He strode to Elspeth. “What has happened, niece?”
She twisted to face him. “I did not ken you were in the castle.”
“I returned after dawn from the southern border. What are these preparations?”
“We received a message from Patrick of an accident.”
“Has your brother been wounded?”
“Nae, thank the Good Lord.” Elspeth made the sign of the cross. “It’s our herdsman Ruari. They bring him to the castle for tending.”
“I told your brother there would be more trouble. He must resolve this quarrel with Lamont. If he agreed to the marriage with Isobell the conflict would cease.”
Isobell? Marriage? Laurie’s ears perked.
“We dinnae ken what happened. What makes you think Lamont was involved?”
Donald looked like he was about to retort when he stopped with his mouth half-open.
Laurie swiveled her head to the open window, where a noisy disturbance came from the courtyard below. The commotion moved up the stairs and the door to the hall slammed open. Patrick and Stephen entered, water dripping from their hair and plaides.
Behind them, two of Patrick’s men carried a litter with the injured man up the awkward circular stone steps. Entering the hall with their burden, they set the litter beside the table where Aine indicated. They placed the man on his back atop the table while the rest of the men gathered round.
Aine examined the man, searching for injuries while she moved her hands over his body. The entire time, she shook her head and made tsking sounds.
Almost everyone in the hall moved to stand around the table. They were silent, waiting for Aine’s assessment. Laurie moved with the group, though she watched as an outsider, not a participant.
Patrick’s uncle stared at her. She used the corner of the plaid she wore to wipe some of the salt residue from her face. She must look a mess.
He gave a slight nod and looked away, relieving some of the tension in her shoulders.
“I cannae find any injury.” Aine wiped her hands on a wet cloth. “Naught but this whappin’ bump on his head. What has happened to the lad?”
Patrick shook his head. “We dinnae ken.”
His uncle stepped forward. “I warned you, nephew. If you did not fulfill your father’s wish and marry Isobell Lamont our people would pay the price.”
Laurie tensed. That was the second time Donald said the name Isobell and the subject of marriage in the same sentence with reference to Patrick. She raised her tired eyes to Patrick. His gaze burned her, then he quickly turned away to glare at his uncle.
“Hold your tongue, old man,” he bellowed.
His uncle’s face contorted into a nasty grimace, but he remained silent, and stepped back from the crowd. His face reddened with anger.
“There’s nothing for me to do for Ruari, but try to make him comfortable,” Aine said.
“Naught?” Patrick’s eyes shone with turbulent emotion. “Are you sure there is naught we can do for the lad?”
“Bide an’ see,” she said.
Duncan stepped forward from behind the others and peered at Ruari. “I have seen injuries like this afore. Some men never waken.”
“We’ll need to rearrange sleeping quarters to accommodate the lad. Move Lady Laurie’s things into Lady Elspeth’s bedchamber and prepare mine for Ruari,” Patrick ordered. “Someone is to be with him at all times.”
Aine hurried from the hall.
“Beth, you will share your bedchamber with Lady Laurie until Ruari recovers.”
“I dinnae mind. She is my sister.”
“That is good.” Patrick nodded. “Now run along and help Aine. And take Lady Laurie with you.” Glancing at Laurie, he raised an eyebrow. “She appears to have had a disappointing day.”
Laurie frowned. What did he mean by that remark? Their eyes met again and held. Did he know what she’d been up to? She shivered and broke the contact, glancing away, her unsettled emotions swirling.
The last thing she wanted was for Patrick to realize she planned to return home.
* * *
Later that evening, Patrick surveyed the hall, the tic throbbing beneath his eye, an annoyance. His rage bubbled below the surface.
The repast had been a quiet affair with only a small amount of stilted conversation. Lady Laurie sat at the high table at his left, looking much better than she had earlier. Healthy color had returned to her cheeks. Stephen sat on her other side while Elspeth took the place to Patrick’s right with Uncle Donald next to her.
At the lower tables, a somber mood prevailed with his people concerned for Ruari. The clansmen bantered over much conjecture as to how the lad became injured. Most were ready to blame the Lamonts. As was he.
