Amanda Scott (23 page)

“Oh, dear,” Mary said, “what a thing to say to you!”

“Who is his lordship, miss? Will he send us away? Where will we go? Will he send us back tae the laird? Dinna let him send us back!”

“Hush, Pinkie,” Mary said, smoothing the little girl’s hair, soft now and neatly arranged in plaits after daily brushing. “Lady Serena—for I believe that is who frightened you—does not rule Balcardane. His lordship is Master Duncan’s father. He is the Earl of Balcardane, and this is his castle.”

“I thought it belonged tae Himself!”

“I know you did, but it makes no difference in this instance. Lady Serena lacks the authority to send you away, and Master Duncan will not let her do so.” Putting her arm around the child, she was relieved to feel her relax. “Come now, look out the window with me, and watch for Chuff to return. He has been taking the little colt outside the walls each day for exercise. Do you know the one I mean?”

“Aye, Chuff showed me. He calls him Wee Geordie. Chuff let me pat his nose, and he’ll eat sugar out o’ me hand, will Geordie.”

“What does Himself—That is, what does Master Duncan call the colt?”

“I dinna ken, miss. I never went out whilst he was there. I wouldna!”

Mary had been idly watching activity below, and now she saw the postern gate open. “Look, Pinkie, I think Chuff is coming back now.”

It was Chuff, but he was not alone; and, seeing the lurching walk of his companion, Mary gave a cry of pleasure. “Oh, look, Pinkie, it’s Bardie!”

At that moment, she saw one of Duncan’s men stride purposefully toward the dwarf. Holding no illusions about the man’s intent, she jumped to her feet, ordered Pinkie to return to the kitchen, and hurried downstairs as fast as her legs would carry her. Reaching the great hall, she picked up her skirts and ran across it to the front door, flinging it wide and hurrying out to the courtyard, unmindful of the fact that she had forgotten her cloak until the chilly air reminded her.

Ignoring the cold, she hurried to intervene, for she could see that, as she had expected, Duncan’s man intended to put the dwarf outside the walls again.

“Wait!”

The man turned, tugged his cap, and said, “This ’un’s no welcome here, miss. It’d be as much as my position is worth tae let him stay.”

“He has come to see me,” Mary said firmly. “No doubt he brings me news of my home. Do you think your master would deny me that?”

“Nay, miss, but—”

“Fine, then he can come inside with me. You go and help Chuff see to the colt.” Intercepting an indignant look from the boy, she held his gaze until she saw understanding dawn.

Chuff said, “Aye, ye’d best come along. Ye’re always tellin’ me I don’t put the blanket on ’im proper. Just come and see if I’ve got it right yet, will ye?”

With a last, lingering, doubtful glance, the man went with the boy.

Bardie chuckled. “I like that lad. He’s got an old head on young shoulders, and a quick tongue tae boot.”

“Come inside, Bardie. I’m freezing out here.”

“Aye, and so ye should be, standing about in no more than that thin frock.”

Hurrying back inside, she led him into the library and shut the door.

He looked around appreciatively. “A bit too spacious for my taste, but well appointed nonetheless. The auld earl does himself proud, he does.”

“It’s wonderful to see you,” Mary said, drawing a stool near the hearth for him, and a side chair for herself. The fire had burned down nearly to coals, but she did not think the earl would appreciate it if she wasted wood on herself and the dwarf. “Have you been to Maclean House? Have you seen Morag?”

“Aye, and she said that scoundrel Allan Breck’s been staying there without so much as a by-your-leave. He cleared out when she got back from her brother’s place, because he feared she would reveal his presence tae the authorities.”

“I don’t know that she would,” Mary said. “Morag feels strong loyalty to the Stewarts. I doubt she would betray him.”

“Aye sure, but Allan Breck don’t ken that. She had another visitor, too, lass,” he added bluntly. “That’s why I’ve come.”

“Who?” But Mary’s heart sank, for she was certain she knew.

“MacCrichton.”

“What did he want?”

“Morag said he’s taken his case tae the magistrate in Fort William. Ye’ll soon get a summons, commanding ye tae appear before him right after Christmas.”

