by Amanda Scott
“He’s right, Adam,” Mag said. “Men will do much to kill a stag like that.”
Adam still looked doubtful.
When Wednesday morning passed without word from James Mòr, Ian could tell that the other men were fast growing impatient.
Deciding to proceed as if all were in train, he sent gillies to invite local landowners and tenants to prepare for a day’s hunting on Saturday. Hunters would be welcome to stalk the stag on foot or horsed and free to take as many other deer as necessary to provide a grand roast venison feast afterward for everyone. They could either gather at Dunglass at dawn or join the hunters along the way.
That most of the venison taken in such a hunt would likely be royal venison was a minor detail, but one that did cause Ian to pause and take a breath. Reassuring himself that Jamie would care more about regaining control of Dumbarton than he would about the loss to the Crown of a few deer, Ian relaxed again.
At Tùr Meiloach, Lina watched Andrena grow more somber by the day. She seemed unduly worried about Magnus, and her concern was evidently contagious, because Lina fervently missed Ian. She dreamed about him nightly and had begun to fear that it might take months if not years for him to reclaim Dumbarton.
Andrew had received more information from watchers at Arrochar and near the passes and had, accordingly, doubled his guard around Tùr Meiloach’s perimeter. He had also ordered the women to stay inside the wall.
“I shall go mad if I have to stay inside, mending things and tending to other tedious work,” Andrena confided as she and Lina settled to their tasks in the solar that afternoon. “I want to walk on the cliffs and elsewhere as I always do.”
“Where are Murie and Lizzie?” Lina asked. “Murie could at least entertain us with one of her stories.”
“They went outside,” Andrena said. “Murie told Lizzie that they could climb to the wall walk and see what there was to see from there. I will not be surprised, though, if the two of them slip out to visit Annie. Murie has wanted to see her again, since they had so little time the other day, and Mam went to Annie’s yesterday without her.”
“Would Murie dare to take Lizzie?” Lina asked. “Father would be furious.”
“Aye, perhaps. But Mam and Lady Margaret are packing to leave tomorrow, so Murie may get away with it. In troth, I’m tempted to slip out myself. The idea that an enemy might catch me walking on our cliffs is absurd. I would sense any enemy presence at Tùr Meiloach before the danger came near.”
Lina agreed, but she felt obliged to remind Andrena of one detail that she had apparently forgotten. “You would be safe enough on the cliffs from an enemy and mayhap even from Father,” she said. “But would not Magnus be angry to learn that you had defied his orders in such a way?”
“Mag is not here,” Andrena said crossly, revealing yet again the true source of her restlessness.
“You do have someone else to consider, too,” Lina said gently.
“I ken fine what you are trying to do, Lina. I also ken fine that I am behaving badly. I do care about the bairn I carry. I care even more right now about Mag, and I would feel much better if I were at Dunglass with him—even if he were angry with me—than I feel here without him. And don’t say that you do not feel the same way about Ian, because I can sense that you do.”
Lina had nothing to say to that, because it was perfectly true.
Her thoughts turned to Ian again that evening while Lady Aubrey was explaining to Lady Margaret that she had arranged for them to take an armed escort with them to Bannachra. Staring into the low-burning fire, wondering what Ian might be doing, Lina found herself staring into dense woodland instead…
Recognizing the clearing and the oddly shaped tree that had appeared in the strange reverie she had had just after Ian left, and feeling it tug her memory in another way, she recognized the place, as well. As that thought floated through her mind, she saw a moving dark shape beyond the clearing. Black and featureless, it darted from tree to tree. The hair on the back of her neck twitched and tingled, warning of…
“Lina, Mam has twice spoken to you,” Andrena said sharply.
Startled from whatever fantasy had claimed her, Lina looked dazedly around and saw with relief that she was still in the solar and that her mother was sitting, hale and alive, beside Lady Margaret. Both women were staring at her, their heads cocked, each one’s posture a replica of the other’s.
“Are you all right, dearling?” Lady Aubrey asked. “You looked as if your thoughts had gone somewhere else.”
