“What you saw, sir, was not what you thought.”
“I know that now. But had I known that you would come so far from the castle alone, I would never have agreed to your coming out alone at all.”
“However, you do see now that Argus and Eos will protect me.”
“I see naught of the sort, Fiona. What I see is my wife more than a mile and a half from Finlagh and less than a mile from Raitt Castle land.”
“Surely, the dogs would protect me even from Comyns,” she said, keeping her tone mild. Experience had taught her that if she could retain her composure and yet defend her position with facts and logic, she could often—albeit not always—prevail in a dispute, even with a man, even her father . . . sometimes, even Davy.
However, Àdham’s eyes had widened, and his body stiffened again. So she felt little surprise when he said curtly, “Are you mad?”
“I do not believe so, no. I do remember the attack on us that night, and I have no doubt that our attackers had nefarious intent. But we did manage to defend ourselves, which did much to ease my fears. Are you saying that that is madness?”
“I am not,” he said, crossing his arms over his broad chest, making the muscles in his bare forearms ripple when he did.
A chill went up her spine, more strongly than the first time. Other unusual sensations stirred, too, though, throughout her body.
“What I will tell you,” he said, his voice hard again, “is that you are never to stray so far from the castle wall again. Nor are you to come this way at all without an armed escort. The Comyns might not murder you, although they have murdered many members of Clan Chattan before, including women and children, but they would certainly—given the least opportunity—take you hostage and make demands.”
“Then I shall avoid giving them any chance to do so,” she said, her tone still perfectly reasonable. “I think you are being overprotective, sir. I am accustomed—”
“You are not to come north of the castle.”
“I did not think that I had,” she protested. “I lost sight of its towers when I left Fin’s pool. That route is circuitous, as you know. But I thought I had kept well south of Finlagh. I realized my mistake only when I saw that the sun was lowering to my left instead of to my right. You see, the woods here are so dense—”
“Enough, Fiona. You make my point for me. You do not know these paths yet. And evidently, you have not yet learned that all you need do is to tell Argus and Eos that you want to go home and then follow them. They will not fail you. But I want you to promise me that you will never come this way again.”
Rather than admit she had been reluctant to return until she realized how late it was, she said, “I do think you are being unfair, expecting me to submit to such decrees without trusting me to use my own judgment as I have done for years.”
“You forget that I have experience of your judgment, not only today but when first we met,” he pointed out harshly. “Your judgment then led you to bathe at midnight in the river Tay with the nearby town packed as full of strangers as it could hold, any one of whom might have come upon you there with much more disastrous results than our meeting had. What do you say to that?”
Struggling to control her own anger, she pressed her lips together. Losing her temper had never aided her in a family of eruptible men and would not aid her now.
“Well?”
Looking heavenward, she heaved a sigh of exasperation.
“Don’t do that,” he snapped. “Answer me, or I swear I will shake you.”
“Aye, sure, because that is what tyrants do, and you are behaving like a tyrant.” When he stepped nearer, she said, “Are you sorry I went for that swim?”
“What I think about that now is not the issue. You will do as I bid you.”
Grimacing, fighting the urge to shout, she said, “I had begun to think you more reasonable than most men, that you were different from my brothers and—”
“And your father?” he interjected coldly. “By heaven, if you consider him to be a strict parent, I take exception to that description. He is naught of the sort!”
Fisting her hands at her sides and narrowing her eyes, she said, “Don’t you dare to criticize my father! You scarcely know him!”
“I know enough to be certain that he ought to have taken much sterner measures to teach you obedience to those in authority over you.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, warning herself that he might be more violent than she had believed, she drew a breath. Trying to curb the urge to shriek at him or to remember how much she had missed him—
Her eyes flashed open then, and words flew off her tongue without thought: “Faith, and to think that I missed you, that I feared for your very life and have prayed every night for you to come home safely. What a fool I was to think you were different from other men! You still believe that I came out here to meet Gillichallum Roy, don’t you?”
“I do not!”
“Aye, you do, too, Àdham. I could see that at once when you came upon us. If you think that I would ever do such a thing—”
“Enough!” he shouted. “If meeting Gilli Roy kept you from walking into Comyn country, I am much indebted to him. If my first thought when I saw the pair of you was—”
“Jealousy!” she snapped back. “That is what it was, is it not?”
He did not speak, but in the forest silence, she was certain that she heard his teeth grind together.
Drawing breath, she said, “Faith, but you have a suspicious mind, Àdham MacFinlagh. That’s why you knocked Caithness down that night, too, is it not? You scarcely knew me then. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“By heaven,” he growled, looming over her, “you go too far, madam.”
“Oh, aye, I expect I do,” she retorted, no longer caring what she said, how she said it, or what he might do. She wanted only to have her say, to try to make him understand how he was making her feel. “You told me that Highland women speak their minds, and I believed you. I foolishly thought that you would not object if I expressed my thoughts on this matter, which I tried to do in a reasonable way. But I see now that you are just another man who thinks all he must do is to issue an order and his womenfolk must obey it, whether they agree that it is sensible or not.
