horse and the powerful beast leaped forward. They had nearly reached the top of the hill, now shrouded in forestland, but the way was still steep, and although she followed him as swiftly as she dared, she knew better than to press her mount to the same speed as his.

Thus, he was some distance ahead of her by the time she crested the hill, and she still did not know what drove him to such speed. She could not hear the sound again over the pounding hoofbeats and rattling stones beneath her, but within the forest, the atmosphere altered, becoming shadowy and much cooler. Sunbeams pierced the canopy, shooting mote-filled rays to the leafy ground, which was so thick with leaves and mulch that it muffled the horses’ hoofbeats.

The next cry that came was easily recognizable as a woman’s scream and a recognizable one, too.

“That’s Mariota!” Cristina cried to Hector.

He waved but did not turn or shout back. Indeed, his wave looked almost as if he meant her to stop and stay behind, but she could not do that, knowing that her sisters were in peril and that he might be as well.

They weaved their way among the trees, both riding faster than was safe, and she was thanking the fates that Hector had not insisted she use a lady’s saddle, when Mariota screamed again.

Kicking her horse as hard as she could, Cristina leaned over its mane, urging it on. She had lost sight of Hector, but Mariota’s cries drew her on until she came upon a clearing, saw her sisters, and wrenched her horse to a halt.

Both girls stood on the ground. Someone had torn Mariota’s dress from her shoulder, baring it, and Isobel looked frightened and angry.

Three men faced Hector tensely, swords drawn. A fourth lay on the ground, motionless, with Hector’s battle-axe buried to its pole in his chest.

He had come on the scene to find two louts manhandling Mariota, while a third held Isobel and a fourth surveyed the scene from horseback, smirking.

The smirk had vanished when Hector rode into the clearing at speed, and the man had foolishly drawn his sword and urged his horse toward him. In a single motion, Hector had drawn his battle-axe from its sling on his back and flung it, dispatching the rider. Then, flinging himself from the saddle, he faced the other three, his sword drawn, his dirk close at hand.

Mariota still screeched like a banshee, which was fine with him, because he knew it would distract the others more than himself. He was more concerned that one of them might try to ride off with Isobel.

Even as that thought darted through his mind, he saw Cristina gallop into the clearing, her pony’s eyes wild, its mouth foaming. Her high speed made him think she had lost control of the animal, and fear surged through him. But when she turned her mount deftly and raced toward the other horses, he realized that she intended to scatter them.