by Amanda Scott
Receiving no reply to these light words, he added nonetheless cheerfully, “So you’ve married Dree, have you? I swear my father knew nowt of such a wedding, so you must tell us all about it. But how may we serve you?”
“Andrew Dubh suggested that we might request hospitality from your lord father overnight,” Magnus said.
“Sakes, we refuse hospitality to none. Forbye, you and our Dree are more welcome than most. Father will be delighted to see you again.”
“I assured Magnus that we would be welcome,” Andrena said with a smile. Casting another to her husband, she added, “I doubt he believed me, though.”
Ian chuckled. “As I recall it, you nearly always come to Craggan Tower because you are going elsewhere. Is that how it is today?”
“It is, aye,” Andrena said. “We’re for Glasgow. We’ll ride if we must, but Magnus would like us to get there as soon as we can. We were hoping we might beg a place in one of your galleys if the laird will permit it.”
“He will, aye,” Ian said. Shifting his gaze to Magnus, he said, “Do I ask what is speeding you to Glasgow now, Mag?”
“You don’t if you would please me, not yet,” Magnus said. “As I recall, though, you were always a curious buckie. So, prithee, keep your questions to yourself until we join your lord father. I’d liefer not explain twice.”
“As ye will, Maggy-lad,” Ian said with a mocking bow and mischievous grin.
Andrena glanced at Magnus. If the absurd nickname troubled him, she could not see it. But recalling how he had cleared his throat after she had greeted Ian, she realized that there might be another, easier way to test his temper.
The exchange reminded Mag so much of the younger Ian Colquhoun that he wondered just how much of that cheeky lad remained in the young knight. Ian was just two years younger than he was and an esteemed knight of the realm. But he should still, Mag decided, show proper respect for someone who was older, more experienced, and able to match him with any weapon.
However, warning Ian to mind his manners was not the course to follow when they needed help from the Colquhouns. Accordingly, while they saw Sorley and Peter back across the river and watched them return the bridge to its nest, Mag ignored Ian’s evident determination to flirt with Andrena.
He also ignored her mischievous reciprocation.
Thanks to speculative looks she threw his way, Mag knew she was enjoying herself and suspected that she hoped to pay him back for reproaching her about the bridge. Fair enough, he decided, slinging his basket over his good shoulder. But young Ian, despite his power to provide or refuse them aid, had better watch his step.
Ian and his man willingly carried Andrena’s baskets, and the distance up to Colquhoun’s tower in Glen Craggan was less than two miles. So, despite the rugged terrain, their party traveled swiftly and reached the tower in its shady glen, between two towering slopes, before sunset.
Ian summoned gillies to attend to the baskets and took his guests into the great hall. There they found the laird sitting with his lady by the large fireplace.
Both rose eagerly to greet them.
A fit-looking, well-formed man in his midforties, the laird looked much as his son would look in twenty years. Ian was taller by an inch or two, but the laird looked able enough to hold his own in battle.
His lady was plump and comfortable-looking with graying light brown hair that showed under a plain white veil. She let her husband do most of the talking but punctuated his comments with smiles, nods, and murmurs of agreement.
“By heaven, lad,” Colquhoun, said, looking Mag up and down after they had exchanged amenities and Mag told him of their marriage, “I’d wondered what had become o’ ye. D’ye mean to say ye were Pharlain’s prisoner for two years?”
Ian said, “It must have seemed that long, sir, for it was nineteen months.”
Ian’s manner, Mag noted, was now properly respectful. Perhaps he reserved his impudence solely for his friends.
“ ’Tis much too long,” Colquhoun said dourly. Despite the stern tone, his expression was sympathetic. “I’d warrant Pharlain did not treat ye kindly.”
“I got on well enough, my lord, once I learned to keep my mouth shut.”
