Amanda Scott (8 page)

“Naturally,” Hector agreed with a smile, knowing his father’s passion for all things historical. “Nonetheless, I’m for Seil. It would be most improper to delay my invitation to the wedding any longer. He rarely puts himself to the trouble of attending such events, but I am his eldest son, after all.”

Lachlan only grinned and wished him Godspeed.

Hector’s meeting with his father passed uneventfully. If Ian Dubh did not express joy at the proposed union, neither did he condemn it. As they talked, he sifted through a pile of documents, from which he had scarcely looked away long enough to react to his news, saying only, “A Macleod, eh?”

“Aye, sir. I warrant you may have hoped for a more rewarding connection. Indeed, Lachlan said as much to me.”

“Nay, lad, you and your brother have already gained much for Clan Gillean, so I wish only that you be happy. As you have waited this long to make your choice, I warrant you must know your own mind.”

“I do indeed, and I believe you will approve of my choice when you see her. I’m hoping you will do me the honor of traveling to Glenelg with me for the wedding. Lachlan and Mairi will make up the rest of the party.”

“As to that, we’ll have to see,” Ian Dubh said, peering closely at a document from which numerous wax seals on gold and red ribbons dangled. “I made an interesting discovery during my recent visit to Duart and only returned to Seil to attempt to reconcile one or two details with our muniments here.”

“Lachlan said you’d found a trunk with documents belonging to his grace.”

“Aye, and I mean to show them to MacDuffie of Colonsay, who is—”

“Hereditary keeper of the records to the Lord of the Isles,” Hector said. “I’ve met him several times, sir, whilst Lachlan and I have served as your ambassadors to the Council of the Isles.”

He did not think it wise to mention that he and his twin had once held MacDuffie hostage along with two or three others, in order to clear up a potential misunderstanding. His father already knew something of that incident, as did many other Islesmen, but Ian Dubh most assuredly did not know the whole story, nor did Hector intend to be the one who told him. Just as it was his right to inform his father of his intent to marry, so was it his twin’s business to relate the details of that interesting event, if Lachlan ever decided it would be useful for Ian Dubh to know.

“Ah, yes, of course you’ve met MacDuffie,” Ian Dubh said, nodding.

“Do I take it then that you will return soon to Duart?” Hector asked.

“Aye, indeed, for I cannot long retain control of these documents, you see, and although MacDuffie is an excellent man in his way, he merely keeps the records. He does not attempt to understand them or to learn from them.”

“Then I will hope you can find the time to go with us to Glenelg,” Hector said. “Macleod did not suggest that he intends to invite a large company. Indeed, he said that he hoped I did not mean to stay longer than our wedding night.”

“Macleod has never been a man to waste his gelt,” Ian Dubh said, setting down the document he had been looking at and picking up another. “Doubtless, he looks only for you to take the lass off his hands and provide a good home for her. He has a number of marriageable daughters, I believe.”

“Aye, eight of them altogether,” Hector said. “She is the second.”

“Indeed?” Ian Dubh looked at him. “Then I own I am surprised, for I had not heard that he had married off the first one. But doubtless, I missed hearing about it.”

“Nay, for the eldest still lives at Chalamine,” Hector said.

“Interesting, because I’d heard that he is a most superstitious man.”

“He is, indeed. He tried to persuade me to marry the eldest, saying he feared some calamity or other would fall upon Clan Macleod if I did not, but I convinced him to let me have Mariota.”

“Then your powers of persuasion have greatly improved,” Ian Dubh said.

Knowing he could gain nothing useful by responding to that statement, Hector held his tongue, and they parted shortly thereafter.

Back home at Lochbuie, he found plenty to occupy his time, because he saw at once that his home, although sufficiently comfortable for him, was not nearly comfortable enough for Mariota. Setting the servants to work, he ordered them to make all tidy for his bride, then turned his attention to preparations for the annual Council of the Isles at Finlaggan.

His twin had a reputation for being the best-informed man in the western Highlands and Isles, and had gained that standing by meticulously cultivating informants, many of whom were scions of noble families who as lads had fostered with Ian Dubh at Seil. Lachlan maintained correspondence with many of them and depended on Hector to nurture their support in other ways. Therefore, every year, before the Council of the Isles, it fell to him to make contact with any member of Lachlan’s network that they had not recently heard from.