Taking time to draw a breath, Lina said, “I was just thinking, Mam, that if Lady Margaret ought to have a female companion on her journey home, so should you. So I’ve decided to go with you. That way, when you come home, you won’t have to travel for a whole day with only male companions.”
“That is thoughtful of you, Lina,” her mother said, holding her gaze in such a way that Lina could not look away.
To her surprise and relief, however, she was able to meet that piercing gaze without faltering. She felt as if something deep within her were guarding her from revealing the guilt that her small deception had stirred.
Lady Aubrey added, “Much as we would enjoy your company, I fear that Andrena will need you here. Not only are Muriella and Lizzie little company for her, but she may also require your skill with potions.”
“I make poor company for anyone just now, Mam,” Andrena said quietly. “Forbye, Lina’s remedies have already done their part. If she thinks she should go with you, I agree that she should. If Father will permit it, I’d like to walk a short way with you myself. What vexes me sorely is having to stay inside our wall.”
“Ladies do not walk about by themselves,” Lady Margaret said austerely.
Smiling at her, Lady Aubrey said lightly, “Dree has done so without incident since she was a bairn, Margaret. I see no reason not to enjoy your usual walks, Dree. You are sensible enough to stay nearby, and I know you will take the dogs.”
“May I go now, Mam? I’m yearning to walk on the cliffs.”
Lady Aubrey hesitated. “Your father has gone out with his men, dearling. I cannot discuss the matter with him until he returns.”
“Devilish dangerous to walk on a cliff, if you ask me,” Margaret said.
Sensing Dree’s growing frustration, Lina said, “I could go with her, Mam.”
“That would just compound the difficulty.” Lady Aubrey paused. Then she said, “If you take Peter and Tibby with you, and the dogs, Andrena, I doubt that your father will object. I will talk with him as soon as he returns, but despite what you may think, he does not always bow to my persuasion.”
Sensing that Andrena was satisfied, Lina said, “I’ll go and sort clothing that Tibby can pack later for me, Mam. How long should I expect us to stay?”
Seeing Lady Margaret stiffen, she held her breath.
The older woman pressed her lips together and said nothing.
Lady Aubrey said, “Just two or three days. I shall want time enough to rest and to see Margaret settled in comfortably. But I will be eager then to return.”
Lina nearly asked if her mother was ailing in some way. She could not recall Lady Aubrey ever anticipating a need to rest, even after traveling long distances.
Recalling other signs, including a kind of uneasiness that was distinctly unusual for her mother, Lina held her tongue. But later that day, when memory of her strange reveries assailed her again, she recalled those other signs and told Tibby to pack her old green wool cloak. The woods might be chilly.
Doubt arose again that night when she went to bed, and just as she was drifting off to sleep and was thinking lazily, amorously of Ian, his image loomed large in her mind, frowning. His eyes looked unnaturally dark and menacing, his jaw clenched tight. The color in his cheeks was high.
It occurred to her then that she had never seen him angry. She had no idea how he would react if he should learn that she had followed her mother into danger without saying a word to anyone else about her concerns
.
Aware as she was of Andrena’s feelings, they seemed to exacerbate hers. By the time she slept, she had persuaded herself that no matter how angry Ian might be with her, if he should actually be angry, she wanted him home and in bed with her.
Thursday morning, Colquhoun received a message from James Mòr expressing his willingness to meet one more time, without mentioning a date. He had added the caveat that Colquhoun would have to forgo his tail and come alone.
Ian, his brother Adam, Mag, Sir Alex, Rob MacAulay, and Galbraith were all in the inner chamber when a gillie brought him the message.
Adam reacted fiercely. “You must not do any such daft thing, sir! Sakes, James Mòr will likely take you hostage if you agree to that.”
“The lad is right, Humphrey,” Galbraith said.
