Kingdom of Shadows (73 page)

‘Why do you have to wait until the spring?’

He laughed. ‘So impatient, my love? I must, then I’ll drive Edward out of Scotland for ever. I’ll chase out every man who has supported him and I shall be king in reality as well as in name.’ Gently he pushed her away and sat up. ‘Scotland will rally again beneath the lion banner, and the fiery cross will be carried from glen to glen in my name. We shall win, my love. We shall win.’

For a moment neither of them reacted to the faint knock, then reluctantly Robert stood up. He dragged on his tunic and walking over to the door pulled it open a crack.

‘Sir Nigel and the Queen have returned, your grace.’ The warning was whispered through the crack. ‘They are below.’

Robert swore quietly under his breath. He pushed the door closed and turned to Isobel. ‘I have to go, my darling.’ He buckled on his belt and picking up his mantle he fastened it on his shoulder with the circular cairngorm brooch he so often wore, the brooch his Isabella of Mar had given him before she died. He dropped on one knee beside her. ‘We travel on tomorrow after the abbot has given me his absolution. I pray that God will give us time together again soon, my love.’ Gently he reached out and touched her breast. ‘Our time together must always be stolen. May the blessed Virgin and St Fillan guard you and watch over you. Now, dress quickly.’ He smiled again, his teeth white in the darkness. ‘It would not do for you to emerge naked from an audience with your king.’ He took her face in his hands and kissed it, then he was gone.

The next morning his men were assembled early before the shrine of the saint. The fine weather had gone at last, and a pall of mist shrouded the mountains. Steady rain was falling as the King, bareheaded and barefoot, knelt before the abbot and made his confession for all to hear, receiving the absolution which was given in ringing tones which echoed across the valley. Soon afterwards Robert assembled his men and they began to move on, north-west up Strathfillan, a straggled band of men-at-arms and knights, the tired, dishevelled, sad remnant of a proud army, although now newly reassured and pleased by the abbot’s blessing on them all, with in their midst the Queen’s ladies, mounted and rested at last after their night in the comparative security of the guesthouse. They followed the course of the river up the broad glen, glancing now and then at the shrouded mountains in the distance on either side, the sound of the horses’ hooves and the chink of their harness masking the patter of the soft rain on the surface of the river.

Isobel eased herself in the saddle wearily, her eyes always seeking for Robert amongst the men ahead. The rain was cold, soaking into her clothes, sliding down her cheeks like tears. She was uneasy, her exhilaration gone. There was a strange prickling of the skin at the back of her neck. Again and again she stared around into the cold wet mist feeling eyes upon them, but the distances were silent, shrouded in white. Even the eagles were quiet.

They were passing a small lochan now, on their left, as they approached the head of the glen where the mountains pressed closer. Ahead the track led between the low foothills of the pass and there, waiting in the mist, crouching behind boulders and scattered trees, were almost a thousand men, half naked in their short tunics and enveloping plaids, armed with swords and Lochaber axes. As Isobel saw them she screamed, her terror echoing in her own ears. Then she screamed again.

Only it wasn’t Isobel, it was Clare, Clare who had seen the ambush long before any of the men in Robert’s train, Clare, who from hundreds of years away, from the vantage point of her dream, had seen the trap and was trying to warn them. But they couldn’t hear her. They rode on, straight towards the pass, Isobel with them.

Again Clare tried to shout a warning, but her voice wouldn’t come. However hard she tried to make herself heard the room remained full of silence as, slowly, the figures of Robert’s army disappeared into the mist.

Stiff and cold she stared round her in the darkness, afraid, trying to call them back, but it was no use. The vision had gone. Something had distracted her, sent the shadowy figures back into the past, riding towards their fate, leaving her lost and shaking, on her knees in the middle of the floor. The moon had vanished and the silver streak of moonlight had crawled away from her towards the wall.

‘So, that’s how it’s done.’ Paul’s voice from the shadows made her jump violently. ‘No spirits; no devils, just the dream of a mad woman who sits in the moonlight, the tears pouring down her face.’ His tone was mocking.

‘How long have you been standing there?’ Clare knelt without moving. She didn’t even look at him.

‘Half an hour at least.’ He was wearing his dressing gown again, tightly belted, and leaning against the wall beyond the slice of moonlight. Somewhere in the garden two owls were hunting, their sharp cries echoing through the frosty silence.