He had accomplished much of this business during his recent travels, but two gentlemen remained to visit. He set out to do that as soon as everything at Lochbuie seemed to be in train, and returned two nights before he and the others were to set sail for Glenelg.

Lochbuie looked quite presentable to him by then, both inside and out, because it was still too early in the season to expect even the kitchen gardens to produce much in the way of color or even greenery. The weather had remained chilly, and the skies were still gray. Nevertheless, all looked tidy, and he set out for Duart with an eager heart.

The first setback came when he found his father deeply involved in his new discoveries and not at all interested in setting them aside to attend the wedding.

“I’ll meet your lass soon enough,” Ian Dubh said when pressed. “I have already met Macleod and do not need to refresh the acquaintance, especially since you mean to go and return overnight. The journey to Glenelg is long, and ’tis not a pleasant time of year to travel on the water or by any other means.”

MacDonald had also declined his invitation, saying that he had much to do before everyone met at Finlaggan, and would see them there soon enough.

But the worst blow came that evening, when an urgent message arrived for Lachlan from Ardtornish, informing him that a clash had erupted between the MacDuffies and the MacKinvens of Colonsay over collection of the petrel oil used as holy oil for sacramental purposes in Scottish abbeys and elsewhere. MacDonald wanted his Lord High Admiral to go himself and settle the dispute before it affected the latest collection of that lucrative oil, which his grace sold to churches all over Europe through the powerful Hanseatic League, and which was responsible for much of the income of the Isles.

Thus it was that the following morning, although two Maclean longboats set out from Duart for Chalamine, except for the oarsmen and helmsmen, only Hector, his brother’s wife, and her woman, Meg Raith, were aboard as passengers. The journey was uneventful if one discounted depressing gray skies and constant drizzle, but since the oarsmen had strung canvas over the stern of the boat for the ladies and anyone else who cared to take shelter, even the rain was bearable.

They passed that night with the Skye kinsman of MacDonald’s who had lent Hector the horse he had ridden to Glen Shiel and Chalamine during his previous visit, crossed to Kyle Rhea on the mainland the next morning, and thus arrived at Chalamine well before time on Hector’s wedding day.

Tam, the same lad who had greeted him on his first visit, greeted them at the castle entrance and took them up to the great hall, empty of smoke this time and prepared for the ceremony to come. But if Hector had expected that ceremony to take place at once, circumstances soon disabused him of the notion.

He saw no sign of his bride or her sisters. The only family member in the chamber was his host, who sat on a stool before the huge fireplace, draped in a large towel, while a gillie trimmed his hair and beard.

“Sit, sit,” he commanded, gesturing vaguely toward a nearby settle, and assuring Hector that he knew both of his companions well. “We’ll be finished here in a trice, I promise ye. Be sure to burn all the trimmings,” he added in an aside to his barber. “I willna ha’ them left about for anyone to pick up.”

Mairi smiled. “One cannot ever be too careful, can one, sir?”

Beaming at her, Macleod said, “’Tis true, ’tis true, me lady. Such things all too often contribute to evil purposes. I see that nae one can gather hair clippings, nor yet me nail clippings, to work evil against Clan Macleod.”

Hector exchanged a look with his sister-in-law but noted that she did not smile. His first inclination had been to chuckle at her comment, but his host’s swift, approving response killed that impulse.

“The High Admiral didna come?” Macleod said, raising his eyebrows.

“No, sir,” Hector said. “A squabble erupted over petrel oil, and his grace dispatched him to deal with it. His lady insisted on accompanying me, however.”

Macleod’s approval of Mairi remained clear as he said, “I didna expect ye so early, me lady, else ye’d no ha’ walked in on me like this.”

“’Tis nothing, sir, I assure you,” Mairi replied graciously. “Mayhap you would like me and my woman to go and assist the bride with her preparations.”

“Nay, nay, thanking ye all the same,” he said, waving away her offer. “The lass will be a bit shy today, and not knowing ye, she’d likely be in a dither from worrying and forget her lines and all.”

“Do you not also have an older daughter, sir? One upon whom the brunt of these preparations must have fallen? Doubtless I can make myself useful to her.”

