How could she do it?
But she knew. She had always known. She had just let herself be swept along, for a little while.
Why couldn’t she have fallen for one of the young men that were her equal? Why had she fallen for the laird’s son? It wasn’t fair. It was too painful.
What was she going to do?
***
Alan replayed the moment when he was alone in his room, at last.
Jean looking up at him with those huge grey eyes. The moment he had told her he loved her. The look of joy that had come into those eyes, lighting up like a burst of sun splitting through the clouds on an overcast day.
It was true. He loved her, would love her forever, could think of none but her.
What was he going to do?
He didn’t want to take her as his mistress, dishonoring her and her family. But he was so aflame with desire, he could think of little else but how she would feel in his arms as he softly stroked her, consummating their love.
Why did she have to be a kitchen maid? Why wasn’t she a lady, born his equal?
She had the grace and bearing of a lady, and the manners. She wasn’t rough in any way – she didn’t look like a kitchen maid. Even her hands, which she bemoaned were rough and ragged when he kissed them, were still as soft as any ladies he had kissed. She could take her place by his side, and she would fit into his world with ease. He could teach her what she didn’t know.
He started pacing the floor, trying to figure out how it could work.
Firstly, he must talk to his parents. They were young, once; they must understand how he felt. Janet would be humiliated, of course, and would be spitting venom. There would be rumbles between the clans. But it would all work itself out, in due course.
Wouldn’t it?
The thought of approaching his parents filled him with trepidation. They would be mightily disappointed, and would try to talk him around. He would have to steel himself for it, and become immune to their pleas and their threats.
He had been so obedient, up until now. That would be the trump card that he would play with them.
He ran his hand through his hair, picturing the scene. Seeing their shock and their anger.
But then he thought of Jean, with her long, red hair and fulsome figure. Her beauty was overwhelming. She was also the sweetest girl he had ever known, naturally modest and soft spoken.
He simply couldn’t let her go.
Squaring his shoulders, he made up his mind.
Tonight. It would be tonight, after dinner, when Laird Leith and Lady Margot were replete with food and aglow with their evening wine.
His heart started to thump, uncomfortably.
Chapter Eleven
Janet was sitting at her dressing table, staring at her face in the mirror. Occasionally she would pick up the brush and stroke her long, black hair.
She thought about her betrothed and his infatuation.
She had been watching them, from a distance.
She had known, when he excused himself from the breakfast or lunch table, where he was going.
To her, the little strumpet with the red hair. His eyes would light up in anticipation.
She would follow at a discreet distance. She saw when he entered the kitchen, with a new excuse each time. They needed more bread. Lady Margot required a fresh pitcher of milk. A maid was required to mop up a spill. It was laughable, the things he came up with.
All to see her, of course. Feast his eyes on the harlot.
He never even looked at her anymore. Not that he ever had, that much.
She, who was the most beautiful woman in the Highlands and known as such. She, who was a great lady, who could sing and dance and embroider better than any lady she had ever met.
He preferred a kitchen skivvy to her.
The thought filled her with such fury she grabbed the hair brush on the dressing table and gripped it so hard she felt the bristles draw blood on her palm.
She looked down at the blood, in wonder.
She thought hard. She had to get rid of the harlot, that was obvious. Get rid of the competition.
Once she was out of sight, she would be out of mind. Janet had seen how these things worked – her own father had had his infatuations over the years, sometimes sending her mother to distraction. But her mother had always known how to deal with it. Lord Moncrieff would wake one day to find his latest amour suddenly gone, or her pretty face disfigured.
Janet had to smile at how ruthless her mother had been.
But how would she proceed?
She thought about the girl.
Jean was her name. Her mother worked in the kitchen, alongside her. Her father was the farrier in the stables.
Janet tapped her fingers on the dressing table, thinking. Suddenly, it came to her. It was so brilliant she almost laughed out loud.
Mother would be proud of me, she smirked to herself.
***
Janet had dressed demurely, quickly entering the stables before she could be seen by anyone.
She knew how she had to play it. Talk to the man as if she cared about his opinion. Softly, so as not to rouse his suspicions or spook him. She needed him to believe what she was saying, so much so that he wouldn’t check the accuracy of it with anyone else. Not with the Laird, or Lady Margot, or Alan. He had to leave straight away, carried away by her urgency.
She spotted him, in the last stable, rubbing down a horse.
He was a wiry man, with greying red hair. She turned his name over in her mind, so she wouldn’t forget it. Maxwell. Burns Maxwell. The harlot’s father.
She walked up to the stable, coughing discreetly to warn him of her presence.
He turned, looking at her as if a fairy had suddenly popped up before him.
“It’s Maxwell, isn’t it?” She softened her voice, making it tremble slightly.
“Aye, my Lady.” He looked at her, nervously. “What can I do for you?”
“Oh, Maxwell.” She leaned against the partition in the stable. “I’m sorry, I am a bit out of breath. I ran all the way here, so we could catch you before you left for the day.”
“What is it?” The man’s eyebrows were raised as he stared at her.