‘What time is it?’ Her voice was flat, defeated.

Paul smiled. ‘It’s after three.’

‘So late?’ She was still dazed.

He smiled. ‘There is still plenty of time to go back. Why don’t you – go and find your Isobel again – all the ghosts who haunt you. I enjoy watching.’ He folded his arms.

‘There is nothing to watch, Paul.’ She scrambled to her feet, shaking with cold.

‘Nothing to watch? You cry, you smile, you laugh, you scream – your eyes follow them as they walk around the room.’ Paul shuddered. ‘God almighty, woman! And you claim you are not mad!’

She looked at him, but his face was dark, out of the moonlight, and she couldn’t see his expression.

Hesitantly she moved towards the door. ‘I’m going to bed,’ she said. ‘Please go away, Paul. Leave me alone.’ Her voice was flat.

He made no move as she put her hand on the handle and pulled the door open. Slowly she walked down the dark narrow stairs into the bedroom. The light on the side table was on, throwing shadows on the walls. Clare glanced at the door to the rest of the house, wondering for a moment if he had unlocked it. Something told her he hadn’t. Slowly she went to the bed and climbed in, shaking with cold.

Paul had followed her down and for a moment he stood staring at her. She looked at him sullenly, not wanting him to see her sudden fear, but he made no move towards her. Instead he walked over to the door, the key in his hand.

‘Sweet dreams, my love,’ he said as he unlocked it. ‘You might as well live in your dreams – you’re no damn good to anyone in reality.’

She sat without moving as the door closed and she heard first the key and then the bolt on the outside. It was a long time before she closed her eyes. She felt completely empty.

Rex glanced at the pile of newspapers on Emma’s kitchen table and shrugged. ‘We have a publicity problem, it seems.’

Emma had phoned him as soon as she had dropped Julia off at school. If it had been anyone else he would have told them to make an appointment in a week’s time – he didn’t appreciate being commanded anywhere, but for Emma he had cancelled two meetings and a lunch and grabbed a cab.

He sat down heavily in Emma’s pine kitchen and shuffled through the newspapers. Neil Forbes’s story had made the front page in four nationals, it was an inside lead in three more.

‘Scots heiress sells her birthright,’ he read out loud. ‘Scandal of oil rigs at more British beauty spots.’ He glanced at Emma. ‘Who is this man, Forbes? He should try and get his facts right. Sigma have withdrawn their application for a licence.’

‘What!’ Emma stared at him. ‘Why? What happened?’

‘The price of oil happened, honey. They don’t want to invest any more money in British exploration at the moment.’ He took a deep breath. ‘And I’m leaving Sigma.’ He had tried so hard to tell her when they had met at the weekend, but somehow he couldn’t put the fact into words. Not even for her. It still hurt too much.

‘Does Paul know?’ Emma folded the papers up and put them in a neat pile.

‘Sure he does. And he knows that I still want to buy Duncairn.’

‘For the oil?’ She looked at him, puzzled.

‘To restore the castle, Emma, honey. To save it when they do take the oil. If Sigma don’t get that licence someone else will. There is oil there, make no mistake about that. If I own the castle I’ll know what to do to make sure the place isn’t harmed.’

Emma stared at him thoughtfully. ‘Can you pay as much as an oil company, Rex?’ she said at last. She gave an embarrassed smile.

‘No.’ He grinned back at her cheerfully. ‘Nothing like as much. That’s Paul Royland’s bad luck. But I will still pay enough to bail him out.’

‘Why are you leaving Sigma?’ She looked at him steadily, sensing immediately the words were out of her mouth that it was a question she shouldn’t have asked.

‘I’m getting old, honey. They want new blood at the helm. The king is dead, so long live the king.’ He tried to make his words sound light, but he couldn’t quite hide the bitterness.

‘Well, I’m glad you’re leaving them. They sound callous.’ Emma was thinking of the newspaper articles again. ‘Is it true that a drilling rig is ten storeys high? That’s awful, Rex. Could you stop them doing that to Duncairn?’

‘I’m afraid it’s progress, honey.’

He glanced down at the paper again. ‘This bastard is making much of the fact that it is Clare Royland’s family seat. Perhaps I should tell them that my family lived there a long time before hers.’

Emma frowned. ‘Is that honestly true?’

‘The Comyns were one of the great families of Scotland. The earls of Buchan.’ He smiled modestly.

