by Amanda Scott
“We are noblewomen,” Lizzie said, with a toss of her head. “No one will dare to harm us.”
Lina nearly contradicted her, but a sixth sense told her that she would be wiser to let Lizzie believe what she wanted to believe.
Instead, Lina met Peter’s worried gaze and said, “Ride into that copse above us yonder, Peter, and quickly. They won’t hear just one horseman on that grassy hillside, but they would certainly hear three of us. Nay, do not waste time arguing,” she added firmly. “The copse is dense enough to conceal you and your horse, and they have not yet seen us. If aught goes amiss, you must ride for help. Lizzie is right, though. They are unlikely to interfere with us, whoever they are.”
“But, m’lady—”
“Go,” Lina said. “If they are enemies, you may be our only hope of rescue.”
Without another word, Peter wrenched his horse’s head toward the hillside and spurred hard, disappearing amid the trees there just as Lina caught sight through the woodland foliage of the first mounted riders ahead on the path.
“Don’t you dare look at that copse again, Lizzie Galbraith,” she said fiercely, trying to think. “That is a Stewart banner they fly, but it is not a royal one.”
“Oh, Lina, what have I done?” Biting her lip, Lizzie fell silent.
Minutes later, rebel men-at-arms surrounded them.
Dunglass Castle, that afternoon
“We must plan any attack on Dumbarton for well after midnight, when they’ll least expect it,” eighteen-year-old Adam Colquhoun said eagerly. “We should be able to secure the town, Ian, but I cannot think how we’ll get up that devilish rock to win back the castle. It’s two hundred feet high!”
Sir Ian Colquhoun smiled but shook his head at his younger brother, whose dark hair and light-blue eyes mirrored Ian’s own. “We’ll think of a way, lad. In troth, my most successful gambits have been carried out in broad daylight,” he added lightly, letting his gaze drift from Adam to the two older men seated at the high table with them. The rest of the cavernous great hall was empty.
“In broad daylight!” Adam exclaimed. “But—”
“Hush now, Adam,” the Laird of Colquhoun interjected. “Ye’ve put your finger on the most vexing obstacle to retaking Dumbarton from James Mòr Stewart and his nest of villains, but let Ian have his say. After all, he’s the one his grace has ordered to reclaim the royal burgh and castle, and return them to royal custody.”
Smiling this time at his father, Ian said, “Jamie did order me to do it, aye, sir, but I’ll expect to draw considerably on your wisdom. And that of Sir Arthur,” he added, looking at the Laird of Galbraith, who acknowledged his words with a dignified nod. “Sithee, the enemy is much stronger than we are,” Ian went on. “So, we must avoid head-on battle, and we don’t know who amongst the Loch Lomond lairds and their tenantry is truly with us and who is not, whatever they may tell us.”
Galbraith said, “I own, lad, I’m of a mixed mind, myself, about this venture. Ye ken fine that my son Patrick has long served James Mòr and therefore stands now against the King, whilst Rory, my heir, serves the Duchess of Albany. And she has even more reason than James Mòr does to loathe the King, because Jamie beheaded not only her husband and two of her three sons but also her eighty-year-old father.”
“True, sir,” Ian said. “But you do have one son who is definitely loyal to Jamie. So I’m hoping that, even if you believe that you cannot actively support us, you will do nowt to prevent our success.”
“My view being still that the King is chief of chiefs, I can make you that promise, aye,” Galbraith said. “Forbye, I’m thinking that your own sire may have qualms about this business, too, Ian. He generally puts peace above all else, does he not?” Shifting his gaze to Colquhoun, he added gently, “What say you, Humphrey? Art willing to wage war to reclaim Dumbarton?”
Colquhoun shrugged. “I’m much less willing to let James Mòr Stewart seize control of the river that flows by this castle, not to mention the entire Firth of Clyde,” he said. “He would then control the route from here to Glasgow and to the sea.”
“He has apparently made no such attempt yet,” Galbraith pointed out.
“Only because he lacks enough men able to manage Dumbarton’s boats against others on the river and the firth,” Colquhoun said. “Forbye, the men they do have are nearly all lads who served under our own Gregor Colquhoun and swore fealty to James Mòr only to preserve their own hides after he’d murdered Gregor and seized Dumbarton.”
