“God bless you,” Celia said, hugging her quickly as Edmund and Father William came around the corner with the horses.
Without another word, Celia vaulted onto her horse, took the baby from Ellen, and looked once more at the defiant woman standing in the farmhouse doorway.
Celia wheeled her horse and galloped with the others into the wet gloom of the Scottish night.
The Gregors gave up their chase when Celia and the others forded the narrow northernmost point of the loch and rode west. When dawn broke again, gray and wet, Edmund looked steadily at his young niece. Clearly, he'd been thinking about their next move.
“We should go to the Campbells, Celia. It is our best possible choice.”
Celia agreed. Right now it seemed to be their only choice.
“Kildalton it is, then,” she answered.
For the next ten days they traveled as well as they could, staying with farmers who, more often than not, had little to share in the way of food so late in the winter. Several times, they were able to stay at small abbeys and with religious communities that Father William knew of. Sometimes, reaching these places took the travelers nearly a day out of their way, but they knew that they would always find a warm lodging and a hot supper when they arrived, and that made the extra miles worthwhile.
Two days before they reached Oban, a fishing village that sits where the Firth of Lorn and the Firth of Mull meet, the baby became feverish. Celia knew that they needed to reach a place of refuge where Kit could be warm and dry. He had been a trooper through it all to this point, rarely ever crying, curious, it seemed, about the changing scenery. Now Kit cried incessantly, however, and his congested coughing began to unnerve Celia. Hugging the baby to her breast, she realized she had never felt so helpless in her life.
And then she, too, began to cough, and as her fever mounted, Celia felt herself weakening with every passing hour.
Celia insisted that they push ahead at a faster pace. She didn't know how long she could hold out.
There was no question by the time they reached Oban that they would not be able to press on to Argyll's castle. Celia listened through the buzzing haze of her fever as Edmund hired one of the fishermen to ferry them across the firth to the Isle of Mull and the Campbell stronghold, Kildalton Castle.
Father William was to continue on to the abbey by Argyll's castle for news of the earl.
Celia had no clear memory of the trip over except the feel of the boat's rocking and plunging, sensations not unpleasant to a woman who had grown up sailing on her father's armed merchant vessels.
When the boat docked inside the protected harbor of the village that lay nestled beneath the high thick walls of Kildalton Castle, Celia was only vaguely aware of the voices that were all around her. She opened her eyes as she felt herself being lifted out of the boat by Edmund, and handed into the arms of another gray-haired man.
“Kit,” she murmured. “Where's the baby?”
The man's great voice rumbled softly in response that the bairn was being cared for.
“Help Ellen...please. And Edmund. Is Edmund here?”
“Aye, lassie,” came the answer in deep fatherly tones, “you are all in my care now.”
Lying comfortably in that great canopied bed, Celia was grateful for the care she'd received at the hands of Hugh Campbell. These were not the people that were ridiculed, and feared, by those in the Lowlands. These were not the ugly, barbaric savages that they used in stories to scare children. These were kind, hospitable people who had provided Celia with the first sense of security she had felt in months.
Since she'd arrived, Celia had been benignly coerced by Lord Hugh and his servants to remain quietly in her room. Because of their care, she had quickly recovered. But even so, Celia had never been so confined in her entire life.
But now, Celia thought, perhaps the best thing I can do for the remainder of my time here is to stay as much out of sight—and away from Colin and his friend—as possible.
She was expecting Father William back any day with word about Argyll, and her next move. What was keeping him?
Celia had not expected to even see Colin Campbell's ruggedly handsome face, and now she wished that she never had.
Colin's entry tonight certainly had had an unsettling effect on her plans. She had been forced to defend herself with skills possessed by few women. Celia had hoped to be the model of propriety during her stay at Kildalton, but tonight had shattered all that.
Colin Campbell does not fit into my plans, she thought.
