by Amanda Scott
Clydia said curtly, “Why did you bring him here?”
“Never mind that,” Katy interjected. “How do you even know Will?”
“Ah, so ye do ken who he is,” Wilkin said. “I was uncertain o’ that, but I’ve known him since he was a bairn of ten years and was living with de Raite’s uncle, Thomas Cummings, near our Inverness house. Father is friendly with Thomas, who is a town burgess. He rejected the Comyn name and has called himself Cummings for years now. He is usually peaceful, though he did take a hand in defending the town of Inverness when Alexander of the Isles attacked the castle and burned the town. Will had a hand in the town’s defense, too. Sithee, he learned the arts o’ war from Thomas and his sons, who are older than Will is. He’s a fine warrior.”
“Then why did he not stay with Thomas Cummings and call himself Cummings, as well?” Clydia asked him.
“Because de Raite had entrusted Will to Thomas only on the agreement that when he wanted him, Thomas would send him back. I expect you recall when de Raite hanged four Mackintoshes some months ago?”
“Aye, sure,” Katy said.
“Will opposed their hanging until de Raite threatened to hang him as well. He would have done it, too. Will would likely have fought more, even so, had it not been for his sister, Alyssa. In that household of heathen bullies, Will feels responsible for Aly, so he stays and tries to choose his battles. I ken fine that I ought not to have brought him here tonight, and he came only because he wanted to see you in your own home, Katy. If you can forgive us enough to let us stay until we have taken our part in the entertainment, I vow I’ll whisk him away then.”
Wondering if that would be soon enough for her to elude her father’s wrath, but unable to say no, Katy looked at Clydia.
“Aye, sure,” Clydia said after a brief pause. “What could go wrong in so short a time after the world was supposed to end? To be sure, though, that prophecy might have been a day off, might it not?”
Having abruptly found himself bereft of his companion in the courtyard crowd, Will scanned the area and saw Wilkin’s broad-shouldered back filling the castle entrance just as it disappeared inside. Making his way as fast as possible for a man in the better part of a jester’s costume with bells tinkling, through a raucous crowd, Will reached the doorway just as Wilkin reappeared in it.
“Where the devil have you been?” Will demanded. “Don’t abandon me like that again, you dafty,” he added in a lower tone. “Recall that it is worth my life to be recognized within these walls. Sakes, if Fin of the Battles did not hang me, it need only for word of my being here to reach de Raite’s ears for him to do so.”
“Calm yourself, laddie,” Wilkin said. “I’ll not let anyone hang ye. If worse comes to worst, ye’ll seek sanctuary for yourself and Alyssa at Cawdor.”
“As if your father would welcome us, knowing well that de Raite would try to bring the walls of Cawdor down around our ears.”
“He might not like it,” Wilkin said seriously. “But, if such a time should come to pass, we will do all we can to aid ye.”
“I know you mean well, and I cannot deny that I’m glad to see Katy, but this was a devilish dim-witted escapade.”
“Certes, the lady Clydia thinks so,” Wilkin said with a sigh. “I ken fine that ye said she had seen ye and would recognize ye as easily as Katy would, but I hoped Clydia would see humor in it.”
“You are lucky that she did not slap you as she did me.”
“Aye, well, I like her as much as I like Katy, mayhap more so. I did promise them that we will depart after we have performed our songs, though. My people know to follow us or stay here, as they choose.”
“Minions have set up a platform yonder,” Will said, gesturing. “Does that mean the entertainment will take place out here?”
“’Tis likely. They were shifting trestles about in the hall, so there may be dancing there before or afterward. Do ye no want to dance with your lass?”
Will yearned to dance with Katy. There would be only ring dances at a cèilidh, but he enjoyed dancing and had not done any since returning to Raitt. His Inverness cousins had entertained often, and he missed that at Raitt. “Can we do it without irking anyone?”
“Sakes, laddie,” Wilkin said with a grin, “ye’re dressed to act as daft as ye please, unless ye think the lass herself would spurn ye.”