“It is Adie Drummond, Laird of the Clan Gordon. I have just heard, this very minute. I offered to come to you, because Laird Ross was busy with other business, and Alan could not be found anywhere.” She sniffed.
“His horses, Maxwell. They have all gone lame, and the farrier has no idea why. Laird Drummond has heard that you are the best farrier in the Highlands, and sent a rider to ask you to go there, immediately. There can be no delay; the horses are all coming down with this mystery ailment.” She paused, breathing heavily.
“You want me to travel, now? To Clan Gordon?” The man’s eyes had widened.
“Aye, Maxwell!” She looked at him, beseechingly. “There is no time to tarry! The laird needs your service there right away.”
Burns blinked. “I should go and see my laird…”
“Maxwell.” She squared her shoulders. “The laird is busy, as I have just said. He expressly sent me to tell you this dastardly news, and get you to travel immediately to the Clan Gordon. It was his direct order.”
Burns frowned. “Well, if the laird requests it…”
“He does, Maxwell.” She paused. “Straight away. The laird will send someone to your cottage, to say that you have been sent away. You must not stop to inform them; time is of the essence.”
Burns looked at her.
“Now, Maxwell!”
He started. He was used to taking orders, and even though it was unusual for a lady to come and inform him like this, he must obey.
“At once, my Lady. I will saddle a horse and be on my way.”
Janet smiled. “Thank you, Maxwell. Laird Drummond is awaiting you.”
She turned away.
She couldn’t stop the slow smile that spread over her face.
For there was no emergency with horses at the Clan Gordon.
Laird Drummond had not requested the farrier’s assistance, nor did Laird Ross have any knowledge of it.
He would never have authorized it, even if there had been. Clan Gordon was not on friendly terms with them; they were locked in skirmishes over land and had been for quite a while now.
Laird Ross would wonder why his farrier had suddenly taken off to the Clan Gordon, into the heart of his enemy.
Jean’s father was about to make the biggest mistake of his life.
One that might get rid of him, and his daughter, once and for all.
Chapter Twelve
Alan entered the dining room that night, casting a nervous glance over who was assembled.
His mother and father were already there, enjoying their first goblet of wine for the evening. They were laughing together. That was good – they were already relaxed. He would have to choose his moment with care, and make sure that nothing angered his father or distressed his mother before then. Choose the topics of conversation with care.
He frowned. Janet was here, as well, sitting opposite his mother with a slight smile playing on her lips.
This was unusual. Janet usually didn’t grace them with her presence at the dining table until the meal was well under way. She loved to make a grand entrance, so that everyone’s eyes turned to her as she swept to the table in whatever grand dress and jewels she had chosen for the evening. Never the same ones – Alan had never known a woman with so many dresses and jewels.
“Ah, Alan.” His mother gestured to a seat beside Janet. “You are here at last. Lady Janet has been awaiting you.”
Janet smiled at him, gesturing to the seat as well.
He sat down next to her, kissing the hand she presented to him.
His mind was whirring through what he would say and when he would say it. Obviously, after Janet left, but that shouldn’t be a problem. She usually retired to her quarters as soon as the meal was finished, as if she couldn’t bear to make small talk with them a second longer.
“So, Alan.” His father gestured to the servant to fill his son’s goblet. “A good day? How is the jousting practice going?”
“Very good, Father,” he smiled, taking a sip of the wine, and then another. He shouldn’t overdo it, but he needed a bit of courage that the wine would give him.
Janet turned to him. “You are a most marvellous jouster, I am told. I must come and see you at it one day.”
“Of course,” Alan replied, surprised. She had never expressed any interest in watching him before.
Lady Margot simpered, looking from one to the other.
“Oh, you should go and watch Alan, Lady Janet! It used to be one of my favorite things to do when the Laird and I were first married, watching him joust. Do you remember, my dear?”
Leith smiled. “How could I forget? You used to wave your handkerchief and let it flutter to the ground every time. I used to pick it up and wind it around my wrist, for luck.”
They smiled at each other, their eyes softening with the memory.
Alan breathed out, slowly. This was good. His parents were obviously in a fine mood.
“Laird Ross.” Janet picked up her goblet, twirling the stem slowly in her hand. “Was it your farrier I saw riding like the devil toward the east tonight?”
Leith frowned. “Maxwell? What are you saying? The man was in the stables as normal when I looked in late afternoon.”
“Really?” Janet raised her eyebrows, slowly. “I am sure I saw him. And his assistant told me he was riding east on your specific orders…now…where did he say he was going?” Janet paused, squinting her eyes to remember. “Oh aye, that’s it…to the Clan Gordon. To Laird Drummond.”
Leith’s eyes widened. “To where?” he hissed.
Janet raised a hand to her mouth. “Oh, dear, have I said something wrong? I am sure that is what the man said. Now that you mention it…he did say it was on secret business.”
“Secret business?” The Laird had turned red. “What business has Maxwell with the Clan Gordon? Those blaggards! Constantly trying to get our lands, claiming that they have the prior right.”
