The Secret Clan: The Complete Series

by Amanda Scott

  “Hello, Thunder,” he said. “Where have you been hiding?”

  The dog wagged its tail, and Patrick felt oddly comforted by its presence. That feeling disappeared, however, when he reached Cambuskenneth only to be informed by the porter that his eminence had retired for the night.

  Declaring that he would return at first light, Patrick remounted and, with Thunder again at his side, returned to the castle. This time, he headed for Kintail’s chambers and, finding no guard on duty, tried the latch. The door was bolted, however, so he pounded on it as loudly as the cardinal’s men had pounded on his.

  “Fin, open up! It’s Patrick!”

  He heard the bolt slamming back, and then the door opened and Fin Mackenzie stood glowering at him, hair standing on end, a blanket carelessly wrapped around his waist, looking as wild as anyone had called him, “What’s amiss?” he demanded curtly.

  “Let me in,” Patrick said, pushing past him. “Where’s Molly?”

  “Where do you think, damn you?”

  “Call her.”

  “Devil take you, Patrick, you’d best have a good reason for this.”

  “What is it, Patrick?” Molly said from the bedchamber doorway. She wore her bedgown, and her hair was in its usual tumble, but she looked wide wake.

  Reluctant to tell her what he suspected, now that he was face-to-face with her, he looked helplessly at Fin.

  Kintail frowned. “Tell us,” he said.

  “Beaton has Bessie,” Patrick said bluntly.

  “Where?” they demanded, speaking as one.

  Putting a protective arm around Molly, Fin added, “How do you know?”

  “I didn’t know at first,” Patrick said, shoving a hand through his hair. “They called her Elspeth Douglas, but I’m as sure as I can be that she’s your sister, Molly. I don’t know how I failed to see it at once.”

  “See what, Patrick?” Molly’s face was pale, her eyes wide, and the skin around her lips was white and drawn.

  “You look just like her,” he muttered. “That is, she looks like you.” Seeing Fin’s countenance harden, and recognizing the look all too well, he added hastily, “Her eyes are exactly like yours, although perhaps a trifle greener. She has the same long, thick, dark lashes. She is thinner than you, perhaps an inch taller, and her hair is flaxen but as straight as can be and as fine as silk. Doubtless, it was her hair that kept me from seeing how alike the two of you are, that and the fact that your clothing is more colorful and much more fashionable than hers.”

  “Is her clothing so drab?” Molly asked.

  Both men looked at her.

  Glancing from one to the other, she said defensively, “Well, perhaps it is not the most important detail, but it was an odd thing for you to say.”

  Gently, Patrick said, “She was not raised with the advantages you had, but she speaks like a gentlewoman and has a gentlewoman’s quiet dignity.”

  Molly looked at Fin, and something in the look stirred Patrick’s curiosity. “What is it?” he said.

  Molly opened her mouth but shut it when Fin shook his head.

  Before Patrick could repeat his demand, Fin said, “Do you honestly think this lass can be Bessie Gordon?”

  “Bessie Gordon! You have found my Bessie?”

  So engrossed had they been in their conversation that none of the three had noted the arrival of a fourth person in the still open doorway.

  “Mother!” Molly cried, flinging herself into the arms of a smiling Nell Percy.

  Chapter 20

  Despite knowing he could do nothing that night to free Beth, Patrick chafed at the few moments of reunion delight, as Molly and Nell hugged, exclaimed, and flung questions at each other.

  “Where did you spring from?” Molly demanded. “You have not written since you left for England, and we feared the worst.”

  “Well, death would be the worst, but it was bad enough,” Nell said dryly. “Angus would not let me leave or write to you. He was furious because his plan to ally his forces and Henry’s with Donald the Grim had failed, and he blamed me for what he called the whole disaster.”

  “But it was not your fault,” Molly said.

  Nell had left the door open, and as Fin shut it, he said, “Did Angus tell you what really became of Bessie, madam?”

