The Secret Clan: The Complete Series

by Amanda Scott

  “Ye bedded the lass, did ye no?”

  An ominous note in the man’s voice stirred icy fingers between Claud’s shoulder blades. Terrified, he nodded.

  Tom Tit Tot clapped him on the shoulder so hard he nearly knocked him off his feet. “I applaud ye for testing the lass’s value first,” he said, “but she’s a right tae see she’s no got herself a loony, so we’ll ha’ a wee test o’ your wits, we will.”

  “I dinna mind,” Claud said, feeling a glimmer of hope. Had his mother and others not assured him since birth that he was nowt but a witless dobby? “What will I ha’ tae do?” he asked.

  “Nobbut tell me my true name, lad. That be all there be about it.”

  Bewildered, Claud said, “Lucy said your name be Tom Tit Tot.”

  The man laughed. “Aye, sure, many do call me that, but me true name be summat different, and I’ll wager a sharp lad like yourself will soon sort it out.”

  “What if I canna do it?” Claud asked, clinging to hope.

  “Why, if ye dinna win my Lucy, I’ll report ye tae the Circle for your dissolute ways and ha’ ye given over tae the Host for them tae mind.”

  Terror ripped through Claud. He feared the wicked Host more than anything.

  “Ye wouldna do such a terrible thing!”

  “Aye, but I would, and ye’d spend the rest o’ your days flying wi’ other lost souls through endless night, in endless pain, till ye atone for your sins. Or ye can exert yourself tae solve the wee puzzle I’ve set ye. Which will it be?”

  “Ye ken fine which it’ll be,” Claud muttered wretchedly.

  “Then back ye go tae the dancing wi’ Lucy. Enjoy yourself, laddie!”

  Beth watched Patrick as he executed a series of caprioles and entrechats. He was the handsomest man in the line and one of the most skilled. His sister danced well, too. She knew which one she was, because she had seen them together and had decided from the way Patrick frowned and spoke that either the girl was his sister or the wretched man scolded every woman with whom he had acquaintance.

  Beth was glad she need only stand and sway in time to the music, and watch individual dancers display their skill. It was odd that she had seemed to know all the steps and patterns, because she had never danced before—not like this, at all events. It occurred to her that when she attended village reels and festivals she had always seemed to know what to do, too, but no one had danced the galliard at those events.

  Barbara’s partner was dancing now, grinning lazily at Patrick, daring him to match his high back- and side-kicks. Beth expected him to let Patrick take his place, but instead the gentleman stopped in front of her and bowed, holding out his hand.

  Taking hold of it, she threw a saucy grin at Patrick and allowed the man, clearly his friend, to skip her down to the end of the room and back. They stopped halfway back and she easily matched her new partner’s flurry of intricate steps, laughing at the astonishment on his face and Patrick’s when she did. As her partner guided her back to her place, she suddenly met Drusilla’s incredulous gaze.

  Beth stared back, her mouth agape. Although she had known all along that the Farnsworths were all at the ball, she had been enjoying the dancing so much that she had forgotten the risk she took merely by attending.

  She glanced at Patrick and saw that he, too, had seen Drusilla. Although his expression revealed less dismay than she knew her own must show, she could tell he was furious, and not for a moment did she think his fury was aimed at Drusilla.

  The dancing continued, the pace fast and furious, but the music stopped at last, and thanks to the great energy required by the galliard, most dancers stayed where they were for a few minutes to catch their breath. A blast on a ceremonial horn brought quiet, whereupon the Lord Lyon King of Arms announced the Queen’s arrival, and the company turned and bowed to her as she entered and took her place beside the King. Then one of the Lord Lyon’s minions declared that entertainers would amuse the company while supper tables were set up in the hall.

  “We’re leaving,” Patrick muttered to Beth. One hand grasped her upper arm, leaving her no choice but to go with him unless she wanted to scream and take whatever assistance came her way. Since that course was unacceptable, she allowed him to take her away from the dancers before she dug in her heels.

  “Do you not need to look after your sister?”