Janet blinked. “You have land issues with the Gordons? Well, that is very odd then, why your farrier would have been riding so hard to get to them after his work day was done.”
“Damn right!” Leith slammed his fist into the table. “Very strange – and I will find out what it is all about! If I find out that man is betraying me, I will not tolerate it.”
“Of course, Laird Ross,” Janet said. “My father is the same. You must trust your servants. It would not do to find a viper living in your swallow’s nest!”
Alan frowned. “Father, I think there must be some mistake. Maxwell is a loyal man. I cannot think he would be doing anything untoward. There will be a reasonable explanation.”
“Aye, Maxwell has been with us for years, and there has never been an issue,” Lady Margot agreed.
Leith rubbed his head, agitated. “That may be so, but any man can be turned with the promise of gold,” he muttered.
He stood up, draining his goblet. “I have business to see to.”
Alan stood as well, watching his father in alarm. “What are you planning, Father?”
Leith was striding to the door. “I will talk to the men. See what they know.” He paused. “For starters.” He opened the door and was gone.
Alan threw his napkin down. This wasn’t good. Maxwell was Jean’s father. If it was found he was a traitor, his whole family would be tainted by association.
Alan went cold. He knew what happened to traitors.
“I will go to help my Father,” he said, aloud. He couldn’t sit there and eat while this was happening. His stomach was churning in dread.
“Of course, Alan,” his mother said, frowning. “I do hope it turns out to be a misunderstanding. Maxwell is a nice man, and so is Brenda, his wife. I shudder to think what will become of them if there is any truth to this.”
“My father always said that if a man turns traitor, you must treat the family the same. As a lesson to all,” Janet smiled.
Alan looked at her, sharply. She was so serene, almost as if she was enjoying the whole thing.
Did she know something?
But there was no time to find out. He had to contain his father, who was likely to run like a bull at a gate if his blood was up and he thought he was being betrayed.
“It won’t come to that,” he said, striding toward the door. “Maxwell will be cleared of any wrong doing, I can assure you. The man is loyal; I have known him since I was a child.”
“I do hope so,” Janet chimed. She sat back in her chair, draining her goblet.
He turned and left. He must find his father, immediately.
Jean was in danger. His heart was cold with fear for her.
***
He was too late.
His father had assembled the men, and one of them had confirmed that Maxwell had ridden out late that afternoon, heading to the Clan Gordon.
“He said you sent him to see to their horses,” the man said. “Said he had your direct order, and that he mustn’t tarry. I thought it odd, but he was insistent.”
Leith was swearing. “A traitor! What is he telling Drummond? Feeding him information, I’ve no doubt, about what our plans are.”
“Father, I think you are being hasty…” Alan interjected, trying to calm things.
Leith turned to his son. “Hasty? You have a thing or two to learn about leadership, my lad. A laird must be aware and ready to act at any given moment. There is no time for sentimentality. Aye, Maxwell has been a good and decent man until now. I won’t say I’m not surprised – and disappointed! But we have to respond quickly.”
He turned to the men. “I want two of you to ride out this instant. See if you can catch him before he gets there, though it is probably too late. He must have been riding for hours now.”
“What will we do if we find him?” one of the men asked.
“Don’t kill him. Drag him back
here,” Leith responded. “We have to find out what he has been telling them, and how long he has been doing it for. To think, we have had a spy in our midst all along! Now that I think of it, they have been aware of things they shouldn’t have known anything about.”
“What will happen to him when you get him back here?” Alan swallowed painfully, not quite believing the speed of events.
“Torture,” Leith said. “We will rack him, to get information. And then the traitor will be beheaded.”
“Beheaded?” Alan blanched. “Surely a trial is in order for a man who has always been loyal up until now?”
Leith turned to his son. “That is how we deal with traitors, lad. Swiftly. An example to all.”
He turned back to the men. “And two of you go to his cottage. Get the wife and daughter here; we will see what they know.”
He strode off, and the men dispersed to do his bidding.
Alan looked down at his hands. They were shaking.
He thought of Jean, innocently having an evening meal with her mother in their little cottage by the loch. She would look up as they broke down the door, quaking in fear. She would cry and weep as they dragged her and her mother out into the night, denying that her beloved father could be a traitor.
His heart twisted at the thought of his beloved frightened, and treated roughly.
What could he do? He had to save this situation.
Before it was all too late.
Chapter Thirteen
Jean was looking out the window of the cottage, glancing anxiously down the track.
“I can’t see him yet,” she said to her mother. Her mother frowned, but didn’t say anything.
Her father had not returned home after work. This was highly unusual. Burns wasn’t the type of man to stop at an Inn for a few ales on his way home. He always arrived around the same time each evening, stepping through their little doorway, glad to be home to his two favorite women in the world.
Brenda breathed deeply. “Come away from the window, lass,” she said now, stirring the pot of soup boiling on the fire. “Dinner is almost ready. I will save some for your father. He must have been delayed by the laird.”
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