“That is also true,” Ian said, no longer smiling. “And the first thing that I shall do when I have reclaimed Dumbarton is to hang any man who served my cousin Gregor whilst he was captain of the guard there but refuses to aid me.”
“And, may heaven preserve us, I’ll help you do it,” declared a deep voice from the rear of the hall.
Recognizing that voice, Ian leaped to his feet. “Maggy, you’re back! I expected you’d be gone for a fortnight or more, and nobbut six days have passed since you left us. You did not bring the lady Dree back here, too, did you?”
“Andrena is content for the nonce with my sister Mina,” Sir Magnus said as he strode to the dais. Shaking Ian’s hand, he said, “You said you were summoning local lairds and knights to a meeting here, so I expected to see a number of men.”
“Sakes, I sent messages out only three days ago, but Rob MacAulay will be here, and at least one or two Buchanans will come, if only to see what we’re up to. Jamie told me we might count on a few Border lords to aid us, as well.”
Mag nodded, then turned to shake hands with Colquhoun and Adam, leaving his father for last. Galbraith was standing when Mag moved to greet him, and clapped him on the back.
“ ’Tis good to see ye, lad,” he said. “We’ve a dilemma here, I can tell ye.”
“I know that Jamie wants Ian to take back Dumbarton, sir,” Mag said. “I know, too, that our Patrick is there with James Mòr. But the pair of them chose their road, and if Patrick knew that James Mòr was of a mind to act against the King, I ken fine that he said nowt of it to you. Moreover, Rory sets us another dilemma.”
“He is my heir,” Galbraith said. “But at present, his loyalties are divided between Clan Galbraith and what remains of the House of Albany.”
“Which is nobbut the Duchess of Albany,” Mag said.
When Galbraith nodded, Mag turned back to Ian and said, “What do you hope to accomplish with your meeting? From all that I’ve heard and was able to see for myself on my journey to the Ayrshire coast and back, James Mòr controls the royal burgh, its harbor, and the castle. His position must be well-nigh impregnable.”
“There is a way to undo that,” Ian said confidently. “We must simply figure out what it is. Forbye, before we can act, we must know more. But I do have some ideas to put before you all, so that we can discuss them.”
Accordingly, the men put their heads together and talked over Ian’s ideas, dismissing several out of hand as being typical of Ian, whom the others all knew was a notorious risk-taker. They deemed three, possibly four, of his ideas sufficiently plausible to warrant further discussion. They were still talking of how they might best broach those possibilities to the others who would join them, when one of the Colquhoun men-at-arms entered with a younger lad and said to Colquhoun, “Forgive us, laird, but this lad begs urgent speech wi’ ye.”
Ian did not recognize the newcomer, but Mag leaped up, exclaiming, “Peter! What brings you here, lad? What’s amiss?”
Noting the dismay on the lad Peter’s face, Ian realized that had not expected Magnus to be there. But Peter recovered swiftly, saying, “ ’Tis glad I am tae see ye, sir. This were the nearest place I knew tae come. But…”
When he hesitated, Ian said impatiently, “What is it? Who are you?”
“I be Peter Wylie, Sir Ian, from Tùr Meiloach. But mayhap I should speak privately with Sir Magnus.”
“Tell us, lad, whatever it is,” Mag said. “We’re all friends here.”
“It b
e their ladyships, sir,” Peter said, darting a glance at Galbraith.
“Which ladyships?” Ian demanded, thus recalling the lad’s gaze to himself.
Swallowing visibly, Peter glanced at Galbraith again and then back at Mag before he met Ian’s gaze and said, “The ladies Elizabeth Galbraith and Lachina MacFarlan, sir. They rode too near the woods at the south end o’ Loch Lomond, and rebels seized them.”
“The devil they did!” Ian exclaimed.
“Where were you, Peter?” Mag asked ominously.
Looking utterly wretched but speaking nonetheless firmly, Peter said, “See you, sir, we were to ride only to the loch, but the lady Elizabeth wanted to see if the duchess had arrived at Inchmurrin yet. Lady Lina shouted for her to—”
Noting Mag’s frown, Ian said hastily, “We all know the lady Elizabeth, Peter. But you fail to answer Sir Magnus’s question. If you were with them…”
More wretchedly than ever, Peter chose to address a point midway between Ian and Mag, saying, “See you, we heard men and horses ahead in the woods, and the lady Lachina ordered me to take cover, lest they be enemies.”
