The Secret Clan: The Complete Series

by Amanda Scott

  Patrick said, “I’ll give the men your orders, Fin, and then I’ll need a few moments to change clothes and gather my things together.”

  “You’re staying here,” Fin said. “I need you in command here, because Sleat may have left men and boats behind, hoping I’d leave the castle undefended.”

  For a moment, it looked as if Patrick would argue, but wisely, he just nodded and left the hall.

  “Now, madam,” Fin said, “you may begin, and do not leave anything out.”

  She seemed willing to talk, but her tale was tangled and filled with bitterness. That she blamed her brother for her unhappy past was plain. That she enjoyed the freedom of her recent life as a widow was also plain. What was not plain was her true position with regard to the daughter whom by way of farewell she had branded with a red-hot key.

  Twice during their conversation, Fin experienced again the strange sense that something moved just at the edge of his vision, but each time, when he turned his head, he saw only more dust motes in the fading sunlight.

  Propelled by a brisk wind from the northwest, Fin’s galleys followed the same route that the birlinn had taken, through Kylerhea into the Sound of Sleat, past Loch Hourn, and along the coast toward Loch Nevis and Mallaig Head. Increasing darkness gave them cover, but Fin kept a close watch on the opposite coast, in case Sleat had left more galleys lying in wait. None challenged him.

  Tam Matheson, recovered already from his long run, rested in the stern of the lead galley, tending the tiller. Lady Percy, swaddled in a heavy, hooded cloak, sat beside Fin in the bow. She had scarcely spoken since leaving Eilean Donan and was presently watching the dark coastline on their right.

  Tam shouted, “Will we catch them, d’ye think, laird?”

  “Aye,” Fin replied. “If this wind holds, we should make it in the same time as Sleat, even if his boats are faster. We have extra men aboard, so some can rest whilst others row, and our route is shorter than Sleat’s. We’ll take horses from a place called—” He looked at Lady Percy. “What was that name again, madam?”

  “Ballantrae,” she said, glancing at him, then looking back toward the coast.

  “How far is this Ballantrae?” Tam asked.

  She was not paying heed. “Kintail,” she said, pointing, “is that not someone waving to us yonder?”

  Shifting his gaze to follow her gesture, Fin discerned movement in the dark shadows on shore. Then a spark flared, a torch burst into flame, and he saw a broad-shouldered male figure waving it back and forth.

  “Likely, it be a trap o’ some sort,” Tam said, peering into the darkness.

  “Are you certain that Sleat’s men killed all of ours?” Fin demanded.

  “I did think so,” Tam said. “His lot spilled into the birlinn and slashed everything in sight.”

  “Not the women, though.”

  “Nay, laird. They helped the two women into Sleat’s galley afterward, and then they sank the birlinn. I saw nae man leave the sinking boat, so I took off running like Thomas MacMorran said I should, to tell ye what happened.”

  “You did well,” Fin said, “but I think we must see who that is on the shore.”

  Commanding the oarsmen on the left to back water and those on the right to stroke hard, he swung the galley toward shore. The second boat followed.

  Before they reached the shallows near the wooded shoreline, Fin was able to make out the familiar features of Thomas MacMorran.

  Tam and the others recognized him at the same time, and it was all Fin could do to mute their cheers. He saw Thomas douse the torch and fling himself into the water near the shore, taking great strides as far as he could walk, then swimming the rest of the way. Willing hands hauled him aboard the lead galley.

  Grinning widely, Fin clapped him hard on both shoulders and gave him a shake by way of welcome. “ ’Tis glad I am to see you safe, Thomas MacMorran.”

  “Nae more glad than I be, laird,” Thomas said with a responding grin.

  “But how did ye do it, man?” Tam demanded. “I fell overboard,” Thomas said. “Then I dived under the birlinn and swam underwater to the other side o’ Donald’s galley. Nae one looked for a body there, ye ken. When I’d caught my breath, I swam underwater till I reached the last galley and stayed alongside it until they passed by the sinking birlinn. It didna sink in a trice, ye ken, but took a goodly time, so I stayed alongside it. By the time it sank, Donald and his lot were too far away to tell if I were a swimmer or just a wee bit o’ flotsam, so I swam here and waited for ye.”

