Amanda Scott (38 page)

“Have no fear, my lady,” he said calmly as he walked toward the bed. “We have come to arrest a criminal. I am sorry if we
come too late,” he added in a slightly different tone.

His gaze swept over her, and his expression altered leeringly until she wanted to slide beneath the blankets and cover her
head.

She did not, of course, but continued to eye him steadily as she said, “What nonsense do you speak? He is no more criminal
than you are.”
Much less, in fact,
a voice inside her head added.

“I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, Anne,” Eustace said, stepping nearer the bed—much too near it, in her opinion.
“But the man you so foolishly married today is a murderer who escaped from prison.”

“You know that is not true,” she said frostily.

“I know nothing of the sort,” he retorted. “That young man was sentenced to life imprisonment for killing two sons of a powerful
Highland laird. He was lucky to escape hanging at the time, but I doubt that his luck will continue. The added offense of
his escape will most likely mean his end.”

“Which you would like above all things,” she snapped. “You do not fool me, Eustace Chisholm. You know as well as I do that
your nephew was never tried or properly sentenced. You also know he never murdered anyone, let alone his Highland cousins,
because he was completely exonerated of that crime.”

The noise on the gallery faded as the other men hustled Kit away.

Eustace glanced over his shoulder at the empty doorway, then turned back with a smile. “What you think matters not,” he said,
“for you are but a woman, and since you can know only what Kit has told you, your word will carry no weight with any magistrate,
let alone one appointed to his bench by Cardinal Beaton.”

“So Beaton is in on this with you.”

“Beaton is merely a friend of mine,” he said. “He knows he can trust me to support him with every man I have, and to do whatever
is necessary to keep Henry in England. He does not know Kit, however, and from what he has heard of him, he fears he will
be as difficult to trust as Buccleuch or the Armstrongs of Liddesdale. He needs me, and he promised from the first to support
my position here, that’s all.”

Choosing her words with care, Anne said, “I collect then, sir, that for rather a long while he has supported your desire to
control Hawks Rig.”

Eustace’s smirk was answer enough, but he added, “He did recently do me a sad disservice, however.”

“I wonder which you consider the greater betrayal,” Anne said musingly, “the fact that he assured you a year ago that Kit
was dead or that yesterday he decided in favor of Kit’s betrothal instead of yours, thus robbing you of Fiona.”

Eustace shrugged. “That hardly matters now that our Fiona has so stupidly eloped with her jester.”

“Her jester is kin to Armstrong of Liddesdale,” Anne said.

“Even so, she will rue the day, because the Armstrongs are likely to support Henry, and she will find herself ostracized by
everyone she cares about.”

“But the Armstrongs will likewise control her inheritance, whichever side they serve,” Anne said, not believing for a moment
that either Fiona or Willie would support an English king wanting to invade their beloved Scotland.

“That is true,” Eustace said. “But Fiona’s mother has money, too, you know. People tend to forget that, but her widow’s portion
is nearly as large as Fiona’s, and she thinks well of me. And, too, there is always yourself, my dear, after Beaton annuls
your marriage to my nephew or hangs him. I have no doubt that Armadale left you very well off. What would you think of twice
becoming Lady Chisholm?”

The thought of being forced to marry him made her feel nauseous, but she responded in her usual calm manner, “If such a thing
should somehow come to pass, sir, you would be wise not to sleep too heavily at night.”

Sarcastically, he said, “Or what?”

“I have no scruples about killing vermin,” Anne said with a direct look.

His arrogance turned to fury. “Your impertinent tongue has annoyed me for months,” he snapped, reaching for her, “and by heaven,
there is no one here to protect you now from the punishment you deserve. Beaton has already promised me the bride of my choice,
and if I choose you, my lass, you will soon learn meekness, for by God, I’ll beat it into you.”

As he grabbed her arm, a growl startled them both, and he snapped his head around toward the sound, raising the torch higher.

A red fox with a white chest and white tip to its bushy, upright tail stood squarely on the hearthrug, teeth bared, growling
viciously.

“What the—?”

Anne jerked her arm away from him. “Get out, Sir Eustace!”

He made a rude sound, looking back at her. “Faith, you do not suppose I am afraid of a fox! That stupid beast has been wandering
at will all over this house for the past fortnight or more. Just see how valiant a defender it will be!” With that, he jabbed
the torch in the direction of the fox, clearly expecting it to dart away.