“I don’t know how she will react,” Will said with a dawning smile. A jester could get away with much at such an affair, perhaps even steal a kiss.
“Look yonder,” Wilkin said minutes later. “That chappie on the platform is a famous bard. If he begins a tale … ah, yes, I hear strains of a piper inside. Let us see if they are preparing for a ring dance. Ye may thereby get your chance straightaway. If we were to wait till after we perform, we’d be breaking my promise to the twins.”
Accordingly, they went back inside. Others were heading the same way, too, so Lady Catriona’s cèilidhs likely followed a known pattern. An Irish whistle had joined the piper’s tune, and another man banged a tabor in time with it. A third played a fiddle, so Wilkin took out his lute and strummed along with the tune.
Dancers were forming a ring, so Will made his way toward Katy and saw her watching for him. As he approached, another lad grabbed her hand and drew her into the fast-forming ring. She saw Will then and held out her free hand.
He hastily accepted her invitation, though doing so put him and another man together. To Will’s surprise, Lady Clydia quickly stepped into the breech.
Because of his greater height, she had to turn her head to look up at him. She muttered nonetheless sternly, “You and Wilkin should be flogged for this foolery. I’d be doing no more than my duty if I introduced you properly to my father.”
“Would you, m’lady?” Will said with a warm smile, leaning closer so she could hear him as the music grew louder and the ring of dancers began slowly to move. “Certes, but we would both be well served if you did, especially Wilkin.”
“Despite your ridiculous costume, you have no need to tell me that it was his idea,” Clydia retorted. “He is known for such, sir. But to put you in danger as he has is not being a true friend, and so I have told him. He says, however, that he has known you since childhood and that you are utterly unlike the other men in your family. He also says that he thinks you are in love with my sister. Is that true?”
Her first few words had made him feel as much a fool as he looked like one, but the rest gave balm to his heart. As the circle of dancers spread itself larger, he found himself trying to believe in Katy’s marriage by declaration.
It had to be nonsense, though, because why would such a tradition even exist near such civilized towns as Inverness and Nairn? Each had a fine kirk.
He was still gazing at Clydia when Katy squeezed his hand sharply and he looked at her with a warm smile. “What would you, m’lady?”
Chapter 13
He has the most endearing smile, Katy thought, as he bent nearer to hear her reply. “I heard Clydia say you look ridiculous in that costume and you do,” she said, speaking just loudly enough for him to hear her. “I’m glad you came here tonight, though. I only wish I could present you properly to my parents.”
He shook his head with a wry grin, making the bells on his cap jingle. “Your twin made the same wish, lass, but she made it sound like a threat to expose me.”
“She won’t do that,” Katy assured him. “She will tease Wilkin in much the same way, if she has not already done so,” she added, looking toward the musicians.
The music changed to a faster pace, so she soon needed every breath for dancing. By then, the circle was awhirl. Spectators clapped their hands and stamped their feet in time to the music as they cheered the dancers on.
There being no way now to converse, she saw that Will was also paying heed to the dance. The leaders had broken the circle to turn in a new direction, weaving in
and around, under arms, and then turning back on the rest of the line until they connected with the last dancers in a circle again.
Will’s hand felt warm, wrapped around Katy’s, and reminded her of how he had held her hand on the crag the day they met. She squeezed his again, and whenever he looked her way, she grinned. She was enjoying herself hugely. He smiled, and everyone who saw his smile, even Clydia, smiled in response to it.
When the ring broke and turned on itself again, Katy saw Bridgett dancing between the two Bruces, MacNab and Lochan, laughing and flirting with Lochan. When he did not respond, she turned to MacNab and pulled him close enough to kiss his cheek. Katy grinned but then saw Lochan eye the two with a heavy frown.
By the time Bridgett looked his way again, big, blond, square-built Lochan was staring at his feet as if he were afraid of making a misstep.
Katy looked at Will then to see if he had seen them, but his gaze captured hers, sending waves of pleasure through her body, making her wish they could slip away somewhere more private together. That was clearly impossible, though, since everyone there knew her.