“Never a bad course to follow,” Colquhoun agreed. “But how did ye come to marry Andrena? I’d no notion Andrew expected to celebrate a wedding. I do ken fine that he hoped to find Dree a husband willing to take the MacFarlan name. Never tell me ye agreed to that, though. Your father—”
“With respect, sir, perhaps we might delay that discussion for another time,” Mag interjected, having no wish to discuss his marriage, his father, or anyone else in his family just then. “We are going to Glasgow, and Andrew Dubh said he keeps horses with you.”
Feeling Ian’s keen gaze on him, he was unsurprised when the younger man said, “What they’d like is a galley, sir. This journey is one that Mag believes must be done in haste.”
Colquhoun’s gaze sharpened then. He turned to his lady, saying, “Dree will want to refresh herself before we take supper, madam.”
“Aye, sure,” Lady Colquhoun said with a warm smile for Andrena, who shot Mag a look that he easily interpreted as a plea to suggest that she stay.
“You come along with me, my dear,” Lady Colquhoun said. “We’ll give you and your handsome new husband the room that you shared with Lina and Muriella some months ago.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Andrena said. Shooting a more speculative look at Mag, she added, “Before we go, though, I do think the laird and Ian should know that Magnus, having been Pharlain’s prisoner for so long, has grown understandably mistrustful. In troth,” she went on, still looking at Mag, who controlled his temper with difficulty, “I am risking his ire by saying so. But my father trusts you all in all, my lord, or he would not have sent us here.”
Knowing that she meant her words for him more than for Ian and Colquhoun only increased Mag’s annoyance. He would decide whom to trust on his own, and his lady wife would do well to learn not to speak for him or about him without his leave—certainly not in any such way as she just had.
Andrena felt a chill up her spine as she said the last few words, and her gaze avoided Magnus’s as if of its own accord. She realized that although she had never sensed his feelings as easily as she sensed most people’s, she’d had no trouble reading the look he’d given her when she spoke of his mistrust.
Glancing at Ian, she saw his eyes dance. So he had noted Magnus’s anger, too. Nevertheless, Ian’s smile was as warm and reassuring as his mother’s when he said, “I think Mag knows he can trust us, lass. He has done so before. We need only persuade him that he can safely do so now.”
“Aye, lassie, so run along and let us talk,” Colquhoun said.
She drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Although she still could not read her husband, the Colquhouns were easy. Both men were completely at ease with the notion of earning his trust again.
As she turned away, she looked again at Magnus. His gaze was steady, his expression calm. But she was sure that he would have something to say to her about what she had just done.
To her surprise, she looked forward to that conversation.
Mag watched her leave, then turned to meet his host’s gaze and was unnerved to see a look of sympathy. Whether it stemmed from Andrena’s having just reduced him to nursery status with her concerns or something else, he would wait for Colquhoun to tell him if he chose to do so.
Ian, for once—and wisely—kept silent.
Colquhoun said, “Ian, fetch yon whisky jug from the corner shelf and mugs for us three.” When Ian nodded and crossed the hall, leaving his father and Mag in relative privacy, Colquhoun said for Mag’s ears alone, “I ken fine what your father said to ye two years ago, lad. Arthur told me himself. And I told him what I thought of such cruel foolishness. I’d no be surprised to learn that he’s had a change of heart. But I also ken fine that, if he has, he’s done nowt to reveal it.”
“Thank you for telling me, sir
. That makes it easier to tell you what I must.”
“I think I can deduce some of it,” Colquhoun said. “I did think ye’d escaped and kept away just because Arthur had disowned ye. But doubtless Ian told ye we had trespassers some few days ago.”
“He did, aye.”
Colquhoun nodded. “They crossed to the Tùr Meiloach side of the river afore we could catch them. But by watching the shore from land and loch, we got them on their return. When they said they sought an escaped prisoner of Pharlain’s, I told them they’d nae business on Colquhoun land and that I’d hang any of Pharlain’s lot that we found here in future. But I’m guessing ye’d be the prisoner they lost. Ye must have come ashore in that fierce storm Sunday night.”
“Aye, sir.”