“Patrick, you must listen to reason,” Donald said, breaking the silence at the high table with his thundering voice. “The Lamonts will continue to raid our land if you dinnae fulfill the promise of your father and marry the lass.”
There was a collective intake of breath and all gazes shot to Patrick.
Stiffening, he slowly twisted his torso to look past his sister to his uncle, fury burned in his gut. “You ken there was never a promise. I will not bring the daughter of our enemy into this house to mother my sons.”
“You must wed Isobell Lamont.”
“Nae. That I will never do.”
Before the argument could escalate, the two scouts who’d gone to Ruari’s hut entered the hall and strode to the dais to report. They told a bloody tale of devastation, burned huts and torched fields, cattle gone. The other two herdsmen dead. Murdered.
Jumping from his seat, Donald slapped his hand hard on the table in front of Patrick. “I told you.”
He ignored his uncle’s outburst and stood before his clan. “This dishonorable deed was surely the work of the Lamonts. In that much, my uncle is correct. The time has come to retaliate. We must plan our strategy. To the council chamber.”
Benches scraped across stone. Voices raised in debate as the men of the clan left the great hall to climb the wheel stair to the council hall above.
Before he left the dais, Patrick darted a glance at Laurie. Her alarmed expression tore at his heart. He didn’t care for the pallid cast to her skin. The day’s events must have upset her, but as much as he wished to ease her heartache, he couldn’t coddle her.
Nor could he allow her to return to the future. Faerie magic was far too unpredictable. Too dangerous. Yanking his thoughts back to the problem with the Lamonts, he strode from the chamber with his men.
Laurie rose to follow, but Elspeth placed a hand on her arm to stay her. “’Tis a matter for the men.”
“What do you mean? Oh, I forgot. Women aren’t included in politics.” She hadn’t meant for her frustration to show in her tone of voice, yet it had.
Elspeth arched a brow. “Nae. Of course not.”
“Well, where I come from women are involved in political affairs. Aren’t you concerned about what the men will decide?”
“Aye. They will tell us after the council is concluded.”
Laurie ground her teeth. “Don’t you think they should include you in making a decision that will affect the future of your clan?”
“You have some unusual ideas. Let us go to my chamber and you can tell me about the women of your time.” Elspeth’s wary gaze shifted to those seated around them when she realized her slip. No one seemed to notice, too busy with personal speculation.
Laurie shook her head. She’d never get used to the role women played in this society. With a sigh, she followed Elspeth from the hall.
They ascended the circular stone steps. At this late hour, torches lit the stairs and passageways. Elspeth also carried a small lantern. When they reached the second level, Elspeth stopped and placed the lamp in a small niche in the wall. She put a finger to her lips, signaling for silence.
“Why so secretive?” Laurie asked in a whisper.
Elspeth shook her head and tapped the finger against her lips. Sh
e extended her arm and brushed her hand along the stone wall, and then pressed hard against one of the stones. A portion of the wall fell back, exposing an opening into darkness. What had moments before appeared as solid stone became the gloomy entrance to a secret passageway.
A chill of apprehension skittered along Laurie’s spine. Elspeth clasped her hand again, shaking her head when Laurie opened her mouth to say something more. The young woman guided her into the darkness, stepping cautiously. The doorway closed behind them with a muffled thud.
Laurie gasped softly. Elspeth stopped and gave her damp hand a gentle squeeze. Her heart thumping hard, Laurie stood motionless, listening.
Muted voices came from nearby. It took willpower to trust Elspeth and stay quiet. Laurie couldn’t catch her breath, claustrophobic in the confined space—in the darkness. She’d always been afraid of the dark. Fearing spiders waited in their webs ready to pounce on those who dared the shadowy places. Her skin prickled and she shivered.
After a moment, her eyes adjusted to the dimness. To the right she felt hard stone. To the left was an unusual wooden wall woven like a basket. Filtered light entered the hidden passageway from between slats.