  “Don’t tempt me with that innocent look,” he growled. “If I were to give way to temptation, I’d put you over my knee right here and beat you soundly.”

  The look in his eyes told her he meant it. Nevertheless, she said, “I came here of my own accord, sir. I will leave when I am ready, and certainly not before I enjoy my supper. If you do not want to sup with me, I shall find another partner.”

  “I should let you have your way,” he said. “Do you think Drusilla did not recognize you? I saw her expression, just as you did.”

  “She will not challenge me here,” Beth said. “And when she returns to her room and finds me there, she will decide she was mistaken to think she saw me.”

  Expecting him to argue, she was surprised when he did not and instead let his glance slide past her. A prickling between her shoulder blades warned her just before Lady Farnsworth said, “I thought Drusilla must be mad to think she had seen you two dancing, but I see she still has her wits about her. How dare you, the pair of you, sneak in here to dance with your betters?”

  Gasping, Beth turned. Finding herself face-to-face with both Lady Farnsworth and Drusilla, she knew her pleasant evening was over.

  Chapter 18

  “Just one moment, Lady Farnsworth,” Patrick said curtly, striving to control his flaring temper.

  “Do not fling your insolence at me, falconer,” she snapped. “You may have fooled others with your idiot’s tale of being highborn, but you do not fool me. You deserve flogging, sirrah! As for you, my girl,” she added, grabbing Beth by an arm, “just see what you will get!”

  Smirking at Beth, Drusilla said, “You will be very sorry, I think.”

  “Release her, madam,” Patrick said in a voice that drew notice from bystanders. “You forget yourself.”

  “I forget myself?” Lady Farnsworth glared at him, but when he glared right back, she lost some of her haughty assurance.

  “You’d be wise to listen,” he said, “before you do something you’ll regret.”

  Lady Farnsworth swallowed visibly. “Very well,” she said, releasing Beth.

  Drusilla protested. “Mother, you cannot mean to overlook this!”

  Ignoring her, Patrick said to Lady Farnsworth, “You have been acting under a misapprehension, madam. I am a Highland knight, my ranking senior to your husband’s. When you and he gave me shelter, I was serving Cardinal Beaton and my own laird, Mackenzie of Kintail. My name is Patrick MacRae of Ardintoul.”

  “Beaton’s knight!” Her eyes narrowed. “Then one should more properly call you Sir Patrick, I expect.”

  “One should. Now unhand that lady.”

  “Lady! Knight or no, sir, you overstep the mark, for Elspeth Douglas is my servant, and I promise you, I mean to deal with her as she deserves.”

  Douglas! Patrick wondered why Beth had not told him, but her white face and the scared look she shot him reminded him that she had once claimed to be an earl’s daughter, and more pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

  Putting his arm around her and drawing her close, he said, “If you believe she is Elspeth Douglas, daughter of a servant woman and the Earl of Angus, I can assure you that she is no more his daughter than your Drusilla is.”

  Rendered speechless for once, Drusilla managed only an indignant squeak, but Lady Farnsworth said, “You are mad, sir. Doubtless the truth is that you and this slut have both stolen your finery and deserve to be punished for your thievery and for your wanton ways, as well. Even if all you say is true, you have helped her run away from home and have doubtless lain with her every night since. I do recall, after all, why my husband dismissed you.”

  S
truggling to control his fury, Patrick snapped, “I have never lain with her.”

  “Doubtless, you have paid others handsomely to swear to that, but I shall soon have the truth out of Elspeth. See if I do not.”

  “You will not lay a hand on her!”

  “Indeed, and who will stop me? She is mine to treat as I please.”

  “No, she is not!” Patrick clenched his hands, wanting to throttle the woman.

  “You are mad,” Lady Farnsworth said flatly. “If she is not the same Elspeth Douglas whom we have sheltered all these years, then who is she?”

  She would not believe him if he told her what he believed, and if she did not, he might be unable to stop her from taking Beth away and doing heaven-knew-what to her before he could rescue her. He knew only one way to do that now.

