The Laird's Choice

by Amanda Scott

  However, the women proved equal to their tasks, so when he and Andrena descended to the hall to break their fast early the next morning, everything was ready for their departure. After promising Andrew faithfully that they would return to report to him as soon as they had spoken with James, they set out southward with four of Andrew’s men to accompany them.

  Malcolm’s lanky son, Peter, carried Andrena’s two small baskets. A stouter, somewhat older gillie called Jonas carried the larger sumpter basket containing Mag’s clothing. Malcolm had even found him a pair of breeks.

  Their party included Andrew’s personal manservant, Sorley MacFarlan, and young Pluff, along with Andrena’s two favorite dogs. Malcolm had provided a basket of food for the day, which Pluff had slung over a shoulder.

  Andrena was barefoot although Mag knew she had packed a pair of silk slippers and her boots. Someone had found horse-leather boots with the hair still on to fit him, and he was trying them out. The rough leather was uncomfortable, but his feet were tough, and he knew that the leather would soon reshape itself to them.

  He had wondered at Andrew’s decision to send his personal servant along but had not questioned it since Andrena had not.

  Pluff was visibly and audibly delighted to have been included. The dogs were fresh and boisterous. At one point, the lad set off running after them, despite the basket of food he carried.

  When Sorley called him sharply to order, Mag said, “Hand me that basket, rascal. If our dinner ends up in a burn or scattered across the forest floor for the beasts to devour, I’ll feed you to them, as well.” When Pluff obeyed him with a grin, Mag added quietly, “Let the dogs run, lad, but don’t let them go far.”

  “Aye, sir,” the boy said, darting off again and shouting for the dogs.

  “Ye shouldna be carrying that basket, sir,” Sorley said. “ ’Tis the lad’s duty.”

  “He can have it back when he’s run off some of his energy,” Mag said. He noted that Sorley did not offer to carry the basket himself.

  Andrena ignored them all. The woods were peaceful, but the dogs’ rowdy presence had stilled many of the forest creatures. As soon as the men fell silent, though, a squirrel chattered in the distance, and birds began to twitter.

  They walked without speaking until she heard the dogs again a short distance ahead. First came a growl, next a sharp bark, and then a cacophony of sound.

  “Mercy, they’ve cornered a badger!” she exclaimed, lengthening her stride.

  “Sakes, how can you know that?” Magnus demanded.

  “I know the way they bark when they corner one,” she replied, hoping the answer would satisfy him. “Hurry!”

  “Lass, if they’ve cornered a badger…”

  But she was no longer listening. Picking up her skirts, she began to run. Aware that he was right behind her, she focused her senses ahead.

  Breaking into a small clearing, she saw Pluff on the other side, watching something beyond him, every inch of his wiry body aquiver with tension.

  Slowing to a stop, she put two fingers to her lips and gave a sharp whistle, then another. “Step back slowly toward me, Pluff,” she said, keeping her voice calm. “The dogs will come away to me, but you hold their leashes.”

  “There be a right enormous badger a dozen feet from me in them bushes, me lady,” Pluff called without turning. His voice shook. “I never s-seen one so big.”

  She whistled again and then called the dogs. “Rowdy! Bess! To me!”

  Hearing the familiar sound of steel leaving leather behind her and feeling a large, firm hand on her left shoulder, Andrena stood her ground and said, “You won’t need your sword, sir. The badger will go now that I’ve called off the dogs.”

  His grip tightened, and despite her assurances, he moved her easily aside and stepped in front of her. But the dogs had reached Pluff, and she had seen the lad bend to leash Bess. Both dogs were still excited, not to mention disappointed, since they lived in the certainty that they could demolish any enemy.

  Pluff, with Rowdy now also leashed, had relaxed.

  As Magnus moved quickly and quietly toward the boy, sword at the ready, she said, “It has gone, sir. It will not trouble us further.”

  He glanced back at her but went on until he stood beside Pluff.

  She followed, despite knowing that Magnus had meant for her to stay put.

  Mag realized that Andrena was right about the badger. Both dogs were still looking that way, but their defensive attitudes had eased.

