The Warrior's Bride

by Amanda Scott

  Stunned silence greeted his ruling.

  At last, Mistress Cowen said, “Nay! I never heerd o’ such a thing.”

  “I ain’t going tae do any such daft thing, laird,” Jock declared. “Sakes, Ferg would likely move and then I’d be kilt. I’ll kill ’im all right, but I’ll do it in me own way and in me own good time.”

  Murie looked at the angry young man and then at Rob.

  “If you do that, I will hang you for murder,” Rob said without raising his voice. “I have given you a solution that is fair to all concerned. If you refuse to seek redress in the manner that I have ordered, I suggest that you and Ferg shake hands and agree to be friends again. As I recall, you and he were gey good friends before this happened. Forbye, I think all here will agree that Gib was careless to stand under Fergus whilst he climbed a perilous cliff, and more so not to keep an eye on him. You said it yourself, Jock. Gib could have moved before Ferg struck him, and Ferg would be dead now instead. Would you have expected Fergus’s family to demand Gib’s death in such an instance, just for moving out of danger?”

  Jock shrugged unhappily, but Murie sensed that he had seen the logic in Rob’s question. He looked at Fergus without expression and then turned away.

  The laird’s court proceeded then with dispatch. Rob dealt efficiently and, in Murie’s view, fairly with one man after another, hearing more grievances than Andrew heard at any of his sittings. Murie wondered if Lord MacAulay had avoided holding his court. She had often heard it said that MacAulay disliked confrontation.

  She was wondering about that when the word “flogged” diverted her again.

  Realizing that she had let her attention drift for some time while she imagined various grievances and how a man who hated confrontation might have handled them, she saw that the two men in front of Rob both looked stunned.

  He was looking from one to the other, and when his gaze fixed at last on one of the two, she assumed that that one was the accused. His demeanor and familiar face put that assumption to flight, though. The man was MacKell, the galley captain who had brought them from Tùr Meiloach to Ardincaple.

  Rob said, “You ought to have expected the penalty, MacKell. Your man deserted his post. Suppose we’d had urgent need for a fully manned galley? Sakes, in that event, I would have hanged him.”

  “Aye, laird, and I’d have expected ye to. But the auld laird—” He stopped when Rob raised a hand.

  “I do not want to hear what the auld laird might have done, since he can no longer speak for himself,” Rob said in the same even tone he had used throughout the proceedings. “I want to hear what Sean Crombie has to say.”

  Murie looked at the oarsman then. He was nearer her age than Rob’s, she thought. He looked wretched and frightened, as well he might, considering.

  He stared silently at Rob.

  “Well, Sean?”

  “I dinna ken what ye want me tae say, laird.”

  “Just tell the truth. I don’t want excuses, but if you think you had good cause to leave your post, I’ll hear what you have to say.”

  Sean Crombie licked his lips and glanced at MacKell. Murie could sense that he was nervous, uncertain, but feeling some sort of increased determination.

  He straightened his shoulders. “I dinna ken if ye’ll want tae hear it out here with all these ears a-hanging on me words, laird. But, by me troth, I left only ’cause I seen a boat pull in tae shore a wee distance doon the loch from me post. I were closer tae the shingle where it beached than I were tae anyone from Ardincaple, so I crept through the darkness tae see what I could see.”

  “Why did you not report this to MacKell?” Rob asked.

  Again, Murie sensed tension and uncertainty in Sean Crombie.

  When he did not answer, MacKell said sternly, “He may just be trying tae make himself important, laird. He’s done it afore, and this time, he may be hoping tae escape punishment. Nobbut what he’s a good man, sir, mostly.”

  Rob nodded, his gaze fixed on Crombie.

  Murie wished she might speak, but she was sure she would be wasting her breath if she did. Not only would Rob dismiss what she burned to say, but the others gathered there might think she had not yet earned the right to speak.

  Although Rob watched Sean Crombie, he was keenly aware of the audience. The lad seemed sincere, but one could rarely be sure if someone was lying or not, especially if his life or his hide were at risk. And Sean’s hide surely was.

