by Amanda Scott
Bab’s arrival at Gorthleck House, home of Malcolm and Fiona Mackintosh, the friends of Lord and Lady Chisholm with whom they were to pass the night, was the cause of profound relief and delight, particularly after she assured her hostess and Lady Chisholm that she was unharmed.
“I vow, I should not have known what to say to Sir Patrick had you not returned safely to us, my dear,” Lady Chisholm exclaimed, hugging her. “I was terrified, and I promise you, his lordship wanted to send men at once to look for you, and he would have had those villains not threatened to murder us all if anyone so much as stirred a foot to do so.”
“I am just glad to see that you are all safe,” Bab said sincerely.
“You have had a dreadful ordeal,” Fiona Mackintosh exclaimed. She was a slender woman of an age with Lady Chisholm. Her personality was effervescent and her delight in Bab’s safe arrival at Gorthleck House was warm and sincere.
“Indeed we have,” Lady Chisholm agreed. “Only two of our men were injured, and neither seriously, I’m glad to say.”
His lordship entered with his host and the Mackintoshes’ son Eric, to express their relief at Bab’s safety, so the subject was changed, and later, when his lordship asked how she had escaped, she said calmly, “A stranger intervened, and I was able to get away, my lord. Fortunately, her ladyship had told me where you meant to pass the night, so I rode until I found the path that led to this house. I can tell you,” she added with a laugh, “I was prodigiously relieved to learn from the guards at the gate that you were actually here.”
The deceitful answer tugged at her conscience, but something told her the Fox would be safer if she did not tell all and sundry that he was in the vicinity. Doubtless, Francis Dalcross was ripe for murder, and as his father’s deputy, he must command any number of men-at-arms, so the less he knew or could learn about the Fox’s movements, the better.
Another mental vision stirred to tickle her sense of the ridiculous, for it presented her with a picture of Francis, striding up naked to a group of his armed men and ordering them to ride out at once in search of the Fox and not return until they could bring him the man’s masked head on a pikestaff.
Exhausted from her long day, she excused herself after supper and went to bed, barely exchanging more than a few words with her waiting woman, despite that worthy’s clear desire to learn every detail of the afternoon adventure.
“All you need know of it, Giorsal, is that Dalcross did nothing horrid and I am safe and sound,” Bab said crisply when the woman persisted in her questions.
“Aye, Mistress Bab, mayhap that be true, but when ye returned, ye had the odd look about ye, and no the sort a lass usually has when she ha’ been abducted.”
“Have you known so many abducted women, then?” she asked, grinning.
As Giorsal sputtered her insistence that it was no such thing but only worry about her mistress, Bab said, “I had an adventure, that’s all. If he had harmed me, I’d have cause to look glum, but since he did not…” She shrugged.
Giorsal snorted. “Adventure, is it? I warrant Sir Patrick wouldna think it so. I dinna want to hear what he will say about it, I promise ye.”
“Well, Patrick will know naught about it until he comes to fetch me, and since he will see then for himself that I am unharmed, he will doubtless only laugh at the whole affair.”
She did not really believe that Patrick would laugh, but he would not feel obliged to seek out Francis Dalcross so long after the fact either, whereas he might feel so were he presently at hand. For that, above all else, she was grateful.
As slowly as the Chisholm party traveled, she had half-expected him to overtake them on the way, because he had promised not to dally but to fetch her as soon as he was able. Now it occurred to her that he might already have returned to Kintail. Had he sailed on a Highland galley, as she and her mother had, traveling to Stirling, he might have reached Ardintoul by now or even already be awaiting them at Dundreggan. She rather hoped he was. Although she liked Lady Chisholm, and his lordship had been kind to her, she would feel more comfortable at home.
As expected, Lady Chisholm failed to persuade his lordship to remain more than one night with their friends, and they departed the following day, reaching the Great Glen before noon. From there, their journey along the western shore of Loch Ness and west into Glen Urquhart and Glen Affric, consumed nearly four more days, although Bab was sure she could have ridden it in one.
