Frederick's Queen: The Clan Graham Series

by Suzan Tisdale

  “Frederick, I do no’ want ye to go,” she said. No’ without kissin’ me first.

  He sighed and patted her back. “Aggie, I must go. I promise I’ll return to ye.”

  With all her heart, she wanted to do two things. The first, to ask him for just one wee kiss before he left. The second, to believe him.

  Thirty-One

  THE MORNING OF the second day dawned, and they woke to gray skies and light rain. Rose hoped aloud that the weather wasn’t a bad omen. Aggie wondered the same, but kept her worries to herself.

  Aggie went about her morning ablutions with a sense of unease resting upon her shoulders. She felt out of sorts, tired, and worried. There was a sense of something dreadful on the horizon. Trying hard to convince herself that it was nothing more than needless worry, she could only hope that there was nothing to the niggling sensation in the pit of her stomach.

  They passed the time in much the same manner as they had the prior day. Sewing, storytelling, and teaching Ailrig his letters.

  Occasionally, Aggie would go to the window and stare out at the horizon where the glen loomed large in the distance. Usually, she avoided even glancing upon the place for it held so many dark and ugly memories. Much of her childhood had been spent playing there with Rose and Clair and those were the memories she clung to.

  For years, Aggie would not so much as cast a glance in the direction of the glen and neither would she step foot in it. Just the thought of having to walk through it was enough to make her break out in a cold sweat and retch. She could no longer look upon it as beautiful, filled with wild flowers and tall grass and the faint echo of children’s laughter from days gone by.

  But today, she did look. Whether she searched for a glimpse of a husband she knew was not there or something else, she wasn’t sure. The seemed to be calling to her and, oddly, it wasn’t the echo of her screams from that ugly day that reached out and drew her in, but something else. Something she could not name or identify. Whatever it was, it called to her, beckoning her to take a chance to look.

  Summer would soon be giving way to autumn. But for now, the grass was still a vivid green, leaves still clung to the trees, and late summer flowers were in full bloom. The heather, which Aggie could just make out beyond the glen, would soon turn to a rich, deep purple.

  Years ago, before her father had all but lost his mind and turned into the cruel, vicious man that he now was, the glen would have been filled with ewes and lambs. Now, it remained quiet and still, save for the creatures that naturally made the place their home.

  Rain continued to gently fall across the land. Now and then the sun would break through the clouds and cast the land in brilliant sunlight. The contrast between the leaden sky and the beams of sunlight was remarkable, breathtakingly beautiful. Aggie soon realized that she had been standing at the small window, staring out at the glen for more than a half an hour. And not once did she shiver. Not once did she break out into a cold sweat or feel as though she needed to throw up.

  Instead of the fear and trepidation that she always felt when looking there, she felt a peculiar sense of peace and calm. What made today different from any of the thousands of days that had come and gone in the past ten years?

  Frederick.

  Somehow the man had managed to take away that invisible cloak of pain and fear. He had replaced it with a sense of peace and security. How had he managed to do that? To wipe away ten years of suffering in a matter of weeks? How was it possible to find such comfort in a person?

  “Ye miss him, aye?”

  Aggie hadn’t noticed that Rose had come to stand beside her. Together, they looked out at the glen. There was no reason for Rose to ask who in particular Aggie might be missing.

  “Aye, I do,” she answered.

  Rose wrapped an arm around Aggie’s shoulder and gave her a slight hug. “He’ll be home on the morrow.”

  Something in the pit of her stomach warned that mayhap that would not be the case.

  MERMADAK MCLAREN COULD not be happier. ’Twas all he could do to keep from dancing about his rooms.

  For weeks, he’d been stewing over his regret at choosing Frederick Mackintosh as Aggie’s husband and his future successor. The Mackintosh man was nothing at all like the ruthless person he had imagined him to be. Frederick Mackintosh was compassionate and patient. Two things Mermadak could not tolerate in any man, let alone the one he had chosen for Aggie.

  The Mackintosh’s behavior had left Mermadak to wonder if he was truly a Mackintosh or some impostor. Perhaps it wasn’t Mackintosh blood that ran through his veins, but instead, the blood of some coward his mother had bed. In Mermadak’s mind, the latter made the most sense.