“Straightaway then,” she said with a sigh, for the holy day lay less than a week away. “I hoped he had given up, Bardie, but clearly he will not.”

“Aye, I ken that fine. What’s more, that cousin of yours told Morag that ye
should
marry the laird. Said ye’re a fool if ye willna do it.”

Since she already knew that Bardie did not agree with those sentiments, she did not bother to dignify them with comment. Instead she pressed him for news of friends, and he was easily able to oblige her, for he supported himself (or, as he said, kept himself in snuff) by selling the produce of his gardens. Although his store of fruits and vegetables was sadly depleted at this time of year, he always kept herbs and remedies at hand for those who needed them.

Once while they were chatting she thought she heard a rustling sound at the door. She stopped talking, thinking the earl about to come in, but no one entered, and she decided she must have imagined the noise. Bardie left soon afterward, and she was surprised to note that the afternoon was nearly gone. Already light was fading from the courtyard.

Duncan and his men returned as darkness was falling. The pale moon already riding high above the loch wore a halo, and clouds floated across it, harbingers of the snow that his shepherds had told him to expect that night. The warning had brought him home at last, despite his reluctance to face his family and Mary.

It was bad enough that he had embarrassed her in his anger at Serena and his father. It was worse that he had not taken the time before leaving to apologize to her, but he had not wanted to face her. Instead, he had convinced himself that, having left Dunraven without seeing that all was in train for winter, he was doing no more than duty demanded to return for a day or two. However, his failure to make things right with Mary, and the fact that he had quarreled with his father before going, had soon made him feel as if he were running away to pout, like a child.

A night at Dunraven had cleared his thoughts, making him realize that to leave her and the children alone at Balcardane when he had promised them his protection was behavior he would condemn in any other man. He would have returned the next day, had his tenants not learned of his presence at Dunraven. He had wakened to the news that despite its being Sunday, a number of them wished to speak with him. By the time he had seen to their needs, three more days had passed, and it was not until Thursday morning that he was able to leave Dunraven.

Having noted with satisfaction that Shian Towers showed definite signs of its master’s presence, he had passed much of his return journey in a mental rehearsal of an apology he could make to Mary that would not grievously offend his pride. Then it had occurred to him that, quite likely, Allan Breck had attempted to communicate with her again in his absence. After that, he found himself in a fret to reach Balcardane, hoping she had kept her promise not to meet the villain alone.

That he would also have to deal with his father, to explain certain promises that he had made his people at Dunraven, and to persuade the earl to part with the funds to cover them, suddenly seemed of less consequence than his fear that Mary might have felt obliged to do something foolish. He increased his pace, but the niggling fear that had touched him then refused to go away.

He rode into the stable, half expecting to find Chuff there, but although the colt gazed solemnly at Duncan, the boy was nowhere to be seen. Pausing only long enough to turn his mount over to one of his men and to see that the colt’s blanket had been well secured, he crossed the courtyard and went inside.

In the great hall, he went toward the stairs before he noticed light under the library doors. Deciding to speak to his father first, he had turned that way when he heard his name spoken from the half landing. Turning back, he saw to his surprise that Serena had appeared there like some sort of genie. She hurried down to him.

“How glad I am that you are home, sir! We have missed you.” She sneezed.

“Good evening, Serena,” he said warily. “I must not stay, for you will not welcome me at the dinner table in my riding dress.”

Pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve to blow her nose, she said, “I know you must change your clothing, sir, but I need your advice. I’ve learned something I think his lordship should know, but I do not want to make trouble for anyone.”

“What is it, Serena?” He failed to conceal his impatience, drawing a quick frown from her, but he did not apologize.

“Oh, dear, now you are vexed, but truly, I do think someone ought to speak to her, for I am sure she does not comprehend the perils of such behavior.”

“What the devil are you talking about? Is this about Mary, Serena? What has she done to put you in such a pelter?”

“She was closeted for nigh onto an hour this afternoon with a man, sir, right in your father’s library! I did not recognize his voice, and I could scarcely stand about eavesdropping, for no lady can do such a thing, but I know she was not talking to his lordship, for he did not come inside till some time after that.”