“I know this Caithness woman is planning something, Alec,” Colin said, pacing restlessly in front of his friend's fire. “I need you to tell me all you know about her.”
“I'll tell you one thing,” Alec said with a laugh, settling onto the one three-legged chair that adorned his bedroom. “This is not the Lady Caithness I would have expected to see.”
“What do you mean by that?” Colin asked, shooting a hard look at his friend.
“For a lass as young as she seems to be, she's already acquired quite a reputation.”
“She has no reputation that's reached Kildalton Castle,” Colin exclaimed, surprised at the vehemence of his own voice. Colin turned and kicked at a log that threatened to roll out of the fireplace. Alec's room was warming up quickly now, and the light of the fire made Colin's giant shadow into a monstrous image on the far wall.
“Well, I'll tell you what I know, but we must be clear that this is only second and third-hand talk. Idle gossip coming from scurrilous, no good, parasitic court wags. In fact, you know them, my brothers John and Ambrose,” Alec said, smiling.
Colin had to smile at that. Alec's brothers were both good men, far from Alec's facetious description. Before Flodden, they had both been constantly at court, representing the interests of the Macpherson clan. The three brothers had been with the king in the fight against the English, and although Ambrose had been badly injured, it was a miracle that all three had survived the debacle.
“She's a woman who was unhappy in marriage, plain and simple,” Alec said. “Half English, half Scottish, and caught up in a bad marriage to old Lord Caithness.”
“Did she choose to marry or no?” Colin asked, stopping in front of his friend, his feet spread, his hands on his kilted hips.
“Apparently, she didn't,” Alec responded, surprised at the personal nature of Colin's question. This was so unlike him. “It was a marriage arranged by the king to settle a land dispute or some such business. But Caithness was old enough to be her grandfather, and the marriage had no chance from the start. According to Ambrose, she couldn't last at Caithness Hall even a year. And when she returned to court, the gossip really started.”
Alec stretched his long legs out in front of him and yawned before continuing. Colin leaned his muscular arm on the stone mantel that spanned the fireplace and waited...but not patiently.
“They say that at court, she'd run around with anyone who caught her fancy. From what I hear, Caithness wasn't too sure about that bairn being his, either.” Alec peered into his friend's face, interested in Colin's reaction to this bit of gossip, but Colin turned his face to the fire.
Colin looked into the flames before him. Something inside him didn't want to believe this old story.
“One thing I do know,” Alec continued. “I saw him in the king's fight, and he may have been up there in years, but he was more than willing to do battle. He died in a swarm of bloody English foot soldiers, swinging his sword like the true warrior he was. For a Lowlander, that Caithness was a fighter.”
“But obviously not much of a husband,” Colin concluded. “Why didn't he just force her to stay put and away from court?”
“From what I saw tonight,” Alec remarked, feeling at his throat, trying to lighten the mood in the room, “that woman will not be forced to do anything she does not want to do.”
Colin let his friend change the tone of the conversation. This was, after all, Alec he was talking to.
“Well,
don't worry, Alec. I will not spread the word too far about you being bested by a woman half your size,” Colin smirked. He was going to enjoy holding this over his friend's head for a long, long while.
“One thing my brothers didn't mention, though,” Alec mused, “was how bonny a lass she is.”
“Those brothers of yours have got court tastes now,” Colin answered with mock disdain. “Those black eyes and auburn hair do not find their way into the love songs they hear at court. White skin and blue-gray eyes are all they think can be beautiful, more than likely.”
“Truly said,” Alec said, a wry smile creeping across his face. “But, you know, my friend, I'm a bit surprised that Colin Campbell would even notice this woman's eyes.”
“You're daft,” Colin replied, starting to pace again. “I didn't notice.”
“No? Then why were you standing with your tongue hanging clear to the floor instead of living up to your reputation?”
“You did not look any too anxious about being saved in there,” Colin snorted, halting in front of Alec and giving him an accusing look.