  “He still insists that she is dead, but I did not believe him, and now… Did I not hear you say you have found her, Sir Patrick?”

  “I believe so,” Patrick said cautiously, looking from one to the other and trying to imagine if Nell’s arrival affected the odds of rescuing Beth. He still wondered, too, what had made Fin and Molly look at each other so oddly. That there was a mystery was evident, but what it concerned was not.

  With tears in her voice, Nell said, “Where is she, sir?”

  He did not want to tell her. He wanted to rescue Beth first and bring her safely to them. Instead, the news he had would plunge her into the same abyss of terror that he inhabited, and there was nothing they could do to save her if he could not persuade Beaton to let her go. A cloud of pessimism settled in him as he looked at his two best friends and Beth’s mother. Molly and Fin clearly wanted him to answer her question, and the silence had grown heavy.

  Gathering himself, he said quietly, “Cardinal Beaton’s men have her. I do not know where they took her. I did not think to ask, which was stupid of me.”

  Nell clutched her breast, bereft of speech.

  “But why did they take her?” Molly demanded. “What can Bessie have done to attract the notice of such men?”

  “She calls herself Beth now,” he said. “She remembers dreams, she said, of a place where people called her ‘Bethie.’ ”

  “Merciful heaven, she really is our Bessie,” Nell said, tears streaming down her face. “She called herself ‘Bethie’ from the start. She had the most adorable lisp.” Her voice broke, and she looked helplessly at Patrick.

  “But what did she do, Patrick?” Molly’s voice revealed her rising temper.

  Realizing that any answer he gave would be fraught with peril, he hesitated, uncertain how much to reveal about Beth’s activities, and his own.

  “Did they arrest her?” Fin asked bluntly.

  “Aye,” Patrick said, grateful for a direct question to answer.

  “What are the charges?”

  Not so grateful now, he drew a deep breath, and then said, “They charged her with witchcraft and treason against the King.”

  Molly cried out, and Nell swayed. Fin caught her as her knees gave way.

  “I’ll carry her into the other room,” he said. “You come, too, lass, so you can look after her.”

  “No,” Nell said, clutching his arm. “I must hear all that Patrick has to say.”

  “I’m not leaving, either,” Molly said with a speaking look at her husband. “How could they charge her with such crimes, Patrick? What could she possibly have done to make them think her either a witch or a traitor?”

  “She did nothing, and they did not explain,” he replied harshly. “They came, they banged on the door, and they arrested her. I could do nothing to prevent it.”

  “What door?” Fin asked as he steadied Nell on her feet again and kept a firm hand under her elbow.

  “My door,” Patrick said curtly. “Do you not want to sit down, madam?”

  “No,” Nell said.

  All three of them regarded him with intense curiosity.

  Molly’s eyes narrowed, but she said with commendable calm, “Perhaps you had better begin at the beginning, Patrick. How did you find her?’

  He looked at Fin. “I was on the run,” he said. “You all know how I nearly came to grief at Midgeholme.”

  When Nell smiled ruefully, he knew that she was recovering her poise.

  “You also told us that you stayed with Sir Hector Farnsworth,” Molly said.

  “Aye, and that is when I met her. They called her Elspeth.”

  Nell frowned. “Elspeth. Now, why does that name tug at my memory?”

&n
bsp; “She believes she is Angus’s daughter,” Patrick said, watching her to see if that information would help. “They told her that her mother was a serving maid.”

  “Angus’s daughter,” Nell murmured. “One of his ‘accidents.’ That is what I said she was.” Looking at Patrick with dawning horror, she said, “A large woman, common as dirt, with outrageous wigs and a strident voice. She’s got two homely daughters and talks incessantly.”

  “Aye, that would be Lady Farnsworth right enough,” Patrick said. “One of those daughters has the voice of an eldritch. How do you know her?”

  Nell’s chin was trembling, and she clutched one hand with the other. “I met her here at Stirling when I came in search of Molly, but that woman cannot have known the truth,” she added in a choked voice. “No one could be so cruel.”