“Faith,” she added when another thought struck her. “I suppose that when you said my father ought to have taken sterner measures, you meant that he should have beaten me into submission. So you are not only an unreasonably suspicious, jealous man but a brutal one. By heaven, I wish I could—”
The last word ended in a screech when he grabbed her by an arm, pulled her toward him, and then turned her and shoved her ahead of him.
“Argus,” he muttered, “‘Dol dhachaigh!”
“Àdham, I—”
“It means, ‘go home,’” he said in the same tone he’d used to Argus. “If you are wise, madam, you will go silently, because if you speak again before we reach the gates, I will not answer for the consequences. Moreover, I’ll tell Fin where I found you and ask him to make sure that you do not leave the castle alone again.”
Wishing she could shake him, Fiona remained obediently silent. But he had just confirmed her opinion that he not only had a suspicious nature but could become jealous and threaten violence without right or reason. Sir Àdham MacFinlagh, like most men, wanted to dominate everyone around him!
As he watched Fiona stride angrily ahead of him, Àdham tried to force his anger back under control but had little success. He felt as if he’d been traveling for weeks, debating with people much of that time—mostly men, to be sure—and fuming when he could not persuade them to his, and the King’s, point of view.
It was blatantly unfair for him to return home and walk straight into a conflagration with his unbiddable wife, who ought to have stayed safely within the walls of Castle Finlagh. After all, if he could not trust her to
protect herself . . .
Argus glanced back, as if to be sure that Fiona was still safe.
His sense of the dog’s thinking stirred Àdham to recall how calm and reasonable she had been, even after he’d demanded to know if she were daft . . . in fact, right up until he had criticized Ormiston.
That, he knew, was ill-done of him. His displeasure was with her.
Now, remembering the explanation she had offered him, he realized that he should not have been amazed that she had gone astray. The same thing had happened to him the first time he had gone alone to that pool. The route was circuitous. It forked several times, too, and the terrain was deceptive.
He had been walking by himself then, too, still angry about his father’s having sent him away. When Fin found him, Àdham had expected him to be furious, especially since Fin had warned him never to leave the castle alone. But Fin had hugged him and said that he was gey glad to find him safe.
He had forgotten that incident. Although he had been a child at the time and Fiona was an adult, the memory gave him food for thought.
They were still some distance from the castle, but he knew instinctively that any attempt to discuss the matter further now would be a mistake. She was most likely wondering just how angry he was and what he might do. However, such wondering would do her no harm and would give him more time to think.
After all, if he had reached home to find her missing . . . Or had Gilli Roy not turned her back and the damned Comyns had descended on her instead . . .
Chapter 19
“Men!” Fiona muttered to herself. If only a woman could put one of them over her knee when he behaved unreasonably or threatened violence!
Not that Àdham had exactly threatened violence. But “consequences” for which he would not be held answerable certainly sounded as if he had meant violence. With a sigh, she exerted herself to suppress such emotion-provoking thoughts and to strive for a return to calm thinking instead.
Argus kept looking back at her and likely at Àdham as well.
Eos had moved in behind her, so both dogs took their protective duties seriously even when they were protecting her from Àdham.
He did have cause to be upset with her for straying so near Comyn country. It was also reasonable that he had disliked finding her alone with Gillichallum Roy.
How, she wondered, would she have felt had he not been jealous?
More to the point, how would she feel if she were to come upon him alone in the woods with another young woman? That thought spurred her to wonder if the woman or girl whose voice she had heard really was a stranger. What if she had been expecting Àdham and had simply asked Gillichallum Roy if he had seen him?
That notion drew a wry smile to her face, and she mentally shook her head at herself. Now, she could hardly blame Àdham for asking if she were daft. He had shown no shred of interest in other women, yet here she was, thinking thoughts exactly like those that he had thought when he’d seen her with Gilli.
But then, after hearing their explanation of the meeting, Àdham had clung to his jealousy. Her teeth threatened to grate together again, and as she continued along the path, her thoughts swayed from blame to understanding and back, again and again. The castle on its knoll hove into view at last, and a quarter hour later, they passed silently through the hornwork and inside.
Knowing supper awaited them, Fiona excused herself to their bedchamber to wash and tidy herself. Àdham having said naught to her in response, she decided she would ignore him when he came upstairs, only he did not come up. When she went back downstairs, she saw that he had gone straight into the great hall.
He stood at the high table beside Fin with Gillichallum Roy at his right. Everyone else was there, too, waiting. Passing Clydia, Fiona hurried to her place between Catriona and Katy. Katy smiled but made no comment, making Fiona wonder if Àdham had told everyone where he had found her.
Catriona leaned near then and said quietly into her ear, “I hope you had a pleasant afternoon, love. I also hope that you did not expect to have Àdham all to yourself tonight. Fin has declared that he wants to talk with him after supper and hear all that he has learned these past weeks.”
“I did have an agreeable afternoon,” Fiona said, managing a smile.
“Gilli said that you met him in the woods,” Cat murmured.
“Aye, he was on his way here from Nairn.”
“He was, and he brought us ribbons,” Katy said, evidently overhearing them.
“Shhh,” Catriona said. “Your father is about to say the grace-
before-meat.”