  The lad had friends watching and others who were not so friendly. Under any such circumstances, Scots were quick to take sides.

  Murie’s visible uneasiness revealed her tender heart. She also had innate wisdom, though, as she had shown earlier when she had told him about a man who had fallen out of a high window onto another man. Rob knew she was clever enough at spinning tales to have made it up on the spot. But whether she had or not, she had given him an excellent way out of a ticklish situation.

  As they waited for Sean to decide whether to speak in his own defense, he saw that she had fixed her gaze firmly on the lad.

  She looked up, caught Rob’s gaze, and gave him a small, winsome smile.

  To Crombie, Rob said, “Speak up now, lad. Your chance is fleeting.”

  “ ’Twas the auld laird, sir. Not in the wee boat, but I did hear him speak. I didna ken any other voice. I think there must ha’ been four or five o’ them, but…”

  Pausing, he glanced around, as if he’d rather be talking more privately. Then, drawing breath, he added, “I did hear the laird tell them others they had nae right tae be on Ardincaple land and should tell their greedy master he’d do better tae keep his ill-willie fingers off Ardincaple business. Then, one o’ them whose voice I didna ken said Himself would be talking more civil after they took Ardincaple, which they would, he said. Then he said, ‘’Cause when the King’s parliament fails, his grace will ha’ nae control over any Highlander and we’ll, none of us, ha’ tae heed his daft laws.’ Himself asked the chap what he meant by that, but I didna hear wha’ he replied. Coom tae that, I didna hear nowt after that. I hied me back tae me post.”

  “Tell me again when this all happened, as near as you can say,” Rob said.

  “Last Wednesday after dark, laird, mayhap just one side o’ midnight or t’other. The moon hadna come up yet, so what I saw, I saw only by starlight.”

  Rob looked at MacKell. “You said my father died Thursday morning, aye?”

  “Aye, laird; this be the first I’ve heard aught o’ Wednesday night, let alone Parliaments and ill-willed fingers.” Giving Sean Crombie a look that boded further ill for the lad’s future, he added, “One o’ me other lads caught Sean a-coming back. When he asked where he’d been, Sean said he’d gone tae take a piss. Told me the same thing when I asked him. In troth, had I not known him afore for an honest lad, I might ha’ suspected that he’d had summat tae do with the laird’s death.”

  Crombie’s shocked expression drew Rob’s attention back to him. “Well, Sean-lad,” he said. “What say you to that?”

  “I didna!” Sean exclaimed. “I would never ha’ harmed a hair on the auld laird’s head. He were a good, good man. I didna say nowt, ’cause I thought he had his own men wi’ him, and I… I didna want anyone thinking I’d been a-spyin’ on Himself. Next day, when I learned he were dead, I were sore afeard, sir. Sakes, I didna ken which men I could trust or who would believe me.”

  “What made you think that his lordship was with his own men?”

  “Nowt that I could put a name tae,” Sean admitted. “I just thought he’d never go up tae four or five men arriving in a strange boat all by hisself. Sakes, I still think some o’ them must ha’ been our lot. Forbye, I heard more than one man heading back toward t’ castle as the boat were leaving, but I’m thinking now that them from the boat may ha’ put in farther south and gone for him.”

  Rob considered himself a good judge of men, and he was nearly sure that Sean was telling the truth. But MacKell was shaking his head, and so were many men
in the audience. His gaze drifted back to Murie.

  She looked solemnly thoughtful. When their eyes met, she gazed intently at him and gave a slight nod.

  Recalling that she had said she could read his mother’s moods with ease and her insistence that she could also tell when Lady Euphemia and other people were being truthful, he looked again at Sean Crombie. The lad’s eyes welled with tears, and his face revealed only his sadness. Feeling a lump in his own throat at what could only be shared grief, Rob said quietly, “I believe you, Sean Crombie.”

