by Amanda Scott
When Hetty agreed, the boys fled.
Marsi shook her head at them, but Hetty said. “Will is the first youngster near Jamie’s own age that he has seen simply as a friend. I think Will is good for him.”
Marsi agreed, and they were still chatting desultorily sometime later when Sir Ivor rapped on the door. When Hetty called to him to enter, he did so, shutting the door behind him instead of leaving it ajar as he usually did.
“James is not with you?” he said as Hetty took her seat again.
“He is out in the stable with Will,” Marsi said. “What did you learn, sir?”
He smiled. “So you guessed my intent, did you? Well, put simply, if one party declares before witnesses that he or she has married and the other party hears the declaration and does not deny it—and both parties are beyond the age of consent—the Kirk and the Scottish Crown both recognize that marriage as legal.”
Feeling surprisingly calm, Marsi said, “Did the bishop suggest a remedy?”
“If both parties seek to undo the marriage, annulment is the most suitable way, he said. It is also relatively easy unless they have consummated the union. He also said that if property is involved and the two want to stay married, they must seek marriage in the Kirk as soon as possible to assure an enduring record of the marriage.”
“So the most likely thing to happen is just an annulment, then.”
“I expect that Albany will demand one as soon as he learns what has happened. However, he will need clear standing under the law to demand it.”
She sighed. “He will have that standing if he unseats Davy Stewart as Governor. And he will assume it even without that. Albany can control his grace, sir, whether as Governor or simply because he will be determined to do so.”
“So, you are the King’s ward, then,” Ivor said.
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Chapter 14
Although Ivor had not yet said aye or nay to following Kincardine Glen, Marsi took hope from the fact that he had not flatly declared that they would not.
She would have liked to add that her uncle’s men-at-arms would keep any strangers out of the glen. But she had taken ample enough measure of Sir Ivor Mackintosh to know that if she pushed him to make a decision before he was ready, he would be as likely as she would be to dig in his heels.
Accordingly, she said, “If it will be days yet before we can talk with Bishop Traill, I think we should go on as we have been, don’t you?”
“If that is what you want,” he said. “But you ought to consider how you will answer if Albany does catch up with us and asks if we have consummated our marriage. If you say we have not, he is likely to take you in charge immediately. If you can honestly say we have, I should be able to prevent that.”
“But you would not be able to keep him from taking Jamie,” Marsi said. “So he is not going to catch us, and that is all we need say about that.” A second thought stirred. “If we are not going to seek shelter with my uncle at Kincardine—”
“If Sir Malcolm is even there.”
“He does sometimes stay there in winter. But, if we are not to go there, do you think that Bishop Traill can keep Albany from taking me in charge?”
“I cannot answer that, but I doubt it. No women live at St. Andrews Castle, so the bishop cannot offer you sanctuary there. In your behalf, he would be able to exert authority over Albany only as he would over any member of his flock.”
“He had enough influence to banish Albany from Annabella’s bedchamber at Scone,” Marsi said, touching her ring.
“Aye, for the worthy Traill does have a way about him. But recall that Scone Abbey also lies within his purview, as does Lindores, and his authority must always be greater on Kirk ground. Moreover, Albany is a religious man in his own way, so doubtless he fears for his immortal soul if he angers Traill. But whilst he may have bowed to Traill then, the bishop is not your guardian, lass. Your best hope for protection against him must be his grace or a husband of your own.”
“Art truly willing to be that husband, sir?”
“More so each day,” he said with a look warm enough to stir tremors of heat throughout her body.
Trying to focus on the important matter at hand, she said, “You have not always approved of me, or of my behavior.”
“True, but I would have stepped in had anyone else taken exception to it,” he said with a gruff note in his voice that stirred sensations stronger than mere warmth, sensations that she had never felt before. “I find myself feeling unnaturally protective of you even when I want to wring your lovely neck,” he added dryly.
Despite the depth of her concerns, Marsi could not help smiling at that.
