The Kissing Stone

by Scott, Amanda

  The usual pandemonium reigned thereafter in the lower hall. Colley began talking with de Raite, and beyond them Hew and Liam suddenly burst out laughing.

  Beside him, Aly stared at her trencher. She had scarcely moved since de Raite’s rebuke, so Will speared a slice of beef and set it on her trencher.

  “Eat something, lass,” he murmured close to her ear. “De Raite’s words are only words. Although they can hurt, we can use our own good sense to lessen their pain. Someone once told me to imagine hurtful words as birds lighting on a branch in your mind. Then imagine them spreading their wings and flying away. The sooner you let them fly, the sooner you will feel better.”

  “I be afeard of him, Will. Ye ken fine that he doesna use only words in his anger. Was it Granduncle Thomas who told you about turning words intae birds?”

  “It was, aye.”

  “I wish you had taken me with you when you went tae live with him. He doesna sound near as fearsome as Father.”

  “Thomas talked about fear, too, lassie. Fear can be useful, he said, because it helps keep us alive. We should heed it when it rises but never let it control us. You know you can speak to me of anything. Mayhap I can help ease your fears.”

  “Aye, you be a wise man, Will. I dinna think you can banish my fears with talk, though. They ha’ been with me too long. Sithee, saving yourself and Meggie, I live in a household of violent men.”

  “How would you like to get away for an hour or two?”

  “Tae do what?”

  “I thought we might walk toward Nairn. The air outside is fresh from the firth and cool. It might help to banish your megrims.”

  “Father willna let me go.”

  “I’ll see if I can persuade him. It will be light out for several more hours.”

  “Oh, Will, if you could. I feel smothered in this hall. All the noise and smoke make my head ache.”

  “Eat some bread and the meat I gave you. I do not want to have to carry home a lady who has fainted from starvation.”

  She smiled, and that was enough for Will. He got up and moved toward de Raite, who regarded him with a glower. “What d’ye want?”

  “Alyssa is still frightened about today’s strange event, sir. I’d like to take her out into the fresh air and show her that she need no longer concern herself with the unusual darkness this afternoon or the predicted end of the world.”

  “Are ye telling me it didna scare the liver and lights out o’ ye, then?”

  “It was intriguing,” Will said frankly. “Though I did once see the moon disappear so into the earth’s shadow, I had thought that only in folktales was it possible for the moon to cast its shadow on the Earth. However, I could not imagine such an eclipse would scare you, nor had I put any faith in the word of an unknown Border woman that the world would end today. So, nae, sir, I was not frightened.”

  “Then mayhap ye’ve got more in your cockloft than I thought. I, too, found the event interesting, though it may still be an omen of some sort,” de Raite added with a grim smile. “I’m thinking it portends coming trouble for the Malcolmtosh.”

  “Then, may I take Aly out for a time, sir? I thought we might walk toward the firth and back. We’ll take Meggie, too, if you think that would be wise.”

  “Aye, it would; just dinna get lost,” de Raite said. “Try tae learn if Alyssa’s been a-meeting anyone, though. I dinna like her walking about where I canna see her, and I ken fine that she’s done that more than a time or two.”

  “I think Aly has too much respect for your temper to attempt any such daft venture on her own, sir,” Will said without a blink of guilt. “I have known her for barely two years, but she seems as meek as a nun’s hen to me.”

  “Aye, she is that,” de Raite said. “Get along then, and dinna forget ye’ll be a-going with us on Friday.”

  “I won’t,” Will said.

  Before de Raite could change his mind, Will plucked Aly from her stool, sent her to fetch her cloak and Meggie, and hurried them through the hall and outside, pausing only to tell Olaf that they were going beyond the gate.

  “Is Himself feeling more the thing, then, sir?”

  “More the thing, Olaf?” Will asked, looking right at him.

  The women stopped in the open doorway.

  “Aye,” Olaf said. “He were all of a tremble earlier, like the rest of us. Pale as a ghost he were when he stumbled in after that pernicious black hour.”

  Suppressing his amusement, Will assured the porter that de Raite had recovered himself and might dislike further talk of that momentary weakness.