  “What are you talking about?” Molly demanded, touching Nell’s arm.

  But Nell was looking at Patrick. “The girl was their maidservant, pale and thin. That horrid woman even sent her to me with a message, bidding me farewell as I was leaving for the Highlands. That wretched woman said she was Angus’s bastard child, that he had given her to them to raise. Why did I not see it then?”

  “You thought she was dead,” Molly reminded her. “We all thought so then, because Angus told everyone she was.” She looked at Fin, and Patrick saw the same awareness flash between them that he had seen before.

  “But I never believed that,” Nell said with a sob. “And I should have known my own daughter!”

  “Do you remember visiting us at Dunsithe, madam?” Molly asked gently in what seemed a non sequitur to Patrick.

  Nell frowned, clearly thinking the same. “When you and Kintail went there to inspect the estates you inherited?”

  Molly nodded, but Patrick saw her cast another look at Fin.

  “Of course, I remember,” Nell said. “That was shortly before I rode back to Cumberland to rejoin Angus and tell him his erstwhile ally, Donald the Grim, had died before I reached the Highlands. Not that Angus cared a straw. He cared only that I had failed.”

  Molly bit her lower lip, looking ruefully at Patrick.

  Fin said, “Tell us more about this lass, Patrick. Persuade me that she is who you believe her to be.”

  Irritation gnawed at Patrick, but habit and duty kept his tone even. “She is no witch, Fin, nor has she committed treason.”

  “But just how well do you know her, my friend? Did I misunderstand you, or did they arrest her in your chamber?”

  “You did not misunderstand me,” Patrick said, avoiding Molly’s sharp gaze.

  She said grimly, “I expect you thought she was just another maidservant to add to your collection.”

  It was close enough to the truth of how he had felt at first about Beth that he felt heat firing his cheeks, but he faced Molly, knowing he could delay no longer before speaking the whole truth. “She has become much more than that,” he said, and emotion welled within him as he said it, telling him that he was speaking more truth than even he had known. “She is my wife, Molly.”

  Stunned silence greeted him.

  “Thank God,” Nell said, recovering first.

  But Patrick watched Kintail, and when that gentleman frowned heavily, he braced himself.

  Molly spoke before Fin did, saying, “How? Where?”

  “By declaration, at the ball,” Patrick replied, still watching Kintail.

  “Explain yourself,” he snapped.

  Patrick did, and to his surprise and relief, no one interrupted. He began at the beginning and told them everything. Molly and Nell exclaimed aloud when he told them Beth had run away from Farnsworth to follow him, but Fin merely gestured for him to continue. And when he lingered too long on his description of Jock and his companions, and the training of Zeus, another impatient gesture recalled him hastily. When he described the King’s ball, he told them only that she had borrowed a gown and attended, that he had danced with her, and that Lady Farnsworth had recognized her and had reported to Beaton’s men that Beth had bewitched him.

  When he finished, Fin said, “That’s all?”

  “Aye, most of it,” Patrick said glibly. “I doubt I’ve left out anything of importance.” With the one small exception, of course, that his Beth never explained where she got her fine clothing and jewelry.

  Molly and Fin exchanged another look.

  She said, “Are you sure, Patrick? Did Beth never say anything about—”

  “Molly,” Fin said warningly.

  She looked at him, nibbled her lip, then looked at Patrick again. “Did she never do things or ask you questions that struck you as being odd?”

  Patrick tried to think of anything that fit the description, but he could think of nothing other than that the lass might be a thief, a detail he would reveal to no one until he learned the truth. He shook his head. “We talked of many things,” he said, “but I don’t recall anything especially peculiar.”

  Molly persisted. “Then, is there aught about her that seems unusual?”

  He shrugged. “She has a deft hand with birds of prey—with all animals, come to that. She told me that none had ever bitten or scratched her. Why do you keep looking at each other like that?” he demanded when they exchanged yet another of those odd looks.

  Molly ignored his question, saying, “You said she speaks well, Patrick. Did she seem educated?”

