Amanda Scott (15 page)

Michael said, “Guests never trouble my brother, sir, be they ever so many. He revels in company, and will welcome all who come, whenever they come.”

“Then that’s settled,” Hector said. “Go now, and do not tarry.”

Michael accompanied Isobel to the door of her bedchamber, kissed her lightly, and said, “If he or Lachlan Lubanach should object to your presence at our discussions once they begin, lass, do not fret, for although I may decide that I cannot tell them all I know of this matter, I will tell you. You have my word.”

“I won’t fret, sir. Hector has given his word, too, and he does not break it.”

“Nor do I, lass; don’t forget that,” he murmured, cupping his hand behind her neck and pulling her face close to his. His hand felt warm and strong.

“Dress warmly,” he added before he kissed her again.

When he released her, she hurried into her chamber, feeling breathless and filled with wonder at the abrupt turn the course of her life had taken. Then it dawned on her that she had too little time to pack properly, not only for a long journey and the installation of a prince but also for her wedding.

Chapter 10

I
sobel was astonished at how quickly everyone was ready to depart. She had scarcely begun searching for suitable clothing to take when Cristina entered and said that her own maid, Brona, had already packed much of what Isobel would need.

“Knowing that you would return barely in time to leave, and not knowing if you’d think to have new gowns made up at Chalamine, I had several made for you here,” she said. “You will doubtless want to try them on, but Brona or Mairi’s Meg can attend to any adjustments for you at Duart or Kirkwall.”

“Thank you,” Isobel said. “Adela did arrange for me to have three new gowns made up at Chalamine, but I left them behind with my maidservant.”

“Aye, well, I have been preparing for this journey all summer,” Cristina said. “So at least you’ll have a new dress for your wedding as all brides should.”

“To assure them of good fortune in marriage,” Isobel said with a grin. “You sound nearly as superstitious as Father.”

“Most people are superstitious about something, and nearly everyone is when it comes to weddings,” Cristina protested. “At ours, Aunt Euphemia gave Hector a silver coin to put in his shoe, and she rarely pays heed to such stuff.”

Isobel chuckled. “Much good the coin did him.”

Cristina smiled. “He may have thought as much then, Mistress Impudence, but I do not think he thinks so anymore. Now,” she said, “I’ve had Brona see to your packing, but you will want to look through your things to be sure we’re leaving nothing behind that you will need.” She smiled and gave Isobel a hug as she added, “After all, I was not expecting you to marry before we journeyed to Kirkwall.”

With another hug, she left Isobel to her tasks and went to hurry the others. In little more than an hour, thanks to Hector’s habit of being always ready to respond to trouble, twelve ships and their passengers were ready to depart, and in the swift galleys, the journey took little more than three hours. As they approached the small harbor below Duart Castle, they heard bells ringing the hour of Compline.

The wind had died to near stillness less than an hour before, and the clouds had likewise dissipated to reveal an oval moon high overhead. The castle, on its high promontory where the Sound of Mull converged with Loch Linnhe and the Firth of Lorn, looked silvery in the dusky gray moonlight.

Despite the late hour, the harbor and the hillside above it teemed with armed men, and galleys patrolled the waters of the Sound and the Firth.

They found their host and hostess still up, and after Hector explained that new circumstances warranted discussion, Lachlan nodded, saying, “Mairi can take the women upstairs and get them settled, whilst you and I and Sir Michael adjourn to my inner chamber, where no one will disturb us. I trust that you have all supped.”

“Aye, hours ago,” Hector said. His gaze met Michael’s, and he added, “Isobel will stay with us.”

Lachlan looked from one to the other, then nodded without comment.

“Mayhap we should all stay,” Mairi suggested.

This time Lachlan exchanged a look with his twin before he said, “Nay, lass. You’ll do more good by seeing that our lady guests and their maids are comfortable. I’ve a notion that at least some of us may be leaving for the north in the morning.”

“Aye,” Hector said. “I’m thinking we’ll want as large a flotilla as possible.”

Lachlan nodded again, then said to his wife, “Tell the lads to begin making ready, and find someone to send a message to Ardtornish. If your mother does not wish to depart with the flotilla, she need only say so and I’ll make special arrangements for her. What?” he asked, turning again to face Hector as if that gentleman had spoken.

“Before you send any message to Ardtornish, you should all know that our Isobel has accepted Sir Michael’s offer of marriage. In view of his grace’s ill health, and the fact that the lass would do better to travel north as Sir Michael’s wife, the sooner their marriage can take place, the better it will be.”

“Aye, that’s true, for it will hush the rumormongers,” Mairi said, hurrying forward to hug Isobel. “I’m pleased that you made this decision, my dear.”

“If they are to marry before going north, they must do so at Ardtornish or here at Duart,” Hector said. “I thought his grace’s chaplain might oblige us.”