  “I’m right sorry ye didna see that brute, sir,” Pluff said. He was, Mag noted, holding both leashes firmly in both hands, as if he feared that the dogs might try to bolt after their prey again. “I swear tae ye, it were as big as a sheep.”

  Mag raised his eyebrows.

  “Well, a sma’ sheep,” Pluff assured him.

  “And a fierce one, I make no doubt,” Mag said. “You were wise to stop where you did, lad. A cornered badger is a gey dangerous beast.”

  “I were more fearful for the dogs than for m’self,” Pluff said stoutly.

  “I believe you. But you still had the good sense to keep well away and let the dogs do as they would. Many men would have thought they should aid them.”

  “They’d be right daft tae try.”

  “They would, Pluff,” Andrena agreed, coming to stand beside Mag.

  He gave her a look that ought to have sent her right back to where he’d left her. But he was not surprised when she grinned in reply.

  “I hope you did not fear for my safety, sir,” she said. “I am well acquainted with the beasts of this forest and have great respect for them. I know better than to do anything daft. But the dogs are not always so cautious, especially Rowdy.”

  Mag slid his sword back into its baldric and put his arm around her shoulders. Then, he said, “I ken fine that you know this place better than I do, lass. But when I take out my sword, I’d liefer not have a woman standing between me and my target.”

  “Then we understand each other,” she said lightly. “I will remember that, if you will try to remember that I have looked after myself for years in these woods.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, giving her shoulders a squeeze and hoping he could keep to that agreement. Watching her run toward an angry, frightened badger as big as a small sheep was not an experience he wanted to repeat.

  When Sorley and the two gillies joined them, Sorley said, “We be nearly tae the top o’ the last hill now, sir. When we get there, I’m thinking we might pause tae eat our midday dinner. Then we’ll send young Pluff and the dogs back wi’ Jonas. Peter will go on wi’ us tae carry her ladyship’s baskets, and I’ll take yours, sir.”

  Mag agreed but wondered why they were keeping one gillie and sending Pluff and the other one back. He said nothing until they had all eaten and Pluff and Jonas had departed with the dogs and the empty food basket.

  As everyone else strode downhill toward the river, Mag moved closer to Andrena and said, “I can understand sending Pluff and the dogs back. But why send that gillie, Jonas? I doubt that Sorley is accustomed to carrying sumpter baskets.”

  Andrena smiled at him but said only, “You’ll see.”

  As they continued downhill toward the river, Andrena noted the way Magnus scanned the distant riverbank, just as she and doubtless the other two men were doing. They all sought signs of trespassers there, or any Colquhouns.

  Magnus’s expression was as placid as usual. But a few minutes later, he moved up to walk beside her and said mildly, “I think you should know, lass, that when I ask a question, I’d liefer hear an informative answer than an impertinent one. Why did Sorley send Jonas back?”

  She had a strong urge then to test him, to see if she could make him reveal more about himself to her. Deciding that, as his wife, she had every right to know more about him, she said, “If I send Sorley and Peter on ahead and ask you to tell me more about your family than that they are Galbraiths and your father their chief, will you give me informative answers, si
r?”

  He was silent. The urge to press him more grew stronger by the second.

  “Well?” she said, looking straight at him.

  He pressed his lips together hard enough to make a muscle twitch in his jaw and stir a dimple to life in his lower left cheek. But he said only, “I’d liefer you not quiz me about my kinsmen now, lass, and answer my question instead. I don’t make bargains in such matters. And I do want an answer.”

  Gritting her teeth, she fought to stifle her need to see if she could anger him.

  Abruptly, Sorley said “Look yonder, sir. In them trees lochside o’ that tall evergreen wi’ the sticking-up, bare point on it. Two o’ them.”

  “I see them,” Magnus said.

  “I see them, too,” Andrena said. “Do you recognize them, Sorley?”

  “One o’ them might be young Ian. I dinna ken the other.”

  She looked at Magnus. “Can you see them both well enough to describe them to me, sir?”

