by Amanda Scott
She thought they had traveled less than a mile after crossing the bridge before they had turned and headed up the steep path. But she had dozed after that and did not know how far they had traveled to reach the hilltop. Likewise, her memory of the ride down to the tower was vague, and Redmyre had taken her inside at once. She had been tired and nigh starving by then.
The narrow, winding stone stairway had seemed to go up forever.
When they reached the uppermost landing and entered the room, she had felt weak, dizzy, and disoriented. Her knees had been so wobbly that when Redmyre removed her gag and untied her hands, she sat down at once on a narrow cot with just two quilts and a thin featherbed for a mattress. Only then did she realize that Jamie had not followed them upstairs.
Standing over her as Redmyre did, he seemed even taller and more powerfully built than she remembered. But she refused to let him intimidate her.
“What have you done with James?” she demanded.
“This tower is no fit place for a prince of the realm,” he replied. “He will stay in the hall, in rooms suited to his rank, till his uncle takes him in charge.”
“Do you mean to starve me until then?”
“You will address me civilly, m’lady,” he said harshly. “I do not mean to be a brutal husband. But neither will I tolerate rudeness or defiance.”
“Faith, I do not know what to call you.”
“ ‘Sir’ will do.”
She was silent, as if she were considering that as a suggestion. Then she said, “But ‘sir’ is a form of address reserved for gentlemen, is it not?”
The bright moonlight beaming into the tower room revealed his darkening cheeks. “You will mind your tongue if you want food, my lass,” he snapped.
“Will I? What else will you do if I don’t? Beat me? Kill me? I should point out that if I die, you will not get the Cargill estates. If Clan Chattan does not claim them for my husband, as I’d expect they will, they will revert to a cousin of mine. The royal charter awarding those lands to Drummonds of Cargill decrees it so.”
“As Royal Chamberlain, Albany controls all royal charters.”
“Only with the consent of Parliament,” Marsi said. “Surely, you know that.”
“Parliament will do as he bids.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I am young yet. But I have forever heard complaints that the lords of Parliament rarely do as any particular man hopes they will.”
“Albany kens how to make them.”
“But, even if he succeeds in annulling my marriage, the Drummonds will not sit idly by whilst Drummond lands go out of the family. I suspect Uncle Malcolm is already queasy about that and agreed to it only to curry favor with Albany. Ah, that hits the mark. I can see it in your face.”
Abruptly, Redmyre left the room and pulled the door shut, hard.
If Marsi hoped he would forget to lock it, the thud of a bolt slamming into its socket disappointed her.
Ivor, Hetty, and Aodán spent precious time in Aberuthven without learning a thing about their quarry, leaving Ivor to deduce that the riders they followed had skirted the town without drawing notice.
“Easy enough to do,” he said to Aodán. “These heavily forested hills provide many ways to avoid the main road. However, they’ll likely return to it before long.”
Beyond Aberuthven, they came to a place where the road led eastward from Ruthven Water. Drawing rein, Ivor said, “Much of this path is too pebble strewn to show tracks. But it does look as if a number of horses recently headed east.”
“So you do think we are going the right way,” Hetty said.
“Aye, for I—” Ivor frowned into the distance. “Do you see that rider, Aodán?” When Aodán shook his head, Ivor pointed. “Yonder, past the dip between the two steep hills to our right, a horseman coming down—looks like Will.”
Hetty exclaimed, “Good lack, sir! That dip must be a mile from here. I cannot even discern signs of a pathway, let alone a rider.”
“He is not following a path,” Ivor said. “His pony is picking its way down through the trees. Look straight down from the tallest evergreen at the summit. Midway between the treetop and the road.”
“I see him, sir,” Aodán said. “That’s a rider, aye, and small. But as to its being our Will, I couldna say.”
“He has seen us,” Ivor interjected. “He is increasing his pace.”
On those words, he urged his mount on, letting it stretch its legs. He knew that Aodán, leading their sumpters, would continue to follow at Hetty’s pace.