  Wondering then if he had interpreted Murie’s nod correctly, he looked at her long enough to see her nod again. Feeling unexpected but welcome relief, he said to Sean, “I do think you ought to have told someone, lad, and I expect MacKell agrees with me. However, I acquit you of ill intent and dereliction. You had duty and reason to look into the mystery of the strange boat, but you also had a responsibility to report it. Whether you were wise or not in keeping what you overheard to yourself must be for future events to reveal. I will therefore let MacKell decide your penalty for failing to report the boat. He is a fair man, and he is responsible for you. If you think he is in league with whoever killed my father—”

  “Nay, laird,” Crombie interjected hastily. “When I heard summat that I feared I were no supposed tae hear, I got that flummoxed that I didna think tae report just the boat. Forbye, folks would ha’ asked me questions about it, and I’m none so good at lying. It were wicked enow deciding tae say I’d gone for a piss.”

  “Did you hear aught else about the Inverness Parliament?”

  “Nay, sir, only about it failing and nae one having tae obey his grace’s laws.”

  Rob nodded. “Aye, then, you may go. I expect that MacKell will explain exactly what things you must report so that the rules are clear to you.”

  “You may be sure that I will, my lord,” MacKell said grimly.

  Despite the grim tone, Crombie looked infinitely relieved.

  The remaining grievances went quickly, and Rob dismissed the court at last with some time remaining before supper.

  Many people departed at once, but those who had come longer distances would stay the night. As the assemblage dispersed, Rob politely disengaged himself from those who wanted to chat with him and went in search of his lady, finding her in the great hall with his mother.

  “You managed your first court well, Robert,” Lady Euphemia said graciously. “I will own that I expected you to have more difficulty, not only because you lack your father’s experience but also because you had never done such a thing before. Not to my knowledge, at all events.”

  Since he had not seen Lady Euphemia since the midday meal and assumed that she had grown bored with the court, Rob was surprised to see her now. Her praise, however mild, was welcome, though, and she deserved candor in return.

  “In troth, Mam, I surprised myself,” he admitted. “But I did recall many of my father’s comments regarding his courts, and I did not act entirely alone. For that, I must thank my lady.” He smiled at Murie.

  Lady Euphemia stiffened. “Mercy, what can she have done to aid you?”

  “She told me a story about a man who leaned over so far that he fell out of a window,” Rob said. “He, too, killed the person on whom he landed.”

  “Was the story true?” Lady Euphemia asked Muriella skeptically.

  “I don’t know, my lady,” she answered with a smile. “One can never be sure of tales that begin with ‘there once was a man’ or ‘long ago, in the days of Fingal.’ Often, though, they are the stories with the best lessons in them.”

  “I see,” Lady Euphemia said, still skeptical. She changed the subject by asking Rob if he had decided whether to attend the King’s Parliament.

  Murie was eager to hear the answer to that question. She believed that Rob meant to go, because he would have to swear fealty to Jamie. In truth, she was more interested in whether he would take her with him or leave her at Ardincaple.

  He said, “I do mean to go, Mam. But I must also send a message to his grace, warning him that trouble is brewing. If you heard what Sean Crombie said—?”

  “I did hear something about that, and Muriella was just telling me more.”

  “Aye, then,” Rob said. “I think you will agree with me that Sean is not likely to have made up a tale about someone wanting Jamie’s Parliament to fail. I believe he repeated to me exactly the words that he heard.”

  “But if no trouble occurs and you warn the King to expect trouble, you risk lowering your own position in his esteem,” his mother warned.

  Murie opened her mouth only to shut it without speaking. If she had learned anything about her husband, it was that he could fight his own battles.

  Rob said, “The King is one of Scotland’s finest warriors, Mother. He knows that men may lay plans that go unfulfilled, but he would not thank me if, having heard what we all heard today, I did nowt to warn him of potential danger.”

  Summoning a gillie, Rob sent him to tell two persons named Alf and Eamon to meet him straightaway in the great hall.

  Lady Euphemia excused herself to wash before supper, and Murie found herself alone with her husband.

  “You did believe Sean Crombie then, sir,” she said.