Ivor welcomed her smile, but it did things to him that told him he should not be alone with her much longer. His desire for her was already strong, and the fact that she had legally become his made her even more desirable. But pressing her now for an answer would be unwise, he knew. She had to decide for herself.
A rap at the door preceded Hetty’s announcement that the boys were hungry and supper would shortly be ready. The interruption broke the spell between them, if spell it was. “Wash your face and hands, lass,” Ivor said as he went to let Hetty in. “I will go and do the same. Then we’ll eat our supper and retire early. If this good weather holds, I want to be off as soon as we know the road is safe.”
Leaving her in Hetty’s capable hands, he went to his chamber and found both boys waiting impatiently to eat.
After supper, when Ivor went outside to confer with Aodán, he noted with satisfaction that the dark sky revealed a blanket of stars. Although the clouds had disappeared, which often meant colder air, it seemed warmer.
Truly, he thought, the gods of weather seemed unable to make up their minds whether to present winter in earnest or pretend that spring was nigh.
“That snow’s no sticking to the road, sir,” Aodán said when Ivor entered the stable, as if Aodán’s thoughts had followed a path similar to his master’s.
“I want to be away after we break our fast,” Ivor said. “The lads can pack the sumpters whilst those inside are eating. I’ll see that their things are ready to go.”
Aodán smiled. “Young Will does be a good worker, sir. I’d like to have him about all the time. But our lad seems bent on keeping him by his side. Sakes, but ye could have knocked me down with a broom straw when I saw him mucking out stalls alongside Will before Mistress Hetty came and collected them.”
“We’ll let their relationship proceed as it will,” Ivor said, recalling Marsi’s words on the subject. “James has had few friends his own age in his short life.”
“And Will’s a good lad,” Aodán said. “Come to that, both o’ them have lost their mams, and Will has lost nigh his whole family. D’ye think that that townsman will come looking for him?”
“I’d expected to see him before now,” Ivor said. “Tell our men to wear whatever they like tomorrow. Our Highland gear was a good notion for a short time, but anyone might follow such a colorful group as easily as Will did.”
Aodán nodded, and Ivor left, meaning to return to his room. But no sooner did he step back into the yard than the rising moon caught his eye.
The peaceful night was beautiful. Not a breeze stirred. The only sound was that of a nearby stream until one of the horses snorted in the stable. It was a perfect night to be watching the moonrise with a beautiful woman.
He wondered what Marsi was thinking, only to decide that, in fact, he knew. He was also confident that he knew what choice she would make, but the moment that thought crossed his mind, he looked skyward and told himself not to be a fool. Life never went according to one’s wishes and rarely according to one’s plans.
Suppressing his doubts, telling himself that what came would come, he instantly saw himself trying to explain the situation to his father and grandfather, each as temperamental as he could be himself.
He could hardly tell them that, due to circumstances he would rather not describe, he fo
und himself married to a ward of the Crown. That would not go down well. Nor would it help to add that, because of that marriage, he had doubtless made a lifelong enemy of the Duke of Albany.
“Och, aye,” he muttered. “That will be a fine talk, that will.” Then, sighing, he added silently, And that’s if this business with Marsi goes as I hope it will.
He decided that at the least, he had better let his sister and Fin know that he was nearing Perth, and alert them to the likelihood that he might need help.
The boys were on their pallet talking when he entered the bedchamber, and he let them chatter until he had got into bed. Then, he hushed them with a single word and fell into deep slumber from which he did not stir until dawn.
An hour later, he and the others were on the road, and by midday, they were nearing the village of Blackford on the south bank of Allan Water. Although they could see its buildings in the distance, it was still a half-hour away.
Ivor called a halt, leading the way to some flat boulders near the burn, where they could eat the food the inn’s servants had packed for them. Dismounting, Ivor called Aodán to him and said in Scots, “I want you to see if Blackford is already crawling with Albany’s men. “Take Will with you, but do something to disguise him, in the event that any of the tanner’s men are seeking him here.”
