The Secret Clan: The Complete Series

by Amanda Scott

  Kintail’s eyes twinkled as he said, “We’ll discuss it as privately as you like, Kit, but you should know that you will be condemning Patrick and me to certain inquisition and torment if you refuse to let us tell our lasses what’s afoot. Still, if you want the discussion to remain private, we’ll keep it to ourselves.” He met his wife’s gaze, and although she wrinkled her nose impertinently, she did not argue.

  “I have no reason not to trust them,” Kit said, “but I’d as lief the discussion not be a gift to all and sundry, so mayhap we should wait until after we’ve eaten.”

  Smiling in a way that lit her whole being and showed Kit how she had fascinated Fin, Molly said, “I’ll tell them to serve us in my solar, sir. Our personal servants will wait on us there, and they know better than to speak of anything that happens thus privately at Dunsithe.”

  She glanced at Kintail, who nodded his approval, whereupon she caught up her skirts and hurried back inside with Beth at her heels.

  Watching until they had disappeared inside Kit said, “Are they sisters?”

  “They are,” Patrick said, “although they lost track of each other for many years until by good fortune, I met and married Beth. We’ll tell you all about that another day, but first let us get you and your lads settled and find you some food.”

  “Now, will one of you please explain to me how I’ve come to be officially dead?” Kit said an hour later when their meal had been served.

  Tam, sitting beside him, said bluntly, “Aye, pray do, for I dinna ken how officialdom can enter into it when the man involved is plainly no dead at all.”

  “But where were you, sir?” Molly asked Kit. “How is it that your people lost track of you long enough to assume that you had died?”

  When Kit hesitated, Kintail said, “He was away, lass, due to a misunderstanding betwixt himself and the Sheriff of Inverness-shire.”

  Kit grimaced at the memories the words evoked. “Suffice it to say, my lady, that I was out of the country.”

  When Molly turned to her husband, Kintail said, “Two of Kit’s cousins were murdered in the Highlands a year ago last Easter, and Kit was falsely accused of killing them.”

  Patrick nodded, his gaze fixed on Kit as he said, “His disappearance afterward lent credence to those rumors. I think you should have known, my lad,” he added with a grin, “that to tell two women smart enough to marry Fin and me that you were simply ‘out of the country’ would not satisfy them.”

  “Certainly not,” Molly agreed. “Surely you could have got word to someone amongst your friends and family, to let them know where you were.”

  “Faith, I did not know where I was a good part of the time,” Kit muttered, exchanging looks with Tam and Willie. This part of the tale was not solely his to tell, but he could reveal to the women as much as he had to their husbands. “I was a prisoner on one of Beaton’s ships,” he said, “but I’m here now, the true murderer was caught, and there are no longer any charges against me in Inverness.”

  The servants returned, and conversation became desultory while they served the next course. But when the little group was alone again, Kit said abruptly, “You still haven’t explained how I came to be officially dead. Surely, a mere lack of communication for less than a year and a half was not sufficient reason, especially since the lack cannot have disturbed anyone until my father died.”

  Patrick and Fin exchanged looks, and then Fin said, “Have you managed to glean any knowledge of the present political situation here?”

  Kit nodded. “I know that Henry, having wrested control of the Church in England from Rome and his holiness, the pope, now wants to take command of the Scottish Kirk as well.”

  “In truth, that villain would control all Scotland,” Tam said.

  Patrick glanced at the older man and nodded. “That is true,” he said. “Some time ago, Henry invited our Jamie to meet with him in the city of York to discuss the Scottish Kirk. Fortunately, he put it to Jamie that he was just a kindly uncle offering to help his young nephew understand the benefits of distancing himself and his country from Rome.”

  “Henry is no one’s kindly uncle,” Kit said. “Moreover, James would have to be a fool to journey so far into enemy country to confer with anyone.”

  “And our Jamie is no one’s fool,” Patrick said. “He has been careful not to defy Henry outright, though. First, he told him quite plausibly that he could not leave whilst the queen was about to produce his second child. Then, of course, the tragic deaths of both young princes less than a month later, doubtless of the same pestilential fever that next swept through the Borders, made it possible for him to defer the matter even longer. But Henry grows impatient.”