  “Aye, she said Sir Hector taught her when he taught his daughters.”

  Molly nodded.

  “Does she speak only broad Scot?”

  He stared at her. “I’d forgotten,” he said. “When I said… a Gaelic phrase, she understood it. She said she must have heard it before.”

  “That may be true, of course,” Fin said.

  “Dancing,” Patrick said. “That’s another thing. She danced the galliard tonight as if she’d been taking lessons since birth. That’s devilish peculiar, now that I come to think about it.”

  Nell had been watching them, silently looking from one to the other. “Why are you quizzing him like this?” she asked. “Everyone dances, but Gaelic is spoken only in the Highlands. Bessie must have met a Highlander, that’s all.”

  Patrick found himself rejecting that notion out of hand. He could not accept the idea that another man, let alone another Highlander, had called her his heart.

  Molly said, “We’ve got to tell him, Fin. There is something else. I know it.”

  “Aye,” Fin said, “I see that much for myself, but we’ll not do it together, lass. You remember what she said would happen if we talk of this. Mayhap if only one of us does, the other will continue to remember.”

  She frowned. “I don’t know,” she said. “We discussed no rules.”

  “Only the one,” he said.

  Frustrated, and feeling his temper stir, Patrick said, “What the devil are you talking about?”

  Fin glanced at him, and the look reminded Patrick that he was not the only one there with a temper, but he no longer cared. “Tell me,” he said.

  “We must,” Molly agreed.

  Fin said, “Take your mother into the other room, lass. I’ll tell him everything I can remember.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t argue with me. I’ll also get out of him whatever it is he’s been concealing from us.”

  A twinge of guilt stirred in Patrick, and he avoided Molly’s gaze.

  She said quietly to her husband, “It is true that he is more likely to tell you than me. Come, madam, we will leave them to talk.”

  “But I want to know what they say!”

  “They will tell us later,” Molly promised. “Presently, we must put our heads together and think how to help Bessie, although I suppose we must call her Beth now. There must be something we can do.”

  “I’ll talk to Jamie,” Nell said bluntly. “He will listen to me if he will listen to anyone, and cardinal or no cardinal, Jamie is still King.”

  “We’ll discuss that,” Molly said, firmly leading her from the room.r />
  When the door had shut behind them, Patrick drew a deep breath and turned to face Kintail. He expected a blunt, angry demand to reveal everything he had left out, so it was with surprise that he saw Fin smile ruefully.

  “This is a mess,” he said.

  “Aye,” Patrick agreed warily. He said no more, deciding his best course was to let Fin take the lead until he saw where things were going.

  Fin cleared his throat, looking oddly reluctant to proceed. Then, with a grimace, he said, “Doubtless, you’ve heard tales about the gift of second sight.”

  “Aye, I’ve heard the legends,” Patrick said, truly bewildered now. “Some even say the lairds of Kintail were once blessed with the gift.”

  “Cursed with it would be a more apt description,” Fin said. “It certainly did my father no good if he possessed it.”

  “He did not,” Patrick said firmly. “Had he possessed it, surely he would have known of the trap Donald laid for him and his men, and he would have survived, but I don’t see what the devil this has to do with Beth.”

  “I know you don’t, but if you think you can take that tone with me—”

  “I’ll apologize for the tone, but for God’s sake, man, if you’ve an explanation to make, make it!”

  “Faith, you’re in love with the lass!”

  It was on the tip of Patrick’s tongue to deny it, but he did not. Instead, he said, “She is my wife, Fin, in every sense of the word.”

  “Aye, but marriage and love do not always go hand in hand.”

  “Fin, for the love of God—”

  “Aye, you’re right, but this is not easy for me, either. It is not just a matter of the sight, Patrick, but concerns the wee people, as well.”

  “If you don’t cease talking nonsense—”

  “But it is not nonsense. I once thought it was, but I learned my error, and a good thing, too. Do you recall how skilled Molly is with a bow and arrow?”