Elspeth squeezed her hand again, and tugged her farther along the passage. Laurie took careful steps, brushing her free hand along the stones to her right. As they moved, the voices became more distinct. Soon she recognized Patrick’s voice and realized where they were. She remembered the slatted wall from the other side.
When she’d first arrived, she’d toured the castle with Duncan and Elspeth and seen the council chamber.
She and Elspeth were at this moment hidden from the council by an elaborate wooden screen with slats weaved in a complicated Celtic design. The partition stood behind the large stone dais platform.
The reason they heard Patrick’s voice clearly.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Angry voices reverberated round the council hall. Boisterous arguments erupted throughout the chamber. Patrick sat at the head table surrounded by his most loyal men. The exception his uncle, he didn’t trust the man. Stephen, Duncan and Jamie debated the merits of making a raid during a full moon, whereas Patrick’s uncle argued against retaliation of any kind.
If only Archibald had returned from the Continent and was here to lend his support. Patrick missed their shared confidences. Being twins, they’d always been close, but especially so after their elder brother died. Holding with tradition, their elder brother Donald was named for their grandfather, as was their uncle. Isobell Lamont should have been their brother’s bride, not Patrick’s.
Patrick drummed his fingers on the table, ignoring most of the discussion going on around him. His insides boiled. How dare Lamont take out the argument over the disputed marriage proposal on the MacLachlan clan?
He glanced at the men sitting at the two long tables stretched out in front of him and the others standing around the chamber. This was his family, and he’d failed them. His fervent denial of a marriage contract between himself and Iain Lamont’s daughter Isobell brought them to the precipice of this hostile confrontation. Yet a feud with the Lamonts had existed for generations. The recent raid was only the most current act of treachery.
His gaze drifted to the ceiling, his thoughts on the chamber above. The chamber his precious Laurie slept in, his bedchamber, the one where Ruari now lay unconscious.
Patrick took full responsibility for what happened to his herdsmen. If only he’d agreed to Iain Lamont’s demands—married Isobell—Ruari wouldn’t be lying in the bedchamber above, insensible from a bang on the head. And the others wouldn’t be dead.
Lamont had prodded him ever since Patrick lost his father. This time the man pushed too far. Patrick would have to retaliate. It was an issue of honor. This latest infringement couldn’t be left unpunished. It was a matter of his clan’s survival.
Was he wrong? Should he break his oath, marry Isobell, and hope in doing so, he’d end the feud? It wasn’t that Isobel was undesirable. She’d make someone a good wife. She possessed a fine dowry and was comely. But he felt nothing when she was near. Certainly not the burning fire he experienced with Laurie. Isobell had no warmth. She was like cold stone. He’d never even had the desire to steal a kiss.
Archibald thought him daft. Repeatedly, he reminded Patrick of her value. After all, she was the co-heir of Iain Lamont. Now, that was the problem. How could he be expected to marry her? He believed her father responsible for his parent’s disappearance.
And possible death? No, he wouldn’t consider the possibility.
When he learned his parents had gone missing while chased by Lamont clansmen, he swore from that day forward Iain Lamont was his enemy. He vowed never to agree to a marriage between the two clans.
He raked his fingers through his hair. What of Laurie? What was he to do about his lass from the future?
Stephen poked his arm, interrupting his contemplation. “The full moon is two days next. ’Tis the best time to raid.”
“Aye. A good time for a raid,” Jamie agreed, a brutal grin spreading across his face.
“’Tis not the time to raid.” Donald pinned Patrick with his gaze. “Marry Isobell. End the dispute.”
Patrick glared at his uncle. “I will agree to marry the lass on the day my father stands afore me and requests it of me.”
An anxious hush fell across the chamber.
“You cannae yet believe your father alive. If he were, he would be here with us now.”
“For all I ken, he and my sweet stepmother suffer in Lamont’s pit,” Patrick said, his tone sharp.
Across the chamber, Aine’s husband Angus stood, slamming his palms flat on the table. All gazes shot to him. “Leave off, Donald. ’Tis time we seek revenge for the insults wrought by the Lamonts. I say we raid.”
