Highland Master (15 page)

On Friday afternoon, Fin walked with Catriona to the north end of the island, which had become their favorite stroll. When they turned back, Boreas ranged ahead of them as usual until they emerged from the woods. Then, halting suddenly, the dog fixed its gaze on a point some distance out in the loch.

Fin stopped what he was saying midsentence. “What does he see, lass?”

Before she could answer, Boreas dashed into the water and swam toward whatever had caught his eye. Fin could see that something was out there, roiling the surface, but it was not large enough for him to guess what it might be.

When Boreas plunged his head underwater and flung it back upward, he had something in his mouth.

Catriona said, “It looks as if he found clothing or—Sakes, what
can
it be?”

When the dog emerged from the water, Fin saw that what it carried was a cloth sack that writhed furiously and emitted frantic squeaks.

Boreas set the sack gently on the ground and began to nose it, as if hoping it would open, only to rear back abruptly with a surprised yelp when it did.

Loudly hissing, a small feline head pushed through the opening of the sack.

Catriona knelt and jerked the sack open. Three gray kittens spilled out, the one still hissing angrily. The others scampered toward the open gate, and Fin grinned when both of them darted away to avoid a man-at-arms running toward them.

“Stop, Aodán!” Catriona shouted. “What
are
you doing?”

“I thought I were drowning kittens for the cook, m’lady. I dinna ken how them wee rascals got ashore again.”

In a blink, Catriona was on her feet, and watching her, Fin decided that she needed only a lightning bolt in each hand to match any mythical Fury.

“That was cruel!” she said, confronting Aodán. “If the kittens cannot lap and no one wants them, you must drown them, to be sure. But
not
by flinging them into the loch to drown in terror. Use a pail next time, sirrah, and bury them decently.”

“I’ll have to catch them first, m’lady,” Aodán said, turning away.

Boreas stepped in front of him, growling.

“Nay, let them be,” Catriona said. “Those three will
not
suffer again. They do look big enough to lap, so tell Tadhg to find people willing to take them, but do not
ever
do such a thing again. Just imagine how terrified they must have been!”

Aodán looked at Fin, the look of one helpless male to another. But Fin was struggling to conceal his amusement and shifted his gaze back to Boreas.

The dog continued to take stern interest in the hapless man-at-arms.

Fin had never had to drown kittens, but he did know how easily a few could turn into hundreds of hungry cats on any estate, let alone on an island. The lass would not thank him for any comment he might make, however, so he held his peace.

Catriona, still angry, said, “Go now, Aodán, and tell Tadhg he must put out food for them until he finds good homes for them. He can ask amongst our people in the hills. Tell him to say that I will count such adoption as a boon to me.”

“Aye, m’lady, I’ll see to it,” Aodán said, hastily making good his escape.

Catriona turned toward Fin then, her eyes still afire. “You!”

“Nay, now, don’t fly at me,” he said. “I had nowt to do with any of that.”

“You thought it was
funny
!”

“Nay, now…” Seeing her lips tighten, he said, “Aye, well, in troth I did. The dog stepping forward to halt the man nearly did finish me off. Look yonder now,” he added with a grin, gesturing toward the gateway.

Evidently pleased with the outcome, Boreas headed for the kitchen with the third kitten hurling itself at and between his legs in scrambling leaps and bounds.

When she laughed, Fin said, “That’s better.” He turned away long enough to pick up the wet sack, which still lay where she had left it after freeing the kittens.

“We should go in,” she said. “Our visitors will arrive soon, whoever they are.”

“You still have not learned who is coming?”

“Nay, although I did hear that it might be the Lord of the North returning to Lochindorb. But you
do
know who
is coming.” When he did not reply, she added, “I heard that they show no banner, sir. But no one seems to be alarmed.”

“I told you, your grandfather is content to let them come.”

“Aye, you did say that,” she said, frowning thoughtfully at him.

Catriona knew that those her grandfather would most readily welcome were her father and brothers, but they would fly the Mackintosh banner, just as Alex Stewart would fly his own as Lord of the Isles. She was certain that Fin knew them, whoever they were, and that he had persuaded her grandfather to let them come.

After she parted from him, she found Ailvie and said, “I want a bath before supper, Ailvie, so prithee, order hot water for me.”

“Aye, sure, m’lady. Then, I’ll come up straightaway to help ye.”

With Ailvie’s help, Catriona washed her hair, bathed, and donned the air-freshened yellow camlet gown. When she went back downstairs, her hair still damp but neatly plaited under her veil, she learned that the Mackintosh, despite his usual punctuality, had ordered supper set back an hour in expectation of guests.

Deciding to dry her hair by the hall fire, she drew a stool up by the hearth, took off her veil, and undid her plaits. She was still running fingers through her hair to let the heat of the fire dry it when Fin found her there.

“I hear that the Mackintosh does expect visitors,” he said. “Do you not fear that they may walk in and find you at your task?”

“Nay, for we will hear when they shout for the boats. The windows are unshuttered, sir, and such shouts echo long at this hour when the loch is calm.”

“I think your grandfather already sent boats across to await them.”

“Faith, why did no one tell me?”

Hastily, she began plaiting her hair again, aware that he watched closely as she did, because his gaze stirred the tingling sensation he so often stirred in her. It still surprised her how quickly and easily her body responded to his presence.