  “And the deaths of the princes make the situation more dangerous than ever,” Kintail said. “Without an heir to the throne, Jamie’s position becomes fragile. He has offended most of his Border lords at one time or another, so he can’t count on them to fight Henry, and many of his more ambitious nobles would like to unseat him, making them all easy prey for Henry’s manipulating. And Cardinal Beaton—”

  “Yes,” Kit said evenly, “do tell me about the good cardinal.”

  Patrick’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, but he said only, “He too advises Jamie to strengthen Scotland’s ties with Rome, of course.”

  “Aye, well, I cannot say either side of that debate appeals to me,” Kit said, “but what has any of it to do with my being declared dead?”

  Kintail said, “Political instability and the need to protect Hawks Rig and your other estates was the excuse your uncle, Eustace Chisholm, offered after your father’s death to persuade the magistrate in Jedburgh to declare you officially dead as soon as you’d been missing a full year. That allowed Eustace to take control of your estates immediately and to assume your titles in April when the year was up.”

  “The devil you say!” Kit exclaimed.

  “The villain!” Tam said in the same breath.

  Willie sat wide-eyed, looking from one to the other.

  “I have heard only rumors, of course,” Kintail said. “But you know how swiftly news travels when armies gather. They say Eustace is calling himself Ashkirk and has done so these past few months and more.”

  Patrick said, “As the eldest of your father’s brothers and the only one to survive him, Eustace Chisholm would be his legal heir had you truly predeceased him, would he not?”

  “Aye, that’s true,” Kit admitted, “but it’s damned cheek nonetheless. If my uncle ever sought information about my whereabouts in the Highlands I heard nothing about it, and I’ve just come from Torness. My steward had received no word from Eustace, although he did know that my father had died, thanks to my cousin Alex, who also took it upon himself to look after my Highland estates. If anyone tried to interfere with them, Alex would have known about it, I’m sure.”

  Kintail frowned. “Then I’d advise you to tread lightly, Kit. You would be wise to learn exactly what Eustace Chisholm has done and how matters stand before you show yourself at Hawks Rig.”

  “Aye, ’tis good advice,” Kit said, suppressing a surge of disappointment at the thought that he would have to delay his return home a little longer. “In truth, I have not the least notion how my father left his affairs, but if he thought I was dead, they may have become a trifle complicated.”

  “Your uncle was astonishingly quick to take the reins,” Patrick said.

  Tam made a sound of disapproval, much like a growl.

  “Eustace is a cunning bastard,” Kit said. “I’ve never liked him or trusted him. Although we rarely saw him, he stirred much of the trouble between my father and me with letters filled with seemingly casual gossip and criticism.”

  “Then you’ll certainly want to learn his intentions and how he has situated himself before you confront him,” Kintail said firmly.

  Thoughtfully, Patrick said, “Did I not also hear that you had become betrothed shortly before your cousins were killed, Kit?”

  “Aye, my father wrote
some such thing to me,” Kit said, grimacing.

  “Ye never told us about any lass,” Tam said, clearly surprised.

  “Well, I own the matter has been of concern to me, but since I had no chance to reply to my father’s message, I assumed that other arrangements had been made. Even if they were not, if I’m officially dead now, doubtless she is betrothed to someone else. In truth, I’m much more concerned about Hawks Rig.”

  “But she may still be grieving for you,” Molly protested. “She certainly must wonder what became of you.”

  “She may wonder,” Kit said with a wry smile, “but I doubt she has grieved much. We’ve never even met. My father arranged the match with her mother. As I said, I’d only learned of it just before…”

  “Who is she?” Molly demanded. “Do we know her?”

  “Her name is Fiona Carmichael,” Kit said. “As I recall it, her mother is some connection of Armadale’s.”

  “Lady Carmichael is Armadale’s sister,” Patrick said. “I’ve been constable here at Dunsithe only a short time, but Armadale’s name is as well known hereabouts as Scott of Buccleuch or Maxwell of Caerlaverock. In any event, I took interest in Armadale’s kinsmen because Armadale married a Gordon. Although Molly and Beth never knew her, she was a cousin of theirs.”

  “Was?”

