Amanda Scott (9 page)

Lady Clendenen’s twinkling gaze met Adela’s solemn one. “Do I not have the use of a house, sir, in Stirling?” Adela asked quietly.

A glance at Lady Clendenen revealed that her ladyship had shifted her gaze guiltily to Macleod, but he was glowering at Adela and did not appear to notice.

“Who told ye that?” he demanded. But he clearly figured it out for himself before the words had left his tongue, because he shot a furious look at her ladyship.

“I did,” Lady Clendenen said, meeting that look. “I thought she should know.”

Adela returned her attention to her breakfast as Macleod’s temper erupted.

Her ladyship replied placidly, Isabella smiled, and Sorcha and Isobel soon joined in the fray. Clearly the latter two, at least, agreed that Lady Clendenen had made a grave error in mentioning the house in Stirling, but Adela was grateful for the knowledge. She wondered what else lay hidden in Ardelve’s settlements.

She wondered, too, what her companion on the ramparts would think of the debate. Suddenly, she wished she could tell him about it, because she had confidence that, one way or another, he would help her decide the best course for herself.

The longer she sat there, half listening to the continuing debate over what she should do, the more persuaded she became that she did not want to return to Loch Alsh or to Chalamine if she truly did not have to go. One’s duty was important, to be sure, but if everyone at the table agreed that she owed none to Ardelve’s corpse, she found it hard to believe that he would feel otherwise or expect her to do so.

He had understood that she had feelings and ideas of her own, and he had also seemed to respect them. That he would insist that any widow—however recent—should accompany a deteriorating corpse on a long journey to a house she had never seen and, once there, should seek the hospitality of a stepson she had met only once seemed difficult if not impossible to imagine.

At that precise moment, Sir Hugo entered the hall from the main stairway with several of his men. Clearly surprised to find so many still at the table, he paused to bid them all good morning.

“Has the fog cleared yet?” Isabella asked him.

“Nay, madam, it still lies thick in the glen. Even so, Sir Edward and most of our other remaining guests have declared their intention to leave after the midday meal. I’ll send two of our lads with each party to see them safely on their way.”

“A good notion,” Isabella said. “Thank you, Hugo.”

He nodded, then glanced at Adela and smiled at Sorcha before turning away with his men toward the northwest stairs.

Seeing him reminded Adela of Sidony’s suggestion that she might stay at Hawthornden Castle. That would give her privacy and a chance to think clearly.

Hawthornden lay a mile from Roslin. Her memory of it was vague, since she had gone there only the one time with Isobel, Sidony, and the countess to pay a bride visit, and thus had seen little of it, but she did recall that it sat above the River Esk on a high, sheer cliff. She knew that Hugo’s men-at-arms had used it for themselves until he took Sorcha there, but it had seemed comfortable, even so.

Glancing at Sorcha, she wondered if her sister had broached the notion to Hugo. It being clearly not a good time to ask her, Adela wondered how long she would have to wait until they could speak privately.

On the other hand, Hugo was here now.

Deciding the time had come to take some action of her own, Adela waited only a few minutes longer before quietly excusing herself.

“I’ll walk upstairs with you,” Isobel said, rising.

“I’ll go, too,” Sorcha said.

Adela was certain she had kept her expression neutral, but she was aware of a shrewd glance from Isabella before the countess said lightly, “Don’t run away yet, Sorcha, nor you, Sidony. I want to show you both some fabric that arrived yesterday from Paris, France. Come with me now. I left it in the solar.”

Adela breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are we plaguing you so much?” Isobel asked as they stepped off the dais.

Guiltily, Adela shook her head. “I know everyone means well,” she said. “It’s just that I’m not used to so many people around all the time. I can scarcely think.”

“You mean you’re not used to so many trying to tell you what to do.”

“Aye, that’s it,” she admitted. “Moreover, so much has happened that I want time to sort it out for myself before I decide what to do.”

“I understand,” Isobel said with a grin. “I never listened to anyone else until Michael came along. I listen to him because he listens to me. Father never did.”