  “Aye, ye’ve the right about that, sir,” Olaf agreed, nodding.

  Their exchange had an unexpected, beneficial effect on Aly.

  “Father was frightened, too?” she exclaimed disbelievingly as they crossed the timber bridge and descended to the flagged courtyard.

  “Evidently, he was,” Will said with a smile.

  The sun was approaching the western horizon when they set out northward from Raitt, and they soon saw the towers of Nairn’s kirk and castle.

  Will let the women choose the way and followed them. Hearing his name shouted, away to his left, he turned to see who had recognized him from the distance. When he saw the rider heading toward him on a sleek bay horse, he shouted to Meggie and Aly to keep going, adding that he would catch up.

  Turning back, he waited for the horseman.

  “I recognized your walk,” Wilkin Cawdor said, grinning down at him from the saddle. He wore breeks and a jerkin of dark leather. “I was thinking o’ ye, too, trying to imagine a safe way to pass on a message to ye from Thomas.”

  “You’ve been in Inverness then,” Will said. “How fares the ancient one?”

  “Still full of pepper and fond of good whisky,” Wilkin said. “Might that be your sister, Alyssa, yonder?”

  “Aye, but do not get any notions about her,” Will warned him. “It is doubtless as much as my life is worth to talk to you in the open like this.”

  “In troth, I’m surprised ye’ve kept your head on ye. Likely Thomas will be, too. He sent greetings and said to warn ye to keep out of the trouble as be brewing now. Said he never managed to stop ye, himself, so he expects me to fail, too.”

  “Have you any news of worth?” Will asked dryly, recalling that Wilkin had initiated much of the past “trouble” to which he had referred. “Sithee, de Raite was wrong to take Nairn and is furious now, but I have no influence with him.”

  “I thought ye’d say summat like that,” Wilkin said with a grin. “But if ye’d like to learn more about de Raite’s enemies, Father and I had an invitation from Finlagh today to attend a cèilidh tomorrow, celebrating the end of shearing and the evident survival of the world. Father will be engaged elsewhere, but I’m laden with dozens of cousins and could take a ‘cousin’ along if ye’d enjoy the escapade. Forbye, since I ken fine that ye took nae part in the seizure of Nairn, I’d wager that nae one at Finlagh has ever clapped eyes on ye.”

  “You would lose your wager,” Will said, giving his childhood friend an oblique, even mischievous, look. Casting a glance to be sure the two women still strolled amiably on, he added, “We must discuss the matter more, I think. Sithee, two lasses at Finlagh have clapped eyes on me. For the sake of one of them, though, I’d risk it if I thought we could get away with—”

  “Sakes, Will, ’twill be easy to fool them,” Wilkin interjected with his merry laugh. “For entertainment, I shall play the lute and you can sing. Now, tell me which two of their maidservants saw you, so I can be sure we avoid them.”

  Fin having approved of Catriona’s cèilidh, the usual bustle required for such an event ensued that evening. Every guest would bring food or drink and be willing to provide entertainment. As hosts, Finlagh’s residents had only to put meat on spits to roast and bring casks of ale and wine from their undercroft storag
e. People would wander from courtyard to hall and back, so they would have fires inside and out.

  The twins helped Catriona make her lists of chores for everyone. Usually, such activity led to an exchange of news and gossip. However, Cat banned talk of what people were calling the Black Hour, and Katy had no impulse to say she had declared herself married to a Comyn just before the event, so talk was desultory.

  Just thinking of her declaration gave Katy the shivers. She had to remind herself several times of Will’s certainty that the darkness had been none of her doing. Fin’s explanation of the event was also reassuring. Even so …

  Recalling that Will would be away for a time and that de Raite was likely plotting mischief, she wondered if Will had already gone. If so, would he take part in that mischief? His demeanor had never suggested so, she reminded herself.

  She slept fitfully that night, but by morning, with bright sunlight beaming through the narrow window between her bed and Clydia’s, she felt like her usual self. The day passed swiftly, because Catriona kept everyone busy in the great hall or kitchen and bakehouse, or outside in the courtyard.