“I dinna need Will, sir. I ken how Albany’s men look as well as ye do.”
“Aye, sure,” Ivor said. “But the tanner’s men are just as dangerous to Will, and if Murdoch Stewart’s men from Doune are there instead of Albany’s, the lad is more likely than you are to recognize them if they are not wearing black clothing.”
“Aye, for he also comes from Doune,” Aodán admitted. “I’d no ken the Duke o’ Albany himself if he put off his usual garb.”
“Do it as quietly as you can,” Ivor said. “The lady Marsaili still wants to go to Kincardine from here. She suggested that we ride up Kincardine Glen, which lies near where this road crosses the Stirling-Perth road, just two miles ahead.”
“What d’ye think o’ that notion, sir?”
“We’ll talk about that after I know what awaits us in Blackford,” Ivor said. “Come to that, Aodán, I want to know about any large contingent of men in Blackford. Albany has many allies.”
Aodán nodded and turned away, shouting for Will to help with the horses, only to hear Will say quietly, “I be here, sir. I thought ye might be wanting me.”
Neither man had noticed his approach. But Aodán grinned, patted the boy’s shoulder, and told him that he would be glad of his help.
Ivor, noting that Marsi had dismounted and was watching them, handed his reins to Will and went to join her near the water.
Marsi watched Ivor approach, wondering what he had been discussing with Aodán. The way he’d looked at her when the two men parted made her think at first that they might have been talking about her. However, Ivor looked unnaturally wary as he drew near, as if he expected trouble.
Noting that Hetty had kept Jamie from following Will and was supervising him as he washed his hands and face for their meal, Marsi returned her attention to Ivor. Bluntly, she said, “Have you decided yet, sir, which way we will go?”
His eyes narrowed at her tone, but he said evenly, “We will wait here until Aodán and Will have a look at the town. I want to know if Albany’s men or the tanner’s are there. No one will suspect a horseman with a boy up behind him.”
“If the tanner’s men are there…”
“I told Aodán to disguise Will a bit. But I doubt they’ll run into trouble.”
To draw him back to her question regarding their route, she said, “If they do see Albany’s men or the tanner’s, what will we do?”
“We’ll avoid the town,” he said. “Since we’d have to go into Blackford to cross the Allan Water and continue northeastward, we’d do better then to skirt it by riding into those hills southeast of us if I only knew of a suitable place for us to go.”
“Hetty might know,” Marsi said. “We’ll ask her. I do still think that if we can get to Kincardine, we’ll be safe there. The glen itself is guarded, sir, and the people know me well. They will not let harm come to us.”
He did not reply, and Hetty, whom Marsi had been eyeing as they talked, quickly responded to a gesture to join them. “What is it, my lady?” she asked.
“Sir Ivor wants to avoid Blackford if Albany’s men or others seeking Will are there. Since the Allan Water keeps us from going north without entering the town, we hoped you might know of a place to stay if we must in those hills yonder.”
Frowning thoughtfully, Hetty said, “I ken one such place, to be sure. ’Tis a wee alehouse in a clachan not too far this side of the road from Stirling to Perth. If we decide to go to Kincardine, we can follow a fisherman’s track much of the way.”
Ivor looked at Marsi, and he was frowning. “I’ve just recalled that you said this Redmyre chap owns land on both sides of the Firth of Tay, lass. If we make for the Fife coast, might we cross his southern estate? Do you ken where it lies?”
“Annabella described it only as a valuable estate with a high tower that overlooks the firth and the river Earn where they meet.”
“Then it must lie west of the river,” he said. “I mean to keep south and east of that river, so we should avoid trouble with him. I don’t recall any way to cross the Earn near its confluence with the firth. It’s gey turbulent there, and deep.”
“It is not my place to offer advice to you, sir,” Hetty said. “But…”
Lifting an eyebrow, Ivor said, “I think that you have more than earned the right to do so, mistress. What would you advise?”