However, Will must have had similar thoughts, for when the music ended, to Katy’s stunned surprise, he tipped his fool’s cap toward her and planted a big, warm kiss right on her lips in front of everyone. Then clapping the cap back into place, he made her a grinning, bobbing bow.
The crowd around them began loudly cheering and applauding.
Her lips were still warm from the kiss and she was still laughing when MacNab came to claim her hand for the next dance. At cèilidhs and other such casual diversions at Finlagh, everyone danced with everyone else, so she accepted, only to see Wilkin usher the still grinning Will hastily back outside.
Katy’s spirits fell, but she took good care not to let MacNab or anyone else see aught but a smile on her face.
When Wilkin and Will appeared in the courtyard again, shouts rang out for Wilkin to play for the crowd. Pulling Will with him, he stepped onto the makeshift stage and began to play a popular bawdy tune. Easily recognizing the tune, Will began to sing, and soon the crowd was singing with him.
Energized by their enthusiasm, he encouraged more with jesterlike antics, larking about so that his fool’s cap points danced and jingled until the song ended.
Wilkin played a second tune then, more mournful but just as well known. With shouts for more, the pattern continued until they had done five songs, when both men bowed and left the stage to a pair of pipers, who played a raucous martial tune as they mounted the stage. The crowd cheered approval, and someone threw more wood on the fire, shooting sparks high into the air.
“We leave without the usual farewells, I think,” Wilkin said.
“I do thank you for dragging me here, despite the danger,” Will replied. “I’m off at dawn to Badenoch and Inverness-shire, to visit fellow clansmen with de Raite and the others. This is the best time I’ve had since I returned to Raitt, though.”
Wilkin gave him a searching look. “Ye have more ken of Katy than I knew,” he said, leaning closer and adding quietly, “I think ye’re in love wi’ the lass!”
“I may be,” Will admitted. “In troth, I feel as if I have always known her, though I cannot tell you why that is. We met by chance on the ridgetop between Raitt and Finlagh, and I …” He paused, trying to think of how best to explain.
“Ye neglected to explain that de Raite is your father, I’ll wager.”
Will nodded. He nearly added that she had declared them married just before the eclipse, but he decided that should stay strictly between himself and Katy. Wilkin was not a man to talk of such, but he might tell Cawdor or some other trusted friend in confidence, which, in Will’s experience, was exactly how rumors spread and changed and could ruin people’s reputations if not their very lives.
“’Tis early for you to be leaving, Wilkin,” a voice said behind them. They turned to find Fin approaching them. “I am sorry that Donald could not come, because your music and songs delighted our guests. I wanted to thank you both for participating as you did,” he added, offering Will his hand.
Shaking it, albeit with a rueful sense of being gravely in the wrong, Will said sincerely, “It was a great honor to meet you, Sir Finlagh. I’ve heard tales of your past and know you to be a valiant warrior.”
“I have heard the same tales, and some are even true,” Fin said. “I prefer peace to war, but I must not keep you. Donald is likely expecting the pair of you.”
“Aye, sir,” Wilkin agreed without hesitation. “’Tis a fine cèilidh, though. Pray extend our respects and felicitations to Lady Catriona.”
Departing, they strode together down the torchlit path to the foot of the knoll. Reaching the much darker, narrow path to Nairn, they noticed at once that there was no moon. The heavens were ablaze with stars, though.
Although Will felt guilty about deceiving his host, he was glad that Wilkin had persuaded him to go. More than that, he was delighted to have seen and danced with Katy, and if the kiss he had stolen was not as warm and wonderful as those they had enjoyed before the eclipse, he had enjoyed it enormously nonetheless.
Returning the jester’s belled cowl and fool’s cap to Wilkin when they parted at the intersection of the path with the public road, Will bade him farewell.
“Have you seen Bridgett?” Katy asked Clydia from the washstand as they prepared for bed. “She has been here, because our cresset is alight and the water in the ewer is warm. However, she seems to have taken away the towel that was here.”
“I last saw her dancing between the two Bruces in the ring. She was flirting dreadfully with MacNab and ignoring Lochan.”