“So your wedding was a hasty one. As I said, I ken fine that Andrew was seeking a husband for Dree. But that outrageous demand of his—”
“I did agree to accept the MacFarlan name, my lord.”
“I canna say I blame ye, lad. But that will offend your da.”
“I did not do it in defiance, if that is what you think.”
“Nay, what I’m thinking is that ye’ve had a bad two years of it. But it’s over, and ye’ll no let Pharlain catch ye again. Forbye, ye’ve doubtless learned things as a prisoner that will stand ye in good stead in times to come. I willna plague ye to tell us more than ye want to tell now. But if ye ever want to sit down and talk about Pharlain and those devilish long months, I’d welcome the discussion.”
Ian brought the whisky and handed them each a mug.
It was as well that he did, because Mag had had no idea what to reply or if he could even speak. His throat had closed with an unfamiliar ache. Had he been ten years old, he might have wept.
But he was not ten, and he never cried. He swallowed the feeling and managed a calm, “Thank you, my lord. I will remember that.”
“Good, now tell us about this journey of yours. Whither d’ye go?”
“South, toward Glasgow,” Mag said. “I must find the King.”
“Ye may not need to go as far as Glasgow. They’ll likely have ken of his grace’s whereabouts at Dumbarton Castle. I’ll send ye in one of my boats, and ye’ll take Ian with ye lest ye need his sword or aught else of him.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Ye ken fine that my castle of Dunglass lies three miles upriver from Dumbarton and that much closer to Glasgow. So, unless ye’ll find his grace sooner by riding from Dumbarton, ye’ll stop in the harbor there just long enough to learn where to find him. If ye do ride from Dumbarton, Gregor Colquhoun will see to the galley. He can just send it and our oarsmen on to Dunglass.”
“He is the captain of the guard at Dumbarton, aye?”
“Aye, sure. Now, have ye plenty o’ gelt if ye must go far to find Jamie?”
“I do, sir, aye. Andrew Dubh gave me plenty. See you, I have information for the King, and Andrew commissioned me to speak for him, too.”
“I ken fine on what topic that must be,” Colquhoun said, nodding. “If he can set that charter of his before Jamie, it ought to help. Neither of our two dukes of Albany cared a whit for charters other than to seize them to expand the Albany holdings. But our Jamie believes in the rule of law.”
“Aye, so I have heard,” Mag said. In the silence that followed, he sipped his whisky. Feeling its warmth spread through him, he began to relax.
Colquhoun said, “I needna ask ye about Andrew, and I’d not keep any young man long from his new bride. But I suspect that Dree’s declaration afore she left us concerned the information you mean to share with Jamie.”
“Aye, sir, it does,” Mag said, meeting his gaze.
“Ye’ve nae reason to trust either of us with a matter of such import, lad. So I’ll no press ye to do so. But if we can help, we will, without question or concern.”
Mag thanked him again but was grateful when Ian changed the subject to general, more political matters. It was good to catch up on news of who was doing what to whom. It was even better to relax for a time without being quizzed about his imprisonment or his family.
Ian did mention Mag’s brothers, saying he’d heard that Rory had served Lennox before the earl’s arrest and that Patrick served Murdoch’s youngest son, James Mòr Stewart. He’d heard earlier that Rory served the earl but had not known that Patrick, the youngest of Mag’s brothers, had had the sense to serve the only one of Murdoch’s sons whose pleasant manner and harmless behavior exempted him from all suspicion of treachery. Mag was relieved to hear it.
Colquhoun announced that they would not change clothes for supper, so the men went on talking and joined the women when they came down to the hall dais.
Mag wondered if the laird had hoped thereby to protect Andrena from a well-deserved husbandly rebuke. He realized even as the thought struck him that he needed only to have excused himself had he wanted to scold her.
The wary look she gave him when she stepped onto the dais suggested that she was uncertain about his mood. It was good if she was. A man didn’t want his wife explaining him and his feelings to others, whatever her reason might be. Nor did he want her flirting with cheeky knights like Ian Colquhoun.