Indeed, she was certain she could have walked the distance more quickly, but Lady Chisholm called for frequent rest periods and always insisted that they stop for the day by four o’clock. She said it was for his lordship’s benefit, but Bab, sensing his lordship’s impatience, thought the slow pace taxed him more than would a faster pace. She had learned enough, however, to realize it was more likely her ladyship’s own indolent nature that demanded the former.
Still that pace made it more likely that Patrick would be at Dundreggan to meet her when she arrived. So when the formidable red-and-white-stone castle hove into sight at last on the triangular granite promontory where the River Affric met another swiftly rushing burn, her heart began to pound with a mixture of eager anticipation to see him and apprehension for what he was likely to say when he learned of her adventure. It was thus a disappointment to find that he was not waiting in the graveled bailey when they rode through the arched gateway.
Bab had visited the castle before, so she settled in quickly, but finding that Lady Chisholm looked askance on any venturing outside the high stone curtain wall, she chafed at having too little to do. So, she explored the castle again, revisiting the splendid little chapel that adjoined the massive keep and inspecting the dairy, bakehouse, and kitchens.
She strolled the length of the long gallery above the great hall, and peeped through the laird’s peek to see what was happening below, knowing no one there could see her. She also spent a good deal of time in Lady Chisholm’s comfortable bower, accessed through a door at the back of the great-hall dais, where she chatted with her hostess, whose cheery kindness made the tedious hours pass more quickly.
Still, Bab longed for activity, so when riders arrived two days later, on the eve of Beltane, she hurried downstairs, telling herself that it must be Patrick at last.
Dashing into the bailey, she stopped short at the sight of six running gillies carrying a large, covered chair on long poles. As she stared in amazement, the men came to a stop, breathing heavily as they lowered the chair to the ground.
Its curtains parted. Then one silk shod foot emerged and gently touched the ground, followed by a second one as the chair’s occupant stepped out.
Sir Alex Chisholm had returned home to Dundreggan.
Chapter 3
Bab gazed wryly at the crisp, well-dressed vision before her, remembering how dusty and tired she had been at the end of each day and how grateful she had been to see Dundreggan’s walls when at last they had loomed ahead of her.
Sir Alex was tall, graceful, and splendidly attired, almost as if he had meant to present himself at court instead of at his own ancestral home in one of the more isolated glens in the Highlands. Silver lace edged his dark blue velvet doublet, and his trunk hose was splashed and puffed with a lighter blue silk, from which the fashionable, ruffled edging of his collar had been made to match. He wore clocked stockings, and his velvet shoes boasted modish pointed toes and silver trimming.
His dark hair was cut fashionably short in the German style. In the sunlight, its russet highlights gleamed. His handsome face was clean-shaven, and his features well formed, but in Bab’s opinion, his drooping eyelids and a weakness in the look of his mouth and chin sadly reduced his beauty. She shook her head at him.
“Really, sir,” she said.
“I am delighted to see that you and my parents arrived safely, Mistress MacRae,” he drawled. “Are you not equally overjoyed to see me?”
His voice was higher-pitched than she liked to hear in a man, but she thought she would not mind if it did no
t sound as if he might fall asleep midway through a sentence. She felt a familiar impulse to shake him, to see if she could wake him up.
As it was, she said more sharply than she had intended, “Yes, of course, we arrived safely. What on earth is that thing you were riding in?”
He looked at the chair and then back at her, clearly puzzled. “But you can see what it is, mistress. I thought it a clever notion, myself. Suggested it to my father, don’t you recall, but he scorned such comfort for himself.”
“I cannot imagine why you should need such pampering.”
He shrugged. “Since you are one of the many who account me an indifferent horseman, I thought you would approve. Indeed, you should try it yourself when you return to Ardintoul. I promise you, such a conveyance, with its cushions and fur rugs, is far more comfortable than any saddle could be.”
“Where is Patrick?” she demanded, tiring of the subject.