“You know, my friend,” Alec responded, smiling smugly back at him. “I was feeling no anxiety, at all. With those eyes looking so lovingly into mine, I could have lain there all night.”
“Enough of this idle talk!” Colin snapped, walking across the room to the window. Sometimes Alec Macpherson could be quite annoying. “I still need to know why she is here.”
“Why don't you believe what she told your father?” Alec asked, looking at the massive warrior curiously.
“Because it makes no sense. When the English burned Caithness Hall, any woman, especially this woman, would have gone straight back to court, not to the Highlands.”
“That's probably true,” Alec said thoughtfully. “From what I hear, every widow in Scotland is at court these days.”
“Aye, all looking for husbands,” Colin added.
“Well, then who is she after here?” Alec asked, sardonically.
But Colin was not so sure. After all, he himself had not been expected back for another couple of weeks. She may have known that and come looking for another aging laird. Colin wondered bitterly if he had foiled her plan just by arriving early. His father clearly cared for this woman already. It must be Lord Hugh she was after, Colin concluded, and yet something in him didn't want to believe it. There had to be something else. The only thing to do was to stay close to her.
“I'll find out soon enough.”
Chapter 4
We should be going home now. Instead, I hear we're moving farther north. We won't be leaving what remains of this fishing village soon enough to suit me, though. There is no one left here except us. We've murdered them all. Dragged them from their lofts and their root cellars and their sheepcotes and cut them down in their gardens. The others laugh now as they drag babies from the screaming mothers' arms. They all die when we find them, and Lord Danvers looks on with a smile.
No wonder they all flee from us when they can still run, the terror in their eyes. I've never in my life seen such destruction...such utterly senseless destruction.
Colin would not get too close to her the next day.
Celia was wide awake before dawn. Kit and Ellen were sleeping soundly, but Celia's night was finished. Restless, she paced the room like a lioness ready to hunt. She needed movement, fresh air, a good fight. Celia needed something to get her blood moving.
What little sleep she'd gotten had been riddled with dreams. Fires. Gray, windswept moors. Secret passages. And Colin Campbell.
Damn, what's wrong with me, she thought. She was acting like some starry-eyed girl. This isn't some French love poem. She was not a person to be affected by some handsome face. She'd seen many handsome faces in the courts she'd attended. His face was not so different from so many others—two eyes, a nose, a mouth. No, she was way past that stage in her life. Twenty years old. A grown woman.
And she had never thought of herself as beautiful, or even attractive. No, she always had been practical. That was all that mattered. But last night when Colin had looked at her so appraisingly, she had felt demeaned. Her response had been unthinking—she'd wanted to strike back at him.
But lying awake during the night, Celia had seen that look again, in her mind, and striking back was not the response that permeated her being.
Celia had escaped from fire. She'd ridden through the harsh Highland winter. She'd blocked the secret passage. But Colin Campbell was a different kind of obstacle.
When the dawn broke clear and dry, Celia put on her travel clothes, the only outfit she had, looked in again on the sleeping Kit and Ellen, and quietly slipped out into the hallway.
This was the first time she'd been out of her quarters for fresh air since arriving. As Celia worked her way down the wide corridor, her eyes took in the magnificent architecture.
This part of the castle was clearly new. Celia had been impressed when she'd first awakened in a bright bedroom furnished with glazed windows and a fireplace. Even the new manor house at Caithness had only had glass in the top halves of the windows. The bottom halves, like the windows even in the king's castles at Stirling and in Edinburgh, had been shuttered with wood. But here, the windows were large and completely covered with a grillwork of leaded glass. What was most shocking, though, was that they swung open on hinges.
In this part of the castle the builders had used a style she hadn't seen in Scotland before. The ceilings, even in the hallways, were higher, with arches that came to a point at the top, like some of the newer cathedrals in England. The effect was one of space. Why, the Campbells lived better than the king himself.