  The hour was growing late as he sat in his favorite chair next to the fireplace. Donnel sat across from him as they celebrated what was soon to be a rather large victory. They were both feeling the warm effects of full bellies and fine whisky. With that and the blazing fire, their tongues loosened up.

  “When do ye think ye’ll hear from the Bowie?” Donnel asked before taking a sip of the amber liquid.

  “We’ll ken before sunset on the morrow. The Bowie will send his messengers as soon as ’tis over with,” Mermadak answered. When he smiled, the fire flickered across his face and made him look more sinister than usual.

  “And yer really goin’ to let the Bowie have Aggie and all this land?” Donnel asked as he stared blankly into the fire.

  “Aye, I am. He can do with it what he wishes.”

  “The land, or Aggie?”

  Mermadak laughed. “Either one, I care no’. I’m no’ long fer this world, Donnel. But I’ll die a happy man knowin’ that she didna get away with it.”

  There was no reason for Mermadak to clarify who she was. Donnel knew ’twas Lila McLaren to whom he referred.

  “And ye canna think of any other way to exact revenge on a dead woman?”

  Mermadak cast him a look of warning. They’d had this discussion on numerous occasions. He’d burn the entire keep down if he had to, if it meant winning the war Lila had elicited upon her death. She had betrayed him in so many ways. Leaving everything to Aggie—a secret he’d worked hard to keep secret for many years—was the second worst thing she had done to him.

  “I can think of many ways to exact me revenge,” Mermadak told him through gritted teeth. “On anyone I choose.” He let the latter part of his statement linger in the air, allowing Donnel the chance to mull it over. From the glance Donnel cast his way, Mermadak knew the man understood his hidden message.

  They sat in silence for a time before Donnel spoke again. “Do ye think Frederick and his band of fools be dead yet?”

  Mermadak shrugged his shoulders. “Mayhap aye, mayhap nay. But they will be dead by morn, that much I am certain of.”

  “Then the Bowie will be here by nightfall to lay claim to McLaren lands,” Donnel said.

  “And ye and I will be halfway to Inverness by then,” Mermadak said. He took another drink of his whisky and smiled. “Is everythin’ at the ready?”

  “Aye,” Donnel assured him. “Everythin’ is packed. I wouldna let the men drink in excess this night so that they’ll be at the ready before daybreak.”

  Mermadak raised his cup into the air. “To the Bowie,” he said with a smile. “May the bastard do what I could no’.”

  Donnel raised his cup halfheartedly before downing the rest of the whisky. “And may ye finally get what ye deserve,” he said.

  Mermadak raised an eyebrow as if to ask him for clarification.

  Donnel smiled, “Yer revenge, Mermadak. The revenge ye deserve.”

  AILRIG WAS VERY glad that Ian was with him for two distinct reasons. The first being he had a witness to what he’d just heard. The second being that Ian made him feel less afraid.

  Earlier, after much begging on Ailrig’s part, they had talked Aggie into letting him bunk in Ian’s room. Ian and Rognall had been entertaining him with one fantastic story after another all evening. After a few hours, A
ilrig, wanting to fit in, began to tell his own tales of the few adventures he and Aggie had shared over the years. Aye, they were few and far between, but for a boy of nine, they were adventures just the same.

  It was during the last story, when Ailrig was explaining how he and Aggie had snuck out of the keep a few years ago, with the hopes of running away to Edinburgh, that had piqued both Ian’s and Rognall’s interest.

  “Secret passages ye say?” Ian asked with a raised brow.

  “Aye,” Ailrig answered in a hushed whisper. “The McLaren doesna ken about them. Aggie’s mum taught them to her when she was even younger than me. ’Tis a secret that only she and I and Rose ken about.”

  Ian’s look of disbelief mirrored Rognall’s. “Show me,” Ian challenged.

  Ailrig wasn’t sure if he should be giving away such secrets. But he did not want Ian to think he was lying. He also wanted to impress the two men. “Ye’ll no’ tell Aggie that I showed ye?”