  “Aye, she died of the fever that swept through the Borders a short time ago. It killed Armadale, too, and since his only son died last year in a skirmish with English Harry’s lads, the title goes to some unknown cousin from Stirlingshire.”

  Molly turned to Patrick. “Did I understand you to say that Kit’s Fiona is a cousin to Beth and me?”

  “She’s not my Fiona,” Kit protested. “At least, I’m sure that if I’m supposedly dead, and have been for nigh onto eighteen months now, the betrothal must have been annulled or whatever one does to overset betrothals.”

  “She is not your cousin in any event, sweetheart,” Kintail said. “Fiona’s mother is no kin to the Gordons except through Armadale’s marriage, so neither is her daughter.”

  “Then that’s all right,” Molly said, smiling at Kit. “Perhaps your encroaching uncle will have been kind enough to take her off your hands along with your titles and estates.”

  The others laughed, but Kit said, “He’s welcome to her, although I should think he’d be years too old for her. I’ll choose my own wife, thank you, but in any event, first I mean to reclaim what is mine.”

  His friends understood and sympathized and they discussed the matter at length, with Kintail holding firm that Kit should proceed with caution.

  “Fin’s right about that,” Kit said later when he was alone with Willie and Tam. “I need to learn more before I confront my uncle, but in truth I scarcely know where to begin, other than to discover who handled my father’s affairs.”

  Tam said, “I ken a few folk in these parts. If ye can manage without me for a few days, I’ll nose about some. I’ve matters o’ me own tae look into, for all that.”

  “I should think you must have,” Kit said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You and Willie have been overly patient with me and my troubles. I should command you both to abandon me and deal with your own long-neglected affairs, but I confess I’ll be grateful for any information you can glean.”

  “I’ve got a better notion than just waiting about for Tam,” Willie said with a twinkle. “My lads will doubtless ken all that’s happened hereabouts over the past year and longer. Verra little happens wi’out they hear o’ it.”

  “Your lads?” Kit exchanged a look with Tam.

  The latter frowned heavily, saying, “Ye’ll no be mixing Kit up wi’ that scurvy lot o’ yours if ye ken what’s good for ye, me lad.”

  Willie grinned. “Ye’ll admit I speak true, though. There isna much the reivers dinna ken about who’s doing what in the Borders, either side o’ the line.”

  Kit agreed with Tam that mixing with the reivers might prove foolhardy, particularly since he had been away for so long and knew little about their activities. Nevertheless, the thought of action, any sort of action, appealed strongly to him.

  So it was that when he took fond leave of his friends at Dunsithe, promising to send word as soon as he learned how things stood, he parted for the first time in a year and a half with Tam as well, to ride off with Willie Armstrong under a gray sky heavy with spitting clouds, in search of Willie’s reivers.

  Chapter 2

  Elsewhere and in their own time

  Maggie Malloch was in a temper and in a rare quandary as well—rare, because she never found herself in situations she could not handle, and a quandary because the few choices open to her were choices she wanted to reject out of hand.

  Never before had she felt so powerless or so certain that failure must not be considered. Had it been anyone else who needed her, she believed her mind would be clear, the proper course of action obvious. But her own son was missing, and she was at a loss to know what, if anything, she could do to find him.

  Nearly every other member of the Secret Clan who knew of the situation firmly believed that she wasted her time even thinking she could do anything.

  “He’s dead, and ye’ll no get from that, Maggie,” their high chief told her bluntly. “Ye’ve your own duties tae attend, no tae mention the wee task the High Circle set for ye long since, about which ye’ve done little that anyone can see.”

  “I’ve told ye, the bickering betwixt two feckless tribes be o’ small concern tae me in the face o’ Claud’s disappearance,” she said.

  “Sakes, woman, ’twere no a mere disappearance! Your Claud were blasted tae bits by a lightning bolt flung by the hand o’ the Clan’s mightiest wizard!”

  “Exactly so,” Maggie retorted. “But that shape-shifting villain Jonah Bonewits be as powerful as I be myself—or nearly so,” she amended.

  “But, Maggie, that be just my—”

  “Whisst now, will ye whisst? I’m telling ye how it is. Ye ken as well as I do that Jonah never meant tae strike our Claud, for Claud be his son as well as mine.”