“Not ignoring him, exactly,” Katy said. “I saw her, too, and though she did flirt with MacNab, she kept a close eye on Lochan. He seemed to be aware—”
The door opened and Bridgett hurried into the room. “Ah, good, I see ye’ve managed well wi’out me,” she said with a wary smile. “I came up whiles ago tae put hot water in yon jug, but I’d forgot fresh towels, and when I went doon again, Lochan were waiting for me. Seems he were irked aboot summat I didna do.”
Clydia shook her head. “He was irked because you were flirting with MacNab, aye? We saw you, Bridgett. You were.”
Bridgett’s chin came up. “If I were, ’tis me own business and none o’ Bruce Lochan’s. The man acts as if he canna see me at all and then has the impudence tae take me up for summat like that. If MacNab, who will likely be knighted one day, cares tae smile at me when he chances tae find hisself a-holding one o’ me hands in a ring dance, ’tis naught tae do wi’ Bruce Lochan, and so I did tell him.”
Katy’s sense of humor stirred. “What did Lochan say to that?”
Bridgett gave an elaborate shrug. “I paid his daft ill-words nae mind, but when he were done talking, I told him I be me own person. I do what I do and say what I say. This be how I am, I said tae him, and if he means tae have aught more tae do wi’ me, let alone tae be flinging me orders, he’d best get used tae that.”
“What of MacNab, then?” Clydia asked her.
“Och, he’s a bonny lad and a fierce warrior, but the man has ambition,” Bridgett added on a note of strong disapproval. “He wants tae see more o’ the world than Nairnshire and will likely settle nearer Perth than here, ’cause he has kinsmen there. That wouldna do for me. All o’ me ain folk be right here.”
“But mayhap Lochan thinks you care for MacNab,” Clydia said. “He does not seem the sort to fight another man for a woman, but I may be wrong about that.”
“Ye’re not,” Bridgett said. “Lochan can be fierce as MacNab and fiercer in the fighting, for he’s got the biggest forearms I ever did see. He didna become captain o’ the guard without he can wield every weapon better ’n most, neither. But the man be so shy that I likely scared him off. See you, I meant tae say summat soft tae him afore leaving it be, but he went off wi’ Sir Fin and didn
a give me a chance tae say nowt, because Sir Fin came tae tell him Malcolm wants him tae send a score o’ men tae Moigh tae help watch the nearby hills. Why d’ye think that be?”
Katy’s gaze met Clydia’s, and she felt herself shiver.
“What?” Bridgett demanded. “What be the two o’ ye a-thinking?”
“If Father is sending Lochan with men to aid Malcolm at Loch Moigh, it must be because Malcolm thinks de Raite is stirring trouble again,” Clydia said.
“He did say tae Lochan that Cawdor be going tae send a score, too,” Bridgett said, her eyes widening. “Och, what’ll I do if Bruce Lochan gets hisself kilt afore I can tell him I didna mean nowt by all I said.” She wrung her hands together, adding softly, “Most of it, aye, I did mean. But the man seems able enough tae look after hisself and a good woman, too, if the almighty lord spares him tae do it.”
“Then you must remember him in your prayers,” Clydia said gently.
Katy nodded, but her realization that if de Raite was plotting mischief near Loch Moigh he might somehow involve Will drove all other thoughts away.
When Will went downstairs to break his fast Friday morning, he saw that his brothers all carried enough weapons to be going to war.
Turning to Hew, he said with a nod toward de Raite at the high table, “Has he got more in mind than just talk?”
Curtly, Hew said, “He’ll be ready, that’s all.”
De Raite, evidently overhearing them, declared that he never went into a negotiation without preparing first for any occurrence that might arise.
“What sort of negotiation is it, then, sir?” Will asked.
“’Tis me own business the noo, but I’ll tell ye when I ken more,” de Raite retorted. “We’ll meet wi’ our Badenoch men and some Glen Mòr Comyns, and I dinna want any o’ them tae fear that we willna be ready for aught that occurs.”
He was too glib, and Will did not care for such an attitude from a man in whom he placed little trust.