  “I did, aye,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “I am sure you noticed that I looked at you and tried to guess whether you believed him or not.”

  She nodded. “Aye, and I’m sure he spoke the truth. His upset when he feared that you might not believe him was real, too. I do not know why you find it odd that I can see such things in others, sir. You have a gift that is much like mine. In troth, you seem to discern my thinking much more easily than I can sense yours.”

  Giving her a one-armed squeeze, he said, “You seek to flatter me, lass. But I do know what you’ve been thinking ever since Mam asked if I would go to Inverness.”

  Heat surged to her cheeks. She said warily, “You must know that I want to go with you. Mayhap you think that leaving me here might serve as part of the chastisement the Brehon ordered. But I hope you won’t forbid me to go.”

  “Nay, lass, I won’t,” he said. “We’ll go on Saturday. When we reached Ardincaple, I did think I’d leave you here, because it would be safer for you than the long journey to Inverness and into who knows what danger. But I fear not only that I would miss you and disappoint your parents, but also that I’d liefer enjoy your company. Also, I’d feel right cruel if I left you with my mother.”

  “Well, you need not feel so, sir,” she said testily. “I like your mother. To be sure, I thought I would not when first we met. But I have seen that she cares deeply for you, and although her frank remarks can sometimes sting, they are as naught to Lady Margaret Galbraith’s comments. In troth, your mam has been kind to me. But if you will not make me stay here as my punishment, what will you do?”

  He shrugged. “I am still thinking about that, so you would be wise not to press me. Instead, you should think about what things you brought here that you’ll want to take with you and what you need to collect from Tùr Meiloach.”

  Accordingly, Murie spent the next two days making lists but deciding in the end that she’d be wiser to bring things from the tower back to Ardincaple after their journey than to take things she had brought with her from Ardincaple to Tùr Meiloach and thence to Inverness only to carry them back again to Ardincaple.

  Having made that decision, she turned her thoughts to Andrew’s charters.

  In the manner that had become customary when dealing with historical matters, she mentally sifted through the tales she knew about other charters, as well as those about Arrochar, Tùr Meiloach, and her own family.

  The result was that she awoke rather abruptly Saturday morning to realize that remnants of a strange, rapidly fading dream had stirred a question in her mind that she was certain she had never thought to ask her father or anyone else.

  “What’s amiss, lass?” Rob murmured sleepily.

  She wondered where i
t might lead if she told him and how much he’d believe.

  Rob held Murie gently with her warm, naked back spooned against him and his right arm draped over her shoulder. His cock was reacting to her touch, but he had felt her stiffen before it did and wondered what had startled her.

  When she did not answer immediately, he shook off lingering lassitude and said, “I ken fine that you’re awake, Murie-lass. I would like you to answer me.”

  With a soft sigh, she turned in his arms to face him, her tantalizing lips and rosy-tipped breasts offering welcome diversion. Her lips pursed, inviting a kiss.

  Knowing that she could feel his response, he said more curtly than he might have otherwise, “I asked you a question.”

  She nibbled her lower lip, then said, “Don’t scowl at me like that. Am I not permitted to keep even my innermost thoughts private?”

  “Not from me, and especially not when they distress you,” he said. “Something did, and I want to know what it was.”

  “I had a strange dream, that’s all.”

  “Murie.” He said only that, but he knew the warning was clear.

  She rolled her eyes. “Very well, but I am not going to tell you all I think, sir, so you need not imagine that I will. I had a dream about something that Father mentions whenever he tells of his escape from Arrochar after Pharlain and his men murdered my brothers. You did say that you had heard that story.”

  “I’ve heard several versions of it, most of which are absurd,” he said. “Andrew told me one himself but admitted leaving out details because he said he doubted that I’d believe them.”

  “What did he tell you about the escape?”

  “Only that he and your mother fled Arrochar through a bolt hole and made their way to Tùr Meiloach.”

  “He usually adds that he had a bolt hole because any man of sense or wisdom would have one in such perilous times,” Murie said.

  Rob smiled, remembering. “He did say something like that, aye.”