by Amanda Scott
“I shall say no more about it then,” Catriona said. “It is good to see our Gilli Roy, though, is it not? We have not clapped eyes on him in months.”
Looking more closely at her, Katy saw nothing to make her suspect that Catriona knew the true reason for Gilli’s visit. Also, since he had been standing with Fin when she and Clydia came downstairs, the likelihood was strong that Fin had had no chance yet to inform her mother of Gilli’s intended offer.
Spreading mustard from a small pot onto her meat with her eating knife, Katy said, “Gilli likes to come to Finlagh, I think. Although Moigh Castle lies some twenty miles from here, he visited us several times last year before the snow grew too deep in the mountains between Finlagh and Loch Moigh.”
“I’m glad that spring has come at last,” Catriona replied.
“I saw a pheasant hen on her nest today,” Katy told her.
Conversation meandered gently through such subjects until Fin stood to give the grace after meat, thus bringing the others in the hall to their feet.
Then, turning to Catriona, he said, “Gilli Roy and I will join you and the twins shortly, up in the solar, my love.”
As Katy turned away, she caught the eye of the young urchin her cousin Sir Àdham had brought home with him from the Battle of Lochaber four years ago. His fair curls more tousled than ever, Rory raised slightly darker eyebrows in query, but with her back to her parents, Katy dared not respond to the boy’s curiosity, lest they note the exchange with their keen archers’ eyes and demand explanation.
No one, including Rory, knew exactly how old Rory was. Àdham had guessed he was eight or nine at the time of Lochaber, which would make the boy eleven or twelve now, at most. He bore some connection to their villainous Comyn neighbors, though, for he had lived with them for a time. Even so, Àdham believed Rory’s insistence that his presence at that horrific battle site had been much against his will and that he wanted no more to do with any Comyns.
Since Àdham believed him, everyone else at Finlagh did, too.
Following her mother upstairs to the solar and aware of Clydia’s reassuring presence behind her, Katy drew a deep breath and wondered just how Gilli would proceed with his offer of marriage.
“Leave the door open for your father and Gilli Roy,” Catriona said as she took her usual place on the cushioned settle near the window embrasure. “I am eager to hear the news from Loch Moigh. I hope all is well there.”
Katy’s keen ears had caught the sound of footsteps on the stairway, so she said only, “I hear them coming, Mam.”
The two men entered shortly thereafter, and Fin shut the door behind them. Without a pause, he said, “Sit ye down by your mam, Clydia. Gillichallum Roy has something he wishes to say to our Katy.”
Gilli Roy looked from one woman to the others, his blue-gray eyes widening, his cheeks flaming above his sparse, pale-orange-red beard. Then, turning to face Katy, he waited only until Clydia sat down and Fin stepped back before saying hesitantly, “I want … that is, I thought that mayhap ye might be willing tae …”
Noting her father’s tightened lips and twinkling eyes, and her mother’s open mouth, Katy felt unexpected pity for Gilli Roy. When his pause lengthened until she feared that Fin would intervene, she said more sympathetically than she might have, “What is it, exactly, that you want to ask me, Gilli?”
Licking his lips, he said, “Just if ye’d be willing tae consider taking me as a … well, that is, tae live …” Glancing around when Catriona clapped a hand to her mouth, only to meet Fin’s grim gaze next, Gilli shook his head. “I told ’im I’d make a right mull of it, and so I have. What d’ye say, though, Katy?”
Quietly, she said, “I think you ken fine what I would say if you could manage to finish your question.”
“Aye, sure, but ye mustna say nowt afore we talk first, the two of us.”
Fin began shaking his head, but Catriona stood, turned to him, and said mildly, “I think we should let Gilli Roy explain what he wants of Katy without an audience, do not you, my love? You come, too, Clydia, and show me what progress you have made with the quilt you have been making for Granny Rosel.”
“I do not think we should leave them alone yet,” Fin said.
“I disagree, sir,” Catriona said firmly, giving him a direct look. “They are cousins, after all, and have oft been alone together since they were bairns.”