It held its ground, watching him, ignoring the threatening flame.

“I’ll show you!” Eustace exclaimed, thrusting the torch right at its face.

As Anne watched in horrified astonishment, the fox leaped straight at Eustace, somehow avoiding the torch and going for the
man’s throat.

With a cry of terror, Eustace threw both arms up to defend himself, dropping the torch. The braided rag rug by the bed caught
fire, the flames shooting high to catch the bed curtains and the hem of Eustace’s cloak. As the fire roared. Eustace grabbed
the fox by the scruff of its neck and with another angry cry, flung it into the flames. Then, thrusting off his burning cloak,
he ran from the room.

The door slammed shut behind him, and the flames instantly went out.

Anne blinked, and as she did, the torch flamed up again, but to her surprise, it rose onto the end of its handle in the middle
of the floor. Standing steadily, it seemed brighter than before, and she decided that the burning curtains, cloak, and carpet
had been figments of her imagination. Nothing was even charred.

“Ye didna dream it,” a disembodied voice said as the fox sat up on the coverlet where Eustace had flung it and gave itself
a shake like a dog shedding water from its fur.

“Who else is in here?” Anne demanded, although the voice seemed slightly familiar, as if it reminded her of someone she had
met in the distant past or a dream.

“’Tis just me,” the voice said, and the fox faded from view as a plump little countrywoman in a plain gray cloak, green dress,
and black boots took its place.

Instantly, Anne’s memory reminded her where she had heard the voice and seen the woman. “Maggie Malloch,” she exclaimed, “I’d
forgotten all about you!”

“Aye, I ken that,” Maggie said, nodding as she reached into a pocket cunningly hidden in her cloak and pulled out a white
implement that looked like a rounded stick with a shallow bowl attached at one end. To Anne’s surprise, a glow like that of
burning coals radiated from the bowl, and when Maggie put the stick in her mouth and sucked deeply on it, a thin stream of
white smoke wafted upwards. Another cloud of it billowed from her lips when she exhaled.

“Mercy, what is that thing?”

“’Tis called a pipe, but we’ll no talk o’ me bad habits,” Maggie said. “We ha’ a far more important matter tae discuss.”

“We certainly do, but what did you do with the fox?”

“I did nowt.” Maggie said. “There were nae fox, only me.”

“But the dogs chased one in more than a fortnight ago,” Anne said. “It has been creating havoc amongst the servants ever since.”

“Nay, only for a day or so, that one,” Maggie said. “It left o’ its own accord shortly after it got in, but I thought it might
serve a useful purpose at some time or other if folks continued tae see it now and again. And so it has.”

“And the flames?”

Maggie shrugged. “Most men be afraid o’ fire unless they ha’ good cause tae brave it. As tae that Eustace, he’ll be a coward
through and through, I’m thinking, talking big when he has men at his back, but no when he’s alone.”

“If he was so easy to rout, can you also make his horrid men release Kit?”

“Nay, that I canna do,” Maggie said. “I ha’ already interfered more than I should, but Eustace kens only that a fox bested
him, and that fox be known in this house tae one and all. Were I tae take a hand in rescuing your Kit, I’d ha’ tae use me
powers where too many persons would ken that I had. I canna do that.”

“But can you not simply make them forget afterward as you did me?”

“I could, but me Clan frowns heavily on such strong interference in mortal affairs,” Maggie explained. “As it is, I’ll likely
ha’ tae answer for what I did here, but since I’d sent your own guardian spirit away, I felt obliged tae see ye came tae no
grief in his absence.”

“I have my own guardian spirit?”

“Ye do. But now, if ye’ll pardon me, I’ve summat tae tell ye, and ye canna fly into the fidgets when I do, for ye’ll need
tae keep your mind clear.”

“What is it?” Anne demanded, feeling a chill of fear.

“I canna predict the future, as I told ye afore, but they do mean tae hang him, I think,” Maggie said. “Another possibility
exists, though, because Henry’s army be closer than ye ken, and for all he said about Armstrongs, Eustace do be closer tae
Henry than ye might think.”

“Are you suggesting that he might turn Kit over to the English?”

“Ha’ ye a better notion?” Maggie demanded. “D’ye think he’ll trust that traitorous Beaton again tae do away wi’ him, after
he failed the first time?”

