by Amanda Scott
“Don’t set too much store by what she says now or ever, lass,” he murmured. “She may like you for the time being, but she can change her mind in a trice if you disappoint her. When she does change, she does so swiftly and without warning.”
Murie shook her head. “You do not listen to me, sir,” she said. “I also told you that I can tell if aught that I say vexes her. Good sakes, I don’t want to disappoint her any more than I want to upset you. I just wish you could have more faith in my abilities, although I ken fine that I have not yet proven them to you.”
He gave her a quick hug but did not contradict her. He had seen for himself that her judgment was not always wise. Moreover, the likelihood that she could read his mother as easily as she claimed she could was slight at best.
His men had the galley loaded, and MacKell waited only until all passengers were aboard—including Rob’s man, Hamish, and Scáthach—before giving his oarsmen orders to get underway. Minutes later, they were heading northward.
Their journey was uneventful, the weather sunny and warm, and they reached Tùr Meiloach’s wharf shortly after midday. Andrew was again at the wharf to welcome them, and they found the rest of the family in the great hall, having delayed the midday meal until their arrival.
Lizzie ran to greet them and began at once to tell them how clever Wee Molly had been and how much Lizzie was enjoying her visit. To Murie’s surprise, Lady Margaret was also still a guest at Tùr Meiloach. Being notoriously fond of her privacy, her ladyship rarely visited anyone for longer than two or three days before returning to her beloved Bannachra Tower in Glen Fruin.
“Liz, let us greet them, too,” Lina said. Giving Murie a hug when Lizzie obligingly stepped aside, Lina added, “Ian will be here before you return from Inverness. His father and Alex Buchanan, bless them, will look after Dumbarton in his absence. I can scarcely wait to see him, although it has been wonderful to visit with everyone here.”
“Has Father found his charters yet?” Murie asked her.
“If he has, he said naught to the rest of us,” Lina said, watching as Andrena settled Wee Molly in a well-padded basket near enough the hearth for warmth, yet far enough away to protect the baby from flying sparks.
When Andrena moved to greet Murie, Molly began to whimper.
Scáthach, following at Rob’s heels, turned at the sound and stepped with her usual grace toward the basket. Rob looked as if he might call her to heel, but Dree turned to him, smiled, and held up a hand, silencing him.
Scáthach looked into the basket, then lay down and curled herself around it so that she could see the baby’s face and Wee Molly could see hers.
When the baby’s whimpers stopped, Murie moved closer and saw that Molly’s blue-eyed gaze had fixed in fascination on the dog.
Rob, evidently sensing Murie’s presence, turned to her and said quietly, “She won’t harm the bairn. But I’m gey surprised that your sister did not object.”
“I can hear you, Rob MacAulay,” Dree said with a laugh. “I ken fine that this beautiful animal of yours won’t harm our Molly. Scáthach wants only to protect her, and since dogs move in and out of this hall as easily as people do, I can now relax my own vigil and know that none will get close enough to frighten my bairn.”
“Mayhap it would be wiser to set Molly’s basket on a table,” Rob suggested.
Andrena shook her head. “Father warned me that you don’t believe in our gifts, sir, but lest you have failed to notice, Molly shows no fear of Scáthach.”
Surprised, Murie said, “Do you think Molly has inherited your gifts, Dree?”
Andrena shrugged. “It is too soon to know what she may or may not have inherited, but I can sense her even better than I sense you or Lina. I believe she senses things about me, too. We’ll know more in time, of course. You need not look so skeptical, Master… but nay; it is ‘my lord’ now, is it not? Forgive me, sir.”
“No need,” he said, “for it must be ‘Rob’ to you now, Lady Andrena.”
“Since we are all family now, Rob, Andrena is sufficient or just Dree.”
Mag joined them then, putting an arm around his wife and looking fondly at their child. “Is our Molly not as beautiful as her mam?” he demanded of Rob.
“Certes, she is fortunate to have inherited Andrena’s looks rather than yours,” Rob retorted with a smile. “Do you go with us to Inverness?”
