The Secret Clan: The Complete Series

by Amanda Scott

  Swallowing, she did what she had done since childhood whenever she was unhappy or felt she was in danger. She thought about something else, pretending that she was far away, in a very safe place.

  The warmth of the large body next to hers made it easier than usual to return to memories of her early childhood, of a large, muscular man—her father, surely—holding her close. She basked in that warmth, telling herself that she was on the shore of a pond with her father, surrounded by woods that were a haven of safety, the only sounds those of birds and squirrels, and the occasional splash of a fish leaping to the fly that twitched at the end of her father’s line.

  When her present companion’s hard, muscular arm draped itself across her shoulders, she leaned into it, forgetting that it belonged to a stranger, accepting its reassurance without question or comment.

  Through the shrubbery blocking the entrance, she could see the dogs now, at least a half score of them, and she saw at once that the aniseed had put them off their scent. Three bunched near a tree, and feeling the body beside her stiffen, she wondered if that was where he had stood, watching her emerge from the cave.

  Riders appeared, guiding their ponies through the trees toward the dogs.

  “Damnation,” one of the men exclaimed, “they’ve lost him!”

  “Look up in the trees,” another voice shouted. “Mayhap he’s climbed one and lies concealed on one of its branches.”

  They were English voices, so at least he had told her the truth about that.

  “As I recall, there’ll be a brook or a river yonder to the east,” another shouted. “Mayhap he walked into the water to cover his trail. Send the dogs along the banks on both sides, and I’ll wager we’ll find him again in short order.”

  “How far away flows that burn?” her companion murmured when the area nearby had fallen silent again.

  “Less than five minutes’ walk from here,” she murmured back.

  “And where does it lead?”

  “It springs from the hills to the northeast of us and flows southwest into Annan Water and thence into Solway Firth.”

  “And if they follow it north?”

  “They’ll pass Farnsworth Tower,” she said. “That burn provides our water.”

  “Farnsworth Tower is your home?”

  “Aye.”

  He was silent for a moment, then muttered as if he were talking to himself, “Surely these English will not remain long on the Scottish side of the line.”

  Elspeth said gently, “If they have declared a hot trod, they can remain in the west march for six days.”

  “How so?”

  Shifting so she could look at him, she said, “Well, if I remember Border law correctly, either side can declare a hot trod up to six days after a crime, and anyone chasing a criminal may cross the line as long as they are in hot pursuit of him.”

  “And how is it that a lass like yourself kens aught o’ Border law?”

  “Sir Hector frequently serves as clerk when opposing march wardens meet for Truce Days, and he has explained many such laws to us at home.”

  “I see. Six days, eh? Does that not mean only that they can cross the line for six days after discovering the crime, and only if they know who they are chasing?”

  “Aye, but Sir Hector says that many interpret the law to mean that if they follow at once, they can search for the full six days. Did they follow you at once?”

  “You mean directly after I committed my crime?”

  Again, she detected laughter in his voice, but this time it annoyed her. “I do not think that felonious activity should be a matter for humor, sir,” she said primly.

  He chuckled. “Doubtless you are right, lass. I confess, I’ve been up to my ears in felonious activity for so many months now that I’ve forgotten how most folks view such behavior. At present, however, I care only about saving my skin.”

  “Your accent has changed,” she said.

  “Has it, then? I ha’ an odd knack for picking up cadences from the person I’m speaking with unless I take care no tae let m’self,” he added, his accent now thicker than ever. “Doubtless, I ha’ just picked up a bit o’ your pretty speech, lassie, for ye dinna talk like a common Border wench.”

  “I speak as Drusilla and Jelyan speak,” Elspeth said. “Sir Hector is a scholar, and he taught us all to speak properly.”

  “Ye ha’ two sisters, then. What be your name?”

  “They call me Elspeth,” she said, deciding it was unnecessary to explain to him that Drusilla and Jelyan were not her sisters. “What of you?”

  “Ye can call me Patrick,” he said. “That be sufficient.”

  “The men who seek you, what will they call you?”