“Then why not all take cover?” Galbraith asked grimly.
“She said we must not, that they’d hear three horses but mayhap not hear just one. And, by my troth, laird, them villains never even glanced my way. They had eyes only for their ladyships. Come to that, they turned straightaway back into the woods, too, so I followed them.”
“What else did you see?” Mag asked. “Did they harm them?”
“I saw nowt except that they went to Dumbarton. When we reached the flats before the castle rock, I stayed in the woods, but they rode right up that steep track to the castle.”
“This changes things,” Ian said, looking at the other four men.
“It does, aye,” Mag agreed, giving Ian a measuring look.
“We need more information and straightaway,” Ian said. “You and I—”
“Nay, lad, I’m for Ayrshire again,” Mag said.
“For Ayrshire!” Ian and Galbraith exclaimed in one voice. Glancing apologetically at Galbraith, Ian said, “Lizzie’s your sister, Mag. Moreover, you and I can sneak over there tonight…”
But Mag was shaking his head, and Ian noted the twinkle in his eye before Mag said, “You’re daft if you think that I’m likely to sneak anywhere, lad. I’m too big for sneaking about. And there’s a thing I’m guessing that you don’t know or have never credited if you do know. That is that my Andrena shares so strong a bond with her sisters that each knows when one of the others is in trouble. If she is not already on her way back here, I’ll be much amazed.”
“But surely, your good-brother would not allow her—”
“She will come despite him,” Mag said. “Forbye, just before I left, she informed me that I’m soon to become a father. She didn’t tell me before, because she knew I wanted her to meet Mina. The only thing that might prevent her from leaving at once is that she will be sure that I’ll come for her. So I must.” He shifted his gaze next to his father. “You will recall, sir, that young Muriella is also at Bannachra. If my aunt Margaret and the lady Aubrey have not locked her up or tied her down, she, too, will be seeking a way to learn what has happened to Lina.”
“I’ll send someone,” Galbraith said. “You go on and collect Andrena. We’ll see to things here. If Patrick has allowed anything to happen to Lizzie—”
“He won’t allow that, sir,” Mag said.
But Ian could tell that Mag was not as sure of that as he sounded, and a glance at Galbraith told him that he wasn’t sure about Patrick either.
Firmly, Ian said, “I’ll find out what’s going on there, Mag.”
“I know you will.”
Dumbarton Castle, that night
“Do you think we’ll be able to sleep on these pallets, Lina?” Lizzie asked.
“Eventually, aye,” Lachina said.
“Well, I’d sleep better if I were warmer. I wish someone had built us a fire on that wee hearth or brought us some proper blankets, not to mention food.”
“I don’t care about food yet. I’m just surprised that no one has been near us since they put us here, and I’m glad that they did leave that pitcher of water.” She was also glad that Lizzie had surprised her by not complaining about their situation.
The younger girl seemed to have little fear and almost to treat the whole affair as an adventure. As a result, Lina’s initial terror, when the men had informed them that they were to be “guests” at Dumbarton Castle, had faded to plain fear and trepidation. She hoped that Peter had escaped but feared he would ride all the way home to Tùr Meiloach and her father, Andrew Dubh, to seek help. He knew no one at Bannachra, and since the lady Margaret had never married…
A light rap at the door ended that train of thought, and she turned to see the door open to reveal two men, a short, stocky one in what she assumed to be the attire of the castle servants and the other much more ill-kempt with shaggy hair hanging over his face and his clothing in tatters. The latter carried a hodful of peat topped with straw, which he took to the hearth. While the first man stood silently by the door, the hod-carrier knelt, set down his load, extracted a tinderbox from a pocket amid the tatters, and muttered, “We thought ye’d like a fire, the pair o’ ye.”
“Thank you,” Lina said with sincerity.
“ ’Tis nowt,” the man said. Deftly arranging peat and straw, he dealt as deftly with lighting it, then stood and turned away, evidently confident that it would burn.
“Some’un comes,” the man at the door murmured.
The shaggy man looked right at Lina then, his light-blue gaze holding her startled one with ease. “Dinna squeak, lass. Just tell me, ha’ they harmed ye?”