  Despite her insistence that a cèilidh was the simplest amusement to organize, Cat always assumed that her guests might fail to provide enough food and drink for everyone and strove to predict and avoid any lack.

  “Moreover,” she said as she explained one flurry of activity to her husband and daughters at the midday meal, “we have lambs aplenty and poultry, and wood, so roasting extra meat will be no trouble at all. Anything left over, should there be any, will soon grace our table and go to those who have less.”

  Guests began arriving by midafternoon, mostly cottars with their families, shepherds and other tenants from the strath, and friends from Nairn or nearer. The party from Cawdor arrived shortly before the normal hour for supper, while Clydia was changing her dress and Katy stood beside Catriona and Fin helping to receive their guests in the dusky, torchlit courtyard a short way from the main gate.

  The group then passing through the gateway included the Thane’s son Wilkin and a string of Cawdor tenants, most of whom were familiar to residents of Finlagh. The Thane was not with them, so they streamed behind lanky Wilkin, who had his lute, and a second man, slightly taller than Wilkin, who wore the red, tight-fitting hood of a jester with bells attached to the three points of the fool’s cap on his head and the points of the dagged red cowl over his shoulders. Beneath it, he wore a thigh-length blue tunic, belted at the waist. When Katy’s gaze met his, she nearly cried out in shock, instantly recognizing him.

  How had Will Comyn dared to come to Finlagh?

  Katy had all she could do to keep her jaw from dropping, but his eyes danced as if he were delighted to have stunned her.

  “What have you done with your father, Wilkin?” Fin demanded then, jerking Katy’s attention from Will to pay heed to Wilkin’s response.

  “He had another obligation,” Wilkin explained glibly. “I am to relay his regrets to you all, as well as his felicitations on having survived not only the end of the world but also what everyone hereabouts seems now to be calling the Black Hour. Frankly, I do not think the black part lasted nearly so long.”

  “Nor do I,” Cat said, smiling. “But the unusual darkening and slow return to normal light lasted much longer than an hour. Our bees even went to bed. But you have not yet presented your friend, sir, and I do not think we have met him.”

  “Och, aye,” Wilkin said, clapping a hand to his forehead. “Forgive me, my lady, and ye, too, Lady Katy,” he added with mischief in his hazel eyes when he looked at her. “This unfortunate chap chances to be my cousin, William Calder, from Inverness. As ye know, our lot is rife with Williams, and he is another such. Forbye, he was visiting and I knew ye’d welcome him, so I brought him along with me.”

  “Indeed, he is welcome,” Catriona said as she turned, still smiling, to extend a hand to the supposed jester. “We are pleased to meet you, William Calder.”

  Katy held her breath, ignoring Wilkin, as she watched them.

  “Pray, m’lady, call me Will, for I’ll likely not answer to William,” Will said gruffly, as he shook hands with Fin. “I am honored to meet you, as well, sir.”

  “Although he has little else to recommend him to your ladyships, he can sing,” Wilkin added lightly. “His ballads are most amusing.”

  Trying to maintain her countenance, Katy shifted her gaze back to Wilkin and caught a look of unholy glee on his face. She knew he was delighted with himself for introducing a member of the enemy Comyn clan into Castle Finlagh and hearing Fin and Catriona welcome him there.

  Aware then that her father was watching her, she felt a tingle of alarm.

  Mercy on us, Da will have my head for this. And what Clydia will say when she sees Will, I do not want to imagine!

  Her twin would be outraged and was unlikely to believe that she had had naught to do with the young men’s prank. Surely, it was just a prank, too, because although Wilkin was heir to the Thanage, he had played pranks before. Moreover, she thought grimly, he would not want to brew mischief against his family’s closest ally. But, if he was their friend, how could he also be Will’s?

  Would Clydia recognize him?

  To the best of Katy’s knowledge, no one else at Finlagh, except Rory, had seen him before, and she could only hope that if Rory recognized Will, he would not give him away. In a jester’s ridiculous close-fitting cap and cowl, with none of Will’s hair showing, and the scruffy, darker beard—

  “Katy, where are your manners that you have not yet spoken to our guests?” Catriona demanded quietly beside her, bringing a flush of heat to Katy’s face.