  Again he chuckled. “Ye be too wise and too full o’ troublesome curiosity, sweetheart. It doesna matter what they will call me.”

  “It will matter if they seek you at Farnsworth Tower,” she pointed out, trying to ignore the way the casual endearment stirred her senses. “I am likely in trouble already for being away so long, and if they learn that a villain is running loose hereabouts, they will ask me all manner of questions. Did I not see or hear the dogs? Did I perchance see the man?” She grimaced. “I am not a good liar, sir.”

  “Then you must work to perfect your skill,” he said with a wry grin. “Believe me, practice makes nearly anything possible. I know that for a fact.”

  “Lying is not a skill that one should aim to improve,” she said curtly.

  He did not respond. Indeed, she thought he looked regretful, and the look stirred her sympathy. She wanted to smooth his furrowed brow, to make him smile again. She swallowed hard, mentally scolding herself as harshly as ever Lady Farnsworth or Drusilla had scolded her. Clearly, she had lost every ounce of good sense she possessed the moment she laid eyes on the villainous fugitive.

  She could not hear the dogs any longer, but the shrubbery rustled. A breeze had come up, and if it was blowing from the west as most breezes did in that area, it might well blow sounds of baying and barking away to the east.

  “What will you do now?” she asked when the silence began to hover uncomfortably between them.

  “I must think about that,” he said. “If ye be right, and them villains mean tae stay this side o’ the line for six whole days, I must go tae ground somewhere. I doubt I can get by wi’ posing as a traveler, wending me way north tae Stirling.”

  “Nay, you are too large to pass as a common Borderer. Moreover, everyone hereabouts knows nearly everyone else. Must you go to Stirling?”

  “Aye, in time, I must.”

  “The King’s birthday is in a fortnight, on Palm Sunday,” she said. “Because he and the Queen are expecting a new bairn to arrive before then, his birthday celebration is to be a grand fête to celebrate the child’s birth, too, so we and other Border families will travel to Stirling for the celebration. Travel will be safer for you then, I warrant.”

  “Aye, if I had a safe place tae stay and the fortitude tae wait that long.”

  Another idea stirred, but she rejected it, deciding that she had already been foolish enough for one day. Indeed, most sensible people would call her foolhardy to linger thus, chatting with a felon and confiding her family’s plans to him.

  “How far is it from here to Farnsworth Tower?” he asked.

  “Twenty minutes,” she said. “Less if I hurry.”

  “Will you tell them about me?”

  She hesitated, knowing it was her duty to warn everyone about a scoundrel in the area. If Drusilla, or even Jelyan, found out that she had kept such information to herself, she would face dire punishment. But try as she might, she could sense no danger in the man, and over the years she had learned to trust her instincts.

  “I’ll tell no one,” she said. “But I must go home.”

  “It should be safe now,” he said. “Listen for the dogs, though, and if ye hear them, make for an open space, preferably one wi’ a good many people about.”

  She nodded, and when he part
ed the bushes for her, she stepped past him, feeling energy from his body as she did. Glancing up at him, she opened her mouth to bid him farewell, and then shut it again, uncertain what to say.

  He smiled, revealing strong white teeth, and his eyes twinkled. “ ’Ware strangers, lass,” he warned.

  The absurdity of such a caution coming from him made her smile back. “I’ll be careful,” she said.

  “See that you are,” he said more sternly. “And, lassie, bind a ribbon round that plait when ye get home, lest ye be punished for untidiness.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, automatically responding to what was a common command to her.

  “And, lass…”

  Annoyance stirred, but she paused again, forcing patience. “Aye?”

  “Thank you,” he said gently. “I am greatly in your debt.”

  “Good-bye, sir,” she said, turning away without telling him he was welcome to her help, although doubtless it amounted to aiding and abetting a felon. But even with her back to the man, she could sense his strong vitality, and she did not want to leave him, not—or so she told herself—with danger possibly still at hand. Swiftly, she turned back, and without giving herself a chance to think more about what she was doing, she said, “Do you ken aught of falcons or hawks?”