Fin’s lips twitched, but he nodded and said, “Defiance, that’s what it is.”
Chuckling low in her throat, Clydia said, “Aye, sure, sir, for we all ken fine that you live ever under the Cat’s paw.”
Even Katy smiled at the familiar phrase.
Gilli Roy looked vastly relieved when Cat tucked her hand into the crook of her husband’s elbow and leaned gently against him, urging him toward the door.
Clydia stepped ahead of them to open it, and when they had shut the door behind them, Katy was alone with Gillichallum Roy.
Silence in the solar continued until the footsteps on the stairs faded away.
Katy waited with what she considered extreme patience until she could stand it no longer. “Well?” she said at last, sharply.
Gilli Roy eyed her bleakly.
“Gilli, this was your notion, after all. Are you not going to speak to me?”
Frowning, he drew a breath and said, “I ha’ nae notion o’ how one does this business properly, Katy, for I ha’ never heard any man do it. Ye’ll ha’ guessed, though, that I ha’ come tae offer for yer hand.”
“You might at least have brought me flowers or a love token,” she said.
“I didna think o’ flowers or aught else, though I expect I’ll ha’ tae get ye a ring. I did see bluebells in the woods west o’ here, but bluebells by themselves …”
“Aye,” she said when he paused. “They look their best whilst rooted in the ground. In any event, flowers or none, though I like you as a cousin, Gilli, I do not want you for my husband.”
“I ken that fine, and so I did tell my father, but he be that set on us marrying. He thinks ye’d be a grand match for me.”
“Did you ask my father what he thinks of the notion for me?”
He nodded. “I dinna think he looks fondly on it. He said he thought ye be a mite young for marrying, despite being well past the age o’ consent, but he did say I could ask ye. Methinks he doesna want tae irk me da by refusing tae allow that.”
“Then this notion is wholly the Mackintosh’s,” Katy said.
Gilli Roy nodded again. “He said ye’d come wi’ a fine tocher, as ye be Sir Fin’s elder daughter.” With a sigh, he added, “I like ye fine, too, Katy, but I dinna want tae marry ye, neither. Still, I doubt we’ll ha’ much say in it, though, if your da wants tae avoid irking mine.”
“Prithee, stop playing the dafty,” she said. “We will just tell my parents that we have decided we do not suit each other. I am sure—” Breaking off because he was shaking his head, looking more doleful than ever, she said, “Why ever not?”
“I canna do that,” he muttered. “If I go home straightaway, me da will be gey wroth wi’ me. He’ll say I must ha’ muddled the asking or given up too soon, ’cause wi’ him being Captain o’ the Clan Chattan Confederation, and me being his son, I should be able tae persuade anyone I’d like tae become me wife.”
“But you are his youngest son, Gilli,” Katy protested. “He has two others who are older, so you cannot possibly possess enough wealth yet to offer a wife.”
“’Tis true, that, which be why I must marry a lass wi’ a good tocher,” he explained. “Still, as ye may ken fine, me da outlived his own four older brothers tae become Chief o’ Clan Mackintosh and Captain o’ Clan Chattan. So, he believes I may well succeed him. But, Katy, I dinna want tae do that!”
“Nor are you the first to feel so,” Katy said in what she hoped was a soothing manner. The impatience she frequen
tly felt with Gilli had returned, though, and she suspected that he could detect it in her tone. More softly, she added, “You must know that Malcolm followed his brother, my own great-grandfather Lachlan, as head of Clan Chattan only because Lachlan’s only son rejected the position.”
“Aye, sure, I do, but that does nae matter tae me da. He has ever thought that Cousin Ferquhard be nobbut a coward. I dinna want Da tae think that o’ me, though he does ken fine how I feel about fighting and war. Everyone does.”
Sternly, she said, “Do you mean to say you expect me to let my parents think we would suit each other?”
“I dinna want ye tae lie,” he said earnestly. “But mayhap we can tell them ye’d like more time tae think about it. I could stay here whilst ye do that.”