Fury leapt in him at the thought that Breck or MacCrichton had somehow dared to penetrate Balcardane, and although he remembered noting the latter’s presence at Shian, he said nonetheless curtly, “Is she still here?”

“Why, of course, she is. Where else would she be?”

“You are certain she did not go out.”

“Of course, I am. She is upstairs, dressing for dinner. I saw her.”

“Go and tell my mother that I am home then, and tell her with my apologies that I am going to order dinner put back half an hour or so.”

“Lud, sir, can you dress so quickly?”

“More quickly than that. I want to speak to my father first.”

She hesitated, as if she would say more, but then she turned away and he went into the library to find Balcardane pouring himself claret from a decanter. The earl paused and glanced at Duncan. “So you’re back, are you?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve been at Dunraven. I behaved badly, sir. I want to apologize.”

“Been spending more money, Duncan?”

He grimaced. “Dunraven will pay for itself next year, sir. I know I have not taken the care of it that I should. I take full blame for that, although by the time you agreed to let me run things, it was already taking more money than it paid us.”

“Aye, land is expensive to run, just as I keep telling you, and now I learn that those two brats you foisted onto me are still here. Are they yours, Duncan?”

“No, sir, they are not,” he replied, striving to keep his temper. “Moreover, both of them are earning their keep. The boy is a particularly hard worker, and although the girl is only seven, Martha Loudon tells me she cheerfully does any task she is asked to do. Has someone complained about them, sir?”

Balcardane handed him a glass of claret and gestured for him to sit down. “In truth, I think Serena fears they are yours. She came in here to tell me she was surprised to find such small children working in the castle, but I’ll wager it was not that at all, for there must be servants’ children and the like at Inver House.”

“Serena is a great deal too busy,” Duncan said harshly.

“You’ll soon set that to rights when you are married.”

Determined not to quarrel again, Duncan managed to hold back the hot retort that sprang to his lips, but he did not linger longer than it took to finish his wine. Hurrying upstairs, he changed his clothing in record time, and reached the landing again just as Mary shut the door of her bedchamber, in the opposite corridor.

Looking toward the sound, he stopped and waited for her. For an instant he thought she looked pleased to see him, but by then he had remembered Serena’s tale. Taking an angry step toward her, he saw her pleasure change to alarm.

“Who was with you with in the library earlier today?” he demanded.

“Bardie,” she replied at once, though her expression remained wary. “I am sorry if you do not like his being here, but I wanted to hear news of Morag and our friends. One of your men tried to put him out, and it was cold, so I brought him in.”

Feeling foolish, and knowing he deserved to, he pushed a hand through his hair and said, “Lord, what a fool I am! Look here, did Serena know it was Bardie?”

“I don’t know.”

“She told me she overheard you talking to an unknown man in the library.”

Her brow cleared. “You feared it might be Allan. I do not think he would be that brazen, sir, or that foolish.”

“Well, I don’t think Serena made any attempt to learn who it was. There must be half a dozen people who could have named Bardie or described him to her.”

“Yes, at least that many, for he came into the castle with Chuff, and there were several others in the yard when I went out to rescue him from your man.”

“Mary, I …” Talking was harder than he had thought it would be. “I have spent the entire journey from Dunraven thinking how to say this, and now …”

When he fell silent, she said in her serene way, “Is that where you went?”

He nodded. “You will be glad to know, at least, that MacCrichton looks as if he is fixed there for the present.”

To his surprise, she frowned, saying, “That may be so, sir, but he has not changed his mind about his suit. Bardie said Ewan has put the matter before the magistrate at Fort William. I am to expect a summons straightway, commanding me to appear right after Christmas.”

“The devil take him!”

“My very thought, sir, but that cannot be what you wanted to say to me.”

“No, it isn’t. Mary, I should never have spoken as I did the other night. No matter how much I disliked being pressed by my father and Serena, I had no right to say that being married to her would be even worse than being married to you.”

Her silvery eyes began to dance. “Is that what you said, sir?”

“You know it was.”