  “She is Lady MacRae,” he said curtly. “In short, she is my wife.”

  “Don’t be absurd.” Lady Farnsworth sneered. “If you have never lain with her, that cannot be true!”

  “It is perfectly true,” he said. Raising his voice, he added, “I do hereby swear and declare to you and to all else who hear my words that I am her husband.”

  “By heaven, then,” she declared, “the heathenish slut has bewitched you!”

  Stunned by Patrick’s declaration, Beth gaped at him, but neither he nor Lady Farnsworth paid her any heed. Both furious, they glowered at each other.

  Drusilla was watching Beth, however, and when Beth glanced at her, the older girl said, “I believe Mother is right. You have bewitched him. How else could you have come by such clothing and jewels? And what of that huge dog that came to my uncle’s house? I have never seen his like, and yet he lets you pet him and even followed us to the castle today. Who… or more to the point, what are you?”

  “Pray, Drusilla, do not talk wicked nonsense,” Beth begged. “Someone lent me these clothes, and the dog is just a stray that followed us to Stirling.”

  She saw Patrick glance her way, but Lady Farnsworth reclaimed his attention by demanding to know when they had married.

  “That is no longer your affair, madam,” Patrick said. “We are leaving now.”

  He still had his arm around Beth’s shoulders, and without a murmur, she let him take her away. Stunned by his declaration, she would not have known what to say even if she could summon breath to speak. Only when she saw that they had reached the vestibule did she offer a demur.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  Instead of replying to her question, he said, “What nonsense was that fool girl prating about Thunder? He ran from Jock and we’ve not seen him since.”

  “He came to St. Mary’s Wynd,” Beth said. “But it was nonsense all the same. She is more curious to know where I got these clothes and jewels.”

  “I own, lass, I want to know the answer to that, myself.”

  “I cannot tell you,” she said. “I know you must be angry that I never told you Angus is my father, and I do apologize for deceiving you, but I promised I would tell no one how I got these things.”

  “You will, though, before we are much older,” he said with a stern look that sent a shiver up her spine. Although he did not press her then to answer him, she knew he soon would, and she was not looking forward to it. He would doubtless have unpleasant things to say about her Douglas heritage as well.

  They reached the exit, and a guard courteously opened the doors for them. Outside on the step, she stopped and faced Patrick.

  “You should not have lied to them, sir. Lady Farnsworth will flay me.”

  “You are not returning to that tigress’s den.”

  “But I must. I must at least be there to help Drusilla and Jelyan undress,” she added, remembering that Maggie had said she would not otherwise answer for the consequences, and fearing to find herself suddenly wearing nothing but her smock.

  “I know you want to protect me,” she said as they crossed the torchlit inner close, “but despite what you said to her, you can do naught to shield me. At least I can now say I have attended a royal ball.”

  “You are not going back to them, lass,” he said. “You are staying with me. There are things you do not know, and we must talk.”

  She hesitated, resisting, but saw by his expression that he would not change his mind. Reminding herself that Maggie had said only that her clothing would disappear if she revealed its source, and recalling that supper had just begun, she decided she could risk more time with Patrick before facing any Farnsworths.

  “Lucy, we ha’ tae go back,” Claud said desperately.

  “Dinna fash yourself,” she said, grinning. “Ye’ll sort it all out.” She kissed him hard, moving her hands over his body in a way that normally would have distracted him from anything else. Now, it merely frustrated him.

  “Summat’s amiss,” he said. “I can feel it! We must go back straightaway.”

  With an exasperated sigh, she said, “Very well.”

  The next thing he knew they were sitting side by side on the royal dais, gazing upon a host of merrymakers, who were enjoying a splendid supper.

  “Where is she?” Claud demanded.

  “Oh, come along then, and we’ll find her,” Lucy snapped.

  Having allowed Patrick to take her into the King’s House and upstairs to the second-floor landing, Beth turned toward the next flight.

  “Here, lass,” he said with a touch on her arm. “My chamber lies this way.” Moving his hand to the small of her back, he hurried her along the corridor.