Feeling a new stirring of vexation at that suggestion, she said, “’Twould be as much a lie as saying that we might suit each other. I am nearly certain, too, that Mam would not believe it. Let me think a bit, though,” she added.
“Think as long as ye like,” he said with a sigh. “I can tell ye, though, that I thought all the way here and didna think o’ nowt save that ye might agree tae it.”
“Which is not what you want me to do, though, aye?”
He spread his hands and said dismally, “If ye say aye, we’ll ha’ tae do it. If ye say nae, then I’ll be handing me head tae me da for washing.”
“Or a good clout,” Katy said sympathetically. “If you are right about my father’s reaction to the idea, though, we may persuade him to let us both to think more before I have to give you an answer.”
“How long d’ye think?”
“Marry, how can I know? First, tell me this: Art certain that my father was less than delighted to learn that the Mackintosh wants us to wed?”
“I canna be certain o’ nowt, Katy. All I ken is what I said afore. Fin told me he thought ye were too young yet for wedding. Even so, he said I could ask ye and he would think on it.”
Katy sighed, aware that her father must know just as her mother would that such a match held no appeal for her. But would Fin accept a refusal?
In any event, Gilli was right in saying that Fin would be reluctant to go against Malcolm’s will. After all, the Mackintosh was Fin’s liege lord, clan chief, and the confederation captain to whom he had pledged his loyalty. He would most likely decide that her wishes were less important than the Mackintosh’s.
She would have to take good care, though, in how she discussed the matter with him. She could not lie to him, not in any way.
At last, she said, “I will try to say only that I think it would be unfair to you, Gilli, even rude, to decide so important a matter without taking due time to think first. You must be aware, though, that Da may declare an hour or so long enough.”
“Then ye must urge him tae let ye think longer,” Gilli insisted. “I’ faith, Kate, I canna go home tomorrow or the next day, either. Only think how that would look! I’d liefer enjoy a long visit here afore ye must decide.”
“We will just have to see what my father says.”
Grimacing, Gilli said, “We ken fine what he will most likely say, so we’d be fools tae hope he willna say it.”
“Mam will not let him force me into any marriage,” Katy said. “Of that I am certain … or nearly certain,” she added when a shade of doubt crept in.
Supper, or any other mealtime at Raitt Castle, was a noisy affair.
With young Alyssa and her plump, gray-haired maidservant, Meggie, the only women ever present and de Raite caring little about proprieties after he had said the grace, his men snatched food from platters, bellowed across the room at one another, and often upset platters or jugs if more than one man reached for an object at once.
Will was certain he was the only male at Raitt who noticed how Aly winced when someone—a gillie or one of her own brothers—snatched a platter or sauce bowl or swiped fingers or food into the bowl nearest her as she was reaching for it.
Their father never paid any heed.
Alyssa and Meggie sat far to his left, for the five or six seats at that end of the high table were not just for ladies, as they were in most noble houses. Will sat next to Alyssa with their older brother Colley between him and their father. The three eldest of Will’s remaining four brothers, Hew, Liam, and Jarvis, along with their cousin Dae from the Lowlands, sat at de Raite’s right, Hew beside him.
Men were still coming into the hall that evening when Will escorted Alyssa to her place. Meggie stood beside it, awaiting her.
As they moved to join her, de Raite said abruptly, “Ye, there, Alyssa! Where ha’ ye been all this day?”
Curtsying to him, she said, “I walked tae the clachan with Meggie, sir. The women had collected nuts, herbs, and such, so we helped sort and bundle them.”
“Ye should tell Olaf or someone when ye go out, for I dinna like ye away so long. Ye should be here tae supervise the kitchen and the household servants.”
Will nearly spoke up to defend Aly but held his tongue, knowing from experience that he would likely make things worse for her if he spoke.
Rising from her curtsy, she said, “I do see tae my duties, sir, and I did today, as well. Since then, I have been upstairs in the solar, mending.”