As she reached the wide stairway that led down into the Great Hall, she was startled by Runt's sudden emergence from an alcove farther down the hallway. Despite his name, Lord Hugh's squire was hardly a runt—the young man was not much shorter than his master. Ellen told Celia that she'd spoken with him in passing one day, and that he'd said he was called `Runt' because his elder brother, Emmet, was a giant—the size of Lord Colin.
Ellen had also heard that after losing their parents at a young age, the two brothers had been raised in Lord Hugh's household. While Emmet had attained the position of Lord Colin's top fighter, Runt was still training as Lord Hugh's squire.
“Lady Caithness! You're up and about today,” he said, with obvious delight at the sight of the lady.
Suddenly Celia felt guilty, as if she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't have been doing.
“It's...it's time I got some air, Runt,” she answered haltingly. “It certainly looks like a fine morning.”
“Is that so, m'lady? If you'll let me, I'll wake up Lord Hugh. Or Lord Colin, perhaps. I know they'd want to show you around, now that you're feeling more yourself.”
“No! Please don't, Runt,” Celia answered quickly. “I'm not going far. I just want to go out into the courtyard for a few minutes. I'm not used to being cooped up for so long.” The last thing she needed was the company of Colin Campbell, the one man she was hoping to avoid.
“Then let me walk down with you, m'lady. I'll unbar the door for you.”
This is far better than having to face that gruff master of mine first thing in the morning, Runt thought to himself. But even better would be meeting up with Ellen, that fair-haired, green-eyed beauty who's traveling with Lady Caithness.
“Thank you, Runt,” she said as they moved together down the stone steps.
Walking across the Great Hall to the Entry Room, the two attracted the attention of several of the dozen or so dogs curled up in contented heaps throughout the room. Most simply raised their heads and peered disinterestedly at the pair, and then went back to sleep, but one, a gigantic black hound, lifted his massive body off the floor with a shake and trotted over.
This was undoubtedly the biggest dog Celia had ever seen in her life. Celia liked dogs, in general, but she knew that these dogs could be vicious defenders of a manor's property. So much for sneaking out for a quiet
walk.
“That's Lord Colin's favorite dog, m'lady,” Runt said, pulling at Celia's elbow instinctively. “Be careful of him. He's a vicious one with strangers. Away, Bear!”
Before he could move between Celia and the dog, though, Bear had moved in next to the woman and nosed her hand up onto his wide, square head. Celia couldn't help but smile as she petted the huge animal, scratching around his ears with both hands as the beast pushed against her waist with his head.
Celia laughed and braced herself with her feet to avoid being pushed over, as Runt stood openmouthed beside her.
“If this is one of the vicious ones,” she teased, “I'd hate to see the lapdogs.”
Runt, in one of the few speechless moments in his life, led Celia—and her new canine friend—past the gigantic oaken doors in the Entry Room to a small side door that the squire unbarred.
“I'll leave the door ajar, m'lady. The household will all be bustling in no time. The cooks have been working for hours already, I'm sure. Will you and Ellen...er, Mistress Ellen be joining the master for breakfast now? He likes to take it in the South Hall. I can show you where that is.”
“No, Runt, thank you. I believe I'll stay to my room for meals a bit longer,” Celia responded firmly. She wanted to make sure that her little walk would not compromise her plan.
“Aye, m'lady. But I must be telling you, Lord Hugh is looking forward to you joining him for meals. We do not get too many ladies such as yourself visiting Kildalton Castle.”
“You mean Lord Colin doesn't entertain much?” Celia asked, working hard to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. She wondered where that question had even come from.
“Why, no, m'lady! Lord Colin is far too busy fighting in France and raiding the English villages for such nonsense. Begging your pardon, m'lady. But we have heard tales about certain French ladies that were mighty interested in him.”
Celia gave the appearance of ignoring the close scrutiny that Runt was giving her as he finished his last comment. There was definitely some matchmaking going on here, she noted with concern.
The Thistle and the Rose Page 5