They sat after the grace, and Fiona could hear Gilli Roy asking Àdham about his journey, but she could not hear Àdham’s brief responses. Likely, she thought, if he had not yet reported to Fin, he was not telling Gilli Roy much of importance.
After supper, Fin took Àdham to his privy chamber as Catriona had predicted, and Fiona went with Cat and the twins to the solar. She soon realized that neither Àdham nor Gilli Roy had said more to the others than that the three of them had met in the woods north of the castle.
When Katy chuckled and said that Àdham had doubtless found Gilli too much in his way, that that was why Gilli had come ahead to tell them Àdham would be home for supper, Fiona managed a smile and changed the subject.
Àdham had not come to fetch her by the time her eyelids began drooping, so she took herself off to bed to await him there. She hoped she could stay awake but was nearly certain that she did not want to hear what he would say to her.
“Why the devil did Mar go to Urquhart Castle?” Fin demanded when Àdham reached that part of his tale. “Does he not take Donal Balloch seriously?”
They had spent much of the previous hour and a half discussing his journey.
Fin had listened carefully while Àdham described the men with whom he had spoken, relating their conversations as accurately, fairly, and faithfully as he could without inserting his own opinion of anyone or of anything said.
Now, though, faced with Fin’s blunt question . . .
“Mar said he wanted to be sure Urquhart’s constable had not got too friendly with Cameron of Lochiel,” he said. “The castle sits near Lochiel’s territory, but its constable is Mar’s man, installed when he captured it two years ago. I think Mar got tired of sitting at Inverlochy, just waiting for things to happen, and visited Urquhart because it lies near Inverness. He was preparing to head south again when we left.”
“So, how do you assess the situation now?” Fin asked.
“In troth, sir, any onset of war is uncertain,” Àdham replied after some thought. “I agree with men west of us, most of whom believe Balloch is nearly ready to move. However, although Mar has heard the same rumors, a number of the chiefs and chieftains I met do fear that he is not yet much concerned. They say he insists that Balloch cannot have so much experience because he is too young.”
“Mar is ever confident,” Fin said. “I can tell you from my experience with him that he is a fine general, gey astute in battle. It is possible, though, that he has grown overconfident. You say you sent MacNab to Malcolm. But we must get this news off to Ivor as well, because I suspect we’ll get orders soon, ourselves.”
“You’ll stay here when we leave, though, and will have enough men to keep Finlagh’s lands safe,” Àdham said. He was confident that he was right, but for Fiona’s sake and his own peace of mind, he needed to hear it again.
“I will,” Fin said. “Shaw Mòr will look after Rothiemurchus, and Malcolm will lead the Clan Chattan men. Ivor, as war leader, will relay orders from Mar and Mar’s lieutenants to our men. As we know, the Islesmen will likely approach again by sea, sailing up Loch Linnhe to Inverlochy by galley, as they did when Alexander attacked two years ago. Mar was in Inverness then, at the opposite end of Glen Mòr. This time, we must hope he can stop them at Inverlochy.”
The two men talk
ed for another hour, so by the time Àdham got to bed, Fiona was sound asleep, curled around her cat. He was tempted to wake her, but having no idea whether she remained angry or not, he decided he’d be wiser to get a good night’s rest rather than risk fratching with her again.
Waking the next morning as early as usual, while she still slept, he arose cautiously, dressed silently, glanced out the window at a cloudy sky, and went downstairs to break his fast. Finding Fin awaiting him, he bade him good morning and made his usual request of the hovering gillie to fetch him a manchet loaf and two hard-boiled eggs.
Fin said, “Will you go to Rothiemurchus yourself?”
“Aye, I should,” Àdham said.
“I agree,” Fin said with a nod. “I know that you had to send MacNab to Malcolm. But MacNab had traveled with you and heard all that you heard. Ivor and Shaw Mòr will want to hear it from you. They will have questions, too, many of which a running gillie would be unable to answer.”
“I mean to leave as soon as I’ve eaten.”
“I’ll order food for you to take along, then. You will stop on your way, as usual, but you must take a proper tail of eight men with you, because I’d like to know if you see any sign that Comyn of Raitt is preparing his men to travel. Whilst Gilli Roy may have got near Comyn land without incident, after your recent experience, whether your attackers were Comyns or not . . .”
When he paused, Àdham nodded. “I’ll take no chances, sir. Likely, the Comyns ignore Gilli when they see him, despite his belief that he’d make a fine soldier if he were not so thoroughly a man of peace.”
Fin said dryly, “He has failed to note that, whilst most folks hereabouts ken his beliefs fine, no one has offered to help spread them about. It occurs to me, though,” he added, “that if you mean to leave right after you eat, you may have forgotten something . . . or someone . . . of some importance to you.”
Àdham, famished and eyeing the gillie approaching with his breakfast, nearly asked Fin what he meant. Then, catching the older man’s eye and detecting a quizzical, even humorous twinkle, he shut his own eyes to the sight. Opening them, he said, “I shan’t leave without bidding my lady farewell, sir, if that is what you mean. She was sleeping when I left our chamber.”
The Reluctant Highlander Page 27