Adela gave her a straight look. “Are you trying to tell me you never heeded anything Hector said to you? Because, if you are—”

“You wouldn’t believe me,” Isobel said with a laugh. “And quite right, too. They don’t call our sister’s husband Hector the Ferocious for no reason, but he suits Cristina perfectly, which just goes to show that we don’t always know best. She certainly never imagined that her marriage to him would be a good one, but it is.”

“So now you’re trying to tell me that I should listen to Father, as she did?”

Isobel sobered. “Not just Father, Adela. I agree you’d be unwise to return straightaway to the Highlands if you have to cast yourself on the hospitality of the new Lord Ardelve. We scarcely know Fergus, but Lady Clendenen tells me he is marrying soon, and she doubts his bride will welcome you even if he does. She is dreadfully homely, Lady Clendenen says.”

“Ardelve said the same,” Adela said, remembering. “He also told me she is an heiress, which recommended her highly to him as a wife for Fergus.”

“Aye, well, the Macleod sisters have made good marriages, too.”

“I’m beginning to believe I’m not meant to marry,” Adela said as they crossed the stair hall. “Only look at what has happened each time I’ve tried.”

Isobel grimaced. “Sakes, Adela, you are always the sensible one. Only think what you would say to Sidony or to me if we were to say such a thing.”

“I know,” Adela said, catching up her skirts in one hand and lightly touching the stone wall with the other as they went up the winding stairway. “Odd how one’s advice to others so frequently differs from one’s own behavior, is it not?”

Isobel’s laughter echoed in the stairwell. “I’ll leave you here,” she said when they reached the first landing. “I want to see to my wee laddie, and Isabella expects me to return soon to bid our guests farewell. She said to tell you that you need not dine with everyone at midday unless you want to. Most will not expect to see you.”

“Then I’ll stay away,” Adela said gratefully.

“Mayhap we can talk this afternoon,” Isobel said. “I promise I’ll not offer advice unless you request it, but if you’d like to talk just to sort your thoughts, I’d be happy to listen.”

Thanking her without promising anything, Adela went on up the stairs past her own chamber to the next level, where the little chamber was that Hugo used when he stayed at Roslin. It faced another room across the stone landing one level below the doorway to the ramparts.

When Hugo had lived at Roslin before his marriage, the chamber had served as his bedchamber. Now, he used it as an office of sorts, and since he had headed that way and had not returned through the hall, she hoped to find him there.

That portion of the stairway was usually dark. But enough pale gray light spilled down the stairs to tell her that a door must be open above her. Since she still had some distance to go before reaching the door to the ramparts and wall walk, hope stirred that the door to Sir Hugo’s chamber was open. If so, he was there.

As the thought formed, she heard men’s voices, oddly distorted as they wafted through the stone stairwell. She recognized Hugo’s at once.

She could not tell what he was saying at first. But two steps more and his voice grew clear just as he said, “… murdered, and not just Sir Ian but Will, too.”

She heard a murmur, and as it occurred to her that she had chosen a poor time to approach Hugo, the other said gruffly with a thick Borders accent, “Then I trow ye mun be thinking we’ll ha’ to put an end to Einar Logan, as weel.”

“I’m afraid so,” Hugo agreed, his voice sounding nearer.

Chapter 5

S
hocked and scarcely able to believe her ears, Adela stood stock still, remembering the familiar-looking, bearded henchman who had helped Hugo after Ardelve’s collapse. She had forgotten about him, and not for the first time, either, now that she came to think about it. Einar Logan was one of the men who had helped rescue her after her abduction.

Indeed, except for Hugo and Sorcha, he had done more than anyone.

To be sure, at the time, she had seen him for only half a minute before Waldron had felled him with an arrow. But in the aftermath, she had heard Einar’s name mentioned several times and knew he was captain of Hugo’s fighting tail.

Thankfully, his jack-of-plate had protected him from serious injury from the arrow, but she had been hurt that day, too. And by the time she had recovered from her injuries, Ardelve, Macleod, and the countess had arranged her wedding.

What with preparing for it and being unable even to think about her ordeal, she had forgotten Einar Logan.

She realized, to her chagrin, that she had never even thanked him for what he had done. Certainly, she could not let anything bad happen to him now.

She wanted to hear more, but the door above shut with a snap, and she could no longer hear their voices. A part of her wanted to dash up the stairs, throw open that door, and demand to know what Hugo was thinking to betray a man she knew must be his chief and most loyal henchman. Put an end to Einar Logan, indeed!