“So the cardinal did have a hand in that,” Anne said. “I thought as much.”

“Aye, I’m certain he did,” Maggie said. “Eustace is too sure o’ Beaton for it tae be aught else, sithee, and he claimed Sir
Christopher’s titles and property wi’ uncanny swiftness. Ye’ll ha’ tae ask them about that yourself, though.”

“But if they mean Kit to die, how could I possibly stop them?”

“He never brought ye the pistol he promised ye, but his be in yon kist,” Maggie said, pointing with the stem of her pipe at
a chest near the hearth.

Anne swallowed hard, saying tightly, “But even if I had the pistol… ”

The fox reappeared in Maggie’s place, but this time, the fox was black.

T
he torch in the center of the floor had disappeared when Maggie did, but the fire had leaped into flames again, casting light
throughout the room, and Anne quickly found Kit’s gun tucked into the bag containing his powder, ramrod, and bullets. She
also found a long black cloak among his trappings, as well as a dark shirt and a pair of dark netherstocks, but his breeches
were too large for her, and when she pulled on his boots, her feet swam in them. She would need help.

A knock at the door startled her, and she froze where she was.

“My lady? Lady Anne, are you in there?” It was Malcolm Vole’s voice.

With a sigh of exasperation, Anne got to her feet and clumped to the door in Kit’s boots. Opening it just enough to see Malcolm,
she said, “What is it?”

With a sigh of relief, he said, “Oh, my lady, I feared for your life! Sir Eustace said Sir Christopher’s bedchamber had caught
fire.”

“As you see, he was wrong,” Anne said. “I believe Sir Eustace desires only to cause trouble. Doubtless, like a child, he desires
to strike back at everyone for his loss of Mistress Fiona.”

Malcolm’s eyebrows shot upward, but Anne did not intend to take back the words she had spoken, despite having never intended
to speak them aloud. The notion had stirred in her mind, and the words had popped out before she could stop them. In any event,
the steward was too busy trying to see past her into the room to concern himself further with her opinion of Eustace.

A harsh voice from the gallery said, “What are you doing there, Malcolm?”

He stiffened and turned his head, only to bow at once and say obsequiously, “Begging your lordship’s pardon, but I was concerned
that her ladyship might be in danger. Sir Eustace told me Sir Christopher’s bedchamber had caught fire.”

“One must wonder how Eustace knows that,” Lord Berridge said mildly.

“He and his men arrested Sir Christopher,” Malcolm said. “I assumed that in their struggle to subdue him, someone kicked a
candle over or some such thing.”

“It was brave of you to come alone to rescue Lady Chisholm,” Berridge said with a touch of sarcasm. “Since I see no smoke
issuing forth from her bedchamber, however, I warrant you can safely leave now.”

“Wait,” Anne said sharply. “Malcolm, go directly to the stable and order my horse saddled. I mean to ride after them.”

“I cannot do that,” Malcolm said in his precise way. “I should have to gain her ladyship’s permission first.”

“Nonsense,” Berridge said. “Lady Chisholm needs no one’s permission save her husband’s. And since he is not at hand just now,
she requires no one’s permission save her own.”

“I should need no permission in any event,” Anne snapped. “You listen to me, Malcolm Vole. Go and do as I bid you,
now,
because I am going after them if I have to climb over the wall and chase them barefoot.”

Malcolm stared at her in shock.

Berridge chuckled. “Go on and do as she commands, man, and look sharp. Whilst you’re about it, you may order a horse for me,
as well. I shall go with her.”

“In that event, there can be no reason to forbid her,” Malcolm said stiffly, hurrying away at last but with his dignity still
intact.

“What a dimwitted moldwarp that man is,” Berridge said, watching him go.

“Thank you for your support, my lord,” Anne said, “but you need not trouble yourself over me. I can manage quite well on my
own.”

“You are very fierce tonight, madam, but you cannot mean to ride out at night alone, and surely not in pursuit of a band of
armed men!”

“I… I’ll take an armed escort of my own,” she said hastily.

“Nay, lass, that won’t serve,” he said, shaking his head at her.

“Lord Berridge, you should know that he told me who you really are,” she said, looking up and down the gallery to be sure
no one would hear her. “I know you are an impostor, but I know as well that you are Kit’s friend. You must trust me on this
matter. I shall be quite safe, I promise you.”