  A flashing grin lit his face. “Aye, I ken all there be tae ken about them,” he said. “Why d’ye ask?”

  “Because Sir Hector’s falconer left a sennight ago, and presently Sir Hector has only one careless lad to look after his birds. You would need to know only as much as the lad knows, although it would not hurt to know more.”

  “I see that ye’re either hard o’ hearing, lass, or that ye ha’ the good sense no tae believe a man wha’ claims tae ken all there be tae ken, but I spake the truth. I warrant there be few men wha’ken as much as I do about birds o’ prey. I were raised wi’ such. Do ye mean tae hide me in a falconer’s cot?”

  “Ours had no cottage,” she said. “He dwelt in a small chamber near the kitchen. The mews contain no residence, only perches and twig cages for the birds.”

  “How many birds?”

  She shrugged. “I do not know exactly—three or four, I think. The lad warned Sir Hector that he might have to put one down. He said the bird bated and before he could control it, it broke two of its primaries. I am not entirely certain what all that means, but Sir Hector told him to wait a day or two.”

  “It means he startled the bird and in its panic it broke some feathers. Faith, though, he cannot mean to put down a gallant fellow or lass only because of that. I see that ye need me as much as I need your sanctuary, lass. By heaven, I’ll do it.”

  “Mercy, can you repair broken feathers?”

  “I can, and if ye be a good lass, I’ll show ye how tae do it yourself. But how will we introduce me fine skills tae Sir Hector? I canna walk home wi’ ye. ’Twould be tae shred your reputation an I did such a thing. In any event, I dinna ken what Sir Hector can be thinking, letting ye wander about at will like this.”

  “If you are going to scold, we will part at once and you can seek your own fortune,” she said tartly. “You are hardly in a position to preach good behavior.”

  “So ye’ve a temper, have ye? Well, sheathe it, lassie, because ye willna win any fratching contest wi’ me. Consider that I’ve only tae pick ye up and carry ye home bottom upward over me shoulder—”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “Would I not?” His feet were set apart, and now he hooked his thumbs over his sword belt and gazed at her sternly. A prickling awareness engulfed her, not that he would harm her but that he would carry out any threat he made.

  Choosing her words carefully, she said, “It would be wiser, I think, if you were to present yourself to Sir Hector later today. If you tell him that you heard at a tavern or some such place that his falconer had left unexpectedly and that, therefore, you decided to apply to replace him…”

  “Aye, that might suffice,” he said when she paused expectantly. “Be there any other odd detail that I should ken about the position?”

  She frowned. “I do not know much more about it myself.”

  “D’ye no ken why the last chap left, then?”

  Smiling sweetly, she said, “He was impertinent to Sir Hector’s daughter.”

  “Aye, sure, and bein’ that I’m an impertinent lad myself, ’tis a good thing ye had the foresight tae warn me.” He frowned, looking into her eyes as he added gently, “Now, tell me that it was yourself to whom the man dared be impertinent, and I’ll have yet more business to tend before I can leave for Stirling.”

  His accent had altered again, but she did not think it wise just then to point that out to him. Instead, she said, “He was not impertinent to me. Indeed, I doubt that the poor man was impertinent to anyone. Drusilla complained that he looked at her oddly and insisted that he be turned off.”

  “That would be the screecher, would it not?”

  “Aye.”

  “Farnsworth Tower sounds as if it harbors some pleasant folks,” he said. “Almost do I look forward tae spending some few days in their company.”

  “Understand me, sir,” she said. “I can be of no assistance to you in gaining employment there. You must speak to Sir Hector, and you must not mention me.”

  “I ken that fine, lass. Dinna fash yourself, for I’ll no betray ye. I’ll hope tae see ye again, though, so I can show ye how tae mend a feather properly.”

  She smiled but wondered if she had lost her senses. Doubtless, she had accomplished nothing more than the potential introduction of a murderer into the Farnsworth household. The thought widened her smile. Whatever he was, she was certain the man was no murderer. Nor was he what he claimed to be, however. She wondered if she would learn who he really was before he had to leave.