Most of the men roared in agreement, raising fists and shouting. Donald glowered. His gaze circled the chamber from man to man. “Decided, is it? You will rue this day.”
“’Tis a matter of honor.” With his fists clenched and his knuckles white, Patrick struggled to maintain control over his temper. “I am a warrior fighting to maintain my honor and that of my clan.”
“And what of King Jamie? What do you think will happen when he hears of this?” Donald demanded.
Loud voices erupted again in the chamber. “Quiet!” Patrick bellowed. “He will not interfere with a mere skirmish.”
They were well aware of King James IV’s policies. He sought to do in the Highlands what had been effective amongst his Lowland lords. The king’s strategy to play one clan against the other, perpetuate ancient feuds and generate renewed bitterness ensured his control in the Highlands.
Patrick believed King Jamie wouldn’t bother to get involved unless it came to all-out clan war. Another matter altogether. He was determined not to let that happen.
His uncle scowled. “You will regret your decision.” He stomped from the chamber. Several men standing near the doorway followed.
Let the man go. Patrick couldn’t trust him at his back anyway.
* * *
Laurie held a lungful of air, listening to the discussion from the opposite side of the screen. She released her breath in a rush after Elspeth squeezed her hand again. So much anger, so much hate, so much violence, and centuries hadn’t changed that. The world remained much the same.
The women made their way back along the screen. Elspeth slid her hand along the wall, hit the trigger stone and the opening emerged in front of them. They stepped through the doorway into the outer passage, and Laurie blinked in the brighter light. With another stone pressed, the wall swung back into place.
Once again, Elspeth made the sign for silence. The women ascended the steps to the upper floor, crossing over to the eastern wing to Elspeth’s bedchamber. The young woman plopped into one of the chairs before the hearth and Laurie sat in another. Neither spoke.
The bedchamber was tiny in comparison to Patrick’s, yet seemed well suited to Elspeth. Laurie swirle
d slippered toes in a circle on the woven rush mat beneath her feet. She eyed the canopied bed. Though smaller than Patrick’s, the intricately carved bed had beautiful spring-green velvet drapes. Several luxurious furs lay across the matching coverlet. A large wooden trunk with decorative brass hardware sat at the bed’s foot.
Laurie scanned the rest of the room. A small window seat with a green velvet cushion matching the bed’s adornment softened the stark gray stone at the only window in the room. Her few possessions sat atop a small wooden chest nearby. Patrick’s borrowed plaid lay folded on top along with her tartan stole. Across the wool draped her skirt and blouse and a sleeping gown. Not much to call her own.
The day’s events, the long ride on horseback, the digging of plants, the disappointment at Fir-wood, and the excitement over Ruari and the proposed retaliation, took their toll. Exhaustion swamped her. She brushed her hand across her gown, still damp from the boat ride across the bay. She’d be lucky if she didn’t get sick.
Scooting closer to the fire, she rolled her neck on her shoulders and attempted to assimilate what she’d heard while hidden in the secret passage.
“What will happen now?” she asked after several long minutes.
“The men will stay up most the night planning and drinking. Then they will stumble to their beds.”
“Is there anything we can do to change their course?”
“Nae. ’Tis foolhardy to get in their way,” Elspeth said. “Shall we ready ourselves for bed? I told Aine she could spend this eve in the village.”
“Sure.” Although worn out, Laurie doubted she’d fall asleep.
After an hour passed, she lay on the bed next to the silently sleeping Elspeth, listening to the night wind wailing outside the castle walls. The occasional clap of thunder rumbled in the distance as the storm moved away. Wide-awake, she tensed at each noise, every creaking sound in the castle.
Unable to remain still, she rose and tiptoed to the chest in the corner. Pulling Patrick’s plaid around her, she opened the door and looked into the torch-lit passageway. No one was there. Not even Duncan skulked outside the door. When her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she made her way along the passage to the foul-smelling garderobe. She took a deep breath and pinched her nose before entering the privy.
Highland Charm: First Fantasies Page 92