  “Aye, I ken that fine, although I’d point out—no tae put a fine point on it—that a sore disappointment the lad were tae Jonah.”

  “Nevertheless, and villain though Jonah be, I canna believe he would kill his own son, even an he thinks Claud be nobbut a witless dobby.”

  “Ye’re certain Jonah didna mean tae do it?”

  “I were there wi’ that slut Catriona from the Merry Folk,” Maggie reminded him. “Jonah ha’ hoped tae lure Claud tae follow another feckless wench—that Lucy Fittletrot wi’ the dancing feet—but Claud were sorely smitten wi’ Catriona. I’d venture tae guess that ye do recall Catriona,” she added sardonically.

  “I do,” the chief agreed, his eyes glowing. “She’ll be the poor wee lass from the Merry Folk that ye persist in maligning every chance ye get.”

  Maggie made a rude noise. “Ye men! At least I’ll say this for that Catriona. She cares about what happened tae my Claud!”

  “She should. As I recall the matter, ye said yourself that Claud threw himself into the path o’ yon lightning bolt because it were flung at Catriona.”

  “Aye, and had it struck her, I’d ha’ lost little sleep over it, for on that subject Jonah and I be in full agreement.”

  “Now, Maggie…”

  “Pish tush, dinna ‘now, Maggie’ me. Ye ken what I think, and I’ll no keep me thoughts behind me teeth now when I ha’ always spoken me mind afore.”

  “Ye have that, but what d’ye aim tae do, woman? Ye’ve power enough for most things, but bringing a member o’ the Clan back tae life when he’s been blown tae mist be more than even ye can do.”

  “Aye, well, if he were only mist, ’twould be easy, but ye’ll agree, will ye no, that Jonah’s fury has nowt tae do with either Catriona or Claud.”

  The chief nodded. “ ’Tis yourself who infuriated the man, as always. Did ye no spoil his plans yet again and cause him tae lose his place in the High Circle?”


  “He lost it through greed and by interfering in mortal affairs!”

  “Aye, but ye interfered, too,” the chief reminded her. “It wasna Jonah who took a common serving lass, clad her in a grand dress, decked her wi’ jewels fit for a queen, and sent her tae a royal ball.”

  Maggie dismissed that incident with a gesture. “Nobbut good came o’ that. However, Jonah employed black arts and shape-shifting tae keep rightful mortals from finding a treasure his own Lord Angus wanted, no tae mention his other, more recent wickedness.”

  “Aye, ’tis true,” the chief agreed.

  “Still,” Maggie said, “ ’Tis me Jonah blames for what’s happened tae him, and he willna rest till he’s bested me. That be why I believe he didna kill our Claud.”

  “Then who did?”

  “Nae one.”

  “But Maggie—”

  “Jonah be the most powerful wizard in our Clan. Ye said that yourself.”

  “Aye.”

  “And when we o’ the Secret Clan pass on, ’tis sometimes tae dwell in the mortal world, is it no?”

  “Aye, on rare occasions,” the chief said, frowning.

  “Then I believe Jonah altered the course o’ that lightning bolt at the last minute and instead o’ sending Claud tae fly wi’ the Evil Host for all time, as he would ha’ done had he struck Catriona, he hurled him into the mortal world.”

  The chief was silent, his eyes smoldering as he thought over what she had said. “ ’Tis possible,” he said at last. “But ’tis a vast world, that o’ the mortals. How would ye ever find him?”

  “I willna rest till I do, that’s all. Ye see—”

  “Whisst yourself now,” the chief commanded. “Ye still need tae mediate the troubles between them two tribes ye call feckless, and afore our next meeting, too. D’ye fail, ye’ll lose your own seat in the High Circle. We ha’ lost Jonah Bonewits, and we canna seem tae replace him. I dinna want tae lose ye, too.”

  “Ye’ll no lose me,” Maggie said confidently. “We’ve had nae trouble from the Merry Folk or the Helping Hands since our last meeting, and I ha’ the word o’ both their chieftains that they’ll keep this truce until Catriona succeeds or fails tae restore her mortal tae his proper place and assure his happiness there. I’ll find Claud well afore that, because Catriona still must—”