Ian looked from one laird to the other. “It does not matter, since I doubt he will want to meet before Saturday, when we’ll have our hunt. Recall that I invited the local lairds and declared the hunt open to all. I suggest we invite James Mòr, the garrison, and the burghers to join us. Perhaps you, sir, might point out to him that since he and the rebels control Dumbarton, we can legally claim any deer we kill.”
Colquhoun chuckled. “If that doesn’t stir him at least to respond, I shall own myself amazed. He cannot claim to own the deer, though.”
“Aye, sure, he can,” Mag said with a grin. “Anyone would, in his place.”
“I might do that myself,” Galbraith agreed. “The difference here is that Jamie is unlikely to hang Ian for making the statement. He would hang James Mòr for claiming the deer. But he’ll hang that gallous villain anyway if we can catch him.”
“I agree,” Ian said. “Moreover, James Mòr lacks the local lairds’ support. He may be canny enough, though, to try to curry favor with them by joining us.”
The trip to Bannachra took Lina, her mother, and the Lady Margaret all day Thursday. But the sky was clear, and it was such a fine day that Lina soon noted her mother’s distraction. The three women rode garrons—the surefooted Highland ponies so well suited to the rocky terrain of the peaks—and her ladyship’s nerves seemed to be affecting her mount. The normally even-tempered garron shied twice while they were in the woods. Her ladyship easily controlled it, but Lina wondered.
When they were halfway up the ridge to the southeast pass, Lady Aubrey glanced over her shoulder as if she thought someone might be following them.
Lina, riding behind her, said, “What is it that troubles you, Mam?”
“Naught, dearling,” Lady Aubrey said, glancing back again with a smile. “I love the scenery hereabouts and do not want to miss anything.”
Lady Margaret, ahead of them, following Peter and Pluff, made a noise like a snort. But Lina knew better than to ask if she had heard that correctly.
Behind Lina rode four armed men, and Peter carried his sword and dirk, as well. Moreover, before their departure, Pluff had informed her that he had his bow and a quiverful of arrows with him and had been practicing regularly.
“I can hit whatever I aim at now,” the boy assured her confidently.
Lina smiled at the memory. But she also wondered if their escort would prove in the end to be sufficient protection.
Recalling how many men had been with Dougal the day he had captured her and Lizzie was not reassuring. But she had heard Lady Aubrey assure Andrew that naught would harm them on their journey or at Bannachra. Surely her mother would not have said such a thing if she did not know that they’d be safe.
Lina realized that she was not so sure of that, though.
Reminding herself that Lady Aubrey was a truthful person, not to mention a woman gifted with uncanny foresight, Lina tried to persuade herself that no danger existed. But the images of her mother that she had seen at Tùr Meiloach rose again in her mind’s eye then, as clear as they had been before.
Their little party stopped long enough on the ridge crest to enjoy the view of Ben Lomond in the distance and Loch Lomond below. They could see the end of the loch and the woodland where Lina and Lizzie had fallen captive.
When Lady Aubrey reached out and squeezed Lina’s shoulder, she knew that her mother was thinking about that day just as she was. “It was such an awful thing, love,” Lady Aubrey said. “I nearly fainted when I heard what had happened.”
“How did you find out?” Lina asked, realizing that from one cause or another it had not occurred to her to ask that question before.
“A rider brought a message the next day, saying that you and Lizzie were safe at Dumbarton but would remain hostages to ensure your fathers’ cooperation.”
Lady Aubrey changed the subject then and asked about Lady Colquhoun. Not until after they had arrived at Bannachra and had their supper did Lina give more thought to that brief exchange and wonder who had sent the message. Had it come from James Mòr or from Dougal MacPharlain?
Lady Aubrey was helping Lady Margaret see to chores that Margaret had insisted must be done before she could sleep. Lina offered to help, hoping to find time to talk more with her mother. But the two older women shooed her off to bed.
She was ascending the stairway when a wave of dizziness struck her.
Steadying herself against the cold, curved stone wall, she drew a breath and shut her eyes to make the stairwell stop spinning…
The woods were darker than before and chilly, as if clouds hid the sun. She was hurrying, although she had felt just seconds before as if she were standing still and fighting dizziness.