Nearing Will on the flat, he saw that the boy was eyeing him warily.
Greeting him, Ivor said, “I hope you have news, lad.”
“Aye, sir, I do. But I feared ye might be vexed wi’ me for loping off as I did.”
“Why did you go?”
“ ’Cause them men what caught us in the glen paid me nae heed. So, after we reached Kincardine, I acted as if I was used tae working in the stable there and nae one heeded me save tae toss me an order now and now. I expect the Kincardine lot thought I were wi’ them others. But it were plain tae me by suppertime that summat strange were a-going on, ’cause by then I could tell that we had two lots o’ men, besides ours and them what belonged tae the Laird o’ Kincardine.”
“Two lots?”
“Aye, sir. Sithee, they seemed tae be summat together and summat at odds. So I kept me eyes on all o’ them and offered tae help yestereve when one lot wanted ponies saddled. Nae one said nowt o’ where they were a-going. But just the one lot did set up tae go. Some eight or ten o’ them, there were. But they ordered two more ponies besides their own and nobbut one sumpter. Forbye, as we saddled each one, a man would lead it away. All o’ that stirred me tae think, I can tell ye.”
“You showed good sense, Will. I’d wager that the lot that left Kincardine were Albany’s men, although he is still—”
“Nay, then, laird,” Will said, relaxing. “ ’Twas the other lot. Their leader be a square-built man in claret-colored velvet wha’ behaves as grand as if he was the duke. There were men in black, too, though. They may ha’ been the duke’s, but Lord Fife’s men in Doune mostly wear black, too, so I didna ken. Mayhap we should stop talking like this, though, sir. Mistress Hetty and Aodán be almost upon us.”
“We’ll keep no secrets from them,” Ivor said, glancing toward the other two. “You should know, though, that Lady Marsi and Jamie were taken from Kincardine. I suspect they are riding with the men you saw, because unless Albany lied, he ordered them both moved to a place he said would be safer for them.”
“Aye, well, they’ll be with that lot, then,” Will said with a nod. “I did think that the lad wi’ them looked like James. But the lady wore a blindfold and a gag, so I couldna make out her face. Where be they a-taking them, d’ye think?”
“I don’t know,” Ivor said. “From your description of their leader, I suspect he is Lindsay of Redmyre. Although he wore crimson, he is Albany’s man and has an estate somewhere on Fife’s north coast. So we should be able to follow them easily enough. How far ahead are they?”
Will shrugged. “I dinna ken. I thought I’d best hie me back tae tell ye which way they did go. Sithee, I thought ye’d still be at the castle, and I followed them much o’ the night. After some hours, when they crossed yon great bridge, I didna ken where I might end up if I went on wi’ them. But I kent fine that I could follow that line o’ hills yonder back tae Kincardine, so I did.”
“That great bridge, was it an arched one of stone across a wide river?”
“Aye, and the river be the one that wends hither and yon through this strath.”
“Then the bridge is the Bridge of Earn,” Ivor said. “I have crossed it myself more than once, traveling from St. Andrews to Perth and back. But they would not come so far this way and be heading for Perth.”
As he spoke, Aodán and Hetty reined in near them.
“Aodán, you have also traveled to St. Andrews and back from Perth,” Ivor said. “Do you r
ecall aught about the area betwixt the Earn and the Firth of Tay?”
“Only that steep hills, even cliffs, line the north side of the strath all the way from the bridge west to Craigend. They extend eastward to the river bend, as well.”
“Redmyre bragged that the Lindsays had owned both sides of the firth before the glaciers created it. I’d wager that his southern estate lies on the peninsula that the Earn and the firth form at their confluence.”
“Aye, perhaps,” Aodán said. “As I recall, sir, the abbey… Lindores… owns the land up to the east bank of the river Earn.”
“It does,” Ivor agreed. “The Bridge of Earn must lie ten miles from here and nearly the same distance from Newburgh and its abbey. So, unless Redmyre keeps a boat near his tower, we’ll have no easy path to the abbey from his land. In the message I sent there for Wolf, I said that we’d look for him at Newburgh.”