‘Buchan?’ Emma stared. ‘Like her Isobel? Then you must be related to Clare! You should be on the same side! Does she know that it is you who wants to buy the place, not Sigma?’

‘I don’t know, honey. That husband of hers is dealing with everything. He seems to think his wife is incapable of handling her own affairs –’

‘I’ve told you, that’s not true.’

‘Well, whatever the situation, Paul Royland is the only one I’ve been talking to.’

‘These environmentalists have got it in for Paul,’ Emma said quietly. ‘“City Fat Cat wants more and more.” Poor Paul.’

Rex glanced at her. ‘You didn’t call me here to show me these did you, honey?’ he said gently.

Emma shrugged. ‘Oh, I knew you must have seen them.’ She stood up.

‘I’ve been thinking about Paul.’ She looked down, flipping through the pile of papers again absentmindedly.

‘And?’ Rex badly wanted to take her in his arms.

She gave him a blank little smile. ‘I’m afraid.’

‘Afraid, honey?’ He stared.

She nodded. ‘Listen. I know my brother. He is ruthless. None of my family believe me – even they don’t realise what he can be like.’ She bit her lip. ‘You have offered him the way out of his financial mess. You said that if he doesn’t pay this debt he could go to prison.’

Rex nodded. He leaned forward and caught Emma’s hand. ‘That’s right, so there is no problem. Your brother is going to be OK.’

‘No. You don’t understand.’ Emma snatched her hand away. ‘For all this to happen he has to force Clare to sell Duncairn. Force her, Rex! Paul is capable of anything. He might hurt her if it were the only way to get his hands on the estate. He might even kill her, don’t you see?’ Her voice had risen sharply. She turned away, and leaned against the wall, her eyes shut.

‘Oh, come on, Emma.’ Rex was staring at her as he stood up. ‘That doesn’t make sense. No man is going to kill his wife over a piece of land, not even for the kind of bucks I’m offering. Besides, honey, he needs that money fast. The only way to get it fast enough is by special arrangement with me. If he waited to inherit the place it would take him months and months to clear up all the inheritance taxes and things like that.’

Emma shook her head stubbornly. ‘If he were due to inherit it, he could get a loan against it.’

Rex studied her face. ‘Emma,’ he said softly, ‘are you seriously telling me that your brother is capable of murder?’

She sniffed, groping in her pocket for a handkerchief. ‘I think he could be and you’re the only person who could stop it happening.’

‘Me? What the hell can I do about it?’

‘You can withdraw your offer to buy the land.’

There was a long silence. Rex’s face went white. No way was he going to change his mind now and withdraw from the deal. He sat down again, slowly, his hands on the table in front of him. ‘You are saying that you would rather your brother went to jail?’

Emma closed her eyes again and took a deep breath, then she nodded. ‘Please, Rex. Withdraw your offer.’

‘Honey, I can’t do that.’

‘You can!’ She came and sat down opposite him. ‘You can, Rex. We’re not talking about multi-million-pound corporations any more. The oil doesn’t come into it, does it? You say they’ll get the licence one day anyway. But you don’t have to buy it. You can change your mind.’ Lightly she put her hands over his. ‘Please, Rex. Please. Withdraw your offer.’ Standing up suddenly she ran around the table and slipped her arms around his neck. ‘Please.’

Rex reached up and stroked her hair. He was in a turmoil of conflicting emotions. He had Royland where he wanted him: desperate. He could pre-empt Sigma and rub their noses in the shit when the strike eventually came up. He had won. And yet this slip of a woman was trying to wheedle him into throwing up the deal. The touch of her body, young and vibrant, round in all the right places, pressing against his, so different from Mary with her brittle, designer-slim hips, struck chords he thought he had lost touch with long ago. She was beautiful, sexy, trusting and spunky. And now she had shown herself vulnerable too.

He stood up and folded his arms around her. ‘Emma, honey –’

‘Please, Rex. Withdraw your offer.’ She was looking at him, her lips near his.

He knew she felt it too: the attraction, the longing. They were both lonely; they had found each other when they both needed someone badly. The differences in age did not matter. He smiled triumphantly into her hair. Now she wanted something from him, something he had it in his power to grant if she could persuade him …

Slowly he brought his mouth down on hers. It was a gentle kiss, sensitive and full of carefully controlled passion. ‘Oh Emma,’ he breathed. ‘You’re so lovely.’