Highlander Unmasked (9 page)

If he could leave for Lewis right now, he would.

One step at a time,
he reminded himself. But damn, he was eager to begin. Preventing the king from claiming Lewis would be a resounding victory for the Island chiefs, but in helping his kin, the MacLeods of Lewis, Alex would finally have the chance to right a wrong that had shadowed him for five long years.

He knew he trod a treacherous path. If he were caught, here or later on Lewis, his actions could well be construed as treason.

But it was worth the risk.

Because of that risk, his brother had tried to stop him, but eventually Alex had persuaded Rory that no one else would suffice. Alex had both position and familiarity with court, as well as access to Jamie Campbell and other important political leaders. And as for his ability to lead the battle on Lewis, it had taken two hours on the lists with Rory—ending only with Isabel threatening to separate them by dousing them both with cold water—to convince his brother of Alex’s readiness.

Initially, Rory had wanted to lead the rebellion himself, but there could be no question of that. Rory’s first duty, as chief, was to his clan. He had to placate the king, at least nominally.

Alex didn’t.

He’d never envied Rory his role as chief. Unlike his brother, Alex was free to follow his conscience and his own sense of justice. He’d done precisely that for the last three years. Not long after leaving Dunvegan, Alex had joined with a handful of dispossessed warriors who used to go by the name MacGregor. King James had turned the MacGregors into outlaws on their own lands—hunted like vermin, persecuted, and jailed without cause. Forbidden on pain of death even to call themselves MacGregor. The injustice and atrocities perpetrated by the king sickened him, and it wasn’t long before Alex had become the leader of the proscribed men. Fighting his way across the Highlands, he’d found a modicum of peace.

The ten o’clock drum sounded. He quickened his pace through Lawnmarket, keeping to the main streets and avoiding the maze of narrow wynds and closes that permeated the city. After turning left on West Bow, he wound down the steep hill into Grassmarket. A thriving marketplace, Grassmarket also had the dubious distinction of being the place where public executions were held. Not an area of town frequented by courtiers. Alex was hoping to minimize the possibility of seeing someone from the palace.

Having reached his destination, he opened the door of the White Hart Inn and had to duck his head to pass through the doorway. Musty air and the scent of un-washed bodies accosted him. The main room was small and poorly lit, holding perhaps a score of patrons who were scattered about at small tables; a few stood near the bar area, where a “luckie” alewife stood ready to dispense her brew. He ordered a tankard of grozet from a serving maid and passed through to another chamber, this one slightly smaller than the first. Low ceilings continued, and Alex repeatedly had to stoop beneath the wooden beams as he crossed the room.

Screens of brown paper separated the tables, offering a semblance of privacy. After quickly locating Robbie, Alex slid in opposite him on a wooden bench, facing the door. He was pleased to see that the lad had followed his direction and secured a table in the back corner of the room, minimizing the potential for prying ears.

His squire looked relieved to see him.

Amused by Robbie’s obvious concern for his welfare, Alex said, “So eager to see me, lad? Apparently, I’ve been negligent in my duty. I’ll have to see that your training is stepped up when I’m done here.”

Robbie blanched, then ventured a tentative grin when he realized that Alex was only teasing. He cranked his head around a few times and whispered, “I don’t much like this place.” He wrinkled his nose. “The entire city smells something horrible.”

Neither do I.
But it would do no good to mollycoddle the boy; they had a job to do. So instead Alex asked, “Any problems?”

With so many of the king’s men about, Edinburgh was a dangerous place for a MacGregor. Normally, Alex would have his squire with him at court, but he couldn’t take any chances that the lad would be identified.

Robbie shook his head. “No, my laird.”

“Patrick and the others?”

“They’re ready.”

“Good.” While Alex discovered what he could at court, Patrick and the rest of Alex’s warriors would blanket the taverns and alehouses frequented by mercenaries and soldiers, listening for rumors of any forces leaving for the Isles. Robbie would take messages back and forth between Alex and his men. His youth and comparatively less imposing stature would make it easier for him to slip in and out unnoticed.

“Have our friends arrived?” Robbie asked in code, referring not to friends, but to the Lowland scourge intent on sailing for Lewis.

“As we expected, not all of them could make it.”

Robbie’s eyes lit with understanding. The absence of key Lowland gentlemen at court supported the rumor that the Fife Adventurers were gathering for a second attempt on Lewis.

“Will they be traveling this summer?” Robbie asked.

“I don’t know yet. But if they want to be settled by winter, they will have to leave soon. I hope to have more information by the end of the week.”

Robbie nodded.

Alex cast his gaze around the room, making sure they were not the subject of undue attention. “We will meet again on Saturday a week hence. We should be able to speak more freely then.”

“Where?”

“Beyond the city gates. A place called Sheep’s Heid Inn. Have you heard of it?”

Robbie shook his head. “No, but I’ll find it.”

“It’s situated at the eastern edge of Holyrood Park, at the rear of archer’s seat, in the village of Duddingston. Wait for me. I don’t know what time I’ll be able to slip away.”

Alex gave him a hard look. Robbie was quick with a blade, but so many things could go wrong. “Have care, Robbie. The city can be a dangerous place for a lad on his own.”

The boy couldn’t hide his pleasure, proud to have drawn his laird’s concern. Alex didn’t know what had come over him. A week at Dunvegan with his brother and wife, and he had grown soft. But attachments and war, he knew, didn’t mix.

Unbidden, his thoughts slid back to the wee green-eyed enchantress.

Robbie slid off the bench and stood up. “And you have care as well, my laird.”

Alex chuckled. “Get out of here before I decide to step up that training now.”

Robbie flashed a jaunty grin and left before Alex could make good on his word.