  “I beg your pardon, Mam,” she said hastily. “And yours, Wilkin. My wits must have abandoned me. Does your jester tell jokes and turn cartwheels, sir?”

  Wilkin shot her an approving grin but said, “Ye’ll have to ask Willy, Kate.”

  Her eyebrows flew up. “Willy?”

  “Aye, sure,” Wilkin said. “For so I have called him since we were lads together in Inverness town, where my father has a house, as I think ye know.”

  She did know that, but …

  “Greetings, Wilkin,” Clydia said from just behind Katy, having evidently approached while her own senses were still reeling. “’Tis good to see you, sir.”

  “Thank you, m’lady,” Wilkin replied, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “May … may I present my cousin, William Calder of Inverness.”

  To Katy’s relief but not much to her surprise, Clydia said without a blink and with her usual poise, “Welcome to Finlagh, sir.”

  Despite the red lacing at his throat, or perhaps because its bow shook, Katy saw Will swallow before he said, “It is indeed an honor to meet you, m’lady.”

  “Show your cousin around, Wilkin,” Fin said, clapping him on the back. “We look forward to your music, as we always do.”

  “It will be our pleasure, sir,” Wilkin said. Taking Will by an arm, he guided him toward the fire now burning brightly in the center of the courtyard.

  Clydia said nothing until the flow of guests ebbed to a trickle. Then she said, “Come with me, Katy. I want a private moment with you.”

  Half expecting their father to say he wanted to talk to her first and relieved when he did not, Katy went meekly back into the hall with her twin.

  Eyeing the gathering crowd, and people trying to claim space on benches at the tables by setting belongings on them, Clydia said, “We’ll go elsewhere.”

  “We can talk later,” Katy said hopefully.

  “Nae, we’ll talk now, in the inner chamber,” Clydia said, leading the way to the dais and then into the chamber behind it. When she had shut the door behind them, she said, “How could you do such a thing, Kate?”

  “You did recognize him then?”

  “Aye, sure, how could I not?”

  “I promise you,
Clydia, on mine honor or anything you like, that I did not invite him. His presence here is Wilkin’s idea of an amusing hoax.”

  “It is not amusing. It could be dangerous. We should tell Mam and Da exactly who that man is.”

  Katy drew a breath and tried to think, but with Clydia glowering at her, it was hard to concentrate. Her twin’s temper could be as fierce as Katy’s own if she lost it. Katy’s belief in Will remained strong, though. “Let me talk to Will first,” she said as calmly as she could. “I do believe that this was all Wilkin’s idea. Will would not play such a trick on his own, nor would he harm me or anyone in my family. You met him, Clydie. Did you dislike or distrust him?”

  “Nae, but we do not know him, Katy. Even if we did, he is still a Comyn and therefore is as much our enemy as any other man in his clan.”

  “He is not like them,” Katy said, struggling not to raise her voice. “He was born a Comyn, aye, but so was Aly. They are unlike the rest, and I think we should encourage them to know us better. Also, Wilkin is friends with Will despite being our ally and despite de Raite’s seizure of Nairn. But, if I tell Da who Will is, here and now, surrounded by men and women who will doubtless see him as just another enemy to kill … I cannot do that, Clydie, and if you do I will never forgive you.”

  Clydia’s eyebrows shot upward, but her expression eased. “You care about him that much, do you?”

  “I do,” Katy said flatly, “more than I can say.” She nearly told Clydia then that she had married Will by declaration the afternoon before, because she had always shared her thoughts, actions, and opinions with her twin. This time, though, she could not bring herself to do it. Not now, not during the cèilidh.

  “Very well,” Clydia said. “But we must not linger here, because someone will soon be looking for us and demanding to know why we vanished.”

  She opened the door to the dais, and the two stepped out of the chamber.

  Katy shut the door and turned to see Wilkin striding toward them, as people in his path swiftly made way for him.