Hearing the first arrivals coming up from the yard, she twisted the two plaits together at her nape. She was pinning her veil into place when Fin stopped her.

“You’ve pinned it askew, lass,” he said, reaching to unpin and tug her veil into its proper place. The air around them seemed suddenly to crackle, making it hard for her to breathe, and the great hall seemed smaller. She was conscious only of him.

“Thank you,” she murmured to the air between them when he had finished.

But he did not reply, nor take his hand away. And the air, rather than crackling, filled with new tension. Looking at him, she saw that he stared toward the entrance, his face ashen. Following his gaze, she saw her father and James first, then Ivor. Other men were on the stairs behind them, but Ivor had stopped, blocking their way. The expression on his face reflected the one on Fin’s.

“God-a-mercy, you know Ivor!” she exclaimed. “Why ever did you not
say
so?”

H
aving barely heeded Catriona’s words as he stared in consternation at Hawk, Fin glanced at her, realized that he still had his fingertips on her veil, and drew his hand back as he said, “That man in the doorway is your brother Ivor?”

“Aye, of course it is. Don’t pretend that you do not know each other, for it is plain to me that you do.”

“My lady, I must leave you for a time,” Fin said, collecting his wits when he saw Rothesay push past Hawk. “My own master is there, by your brother—”

“But why did you not tell me that you know Ivor?”

“I will explain everything as soon as I can, but prithee, do not make a song about this. Your brother will not thank you for it any more than I will. You may even put one or both of us in danger.”

“Give me your word that you will explain this to me, or by heaven, I will tell my father about it just as soon as he comes near me.”

“I will explain as much to you later as I can. But curtsy now, lass, and right swiftly, for the Duke of Rothesay approaches.”

“Davy Stewart? The Governor of the Realm and heir to Scotland’s throne?
He
is the man you serve?”

“Aye,” Fin said, making his bow to Rothesay, who bore him away at once.

The younger man had the fair, blue-eyed Nordic good looks of nearly every Stewart, the prime exception being his uncle Albany, who was as dark, some said, as the devil’s own. Men had often suggested that since Albany looked so unlike his kinsmen, mayhap he was no Stewart at all but a changeling, or worse.

No one said such things of Rothesay, although he was certainly the subject of much gossip. He looked much as his grandfather, Robert II, had in his prime, and Rothesay seemed determined to outdo his grandfather in bed. The late King had sired more than twenty illegitimate offspring and nearly as many legitimate ones.

So far, though, Rothesay had sired no legitimate children.

“A beauteous lass, that one,” he said to Fin in Scot when Catriona excused herself and walked off. “Prithee, tell me she has a fondness for flirtation and that you’ve cultivated her acquaintance for me. I’ve had a devilish few days till now.”

“Have you, my lord?” Fin replied. “I thought today was a fine day.”

“Have you
seen
those damned Cairngorms?” Rothesay demanded without bothering to lower his voice. “I tell you it was cruel to put horses to them. But it was gey worse to make me walk here from the turning-off to Lochindorb.”

“They must have offered you a Highland pony to ride,” Fin said.

“Aye, sure, a garron they called it and assured me it was gey sure-footed. But my feet nearly dragged on the ground, Fin. I
preferred
to walk.”

“How did you meet the Laird of Rothiemurchus?” Fin asked.

“Shaw and his men were with my cousin Alex, Lord of the North, when I met them in Perth. They had traveled north together from the Borders. My lads and I joined their party, so that I could enter the Highlands without making a noise.”

“Where is Alex now?” Fin asked.

“He rode on to Lochindorb, taking our horses with him, rot the man. He said we’d do better here without them. But he should arrive tomorrow.”

“That explains why rumors of an army coming here did not disturb the Mackintosh,” Fin said. “He must have known that you had joined Alex. See you, he’d made himself clear about you and the others’ bringing only a few men to this meeting. So I feared that he might be wroth if you
were
bringing an army.”

“Shaw said the same thing. In troth, he sent half of his own men or more home to their families, saying he would not need them for a time. Alex is doing the same and will bring few with him. But if my uncle Albany should get wind of this meeting, we’ll need every man they’ve sent home, and right quickly.”

“Aye, perhaps, but the custom here is much as it is in the Borders. If need be, Highlanders light signal fires or send running gillies to summon the clans. And the Mackintosh men
have
been away from their families for months, have they not?”

“Aye, sure, but so what?” Rothesay looked toward Catriona, talking with her mother and grandmother a short way away. Her good-sister, the lady Morag, spoke to her husband, James, beyond them with more liveliness than Fin had yet seen in her.

He said quietly, “The lass who attracts you is the lady Catriona Mackintosh, my lord. She is the Mackintosh’s granddaughter and Shaw’s daughter.”

Rothesay’s blue eyes gleamed as he said, “Is she now, in troth?”

“Aye, sir, and a maiden. The two ladies with her are her grandmother, Lady Annis of Mackintosh, and the lady Catriona’s mother, Lady Ealga.”

“I don’t care about the others, Fin. But since you
will
present the lass to me, I expect you had better present all three.”

Fin had begun to feel the uneasiness that he frequently felt in the younger man’s presence. Moreover, he realized as he scanned the other men in the hall, although Rothesay had brought two noble sycophants with him, he had brought no one who had the knack, if anyone did, for keeping him out of trouble.