  He nodded. “The one on the left is wearing a plaid that looks mostly blue with perhaps some grayish green, over a saffron-colored sark. He’s got graying dark hair and is carrying a bow and a quiver of arrows. He wears boots and carries a dirk. The one on the right wears a white shirt and a finer-looking plaid of darker blue and green. He’s carrying a sword in the same manner as mine. I cannot be sure how tall he is, but if the shrubbery on that side is as it is here, he’d be six feet or more.”

  “His hair, what color?”

  “Brown, I think, to his shoulders. But he’s wearing some sort of knitted cap and stands in the shadow of the trees, so it’s hard to tell.”

  “His eyes?”

  He looked at her then. “I’ve got good long sight, lass. But not that good.”

  She chuckled. “No matter. That’s Sir Ian, Sorley. We’ll lower the bridge.”

  Chapter 9

  Mag watched as Sorley and Malcolm’s Peter waved at the watchers and hurried downhill toward the river. When they neared it, the two of them went off the track at an angle through the trees, making their way westward without any trail that Mag could discern. He and Andrena followed them.

  He saw at once that the dense shrubbery was deceptive, because they eased around trees and shrubs without hesitation. Taking care not to break any branches, they came in time to a huge evergreen that overlooked the river roaring furiously down toward the great waterfall just west of them. The tree looked as if its dense branches nearly touched the ground.

  Sorley and Peter set down their burdens. Then, straightening, they took another long look at the rugged, heavily forested land across the river. The two men who had been watching them were close enough now to see clearly. Mag had met Ian Colquhoun frequently in years past, before Ian won his knighthood, but had not seen him since. Ian’s skills in the tiltyard and on the battlefield were well known, though.

  If Andrew was right to trust Colquhoun, Mag thought they might also trust Ian’s integrity and loyalty to the Crown. However, his strongest memories of the younger Ian were of a teasing, prank-loving laddie, so he was reserving judgment.

  Just how far either Colquhoun would go to aid him or Andrew Dubh was anyone’s guess. Colquhoun’s land was his own, though. And, like Andrew, he wielded the power of the pit and the gallows. Also, he did not answer to Lennox.

  Mag looked at Andrena, who was waving and smiling at the two. Catching her eye, he said, “Your father told me that we can trust the Colquhouns, lass. Forbye, he also said that Colquhoun prefers peace over annoying Lennox and resists taking sides. Moreover, I heard at Arrochar that Pharlain views Colquhoun as insignificant if not as an ally. His son Sir Ian is a knight of the realm and should be loyal to the King, but I’d liefer tell neither of them more than we must.”

  “I believe we can trust their loyalty, sir,” she said soberly. “I have not seen Ian in more than a year or the laird since last summer. But they are both honest men and straightforward. If they cannot help us, they will say so and they will do us no harm. Sithee, Gregor Colquhoun, a close kinsman of theirs, is captain of the guard at Dumbarton Castle now, and Dumbarton, as you know, is a royal fortress.”

  “Aye, but if you are thinking that a Colquhoun being captain there means that his grace trusts the man, you should know that it speaks more for the man’s connection to someone in power than for his being a Colquhoun. The powerful one in question is more likely to be Murdoch or Lennox, is it not?”

  She shook her head. “Not now. Murdoch’s son, Lord Walter, was Keeper of Dumbarton. But, after his arrest last year, the King named his own uncle, Sir John Stewart of Burley, as Keeper. Burley is loyal to him, and so is Gregor Colquhoun.”

  “Likely you’re right,” he said. “I can tell you Pharlain expects no trouble from Dumbarton, but that may be because his plans center on the upcoming Parliament in Perth.” He saw Peter climbing the huge tree. “Is there truly a bridge hereabouts?”

  “Aye,” she said. “Watch now.”

  When the lad shouted, Sorley did something inside the dense lower foliage.

  To Mag’s astonishment, a log bridge some two-thirds as long as the tree was tall began lowering slowly on ropes toward the water. Peter seemed to be gripping at least two thick ropes, and Sorley, below him, did likewise. Mag went to help, and when the older man made way for him, Mag saw that a system of hooks, ropes, and pulleys that stretched up the tree’s trunk helped control the bridge’s descent.