“Nay, I’m to stay and watch over Tùr Meiloach. Ian will be along in a sennight or so, though, and we’ll be glad to see him again. Our visit to Dumbarton was gey short, because we thought we’d stay longer with Lina and Ian on our return from Ayrshire. Then Dree sensed Murie’s distress, and we found Lina in the same state. So we all came home straightaway.”
Rob stared at Mag as if he had not seen him before.
When a muscle twitched in Rob’s cheek, Murie swiftly suppressed a smile.
“You seem surprised, Rob,” Andrena said with false innocence.
Impatiently, Andrew said, “Are the lot o’ ye planning tae eat, or no? This meat will soon be as cold as it were afore they roasted it an ye dinna sit down.”
Rob collected his wits and turned to obey, but Mag stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Let the women go first,” he said. “You looked a bit surprised just then, my lad. Did I say aught to distress you?”
Knowing his large friend well enough to be blunt, Rob said, “Do you truly believe that Andrena and her sisters can each sense when another is in danger?”
Grinning, Mag slid an arm around Rob’s shoulder and said, “I have experienced their ability more than once, so you may be sure that I believe in it. I won’t try to explain how they do it or what they sense, but when one of them tells me she kens a thing, I listen. So should you. But my aunt Margaret is smiling now and beckoning to us. As I recall, she has a fondness for you, so be sure to talk with her before you vanish again. By staying just overnight last time, and barely saying a word to her, you made me fear you might have unseated yourself from her high esteem—a place, I would remind you, that gey few can claim.”
“We must hope her ladyship recalls that that occasion was also my wedding night,” Rob replied mildly. “I will take care not to offend her further, though.”
The two took their places at the table, where Rob stood next to Andrew, who was impatiently waiting to say the grace before meat. Conversation afterward proceeded desultorily.
Rob told Andrew all he had learned from Sean Crombie and explained his plan to send two MacAulay running gillies ahead to warn the King.
“A good notion,” Andrew said. “Since ye’re sending them to Lochindorb, I’ll send one of me own lads to show them the safest route. They should set off in the morning, I think. We’ll travel much the same route ourselves, so your lads can ride on to Inverness with Mar or all three lads can await us at Rothiemurchus.”
Agreeing, Rob considered asking if Andrew had found his charters but decided to wait. Something in the older man’s demeanor—perhaps no more than a lingering impatience—warned him that the answer would be no.
Murie, too, was keeping an eye on her father. Lady Margaret had insisted that “Lady MacAulay” take her “rightful place” between her mother and Margaret, thus putting Murie much closer to Andrew. She asked him no questions, though. If he had found his charters, she was sure that Lina and Dree would know it.
Instead, she devoted her attention to the ladies on either side of her. Her mother had given her a searching look as Murie approached the dais but was now smiling as they chatted. Lady Margaret, having satisfied herself that Murie had met Lady Euphemia and come away unscathed, gave her attention to her food and an occasional brief but polite exchange with Andrena, at her left.
When Lady Aubrey suggested that the ladies adjourn to the solar, Murie stood at once with her sisters and Lizzie.
Lady Margaret, however, said that she would join them anon, adding bluntly, “I want a word with your husband, Muriella. Nay, do not stiffen so. To my great surprise and sati
sfaction, you chose exceedingly well. I like that young man.”
Mouth agape at such an unexpected compliment, Murie recalled that Rob had met her ladyship the year before when he and Ian escorted Lina, their mother, Lizzie, Margaret, and herself to Tùr Meiloach from Inch Galbraith. Rob had even walked beside Lady Margaret’s horse on the dangerously steep downhill side of their pass, when Lady Margaret had refused to dismount. Perhaps, Murie thought, that good deed had been enough to win him his high place in her ladyship’s esteem.
Rob’s approach just then diverted her attention to him, only to see him look past her when Lady Margaret said, “I heard the dreadful news of your father’s death, my lord. I would extend my condolences to your lady mother. Pray, sit down with me here for a time and tell me how she goes on.”
“I would be honored, my lady,” he said. Then to Murie, he added, “Tell your mam I’ll be along soon, lass, and don’t wander off in the meantime.”