“That her ladyship is right to suggest going to Kincardine, sir. It is not only nearby and well guarded but the guards will recognize us or agree to summon someone who will. Also, they will think naught of our having two boys with us.”
“What if Sir Malcolm chances to be there? Do you have the same faith that her ladyship does that he will aid her in avoiding Albany’s plan for her future?”
“I cannot say that, sir,” Hetty said. “But I do believe that Sir Malcolm will honor her declaration of marriage. One of his sisters married in such a way, in the teeth of their father’s fury. The old laird let be, asking no more than that they marry properly in the Kirk. I believe that Sir Malcolm will do the same, especially…”
She glanced at Marsi, who grimaced, knowing what Hetty was not saying.
Looking at Ivor, Marsi found him eyeing her quizzically. She knew then that he had followed Hetty’s train of thought as easily as she had.
Bluntly, she said, “Especially if we consummate this mad marriage that I managed to contrive for us. That is what you want to say, is it not, Hetty?”
Ivor reacted more strongly to Marsi’s words than he had to Hetty’s, and in a much more physical way. The thought of a consummation with her had teased his mind ever since the subject had arisen. That she had said the words herself seemed to make the likelihood of its happening much stronger. He possessed better sense, however, than to stick his oar into their discussion.
Meeting the lass’s gaze, Hetty said as bluntly as she had, “Aye, that is what I’d recommend, my lady. You must know your uncle well enough to realize that if you tell him you are married but cannot look him in the eye and declare that you have consummated the union, he is more likely to lock you in a bedchamber and send for Albany than to do aught else. Kincardine sits in Albany’s dominion of Fife, after all, not miles away in Perthshire as Cargill and Stobhall do.”
“True,” Marsi said with a sigh.
“Aye, it is,” Hetty said. “And as strong as Albany’s authority is in Perthshire, it is stronger here. I doubt that your uncle would willingly draw his ire by aiding you in your consummation or ignoring its lack. There now. I ken fine that you did not want to hear that, but I do believe that is how he would behave.”
“And I still think he will honor Annabella’s wishes,” Marsi said. “He will perfectly understand why sh
e opposed Albany’s offering me and Cargill to Lindsay of Redmyre. My own father held those lands in my mother’s name, after all, not his own. And they came to me from my mother. But Albany would hand them over to Redmyre, kittle and kine, just to win Redmyre’s vote for the Governorship.”
Ivor, noting that her temper was rising, prepared to intercede, if only to keep peace between the two women. But Hetty made that step unnecessary.
“Mayhap you are right,” she said calmly. “There is James now, looking for his food. Shall we go and see what the innkeeper’s people have provided for us?”
Noting the stunned look on Marsi’s face, Ivor had all he could do not to grin at Hetty’s tactics. He would remember them.
With a strong sense of hopeful anticipation, he decided to let the seeds that Hetty had planted have some time to take root.
Marsi had had other arguments to offer, but Hetty’s calm reply had taken the wind from her sails. It did not help that when she looked at Ivor, he gazed steadily back at her… until his lips twitched.
“What?” she demanded.
His eyebrows arced, reminding her that like many men, he did not appreciate curtness unless it was his own.
Moderating her tone, she said, “I expect that you still think I’m wrong.”
“I do not know Sir Malcolm,” he said. “I do know that I’ve not heard anyone describe him as a man likely to oppose Albany. Forbye, that does not mean that he will not do so on your account. I do think we’d be taking a needless risk. But I won’t fratch with you, lass,” he added. “If we can go through Blackford safely, we will.”
His answer displeased her, but she did not argue. And when Aodán and Will returned, they reported having seen many men in black wearing Albany’s device, and others that Will had recognized as minions of Murdoch Stewart in Doune.
“They do seem tae be waiting for summat,” Aodán said. “They ha’ stabled their horses but only for the day. We saw watchers on the Stirling road, too.”