“Wi’ respect, sir, we be nobbut two men and a lad against a dozen men-at-arms, plus them wha’ Redmyre keeps on his estate. We’re heavily outnumbered.”
“Aye, so heavily that I’ll want you to ride to Newburgh,” Ivor said. “Wolf will expect us to approach Lindores by land, as in troth, I did mean to do. He will not look for us to be west of the Earn’s confluence with the firth.”
“But I shouldna leave ye and Will, no to mention Mistress Hetty.”
“They can bide with me,” Ivor said. “No one will suspect a man traveling with a middle-aged woman and a lad to be any threat to Redmyre. I want to see his estate. His tower likely stands near the water if not right on it.”
“Aye, he’d want a clear view o’ any boats approaching. He’ll likely keep watchers atop some o’ the surrounding hills as well, though.”
“If I can get a good look from the crest of those hills, I may be able to judge how many men he has. Meantime, Fin needs time to find us and Wolf needs to know where we’ll be. Sithee, Aodán, when we find James, I want to get him on a ship as quickly as I can. I doubt that Albany will anticipate that possibility here.”
“Likely, he thinks he’s outsmarted us,” Aodán said, adding, “I can reach Lindores afore nightfall, sir. The abbot will pass on any message, aye?”
“Wolf assured me that he will if you but speak the words ‘Sea Wolf,’ ” Ivor said. “Mention also that Jake should watch for the Mackintosh banner and tell the abbot it’s the one with the wildcat facing outward. I don’t know what I’ll find when I get close, so he should warn Jake that the banner may be flying from a tree or a staff near the water. Wherever he sees it, we’ll be nearby.”
“What of Sir Fin?” Aodán asked. “He’ll likely head for yon Bridge o’ Earn. And, since he’ll come from Perth…”
“We’ll think of a way to get a message to him, too,” Ivor said.
Certain now that they were going the right way, he wished that they could ride faster. As it was, he had to spare the horses. So it would be well after midday when they reached the Bridge of Earn, and dusk just hours later.
As he rode, try as he would to consider logistics for various situations that he might encounter with Redmyre, his thoughts kept flying back to Marsi.
Every time they did, an image flashed into his head of her struggling to fight off Redmyre. His temper stirred each time until a sudden image of Bishop Traill intervened, growling sternly, A bad temper produces its own punishments.
That image drew a near smile, because the memory it evoked was both clear and pertinent. Becoming aware that he had mindlessly urged his horse on ahead of the others, he called himself sharply to order and eased its pace.
It would be at least two hours before they reached the bridge. How long it might take Fin to reach the same place was the first issue to consider.
The grating thunk of the bolt sliding back startled Marsi from a reverie in which she had been methodically retracing every moment with Ivor, to pass the time. She had heard nothing to warn her of anyone’s approach.
Unaccustomed as she was to spending hours by herself, she had slept for a time. But when no one had come by the time she awoke, having nothing to do became more than tedium. Too much solitude, she thought, would drive her mad.
When the door opened and Redmyre entered with a gillie behind him, she got quickly to her feet. “I was beginning to wonder how long you meant to keep me without food or water,” she said.
“You would do well to wonder how much longer it will be next time if you are discourteous, my lady.”
Deciding that the comment deserved no reply, she made none.
“Good then,” he said as if her silence was apology enough. “Someone will bring you food and water shortly.” Gesturing to a sumpter basket that the gillie carried, he added, “I’ve brought you something else, to pass the time.”
Concealing what little relief she felt, she said, “I cannot imagine what would interest me more than food or water just now.”
“I just hope you are handy with a needle and thread,” he said, opening the basket that the gillie held. The latter, carefully expressionless, avoided her eye.
To Marsi’s astonishment, the basket held a pile of rose-pink velvet.
Redmyre pulled it out and shook it, revealing a kirtle with long, slim sleeves and small gold buttons from elbow to wrist.