With an impish look, Murie said demurely, “As you wish, my lord.”
“We’ll see about that later,” he replied, briefly holding her gaze.
Before she could make herself believe that he had said such a thing right in front of Lady Margaret, he took a seat on the stool that Dree had vacated and assured Lady Margaret that his mother would be grateful to hear from her.
Following her mother and sisters, Murie saw Andrew watching her, while Mag poured wine into his own goblet from a jug on the table. Mag looked toward the fireplace just then, where Andrena was picking up Wee Molly in her basket.
Scáthach stood beside them, wagging her tail.
Andrew, Murie noted when she looked at him again, was still eyeing her speculatively. “Did you want to speak to me, sir?” she asked.
He smiled. “I just like looking at ye, lassie,” he said. “Ye look fine and happy. Despite your trials, I’d say the marriage ye got yourself into agrees with ye.”
“It does, aye,” she said. “Rob is a good husband, sir. He even let me watch his laird’s court. It was gey interesting.”
“Sit down then and tell me about it,” he said, patting Lady Aubrey’s stool.
Murie complied and soon realized that Mag was listening to her with as much interest as Andrew did. Both of them laughed to hear how Rob had dealt with Donnie’s Fergus and his “murder” of Gib Cowen by falling off a cliff on him. She nearly told them that she had suggested the penalty Rob had ordered but decided that that part of the story should be his to tell, if anyone did.
When she had told them all she could, she said quietly to Andrew, “I’m thinking you have not yet found your charters, sir. It did occur to me, though, that they might turn up in the bolt hole.”
Andrew’s eyes widened. Then he frowned. “What bolt hole would that be?”
“Why, you always told us that any man of sense would have one, sir, so one must assume that you provided one for us here.” When he did not deny it, she added, “Annie did say that you will find them when you need them.”
“I won’t need them for three more days,” he said.
“Does anyone else know where the bolt hole is?” she asked.
“Ye’d still be supposing there were such a thing, to ask that question.”
Murie’s gaze shifted to meet Mag’s. His curiosity remained evident. Looking again at Andrew, aware of Rob’s and Lady Margaret’s low voices behind her, she murmured, “Prithee, sir, if you have not told anyone and aught should happen to you, what good would that route do us? No man as wise as I know you are would risk letting someone trap us here with no way out. Someone else must know. Moreover, if you did not move the charters and Mam did not…”
She stopped there to let his imagination fill in the rest.
Andrew looked at Mag, but Mag gazed back solemnly, and silently.
Andrew grimaced and said ruefully, “I should have shown ye long ago, lad. Ian, too, come to that. Sithee, I meant to. I thought of it when Pharlain attacked, then again last summer at Bannachra. In troth, though, trusting others comes gey hard to me. I once trusted me cousin, Parlan Farlan, as I would trust m’self, until he stole my lands, murdered my sons, and threatened to kill my lady and m’self. Then he declared himself Pharlain after our ancestor and claimed my chiefdom, as well.”
Mag murmured, “Does anyone else know where it is, sir?”
“Aye,” Andrew said. “But summat could happen to that person, too, so I’ll no tell ye who it be. What I’ll do instead is show ye the way.” He looked at Murie. “Ye’re a wise lass, daughter, but a gey curious one who tends to spill too much of what she kens to others. Yon tale about Dougal last year were a dangerous thing.”
“I know it was, sir,” Murie said. “I would promise never to tell such a tale again, but I do want to become a seanachie. And sometimes a seanachie must tell the truth, no matter how dangerous it may be. Even so,” she added when he and Mag both frowned, “one is never bound to reveal family secrets or those that involve other people’s safety. By my troth, sir, I would never tell. I will understand if you do not trust me to keep my word, but what I would ask is that you show Rob now, too. He has the same right as Ian and Mag, I think, and he is completely trustworthy. I think Mag will agree with me about that.”
“I do, sir,” Mag said. “Also, since Murie has given her word, I’d accept it.”
Andrew nodded. “I agree. In the old days, she would have gone a-searching without mentioning the matter to me. Her curiosity being what it is, I’d rather trust her no to tell anyone than trust her no to search more on her own.”