Leaning back on the bench, Alex took a moment to relax as he scanned the room and its occupants. Taverns and alehouses were the great equalizers. Perhaps a dozen men from all strata of society mingled in apparent ease and drunken camaraderie. A couple of men slid into the compartment in front of him. Wedged into the corner and hidden in the shadows, Alex doubted they could see him. But neither could he see them. He was just about to stand up to leave when one of the men began to speak in Erse with a brogue that identified him as a Highlander.

“You’ll get no more money from me until the job is done.”

“But I lost most of my men in the first attack,” the second man complained. “I’ll need to find replacements before I can try again.”

A Highlander also, Alex realized.

“That is not my concern. You were paid well for your skills.” The man’s voice rose in anger. “Skills that were obviously exaggerated if you could allow a group of vagrants to defeat you.”

“These were no vagrants, but trained warriors. I’ve never seen any man fight like their leader. He fought with the strength of five men.”

The first man snorted his disbelief. “So you’ve said. But that doesn’t explain how a handful of men defeated a score of your cutthroats.”

“It won’t happen again. It was bad luck that they came upon us as they did. I’ll finish the job, but it might take some time. It will be more difficult finding an opportunity in Edinburgh.”

Alex heard the loud bang of a tankard slammed on the table. “Which wouldn’t be necessary had you done the job right in the first place. I don’t want to hear your excuses. Just get it done. Now. Or ’tis you who will be the hunted.”

That the men had some foul purpose in mind was obvious, but there was something else about the conversation that bothered him. A feeling. They could have been speaking about the attack on the Mackinnons. Alex had assumed the attack had been random. But what if it hadn’t been? Could someone have been after Meg or her mother? But why? For what purpose?

Alex shook his head. He was being ridiculous. There was nothing in the men’s conversation to tie them to the attack on Meg. It was surely just a coincidence.

He turned back to his drink but could not quiet the persistent niggle of uncertainty. Was it too much of a coincidence? Could there have been another attack foiled in the Highlands by a group of skilled warriors?

The men stood up to leave. Alex slid out just enough on his bench to get a look at them. The first man was thinly built and of average height, with dark hair and sharply pointed features. His nose was long with a slight hook, and his eyes were deeply set with hooded lids. The second man had his back to him. He was large and heavyset, with scraggly dark red hair. Both men wore simple leather breeches and jerkins. Neither one seemed familiar, but Alex hadn’t seen all the attackers that day. Some of the villains had scattered quickly.

He was being foolish. Meg Mackinnon was a distraction he couldn’t afford. His sole focus must be on his mission. He took a final swig of his ale and set his tankard forcefully down on the wooden table.

But what if…

Alex cursed. He didn’t want to be drawn into the web of Meg Mackinnon. He
should
just walk away. But he just couldn’t ignore the sliver of suspicion. He’d keep an eye on her for a while, just to make sure. But as soon as he allayed this unreasonable concern, he intended to forget all about Meg Mackinnon.

Chapter 6

Now that she’d made her decision, Meg was anxious to have the matter resolved. Jamie had given her every indication that he intended to offer for her, and she intended to give him every opportunity to do so. But in the past few days, she’d seen very little of him.

Once she had secured a proposal, she could return to Dunakin Castle and the Isle of Skye. She’d been away from her father and brother for too long. Not to mention that she would have hours of reports to go over when she returned. But she knew that wasn’t the only reason she was so eager to leave Holyrood. Meg wanted to distance herself from Alex MacLeod and the strange feelings he aroused in her. Try as she might, she could not get the blasted man out of her head. It was embarrassing, really. She had always been careful to approach things logically, never allowing emotions to rule her head. But she couldn’t forget the way he’d looked at her or the way it felt when he’d had his hands—his very large, capable hands—on her. And neither could she forget the strength of her reaction to him or how much it had hurt when he’d found her appearance lacking.

It didn’t matter.

She’d made her decision. It was Jamie and not Alex MacLeod she should be worrying about.

When Jamie had not met them for a morning walk around the gardens as he usually did, Meg hadn’t been concerned. But when he’d skipped the midday meal, she’d wondered what could be keeping him. Jamie was usually so attentive, it was odd to have seen so little of him. Elizabeth mentioned that he’d received a missive from their cousin the Earl of Argyll this morning and had gone to discuss something with Lord Chancellor Seton. But she hadn’t heard from him since.

But it was her mother who truly gave Meg cause for concern. She was definitely up to something. Rosalind had spoken to Jamie earlier and had the look of a contented cat afterward. And it was her mother who had pointed her in the direction of the lord chancellor’s apartments.

Meg was not at all familiar with this wing of the palace—the section housing the apartments of Lord Chancellor Seton and his Privy Council. At court, unlike at Dunakin with her father, Meg did her best to avoid political discussions. She could see both sides of the issues facing her Highland clansmen and their Lowland adversaries, but at Holyrood there was no place for rational discourse. At Holyrood, it was all about power. And the king’s was greater than it had been in over one hundred years, since the fall of the Lordship of the Isles in 1493 to James IV. Change was coming for the Highlands, whether the chiefs wished it or not.

To prosper, the Mackinnons must learn to navigate the treacherous maze of Lowland government.

She strode purposefully down the corridor, methodically stopping to peer in each lavishly decorated room as she passed. Like the rest of the palace, the rooms had gilt-encrusted walls, heavily carved ceilings, and sumptuous jewel-toned velvets upholstered on the furniture. The king had been in debt for most of his reign, but his palaces showed no evidence of frugality.

Most of the chambers were empty, but a few, like this one, were occupied. Meg quickly scanned the men converging in the small antechamber for a tall man with a healthy head full of dark auburn hair. Not such an easy task in a palace full of Scotsmen.