  “I swear it. And Rognall will swear to it as well,” Ian said.

  Deciding he wouldn’t show them all the passages, only a few of the important ones, Ailrig stood up and brushed the dust from his bottom. He’d been sitting in front of the fire for some time and his bottom had started to fall asleep. But the surge of excitement energized him. It was very late and he knew Aggie would be upset were she to learn he was still awake at this hour.

  Ian and Rognall had promised to keep their late night sojourn into the hidden corridors secret. They were honor bound to keep their word. That was nearly an hour ago. Now they stood hidden in the wall that sat behind a massive set of shelves in Mermadak’s room. And they could hear every word the McLaren and Donnel had said. Every. Single. Word.

  Ailrig held his breath and hoped that the sound of his pounding heart or knocking knees would not carry through the walls. He’d been here many a time, had overheard many a conversation over the years. But this was, by far, the worst thing he had ever heard.

  If Frederick—me da—is dead and the Bowie is on his way, what happens to Aggie—me mum—and me? He worried over it all the way back to Ian and Rognall’s room. He also prayed, something Frederick had been teaching him to do. Please, God, do no’ let me da be dead!

  Once they spilled back into the room, the three of them stood facing one another. Rognall looked bewildered, but Ian looked mad enough to kill. Ailrig studied each of the men closely, waiting, wondering what they were going to do next.

  “Do we wait until the McLaren leaves?” Rognall asked.

  “Nay,” Ian said with a shake of his head. “Knowin’ him as we do, the man will no’ leave so much as a bread crumb fer his people, let alone horses for us.” He ran a hand through his hair and Ailrig could see his uncle’s jaw clenching and unclenching. His da did the same thing when he was angry.

  “Ian be right,” Ailrig said, his voice nearly as shaky as his legs.

  Ian’s lips were pursed together as he looked down at the boy and studied him. “I do no’ ken this Bowie well, Ailrig,” he said in a low, hushed tone. “But I do ken me brother. Yer da will be fine, that much I am certain. We must go and tell yer mum and prepare to leave immediately.” He gave Ailrig a reassuring pat on his head before turning to Rognall.

  “Ye, go gather the rest of our men. Have them pack and ready the horses, but tell them to no’ let themselves be seen. We canna draw any attention to ourselves.”

  “If anyone sees us leavin’,” Ailrig said, “we’ll be dead before we get beyond the gates.”

  Rognall and Ian looked at him with curious expressions.

  “There be ways out of the keep, ways we can go without bein’ seen,” he explained. “There be secret ways to the stables too.”

  “Then we’ll leave how we get out of this place to ye, Ailrig,” Ian said with a smile.

  Ever since the Mackintosh and his men had arrived months ago, Ailrig had wanted to be like these men when he grew up. Honorable, strong, heroic. He hadn’t once thought he’d get the chance to prove himself or his mettle until he was much older.

  As Ian and Rognall set to packing spare clothing and weapons into packs, Ailrig explained how Rognall could get himself and the men to the stables without being seen. He prayed that his mother would not be too upset with him for having shared their secrets with these men. If they were successful and could get to Frederick before the Bowies did, then mayhap she’d forgive him.

  SHE HAD ALL but begged him not to go. Ye’ll be fine, he said. I am leavin’ five men with ye, he said. I’ll be home before ye even miss me, he said.

  Now Ian and Ailrig stood before her, having woken her and Rose from a sound sleep, with news that made her blood run cold. What her father was planning went beyond madness, beyond evil. She wasn’t even sure there was a word to describe what he was planning. The why of it all wasn’t as nearly as important as the plan itself. There was no time to figure the why of it out now. For now, they had to do what they could to find her husband.

  They had no way of knowing if Frederick and the rest of his men were alive. They weren’t even sure they knew where they might be. Before he had left, Frederick had given Ian a brief idea of where they planned to hunt each day. Still, they had no way of knowing if he had stuck with his original plans to hunt first to the north, then work their way around McLaren lands in an westerly direction. All they could do was hope that they could find them before the Bowies did.