Solemnly, Muriella said, “I’ll swear not to do that, either, sir, if you like.”
In response, Andrew stood and said, “Rob, lad, when your conversation with her ladyship comes to its natural end, I’d have a word with ye in me chamber.”
“Aye, sir,” Rob said, glancing at him.
“Come along now, lass,” Andrew said, extending a hand to Murie.
Surprised but delighted and hopeful that he meant to share his secret with her as well as with the men, she could not help but wonder if he might escort her as far as his chamber only to send her on upstairs to the other women in the solar.
Chapter 18
Watching Andrew and Murie leave the dais and seeing Mag finish off the goblet of wine he had just poured for himself before following them, Rob wondered if Murie had got herself into the suds again.
“You must not keep Andrew waiting,” Lady Margaret said. “I have enjoyed our talk, sir. I will send my condolences to your lady mother straightaway.”
Thanking her and suggesting that she precede him up the stairs as far as Andrew’s chamber, he bade her goodnight on the landing there.
Waiting until she had vanished around the next curve in the stairway, Rob rapped once on the door and entered at Andrew’s command. As he stepped in and shut the door, he saw Mag and Murie on two back-stools in front of Andrew’s table. Andrew sat in the chair behind it. Two other stools stood empty just beyond Mag.
As Rob moved to take one, Andrew stood. “Never mind that stool, lad,” he said. “I’ve summat to show ye.”
Exchanging a look with Mag, who revealed nothing, Rob looked at Murie, who seemed to be having trouble sitting still.
Andrew moved to the corner where the cat, Ansuz, had emerged on Rob’s earlier visit to that room. The basket of maps or charts still stood there, so he suspected that Andrew wanted to discuss their route to Inverness.
However, the older man began instead to hand the scrolls to Mag, telling him to set them on the table for the nonce. When he handed over the large basket as well, Rob noted that the innocent-looking shutter fastened back against the wall, although apparently meant to cover the abutting, deeply set window in the event of extreme wind or rain, extended from just beneath the ceiling all the way to the floor.
Leaning down into the corner, Andrew clicked something unseen and then straightened. Reaching toward the top of the shutter, he flicked the hook there out of its eye and slid his fingers behind the wood.
A similar click sounded, and he slid a bolt into sight, releasing the shutter. To Rob’s astonishment, as Andrew “shut” it over the window, he revealed a dark, narrow doorway behind it.
“Throw the bolt on yonder door, will ye, lad?” Andrew said.
Rob did so at once and turned back only to have his gaze collide with that of his grinning wife, who might just as well have crowed, “I told you so!”
Shaking his head at her with a smile, he said, “Do we need a torch, sir?”
“Nay, lad, we’ll do if Mag will light them candles yonder on the shelf.”
Murie’s delight threatened to overwhelm her, but she did as she had done when she had wanted to soothe Lady Euphemia’s anger and imagined herself donning a cloak of dignity similar to her mother’s or Lina’s.
Feeling as if she were in control of herself then, she obeyed Rob’s gesture and preceded him to follow Mag. All three men held candles, so she could see well enough, but the twisting stairway was perilously narrow, making her grateful for the rope banister bolted against the stone wall.
They came to a landing almost large enough to serve as a storeroom. Light came through a small hole in one wall there, and by standing on tiptoe, she saw through it to the hall dais. “Faith, it’s another laird’s peek,” she muttered.
“Another?” Andrew growled from too close behind her.
She turned to him guiltily, but he only shook his head much as Rob had and murmured, “Doucely now, lass. Yonder be where I kept the charters.” He pointed to the opposite wall, and she discerned a narrow stone bench built into it. Looking closer, while Rob held his candle so she could see, she saw that the top of the bench was a waxed wooden plank. Lifting it, she discovered only an empty space within.
“They dinna be needed yet,” Andrew said.
The disappointment in his voice tore at Murie’s heart. She wanted to reassure him, but a strange sensation stopped her. It was as if her mind had twitched and was tickling her memory in some odd way. Trying to make sense of it, she shut her eyes.