  Brown Claud gave a sigh of relief. “That went well, dinna ye think?”

  “Aye,” Lucy Fittletrot said, wriggling closer. “Ye were that clever, Claud, but ye couldna ha’ done it wi’out me.”

  “Aye, lass, ’twas a grand day when I found ye dancing on the green.”

  “But I dinna ken why ye’d want tae match the lass up wi’ a man she doesna ken,” Lucy said. “Seems impulsive tae my way o’ thinking.”

  “Aye, well, but ye dinna ken all that has gone afore,” Claud said glibly. “ ’Twas amazing and all how ye kent where tae find our Bessie when I’d searched two-thirds o’ the Borders for her. The while, sithee, I ha’ been keeping an eye on other parties wha’ may ha’ some connection tae her.”

  “That man Patrick be one?”

  “Aye, o’ a sort. Moreover, he’ll look after the lass till I can think what tae do next. I’ll wager me mam will be proud I thought o’ that, when I tell her.”

  “Ah, Claud, she will, for ye be a gey clever lad,” Lucy murmured in his ear as she leaned close to nibble it.

  He chuckled and put his arm around her. “I am that, lass,” he said. “I’ll just show ye how clever, too, now that we ha’ a bit o’ time tae ourselves.”

  Chapter 3

  Sir Patrick MacRae watched Elspeth hurrying northward through the woods. Then, swiftly and silently, he followed her, wanting to make sure she reached her destination safely. As he went, he marked his trail, taking care not to let her see him and hoping that he had judged her motives accurately.

  The thought that she might be laying a trap for him was not one he could afford to set aside in favor of a pair of beautiful eyes and an innocent air. For all he knew, she suspected him of even more dastardly deeds than those of which he was guilty and would betray him the moment she got home.

  He had heard of Sir Hector Farnsworth but knew little about him. If the man served as clerk for Truce Day meetings, one could suppose he believed in the rule of law, but Patrick had heard the Earl of Angus speak Sir Hector’s name.

  If Sir Hector had allied himself with Angus, and if the English soldiers presently inflicting their presence on an undeserving Scottish countryside should demand that he turn hi
s new falconer over to them for questioning, Patrick would be sped. And so, too, would the mission that had taken him into England and now brought him to the Scottish Borders. On the other hand, if he could gather proof that Sir Hector was a traitor without being caught, the information might serve him well.

  In any event, Elspeth was a bonny lass, and he certainly did not regret meeting her. Not only did he have a keen eye for beauty but she had also stirred a protective instinct in him that had lain dormant since the day he had left his laird and lady confined at Stirling Castle.

  Having been helpless to prevent the King from taking Mackenzie of Kintail hostage and transporting him and other Highland chiefs and chieftains aboard the royal ship to Dunbarton and thence to Stirling, Patrick had thrown himself into making all safe at Eilean Donan. He had felt helpless again, however, in the face of Molly’s continued determination to join her husband in confinement. Deciding to ride to Stirling himself to test Cardinal Beaton’s scarcely veiled offer to help, he had agreed to take Molly with him, knowing she was fully capable of traveling by herself if he refused and that Fin would have his head if anything happened to her.

  When Patrick took leave of them at the castle, he had said nothing about his intention to speak with Beaton. And, even now, should they learn that he was in the Borders, they would assume that he had traveled there from Eilean Donan to see to things at Dunsithe Castle, the property Molly had brought to the Kintail holdings upon her marriage. Located in the west march less than thirty miles from where he stood, Dunsithe was her inheritance from her father and thus now belonged to Fin.

  As these thoughts passed through his mind, Patrick followed Elspeth unseen, then watched from the woods as she hurried toward a distant tower surrounded by a stone stockade. When she was safe inside, he returned to the cave, thinking hard.

  What information he had gleaned during eight months of spying for the cardinal in England—his eminence’s price for Kintail’s freedom—would only reinforce Beaton’s belief that Henry the Eighth sought to bring all Scotland under his greedy thumb. So, before Patrick left the Borders, he needed at least to confirm his suspicions about Sir Hector Farnsworth or prove them wrong.