“Faith, I haven’t a notion. Must we stand out here in the sun like this? You seem to forget that I’ve endured a tedious long journey.”
“I warrant you are nigh onto fainting with fatigue,” she snapped.
“Aye, well, I doubt I shall faint,” he said, his eyes nearly closed, his posture flagging, “but I received a prodigious shock two days ago when I reached Gorthleck House and learned of your abduction. I have been nigh sick with worry ever since.”
“Indeed, sir.”
“Aye, mistress.” He covered a yawn before adding, “I regret that such a wretched inconvenience should occur whilst you were under my father’s protection. I warrant you were terrified.”
“It proved to be a little more than an interesting adventure,” she said airily. “Moreover, I do not believe for one minute that it can have worried you overmuch, sir, since you took two days to get here after hearing about it.”
“But that in itself proves I did hurry,” he protested. “Experience makes me certain, you see, that the same journey took you at least four days.”
“Aye, but your father is ailing. That is why we traveled so slowly.”
“Do you think so?” He regarded her quizzically, adding gently, “Now, I have found that my mother always travels at a sensible pace, whether any of her companions is ailing or not, but doubtless you know best. Are you certain that your ordeal caused no lasting harm?”
“Certainly not, sir, I promise you.”
“Well, I shan’t press you further, as it is clear from your sharp tone that the ordeal distressed you more than you like to say. You will be safe enough at Dundreggan, though. We harbor no vulgar villains here to trouble you.”
Annoyed, she said, “Since my abductor was Francis Dalcross, the son of the Sheriff of Inverness, he is no mere vulgar villain.”
“But of course he is. I knew it was Dalcross, of course, thanks to the ever loquacious and generally informative Fiona Mackintosh and her son Eric, who is a friend of mine; but what I do not understand is what can have possessed Dalcross to do something so cock-brained as to abduct a young lady from my father’s party.”
“He said he expected to impress me,” Bab said. “I met him at Stirling, as you must know, and I’m afraid I once confided to him that I long for adventure.”
“Do you, indeed?”
“Aye, but not the sort he intended, I promise you. That is not the real reason he wanted me, anyway. He said he wants to marry me to increase his consequence in Inverness. I don’t call that adventurous at all!”
“Adventure of any sort is tiresome,” he said, putting a hand gently beneath her right elbow and urging her toward the entrance to the castle keep. “I infinitely prefer life to run a perfectly gentle, predictable course.”
She had two choices. She could either walk with him or pull her elbow away. The latter seemed rude, so she allowed him to take her inside.
As a minion leaped to open the door for them, Sir Alex said in a puzzled tone, “It must have been high adventure, indeed, if you were able to escape from Dalcross. I should have thought him a match for any woman, even one of your undoubted resourcefulness, but Eric mentioned that you had encountered a stranger who intervened, thus allowing your escape. You neglected to provide even the stranger’s description, however, which seems somewhat remiss of you.”
She glanced at him, wondering what resourcefulness he thought she possessed, but it seemed wiser just then not to ask. Instead, she said, “I did have help, sir, but I should prefer not to discuss it, if you please.”
“As you wish, mistress. I am persuaded that my father and mother will be eager to tell me all about it. You need not exert yourself to do so, since I cannot doubt that you must have told them more than you seem to have told Eric or Fiona.”
Bab grounded her teeth in frustration. The others had all been polite enough not to question her about the details, but if he brought up the subject now, his parents would likely deluge her with questions. His lordship might even become a trifle testy, because although he had seemed distant of late, his temperament was uncertain and he was not a man known to take rebuff lightly.
“If you must know,” she said tartly, “my rescuer was Sionnach Dubh.”
He regarded her with an air of mild surprise. “But, dear me, he is as great a scoundrel as Dalcross. Faith, mistress, had I known you were forced to endure such uncivil company—”
“Oh, don’t be a noddy! He was quite civil and behaved like a gentleman.” As she snapped the words at him, she remembered the kiss she had enjoyed so much and knew she was blushing furiously at the memory.