Holding it up to her while she gritted her teeth and stood perfectly still, he said, “Your uncle wanted you to have clothing more suited to your rank. Those three gowns in there were Annabella’s. Since she was taller than you, they need altering. But I expect that you attended to such tasks for her grace now and now.”
“It was thoughtful of Uncle Malcolm to send them,” Marsi said evenly.
“Aye, it was. They are not new or fashionable, since they are clothes that she discarded at Kincardine. But they will look better than that thing you have on.”
“Have you needle and thread in that basket?” she asked.
“A needle case, several colors of thread, and a wee pair of scissors, as well.”
He seemed proud of himself for thinking of those things, but Marsi wondered only if the needles or scissors might serve her as weapons.
Ivor, Aodán, Hetty, and Will reached the Bridge of Earn an hour or so after midday. Dismounting in a copse a short distance away, they ate the bread and meat that, thanks to a friendly gillie, Ivor had brought from Kincardine.
Will produced two apples from somewhere on his small person, and Ivor cut them into wedges for the four of them.
As he handed wedges to Hetty and Will, he said, “When you’ve eaten your fill, lad, I want you to gather sticks straight enough to look like arrows. About so long,” he added, holding his hands about three feet apart.
“Long as real arrows, then,” Will said, nodding. “How many?”
“Five. But you might find a few extra, lest some won’t do.”
“I’ll get them now,” Will said, taking another apple wedge and striding off.
“A singularly uninquisitive lad,” Aodán murmured.
Ivor’s lips twitched. He said, “I expect that the ill-willed Master Lucken has taught him the wisdom of questioning his elders only when he requires information to fulfill a task,” he said. “Also, Will is practical enough to realize that he will soon see what I do with them. As will you,” he added, grinning at Aodán.
With a wry look, Aodán turned and reached for another apple wedge.
Marsi stared at the pink velvet fabric lying heavily across her lap and sighed.
“Horrid man,” she muttered to the ambient air. “I do wish that he had thought to provide a woman to help me mark the hems of these gowns.”
When Redmyre had accompanied the gillie who carried up food and water to her, she had put the suggestion to him. But his lordship said that he could not, as a bachelor, keep female servants. Until he married her, he said, he would have none.
“Meantime,” she said tartly, “you destroy my reputation by keeping me here.”
“Sakes, you did that yourself, lass, by traveling as you did with Mackintos
h.”
The memory of those words made her shudder. Since Hetty and James, as well as Ivor, had been with her while they traveled, and since they had never given out her name, she could not imagine how she had ruined herself. But Marsi had not debated the matter further with Redmyre.
Determinedly returning her thoughts to the task in hand, she decided that without someone else to pin up the hem for her, she could not shorten the gowns.
“I’d never get them straight,” she muttered.
She’d wager, too, that the needle or the pins in the needle case, or the small pair of scissors that Redmyre had supplied, would not aid her much against him.
Still stroking the velvet, she closed her eyes. The image of Ivor in the blue velvet doublet that he had worn the previous evening leaped to her mind.
“You will find me,” she murmured, feeling warmth at the very thought of him. She touched her ring, savoring her knowledge that the fourth finger contained a nerve running directly to her heart. “You will find both of us,” she added more firmly. “And, by heaven, I hope you kill the villains who took us from you!”
Experience reared its head then, warning her that she could trust no one, even herself, and especially not people who promised that they would always look after her. People, as she knew, had only to say that and they died.
But Ivor had said she could trust him, and she did. He would find them.
A chill stirred then. Would he still want her after she had been overnight in Redmyre’s hands? She had heard tales of women abandoned by both husband and clan after an enemy had captured and returned them. Would Ivor abandon her, too?
What if, after he rescued her, she found that she was with child? Would he believe that it was his? Or would he, like Redmyre, want proof?
Collecting herself with a shake, she shoved the pink velvet gown aside and got up to look out the south window again at the thickly wooded hills.
Whatever Ivor might do, he had to find them first. After that, when she could look into his eyes, she would know all that she needed to know.