  There was very little time available to allow the severity of the situation to sink in. Aggie had to act and quickly. She gave orders as she stepped into the little room where they stored their clothing and began shoving things into a pack.

  “Rose, take Ian above stairs and grab yer things. Meet us in the granary in a quarter of an hour.” She stepped from behind the curtain and rushed to the trunk where she kept her bag of herbs. Not knowing how long they might be gone or what they might endure or encounter, she wanted to make certain she could take care of at least minor injuries.

  Ian began to demand to know what her plan was. “Aggie, are ye certain ye can get us out of here alive and without bein’ seen?”

  “Aye, I am, Ian.” Aggie stuffed her medicine pouches into her satchel and slammed the door shut. She found Ailrig standing next to the door. “Where did ye tell Ian’s men to meet us with the horses?”

  “In the forest, like last time,” he said as he grabbed his cloak and draped it over his shoulders. “Was that the right thing to do?”

  Aggie gave a nod of confirmation before turning back to Ian and Rose. “Ye must hurry now. Go! We’ll meet ye in the granary.”

  Rose all but pulled the reluctant Ian from the room.

  “Peter,” Aggie said as she waited for him by the door. “’Twill be quite dark where goin’. I’ll need ye to stay between me and Ailrig at all times. There’ll be a few tight squeezes, but if ye listen and do no’ argue, we’ll get ye through. And whatever ye do, do no’ make a sound.”

  Peter looked as though he’d argue, thought better of it and closed his mouth. Aggie gave him a quick nod before escorting him and Ailrig out of the room.

  WITH AGGIE LEADING the way through corridors and tunnels that were as black as pitch, they finally made their way to the granary. They made their way down and around and up and down, a pattern she had burned into her mind when she was a little girl. Her mother had made her memorize all the ways out of the keep, in case they were ever under attack.

  They made their way up another small and narrow set of stairs before coming to a stop. Aggie paused at the secret door that lay hidden at the back of the small building. Peter was pressed as close as he could get to her and she could hear him breathing nervously. Ailrig had had far more experience making his way through the secret places of the keep, therefore he was not nearly as loud as Peter.

  Aggie closed her eyes and counted to ten before she carefully began to slide the door open ever so slightly. The space was dark and appeared empty, but she knew she could not take any chances. Counting to ten again, she slid the door
another tiny bit and waited. She could finally see the large doors that led into the granary. They were almost completely closed, which she took as a good sign. With the rainy afternoon, no light could shine into the small building that might otherwise give them away.

  To her right, she heard a faint scratching sound. Aggie could feel Peter tense as he tried to stand upright. Aggie held out her arm to bar him from crashing into the room. The fool would get them killed if he weren’t careful.

  Another distinct scratching sound and she was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. “Rose,” she whispered cautiously.

  “Aye,” came Rose’s barely audible reply.

  A moment later, they stepped from their hiding places and met in the middle of the granary. “Did ye have any trouble?”

  “Nay,” Rose said nervously. “We didna hear anythin’ that leads me to believe yer da is lookin’ fer us yet.”

  “Good,” Aggie murmured. She turned to Ian. “From here, we’ll be underground for a time. The tunnel is tight, ye’ll no’ be able to stand upright in it. It will take us deep into the forest.” She went to the little door that Rose and Ian had used to enter the granary. “I shall lead us from here. Rose, can ye take up the rear?”

  Rose nodded and stood aside while Aggie led the way into the dark tunnel. Ailrig was right behind her, holding tightly to her cloak. Aggie could hear the rest of her tiny band of midnight warriors following in behind her.

  Carefully, she counted twenty-five paces, feeling along the wall with her hand as she went. The further along they walked, the more damp the air felt and smelled. Ancient cobwebs hung from the ceiling and occasionally, she could hear one of the men curse under their breaths when they walked into a patch of them.

  When she reached the end, she took a sharp right turn and led them for another hundred paces. Blood rushed in her ears and her heart pounded relentlessly. Her mind swam with images of Frederick injured, or worse yet, lying dead somewhere. She had to push those thoughts aside and concentrate on getting to the forest.