Now, speed was important, nay, urgent.
The misshapen tree appeared beyond the small clearing. Under the tree, in shadow, the feminine figure lay stretched on its side, unmoving.
Rushing to kneel beside it, she put her hand on the woman’s shoulder and, terrified, drew it toward her.
Lady Aubrey’s face was bruised, her eyes shut, her body unresponsive.
A noise from below startled the vision away. Disoriented, dizzy again, Lina welcomed the feeling of the cold stone stairway wall still beneath her hand.
Hearing Lady Aubrey’s voice below in the distance, she drew another steadying breath and tried to think, to decide what to do.
Her thoughts refused to sort themselves. But surely her mother would understand what was happening if it was some sort of peek into the future. The best thing, clearly, would be to talk to her in the morning.
However, the two older women seemed determined to keep her working. By Friday afternoon, Lina was sure that her mother wanted to avoid the very talk that Lina wanted to have with her.
Chapter 16
Filled with preparations for the hunt, Friday passed quickly at Dunglass, especially after word arrived from James Mòr that he and his guests would join it.
On Saturday, Colquhoun, Galbraith, and other invited noble guests left at dawn with their men and Colquhoun’s greyhounds and rode off through the woods. They would cross the plain in view of the castle and head north to meet other hunters and stalkers at a gathering place at the south end of Loch Lomond.
Stalkers were already combing hills and glens in that area for signs of deer.
Shortly after the riders left, minions followed, leading garrons to carry back any deer that the hunters killed early enough to roast for their celebratory feast.
Meantime, waiting only until they heard from their own watchers that the environs of Dunglass were free of intruders or anyone else who might carry tales of their interest in Dumbarton, Ian, Mag, Rob, Alex, and their men rode into the woods to a place where they could safely tether their mounts. There they waited until men watching the steep path down from the castle reported signs of activity there.
At the woodland site, Ian twitched impatiently, then paced until Rob growled, “Enough, man. Ye’ll drive me daft.”
Grinning and primed for action, Ian said, “I want to know what our lads ahead of us can see. I must learn for myself what is happening.”
“Then go,” Rob said.
“Art sure your man is on the gate?” Mag
asked as Ian turned to leave.
“If he is not on it now,” Ian said, “he soon will be.”
He walked quickly but cautiously amid the trees but had gone only a short way when one of his lads emerged from shadows ahead. “What news?” Ian demanded when he was near enough to make himself heard in a normal tone.
“Many ha’ been leaving, sir, many riders and gey more afoot. The horsemen rode ahead, o’ course. One o’ them flew the Stewart banner, and at least six or eight wi’ him wore noble garb. Doubtless, it were James Mòr and his nobles, along wi’ his usual armed tail o’ men.”
“So he has kept his word and will join my lord father,” Ian said, relieved. Pointing, he added, “Go to the men yonder, and tell Sir Magnus I’ve gone on. He must send a horseman to tell the laird how many are riding his way and that some are armed. Then Sir Magnus and the others should meet me where we agreed.”
The others soon joined him in a wood near the river Leven, with Mag leading Ian’s horse. Dismounting beside him and handing him its reins, Mag said, “That lad you sent told me that there are at least four watchers on the walls.”
“They won’t trouble us,” Ian replied. “Rob and I are going there to pay respects to James Mòr from MacAulay of Ardincaple, who was sadly unaware of any deer hunt. By following the river Leven south from here, we’ll look as if we had forded it, aye?”
Mag shook his head, but his hazel eyes twinkled appreciatively.
Ian and Rob had no need to offer their spurious explanation at the gate. With eight men riding behind and one riding before them, flying the MacAulay banner, they reached the top of the path unchallenged.
Jed Laing opened the gates before they reached it, and they rode right in.
As they had hoped and expected, the remaining guard at the castle was small. From the look of the place, most of the men who had been inside were taking part in the hunt, hoping to bring back venison to augment the castle’s depleted stores.