A more familiar part of her shrank from such a confrontation. For one thing, she could not imagine Hugo responding well to her outrage. He would just tell her that his business was none of hers and refuse to discuss Einar Logan with her.

Even if he were willing to listen, he was unlikely to do so if she barged in while the other man was with him. Nor would it help if one of Hugo’s men-at-arms caught her in the stairway just below that closed door with nowhere else that she might logically be going.

Making her way quietly back down to her chamber, she whisked herself inside and threw the bolt to ensure privacy so she could think. No sooner had she done so, however, than the best course of action announced itself. Minutes later she had flung on her lavender cloak and was hurrying downstairs.

It occurred to her before she reached the hall that she could find Sorcha and tell her what she had heard. Sorcha knew Einar much better than she did, because as captain of Hugo’s fighting tail, he accompanied them wherever they went.

But Sorcha would insist that they confront Hugo. Tempers would flare, and heaven knew the trouble that would stir for everyone concerned. Adela shuddered at the image that leaped to her mind. It was just the sort of scene she abhorred. A wiser scheme, as she had already decided, was to find Einar and warn him herself.

Hurrying across the hall, empty now except for lads raking rushes to remove debris from the previous day’s meals before setting up trestles for the midday dinner, she went down the southeast stairs to the castle’s main entrance. Inside the entry alcove, the huge iron yett stood open, latched against the wall. So although the porter was nowhere to be seen, it was a simple matter for her to open the great door and hurry down the steps to the cobbled courtyard, still damp and heavy with mist.

Drawing her cloak closely around her, she crossed to the stables below the lantern tower on the northeast curtain wall, where she summoned a gillie and explained that she wanted to speak with Einar Logan.

“I dinna ken where he be, me lady,” the lad said, scratching a mop of brown hair. “I’ll look for him, though. Will I send him inside to ye when I find him?”

Her plan had been so clear, so simple, so easily accomplished that it had not occurred to her that Hugo’s captain might not be available. But she could not leave such a message, asking him to meet her or to seek her inside the castle.

“That is not necessary,” she said to the helpful gillie. “’Tis only that I’ve not yet had a chance to thank him for a service he did me. I’ll do it another time.”

Dismissing the lad and returning to the hall as quickly as she had left, she feared at any moment to encounter Macleod, Hugo, or one of her sisters. Glancing at the door to the countess’s solar as she hurried across the hall, she realized there were less escapable hazards as well.

Gaining the stairway, she felt a measure of relief. She had no idea how many guests still lingered due to the fog, but she had seen only a few. Perhaps others were either dressing or supervising their packing to depart. Two chattering, unknown servants hurried down the stairs past her, giving credence to such possibilities.

Thrusting open her bedchamber door, she found Kenna inside smoothing the coverlet. She had fed the fire, as well, and it crackled cheerfully.

“Lady Isobel sent me, m’lady, to see if ye’d like to take your dinner wi’ herself and the bairn,” Kenna said as Adela moved to warm her hands at the fire.

“Thank her for me,” Adela said. “But tell her I mean to rest. I doubt I’ll be hungry again before suppertime.”

“Aye, I’ll tell her,” Kenna said, turning toward the still open door.

“Stay a moment,” Adela said. “Do you know Einar Logan?”

“Aye, sure,” Kenna said, widening her eyes. “He’s a friend o’ me brothers.”

Adela hesitated, uncertain what to say, but words came with surprising ease. “Will you tell him I’m grateful for all he did to help me, and that I’d like to return that service in a small measure?” Then, lowering her voice, she added, “I … I overheard something he ought to know, Kenna. Doubtless I make too much of words innocently spoken, but do tell him I’d like to speak with him.”

Kenna had stepped closer when Adela had lowered her voice, but turned back to shut the door firmly before saying with a frown, “D’ye no think ye ought to tell Sir Hugo what ye heard, m’lady? He’d soon sort it out, ye ken.”

Adela was anything but an accomplished liar. However, she had no intention of confiding more to the young maidservant than what she had already said. Nor would she admit that she could not go to Hugo without further endangering Einar.