  “I ran all the way back to Eilean Donan,” Tam said in indignation.

  “And a good lad ye were to do that,” Thomas said, grinning. “I could see nae reason to wear myself out when I knew ye would fetch him and he wouldna waste time. Sakes, man, I were near frozen to death!”

  “A good run would ha’ warmed ye.”

  “Me fire did that.”

  “Enough, you two,” Fin said, chuckling. “Don’t waste your energy on each other. Save it for Sleat.”

  “Aye, well,” Tam said, clapping Thomas on the back, “we’ll take care o’ Sleat, never fear.”

  “Sleat is mine,” Fin said curtly.

  Chapter 21

  Molly awakened to find sunlight streaming into the barren bedchamber through an unshuttered window. The air felt chilly, no fire burned in the fireplace, and the bed hangings smelled musty. She and Doreen had shaken them, but she suspected they still harbored spiders and other such creatures.

  Sitting up in a bed likely to have been one her parents had allotted to guests they considered insignificant, she saw that Doreen still slept on the pallet near the cold hearth.

  Taking care not to disturb her, Molly whispered, “Maggie? Are you here?”

  No answer.

  A little louder, she murmured, “Maggie, please, come. I need you!”

  Doreen stirred and opened her eyes, still red from weeping over Thomas MacMorran’s loss. “Did ye call me, mistress? Shall I get up and bang on that door? Likely, it’ll still be locked, ye ken.”

  Molly sighed. “Don’t bother. There is a bedpan, which I’ve already used, and I don’t care if I starve. I’d as lief never see that villain again.”

  She would have to, though, for she had no choice, and having seen what Donald was capable of, the prospect chilled her. Even if she could take care of herself, which was doubtful, she had Doreen to protect, as well.

  They had arrived at the castle the previous night after a tedious sea journey and a long overland trek. After making landfall, they had waited near the beach while some of Donald’s men had gone away and returned after an hour or so with ponies for their leader and the women. Molly had feared they would camp again, as they had done the two previous nights, and that she and Doreen would spend yet another night fearing for their virtue, but Donald had ordered everyone to move on.

  Darkness fell before they reached the castle, but there was a moon, and Donald knew the way.

  They had entered through the main gates, and men-at-arms were there to welcome them. That they were Donald’s men rapidly became apparent, as did the fact that they were guarding Dunsithe despite James having ordered the change of wardship, and despite Molly’s marriage to Kintail.

  Donald took the women into the great hall, a chamber Molly struggled to recognize from her childhood memories. Dim though those memories were, the Dunsithe she remembered was colorful. Bright banners had hung from numerous staffs jutting high from tapestry-covered walls, and silver and gilt plate had decked the high table. All that remained from that time was the Gordon coat of arms over the fireplace, but its paint was dim, its colors badly faded.

  “Welcome home, Mistress Gordon,” Donald said sardonically.

  She had given up reminding him of her marriage and new title. He had ignored her when she’d mentioned those details before. It was as if her marriage had never taken place, despite his having been there to witness the ceremony.

  Taking her cue from him, she kept silent, wishin
g the place did not look so cheerless. The remaining furniture included only rough trestles and benches. Even the high table looked the worse for wear, its elaborate carvings broken or badly scratched, its polish faded. The walls and floor were bare, lacking any sign of the colorful arras and carpets that had decked them in the past.

  She was still gazing about curiously when Donald slapped her.

  Gasping, she raised a hand to her stinging cheek and glowered at him, struggling to repress her fear.

  He said evenly, “When I speak, mistress, you will reply.” Pressing her hands against her sides to still their trembling, she said, “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Oh, but you do,” he said, thrusting his face close to hers. “Moreover, if you do not find your tongue and your memory swiftly, I’ve a deal more where that slap came from. You will quickly learn that defiance is unwise.”