  At his door, she balked. “I cannot go in there with you! ’Tis unseemly.”

  “You can, and it is perfectly proper,” he said. “Did I not, moments ago, declare you to be my wife?”

  “Aye,” she said, managing a smile despite her roiling emotions. “But that was not real, sir, and much as I enjoyed playing the grand lady, I must now return to my place. You are far above my touch, Sir Patrick, farther even than I believed.”

  He shrugged. “Even if we did spring from different stations in life, it would not matter now,” he said. “By Scottish law, when a man makes a declaration of marriage before witnesses and the woman does not deny it, they are as married as any couple united by a priest. And as my legal wife, it is entirely proper—nay, it is your wifely duty,” he added with a smile, “to enter my bedchamber.”

  Beth stared at him, astonished at the heat surging through her and the ache of yearning that accompanied it. She wanted to believe him more than she had ever wanted anything, but everything that had happened in the past few hours seemed unreal. Surely, it was all a result of Maggie Malloch’s contriving, or that of others of her ilk, and when it ended, Beth would still have to face Lady Farnsworth’s fury.

  “I… I can’t do it,” she said, forcing the words past an ache that threatened to close her throat. “I want to, but it would not be right.”

  Much more than an hour had passed since Nell had entered the King’s chamber, removed her clothing, and climbed naked into the royal bed, but James had not come to her. Still, she knew he would expect her to stay unless he sent someone with orders to the contrary, so she curled up at last and slept.

  “Look yonder, Lucy,” Claud said when they had searched nearly the entire great hall without seeing Beth or Sir Patrick. “See that old besom yonder, talking wi’ the chap in scarlet livery? Isna that the woman my lass were livin’ wi’?”

  “Aye, and she looks agitated. We’d best hear wha’ they be saying, I think.”

  With that, the two of them whisked close enough to hear Lady Farnsworth say haughtily, “The villain claims she is his wife, but I believe the slut has bewitched him. Something must be done.”

  “Come with me, madam,” the man said. “My captain will want to hear this.”

  “By my troth, what a calumnious virago!” Claud snarled.

  Lucy blinked. “Calumnious?”

  “Aye, and that’s our lass she be defaming. Hurry, Lucy!”

  “D’ye no want tae hear what she says tae that captain?”<
br />
  “Nay, ’cause by then we may be too late!”

  Patrick did not want to stand arguing at the threshold of his room. His first inclination had been to take Beth to Molly, but the hour was late, and he wanted to talk to them before they met. He was nearly certain now that Beth was Molly’s missing sister, but he knew he needed proof before anyone else would believe it, and he had no idea what that proof might be unless Angus could be made to speak, and that was unlikely. It was therefore essential that he question Beth more thoroughly about her past before he did anything else.

  Lady Farnsworth’s charge that Beth had bewitched him had stirred a prickling of danger, the sort of instinctive warning he had learned never to ignore, and wanting to get her away from the great hall quickly, he had not thought much beyond that point. In fact, not until after he had made his declaration did he recognize the enormous consequences of that impulse.

  What Kintail would think of it he did not want to consider. Fin was a good friend, but he was Laird of Kintail first and Molly’s husband second, and he would put both factors ahead of anything Patrick might want. By tradition, he should have gained Fin’s permission before offering marriage to anyone, and he had not even considered it. If Beth was indeed Molly’s sister, all would be well. If not…

  His declared marriage was legal, but he knew that anyone with enough power could undo it until the marriage was consummated. That meant there was only one way to protect Beth, but the chance that she would agree seemed slim. The thought of bedding her stirred his loins. What he really wanted to do was to hold her close and promise her all would be well, but the likelihood of that seemed slim, too.

  Hearing voices from the other end of the corridor, he grabbed her arm, pushed open his door, and urged her inside.

  “They are here,” Claud said with relief as he and Lucy flitted into the corridor. “I just saw him whisk her into his chamber.”

  “Aye, but who be coming up the stairs? Be it them men we saw below?”