At the table, Andrena invited the Colquhouns to attend the festivities planned for Lady Aubrey’s birthday. They accepted with delight, and the meal continued without incident. The conversation remained general or focused on events that had taken place in the area since the previous summer.
Mag enjoyed his supper and the whisky that followed Lady Colquhoun’s withdrawal with Andrena to the solar. An hour later, he followed a gillie upstairs to the chamber where Andrena waited, and considered what he would say to her.
Andrena had excused herself to her ladyship twenty minutes earlier.
Throughout supper, she had tried to decide if Magnus was seriously displeased with her, or not, for what she had said to the laird and to Ian.
She had wanted only to assure Magnus that he could trust the Colquhouns. The brief, freezing look he had shot her then told that he was annoyed. Yet that look passed as quickly as it had appeared, and she had not sensed any other hint of his anger. Shortly before supper, though, while she talked with Lady Colquhoun, she had sensed deep sadness in him and wondered what had caused it.
Alone in the room she would share with him, she had doffed her clothes, cleaned her teeth, and donned the green silk robe that she had brought because it was warm and easy to pack. Then she sat on a handy stool and began to brush her hair, listening all the while for Magnus’s footsteps outside the door.
Despite her precaution, she did not hear him coming until the latch clicked, startling her so that she dropped her brush. Snatching it up, she jumped to her feet as the door opened, unwilling to be sitting when he entered. He would tower over her, and she felt vulnerable enough already.
He entered, glanced at her, and shut the door. Then, taking off his belt and his plaid, he hung both on a hook by the door, pulled off his boots, and without saying a word, went to the washstand in only his sark.
“Are you so angry that you don’t mean to speak to me?” she asked.
“If I’m ever angry enough that you need be wary, you’ll know it, believe me.”
In that moment, she did know it.
Turning toward her, he said, “Don’t you think I have reason to be irked? How would you feel if I introduced you to friends of mine and took the liberty of providing them with my version of your feelings about them?”
“When you put it that way…” She nibbled her lip. “By my troth, sir, I meant only to help. I wanted you to understand how much Father trusts them. But I also wanted to see how they reacted, so I could tell whether you and I should trust them as much as he does.”
“I agree that you are likely right and both men are trustworthy,” he said.
She relaxed.
“However,” he went on, stirring her tension again, “you cannot know we can trust them simply from the way they received what you said. Sakes, lass, they
both reacted only with surprise that you would say such things about your own husband.”
Standing had not helped. Nor was the slight space between them helping.
He loomed over her, large and authoritative. Even so, she could not tell what he felt. He radiated calm.
So why, she wondered, did he make her feel so vulnerable?
She wanted to explain that she could tell when people were sincere, that she could sense even small reactions and what people were feeling when they made vows or agreements. But she’d rarely spoken of her gifts or, as her mother called them, her extraordinary instincts. Not only were they inactive where he was concerned but he’d also dismissed what little she had revealed about them. She was reluctant to tell him more.
When he turned back to the washstand, she felt immediate relief and decided that her uneasiness had been due merely to guilt at having said what she had.
Then he turned and stepped toward her, making the tension leap again. Other feelings leaped, too, sensual ones less familiar to her.
When he put his hands on her shoulders, those feelings increased tenfold. Warmth from his hands, and trepidation, sped throughout her body.
She could scarcely breathe.
He was her husband. They barely knew each other. Yet, if he decided to punish her or couple with her, he could do either one. In any way he chose.
Chapter 10
Mag knew the instant he touched her that he had made a mistake. Her eyes -were huge, their black pupils nearly obscuring her irises. Her expression was wary, as it deserved to be, but her lips were full and inviting.
A man making things clear to so enticing a bride should, he decided, keep his hands to himself until he established that clarity. Sakes, but he ought never to have hung his belt up with his plaid. A more experienced husband would likely have kept it in hand, if only as a warning of what an angry man might do to an erring wife.