  Raising her chin, she said, “I do not know what you expect me to say. I have told you before that I know nothing about my fortune, let alone where it is hidden, so I cannot imagine what you expect me to tell you now.”

  “I have thought long and hard about your denials, lass,” he said harshly. “For you to know nothing makes no sense.”

  “Nevertheless, it is the truth.”

  “You must know enough to claim what is yours,” he insisted. “I do not doubt that you expected Kintail to bring you here, or that he meant to do so as soon after the wedding as possible, but I made sure to leave him no time for that.”

  “Is that why you attacked Eilean Donan?”

  “ ’Tis one reason. I had hoped to take you with me after the attack, but you thwarted me. And before you defy me again, lass, I’d remind you that I still owe you for what you did to me that day. If you think I’ll have any qualm about doing what I must to force you to reveal what you know, remember that.”

  Although the knowledge of what he was capable of doing terrified her, she managed to look stonily back at him.

  “It is late,” he said then. “I’ll give you what’s left of the night to consider your choices, but by morning, you’d better come to your senses.” Nodding to one of his men, he ordered him to take the women up to a suitable chamber.

  So relieved had Molly been that Donald had not separated her from Doreen that she had gone quietly. But now, considering what lay ahead, she was only grateful that she had managed to sleep. She had feared she would be wakeful, especially since the hard bed boasted only a thin blanket and no pillow, but the moment her head had touched the mattress, she slept.

  Clearly, Doreen had slept soundly, too, but her face was wan and her despair plain, as it had been for the past three days, since they had watched Thomas topple into the sea and disappear. She looked at Molly now, visibly bewildered, and said, “I canna believe I slept so hard.”

  “I, too,” Molly told her. “ ’Tis as well that we did, though.”

  “Aye. We’ll manage the better for it, but what will happen now? Will Donald leave us be if ye tell him what he wants to ken?”

  “We’ll never know that,” Molly said with a sigh. “I know nothing. I thought you understood that.”

  Doreen shrugged. “I dinna ken much about me betters, m’lady. Ye were nobbut a wee lassock when Donald o’ Sleat brought ye to Dunakin, but still it does seem odd that ye’d ken naught o’ your own fortune.”

  “Nevertheless, it is the sad truth.”

  The rattle of a key in the lock was the only warning they had before a man-at-arms entered and said, “The master wants ye to join him below, Mistress Gordon. Ye’re to stay here,” he added when Doreen got up and moved to stand by Molly.

  “My mistress requires hot water before she will be presentable,” Doreen said stoutly. “Surely, ye canna take her to your master straight from her bed.”

  “Hush your gob, lass, unless ye want to feel the back o’ me hand.”

  “Never mind, Doreen,” Molly said hastily. “We have no choice. I’ll go with him. Please, do not hurt her,” she begged the soldier.

  He shrugged. “I’ve nae quarrel wi’ the lass,” he said. Passing him, Molly followed the twisting stairway down to the hall, where she found Donald finishing what appeared to be a large breakfast. The smell of roasted meat assailed her nostrils, and her mouth watered. She was hungry.

  A number of his men lounged about the dreary great chamber, polishing weapons or armor, eating, or talking.

  Donald said, “Well, lass?”

  She hesitated near the doorway, her fear of him flooding back. “I can tell you no more than I did last night,” she said. “It won’t matter what you do to me. I cannot reveal what I do not know.”

  “We’ll see,” he said. Turning his attention to her escort, he said, “What would you recommend, Colson, to make a lass tell you all she knows?”

  Gritting her teeth, Molly forced herself to keep her eyes on Donald.

  The man beside her chuckled. “I dinna ha’ trouble wi’ my lasses, master, but if I did, I’d put her across me knee and teach her better manners.”

  “Aye, we could start with a good hiding,” Donald said thoughtfully. “Or I could strip you naked, Mistress Gordon, and beat you senseless in front of my men. Which would you prefer?”

  The thought that he might do either turned her blood cold, but she did not believe he really expected her to answer such a question.

  “Bring her here,” he ordered grimly.