  Continuing to scan the opposite shore, he saw the two men moving hastily toward the place where the bridge’s far end would come to rest. That sight told him as plainly as anything could that the Colquhouns had not revealed to Pharlain or his men the location of that bridge. Had his erstwhile pursuers known of its existence, they’d have lowered it to get back across the river.

  He could see now that the log had planks attached to it and even boasted a taut-looking rope railing. When it was down, he went back to Andrena.

  “That bridge cannot accommodate horses or other livestock,” he said.

  “True,” she agreed. “But we have what we need, and doubtless you see now why we sent Jonas back with Pluff and the dogs.”

  “Not entirely. But I’d guess that both lads are unaware of the bridge’s location and that your father wants to keep it that way.”

  “Aye,” she said. “ ’Tis likely they know or can guess that some sort of bridge exists. And I believe they are trustworthy. But Father wants as few people as possible to know its exact location and how to lower it. By sending the lads back together, it is unlikely that either will suggest trying to see where the bridge is. But one curious man alone with an opportunity to learn its location might hide and watch.”

  He nodded. “I understand that. What I do not understand is why you refused to tell me that when I asked you about it.”

  Andrena hesitated. Temptation stirred again to say something saucy or to tell him the truth in some other way that would test his temper more. But the bridge was in place, Peter was descending, and Sorley was watching them.

  The last thing she wanted was to anger Magnus enough to feel his anger with others watching and listening. Accordingly, she reached out to touch his arm and said frankly, “I should have told you, sir. I am used to keeping silent about it. But since Father himself is sending us across the bridge, I should have explained. Forgive me?”

  “Aye, sure, I do,” he said, putting a warm hand atop hers on his arm but holding her gaze with his. “I think there was more to it than that, though.”

  “We should go across now and quickly,” she said, wishing she knew how it was that he seemed to understand her thoughts and motives more easily than she could discern his. “We’ll talk more about that later if you like.”

  “We will,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders again.

  When they reached the bridge, she led the way across, trying as she always did to ignore intruding thoughts of what might happen if she slipped.

  The planks were wide, though. And the rope railings gav
e one a sense of safety even if she touched them only for reassurance and doubted that they’d help much if she tried to grab one as she slipped. Telling herself that she had made it across many times before and would do so many times again, she nevertheless breathed a sigh of relief when she set foot back on solid ground.

  Sir Ian Colquhoun—lanky, slim of hip and broad-shouldered—stood waiting at the end of the bridge, grinning, his light blue eyes atwinkle as he said, “You’ve grown even more shapely since last I saw you, Dree-lass.”

  “So have you, sir, so much that I scarcely recognized you,” she said, grinning back. “Nor would I have expected you to meet us here yourself.”

  Still grinning, he said, “Some of our lads in a coble caught three of Pharlain’s men on the shore below your cliffs a few days ago and presented them to my sire. That put him in a pelter until they persuaded him that they’d done no harm and that your evil hawks had run them off. So, to amuse myself, I offered to serve as a guard here for a time. We saw you crest yon hill, and I am pleased to say that I recognized you easily, lass. So we hied ourselves down to bid you welcome.”

  “Are you home for a long time now or just for a visit?”

  “I’ll stay for a while. I hope that you mean to stay, too, this time.”

  Hearing Magnus clear his throat behind her, Andrena remembered her manners and said, “I should present my husband to you, sir. This is Mag—”

  “Maggy!” Sir Ian exclaimed joyfully, clapping Magnus on the back. “By heaven, I thought it was you. Nay, to put it more exactly, I hoped it was. To think of two men as big as mountains wandering about uncaged would be too much. But after my gaze fixed on our lovely Dree here, I clean forgot—”

  “It is good to see you, too, lad,” Magnus interjected. “As for caging, you will delight to know that Pharlain kept me so these nineteen months past.”

  “The devil he did! I do recall hearing something about you falling captive in that fray when your brother Will was killed. But it never occurred to me that they’d keep you longer than ten minutes after they caught you. Sakes, I thought you’d have flung them about as freely as ever Samson scattered the Philistines.”