“Aye, well, I’ve a notion ye’ve been a-going out more oft of late. Worse, I suspect ye’ may ha’ been a-meeting someone or t’other. If I learn that I’m right about that, I’ll make ye gey sorry.”
“I ken that fine, sir,” Alyssa said submissively. “I met only with our women in the clachan. Nor have I given you cause tae doubt my obedience tae your will.”
“Just see that ye don’t, that’s all,” he snapped as he turned away, gesturing as he did for everyone to sit and sitting himself without bothering to say the grace.
With a sigh, Alyssa sat by Meggie, and Will took his seat at Aly’s right.
Menservants began setting platters of food on the high table and the long trestle tables in the lower hall. The noise level increased.
Aware that Aly’s relief seemed greater than her frustration with de Raite and tempted to ask her more questions, Will decided to wait until they were alone again.
She was talking quietly with Meggie, so he let his thoughts drift to his morning encounter with the lass, Katy, and wondered what she was doing now.
Perhaps her father—if Fin of the Battles was her father—had been as suspicious of her activities as de Raite was of Aly’s. Surely, Katy’s father, whoever he was, had greater cause for concern than de Raite did. Aly was ever obedient and would never think of trying to climb one of the high crags, let alone to do so alone.
He wondered if he would meet Katy again and what she might be up to then.
Bidding Gilli good night in the solar, Katy went downstairs, aware that her mother, her father, and Clydia would be awaiting her in the inner chamber, a smaller private room behind the great-hall dais. Much as she wished she could storm in and tell them exactly what she thought of Gilli’s so-called offer, she knew that such behavior was fraught with peril.
Fin never reacted well to storming; and Catriona—while perfectly capable of creating storms of her own—nearly always condemned other people’s outbursts.
Katy’s imagination provided myriad opening statements as she left the solar and descended the stairs. Seconds later, recalling Clydia’s earlier accusation, she decided she would be wise to think before saying a word. She would have to think fast, though, in the short time it would take to reach the inner chamber door.
The strongest point Gilli had made was that her father would be reluctant to go against Malcolm’s wishes. In fact, unless she or Gilli could present valid reasons to reject any notion of marriage between them, Fin would likely insist that they do as the Mackintosh demanded.
On the other hand, she was nearly certain that neither her father nor her mother would expect the idea to ple
ase her. Her best hope was that Catriona would understand her aversion to it. To that end, she would present her thoughts calmly, clearly … and without prevarication.
“They are always pressing me to be tactful,” she muttered.
Considering that thought, she wished that she knew the exact difference between what people called “tact” and just plain lying. Perhaps tact lay in Gilli’s desire for more time, whereas if she were to say that she needed time …
The inner chamber door loomed before her.
Chapter 4
Will kept an eye on Alyssa throughout supper, hoping to learn what might have stirred de Raite’s suspicion about her activities. He discerned easily that she was more nervous than usual.
Although she chatted with Meggie for a time, the increasing din in the great hall made it hard to hear what even the person next to one said, and she soon shifted her attention solely to her trencher. Noting then that she pushed food around but ate little, he leaned near enough to mutter into her ear, “Art ailing, lassie?”
Starting, she muttered back, “My head aches from the noise, Will. I dare not ask tae be excused, though, when Father is vexed with me.”
“Has he cause for vexation?” Will asked, persuaded that their words would not carry past him through the din to Colley’s ears or beyond Aly to Meggie’s.
Aly shrugged. “Da always fears that I’m in mischief if I am out of his sight, though Heaven kens why he should, Will. I take care tae give him nae cause. Except for being the death of our mam,” she added matter-of-factly.
“Don’t talk blethers, Aly. You did not kill Mam.”
“Birthing me killed her, Will. You canna get from that. And you canna pretend that Da ever wanted a daughter, can you?”
He could not, for de Raite had often said he had hoped for an army of sons. Instead, he said firmly, “He’ll be glad he has such a pretty daughter when he seeks an alliance for her with some nobleman’s marriageable son.”
Flushing, Aly fixed her gaze again on her trencher.
“Well?” Will said, laying a hand atop hers where it rested on the table.