  Clamping a large hand around her upper arm, the man-at-arms jerked her forward until she stood right in front of Donald, and in her determination to keep silent she bit her lower lip. Tasting blood, she met his gaze.

  His slap this time was so hard that only the bruising grip on her arm held her upright. “I warned you,” he said.

  Tears sprang to her eyes, and she felt blood trickling from her lip to her chin, but a vision of Fin brought confidence, and she said, “Kintail will kill you for this.” She was amazed at how calm she sounded.

  “Mayhap he will,” Donald retorted. “But as you have learned, lass, it is not so easy to kill me, and he is not here, is he? No one is here who can help you. Remember that before you speak impertinently to me again.”

  She could not deny her fear of him, but neither could she imagine anything she could do to alter the situation. Whatever Donald the Grim chose to do to her, she could not prevent, but she would not let him steal her dignity—not easily. He would have to work much harder to accomplish that.

  “Stir up the fire, Colson,” he commanded his man-at-arms. “We must not let the lass grow too chilly.”

  When Colson released her and turned away, Donald reached out, grabbed her, and jerked her toward him. Gripping the front of her bodice in both hands, he ripped it open, revealing her thin shift.

  Her teeth began to chatter. “Beg pardon, master,” a man’s voice said behind her. “There be a Lady Percy at the gate wantin’ tae speak wi’ ye straightaway.”

  “The devil there is! Are you sure that is her name?”

  “Aye, master. Lady Percy, she said.”

  “Did she say why she would speak with me?” Donald asked curtly.

  “Nay, only that ye’d be glad tae see her and well recompensed forbye.”

  Donald frowned, and Molly held her breath. Surely, he would neither beat her nor do anything else so horrid in front of a female visitor. But when she tried to draw the parts of her bodice together, he slapped her hands away.

  “Leave that. We’ll see what her ladyship thinks of your predicament. But the rest of you lads, clear out. I don’t need an army to protect me from women.”

  Molly kept silent, hoping to find an ally in the visitor, believing that no woman would stand silently and watch another brutalized.

  Colson went out, taking the other men with him.

  The woman he returned with a few minutes later was not what Molly had expected to see. Not, she realized, that she had had reason to expect anything in particular. But this woman was younger than she had supposed and beautiful. Lady Percy wore a fashio
nable riding dress and carried a whip, and if she looked tired and as if she had traveled some distance, her greeting revealed only satisfaction at finding her host willing to receive her.

  “How fortunate that you traveled south, sir,” she exclaimed as she hurried in. Briskly drawing off her gloves, she moved toward the fire, chattering on with only a brief glance at Molly. “And how wonderful that you have prepared such a warm fire. It is uncomfortably chilly outside today.”

  “What brings you to Dunsithe, madam?” Donald’s voice was harsh, but it contained suspicion as well. “You have traveled with amazing speed.”

  The visitor shrugged. “She was gone when I got there, so I rode straight on to Stirling and thence to the Borders.”

  “In three days?” His skepticism was plain.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Border women can ride for much longer periods if necessary, sir. Art furious with me for coming? I trust you will not remain so when I tell you why I’ve come. I’ve seen Angus! And, what’s more, I’ve brought what you’ve been waiting for, from… from another.” Casting a sly look at Molly, she added, “I must say no more, though, in front of your friend.”

  “My friend?” It was Donald’s turn to raise his brows. “Do you not recognize the lass, madam?”

  Lady Percy laughed, a tinkling, light laugh. “Mercy, sir, should I know her? I vow, I never saw this one at Dunsgaith. From the state of her clothing, I’d guess you brought her along for your own purpose, which would explain why you put me off your boat so abruptly. Did you go right back then and collect her? You said you would go to Dunbarton and then Stirling, so you can imagine how startled I was to find that you had never reached Stirling at all. To learn only this morning that you were here at Dunsithe seemed providential, for being only a few miles away—”

  “How came you to be only a few miles away?” he interjected.

  “Faith, sir, did I not tell you I have been with Angus and that I bring you a particular item from England’s Henry that you have long waited to receive? Shall I be more direct?” she asked with a coquettish look.