“By me troth, me lady, ye be our honored guest. I’ll no ha’ ye doing the tasks o’ a scullery maid here at Chalamine. I’d be better pleased an ye—aye, and me future son as well—will take a mug o’ brogac wi’ me afore I ask one o’ the maidservants to show ye to the chamber where ye’ll sleep tonight. Come now, I’ll be that offended an ye refuse, either o’ ye. Tam, pour them each a generous dram, will ye now, lad?”

There being no gracious way to refuse such an offer, they accepted the whisky, although Mairi did no more than touch her lips to her mug when Tam handed it to her. Then she said casually, “Have no other guests arrived, sir?”

“Aye, sure, a few, but they’ll be out and about now, I’m thinking. We’ve no made much ado about this marriage, since it be happening so quick. We’d no like to start any wicked rumors, would we, lad?” He winked at Hector, who felt a sudden urge to say exactly what he thought of the man. Only the knowledge that his intended would likely disapprove of his creating a rift with her family before they had even said their vows held him silent.

Nevertheless, he shot Mairi a look of gratitude when she said, “I cannot imagine that anyone could find fault with this wedding, sir. The Macleods are well-known to be noble folk, as are the sons of Gillean.”

“Aye, sure, me lady, and I meant nowt by what I said. The fault lies wi’ the short time at our disposal. Macleods be spread throughout the Isles, sithee. We’ll be sending out word o’ the match soon enough, but we had little time to gather folks, what with the weather and all. Had we done this in summertime, the matter would ha’ been different, but sithee, our lad here were that set on great speed.”

Mairi nodded, but when he offered her more of the heady brogac, she refused, saying she would prefer to retire to her room and dress for the festivities.

“Aye, ye do that then,” Macleod said. “The parson will be speaking the words shortly afore Vespers. Then, after prayers we’ll ha’ the wedding-night feasting and proper bedding o’ the bride and groom.”

Surprised that the ceremony was taking place so late, Hector missed his twin sorely, for had Lachlan been with him, he might at least have discussed the unusual nature of this wedding with him. But he did not think it proper to discuss such things with the redoubtable Mairi, especially since she would doubtless expect him to do something to alter the arrangements if he did not like them.

He realized that although he was a formidable henchman, capable of carrying out the most complex and dangerous orders, and of commanding men with ease when he knew what his twin or MacDonald expected of him, he had rarely made significant decisions on his own. Neither was he in the habit of questioning other powerful men’s decisions without strong cause and prior consultation with Lachlan.

And since it was Macleod’s home and Macleod’s daughter he was marrying, he decided the manner of the wedding was no concern of his. Doubtless, Macleod knew what he was doing, and the only thing Hector cared about was that he and Mariota would soon be husband and wife.

He heard Macleod’s mention of the wedding night with mixed feelings. On one hand, he looked forward to it with unleavened eagerness. On the other, once he realized that neither his father nor Lachlan would attend the wedding, he had hoped to take her straight home to Lochbuie. That last hope was clearly impractical now, especially in view of the hour set for the ceremony. He would have to reconcile himself to spending at least the one night at Chalamine.

After Mairi departed to dress and Macleod’s hair suited that gentleman’s notion of what was correct, he refilled Hector’s mug of brogac with his own hands, refilling his own as well.

Demurring, Hector said, “If I keep drinking that brew, sir, I’m thinking I won’t be worth much as a husband tonight.”

“Faith, lad, ye’ll do your duty by the lass. Ye’re a young, lusty fellow, so I’ve nae worry about that. Sakes, instinct will take over, be ye ape-drunk or no.”

“I’d as lief my lady not see me ape-drunk on our wedding night,” Hector said lightly. “I’m not a man who drinks heavily at any time.”

“Och, now, ye’ve scarcely had three mugs! I’d never ha’ taken ye for a lightweight wi’ the whisky, lad.”

“My duties keep me sober, sir. When one’s right arm and battle-axe are needed, one cannot take time first to sober up.”

“Aye, I expect that’s true enough,” Macleod agreed amiably, but Hector thought he looked disappointed nonetheless.

A twinge of guilt struck him at the knowledge that he had given Macleod yet another reason to disapprove of him, but he shrugged it off. Macleod would learn soon enough that his son-in-law was worthy of his daughter. Even so, Hector finished the whisky, wondering as he did if his host meant to feed him anything before the ceremony.