“No,” she said. “But—”
A quick shake of his head silenced her, and he moved toward the door. Just then, a tall figure appeared behind the silent guard, and Lizzie shrieked, “Patrick!”
Terrified that Lizzie might also have recognized the shaggy man as Sir Ian Colquhoun, and betray him to her brother, Lina was grateful to see the other two men slip quickly past him and away down the stairs.
OTHER BOOKS BY AMANDA SCOTT
SCOTTISH KNIGHTS: HIGHLAND LOVER
SCOTTISH KNIGHTS: HIGHLAND HERO
SCOTTISH KNIGHTS: HIGHLAND MASTER
TEMPTED BY A WARRIOR
SEDUCED BY A ROGUE
TAMED BY A LAIRD
BORDER MOONLIGHT
BORDER LASS
BORDER WEDDING
KING OF STORMS
KNIGHT’S TREASURE
LADY’S CHOICE
PRINCE OF DANGER
LORD OF THE ISLES
HIGHLAND PRINCESS
THE SECRET CLAN: REIVER’S BRIDE
THE SECRET CLAN: HIGHLAND BRIDE
THE SECRET CLAN: HIDDEN HEIRESS
THE SECRET CLAN: ABDUCTED HEIRESS
BORDER FIRE
BORDER STORM
BORDER BRIDE
HIGHLAND FLING
HIGHLAND SECRETS
HIGHLAND TREASURE
HIGHLAND SPIRITS
THE BAWDY BRIDE
DANGEROUS ILLUSIONS
DANGEROUS ANGELS
DANGEROUS GAMES
DANGEROUS LADY
THE ROSE AT TWILIGHT
Dear Reader,
I hope you have enjoyed The Laird’s Choice, the first book of my new “Lairds of the Loch” trilogy. Ideas for this book began to flow when I found myself eyeing a particular area of the western Highlands between Loch Lomond and Loch Long, and studying the clans there. I wanted something different that would retain the mystical quality of the Highlands but explore a few “gifts” that many of us still have today, and perhaps exaggerate them into protective abilities or gifts in my characters.
I knew that I wanted my heroines to be part of a feuding clan. Choosing the ancient MacFarlanes was easy, because not only are they a historically wild and woolly bunch (and one of my favorite and most suppo
rtive clans at Scottish games), but they also controlled a particularly important gateway to the western Highlands.
I also soon realized that my MacFarlan characters would need to live in an area that would provide some sort of protection from the villain who usurped Andrew MacFarlan’s chiefdom and primary estates. The landscape offered rivers and mountains, but the MacFarlans needed a little more help than that.
In looking for things that would stir the creative juices, I began rereading some of my favorite ancient myths, and when I reached the story of Camilla, the opening for The Laird’s Choice was born, and so was Andrena’s special connection to wolves. The rest came mostly from the author’s always inventive imagination.
As for elements that are true or definitely Scottish, until the nineteenth century, Clan MacFarlan(e) was called Clan Farlan. The tale of the horseshoed woman is true. And just as a vocabulary note, giving someone the “dichens” is an ancient Scottish phrase and likely ended up being “giving one the dickens” today.
A note about Clan Galbraith: Authority George Eyre-Todd does not include them as a clan in his Highland Clans of Scotland: Their History and Traditions (New York, 1923) except as a sept of Clan Farlan (vol. 1) or of Clan Donald (vol. 2). However, Sir Iain Moncrieffe of that Ilk, erstwhile Albany Herald of Scotland, does include them as an independent clan in The Highland Clans (Bramhill House edition, New York, 1977).
Also, for those who might question the Galbraith bears’ heads (many sources do say they are boars’ heads), Moncrieffe includes a picture of their crest, which clearly shows a muzzled bear, not a boar. Campbells do have a boar’s head.
According to online sources and specifically, The History of the Rosary by Fr. William Saunders, (http://www.ewtn.com/library/answers/rosaryhs.htm), the origins of Lady Aubrey’s prayer beads are ancient but rather vague. The use of prayer beads and multiple recitations of short prayers to aid meditation stems from the earliest days of the Church, with roots in pre-Christian times. During the Middle Ages, the devout used such strings of beads—known as Paternosters, from the Latin for Our Father—to count their “Our Fathers” and “Hail Marys.” The structure of the rosary itself evolved gradually between the twelfth and fifteenth centuries.