Cocking his head, he smiled his disbelief. “You liked him?”
“I did,” she said, on firm ground again. “He is kind, and he showed every indication of a keen intelligence and a discerning wit. Moreover, he speedily vanquished Francis Dalcross, and—”
“Did he murder the poor chap, then? Is that how he helped you escape?”
“No, he did not.” Reminded of Francis’s fate, she felt a sudden impulse to laugh. “They say he is the greatest swordsman in Scotland, and I believe it, for I think he is even more skilled than Patrick. Moreover, he displays the speed and grace of a cat and lightning finesse with his blade. He actually undressed Francis Dalcross with it before he sent him on his way, and he kept his horse. Then he escorted me as far as the Gorthleck House gates and saw me safely inside them.”
“Well, he’s always seemed a tiresome sort of fellow to me,” Sir Alex said with a sigh as they entered the great hall, where servants were setting up trestles for the evening’s supper. Glancing around, he added in a low tone, “I would suggest, mistress, that you do not speak too freely of your acquaintance with that fellow.”
Since she had not intended to speak of it at all until he practically forced her to, this unfair command immediately set up her hackles. “And why should I not speak of him?” she demanded.
“Well, I may be overly cautious,” he said, “but I should think it might be dangerous. He tends to take the law into his own hands, you know, and not everyone appreciates his methods. Word travels quickly hereabouts, and I think it would be unwise to let his enemies suspect that you can identify him.”
“They will be disappointed if they think any such thing,” Bab informed him, adding on a more wistful note, “I doubt that I shall ever lay eyes on him again.”
“Faith, mistress, do you want to?”
She shrugged, seeing no reason to confide her wishes to Sir Alex Chisholm. He certainly would not encourage her to hope that she would meet the Fox again, nor be pleased to know that she wanted to.
The coin the Fox had given her lay safely hidden amidst her belongings, where even Giorsal would not find it. Bab liked knowing she had it, but she felt a bit chagrined, too, knowing that according to the legends, he generally presented it to his enemies as a reminder of whom they had to thank after he had bested them. But perhaps he also gave it to those he had helped, to remind them, too.
“At least, he helps people,” she said tartly. “I have heard tale after tale, both during ou
r journey here and since we arrived, of how Sheriff Dalcross and his men mistreat your people hereabouts and in Glen Mor. Surely, you and others like you should do something to stop them.”
“Me? Faith, mistress, what would you expect me to do?”
“Your father was the previous sheriff, was he not?”
“Aye, but the past has naught to do with the present. He resigned after my brothers died, and Sheriff Dalcross presented his papers of appointment less than a fortnight later. Even if my father were healthy enough to take up arms against him now, and did so, Dalcross would say—and rightly, too—that he was greatly overstepping his authority.”
His drawling tone seemed even more irritating than usual.
“I did not mean that he should do anything but that you should,” she said. “They are your people, too, are they not?”
“Aye, but what you think I could accomplish to the purpose, I know not.” He looked about as he spoke, and then, frowning, he added, “Where are my parents? I expected to find them both here in the hall at this hour.”
“Your father has only just begun to leave his chamber for meals,” Bab told him. “He was exhausted when we arrived, and your mother has been a careful nurse. She cannot always make him mind her, of course, but he has rested a good deal. I warrant they will both be here soon if they have learned of your arrival.”
“You have been good company for them, I believe,” he said.
“Indeed, I hope so, sir.”
“Certainly, my mother must enjoy your company. You doubtless spend most of your time with her and must be a great help to her with the household, too.”
Increasingly irritated by this mild discourse, Bab shot him a narrow look. “I warrant your mother would be very much surprised to learn that you think she requires help running this household, Sir Alex, and I am certain that my brother did not expect me to put myself forward in such a way when he consigned me to your parents’ care. I will certainly obey your mother’s wishes, but she has made it clear that I am to be her guest. I expect to behave much as I would at Ardintoul.”