“An excellent notion,” Lachlan said, adding to his lady, “Go along now, lass. Send your Ian to Ardtornish with those messages, and tell one of the lads in the hall to see that we are not disturbed.” He glanced again at Hector. “What of Macleod? Does he know about this wedding?”

“Nay,” Hector said. “I’m thinking we’d best stop at Glenelg on the way.”

Lachlan nodded, and before Isobel had time to absorb their matter-of-fact reaction to her news, she was sitting between Hector and Michael at the long table in the inner chamber that Lachlan generally used to meet his many informants and to confer with the friends and allies of MacDonald of the Isles.

Lachlan sat at the head of the table, saying, “You’ve heard, I expect, that there are strangers about, several galleys at least, lying just outside the west end of the Sound near Mingary.”

“Aye,” Hector said. “Sir Michael was going to sail west because he feared that his enemies might be lying in wait, but I did not think it wise for him to go so near the Holy Isle, so we all came here.”

Isobel noted another look between the twins. She knew from past experience that Lachlan suspected that Hector was leaving out details, and from the warmth in her cheeks, she realized that her blushes would tell him that those details pertained to her and thus probably to her sudden decision to marry. But he made no comment other than to say, “You were wise to bring them here.”

“Aye, sure,” Hector said.

Lachlan turned to Michael and said, “I had thought to deal with the intruders myself, but since you’d told Hector earlier that your enemies believe you possess something that the Kirk insists should be returned to Rome, I thought perhaps I’d wait to learn more. I’m hoping you can oblige me.”

“Aye, sir, I’ll do my best,” Michael said. “’Tis true that they suspect my family possesses such a thing.”

“And you have said that you know not what that item is.”

“That is also true, my lord. I do know, however, that whatever is missing has links to the past, because my father said we had a solemn duty to keep St. Clair business within the family, to guard our secrets well. He said that my grandfather of heroic memory laid that duty upon us, and in truth, I doubt that my father would approve of my confiding even what little I have to you and Hector Reaganach.”

“We are honored by your confidence, sir, and give you our word that nothing you tell us will go farther unless you grant us express permission. Am I to understand that the secrets you spoke of begin no farther back than two generations?”

“I believe so, but I know only that such secrets exist. I do not know what they are, nor does my brother.”

“Are you certain of that? Henry is the elder, after all, and your father’s heir.”

“Aye, sir, but I would know if he were lying to me. He has a strong sense of honor. Moreover, he told me that our father said once that when Henry came of age, he would have to bear the responsibility of keeping those secrets, that our father would explain them then. But he died before that day came, and anyone else who may know or suspect what the secrets are has not shared his knowledge with us.”

“I see.” Lachlan frowned thoughtfully.

Isobel easily followed that train of thought, however, and said eagerly, “You are thinking of your father, are you not, sir? Michael, I’m sure I told you about Ian Dubh’s interest in historical matters. Most likely, he knows more about such things than all of us together and may well have an idea about what it is you seek.”

“My father is here at Duart now,” Lachlan said, getting to his feet. “He is Chief of Clan Gillean, and I must tell you, I took the liberty this morning of briefly describing your troubles to him so he might ponder them, but you can trust him as you trust us. With your permission now, I’ll invite him to join our discussion.”

Looking from one earnest face to the next, Michael felt as if things were quickly spinning beyond his control, and he was by no means sure he liked it. However, even Isobel’s curiosity was no match for his where the subject of the family’s secret was concerned. He assumed it was something hidden, some object that bore importance to St. Clairs and to others, too, but what exactly it was and where it might lie hidden were matters beyond his ken. Moreover, despite Lachlan Lubanach’s courtesy, that gentleman clearly assumed that Michael would agree.

“I’d welcome Ian Dubh’s advice, sir,” he said. “Please ask him to join us.”

Isobel shifted her weight beside him, stirring other thoughts in his head and feelings in his body that had nothing to do with his family’s mystery.

While Lachlan went to the door to ask the gillie outside to fetch Ian Dubh, Michael casually moved the hand nearest Isobel to his lap and then to her thigh, startling her. He was amused to note that although her leg jumped, her expression gave nothing away. But his amusement quickly shifted to a suspicion that she had flirted with other men in just such an inappropriate manner. He remembered, too, the ease with which she had flirted with Hugo and even with the villain Fin Wylie in the cavern.

Firmly reminding himself that the flirtation with Fin Wylie, at least, had been a matter of self-defense, he told himself that she was too much of an innocent to have dabbled beyond flirtation with Hugo or any other man, not to mention that she was too fond of her own freedom to have enticed others to think she might willingly have accepted their advances.

Her hand touched his just then, but a moment later an elderly man entered, and Michael quickly arose with the others to greet him. Ian Dubh’s quick stride and upright posture belied his gray hair and apparent age. He was thin and neither as tall nor as broad as his sons, but Michael saw at once that he was no milksop.

“This is Sir Michael St. Clair, Father, the gentleman I mentioned to you this morning,” Lachlan said. “He has offered for our Isobel, and she has accepted him. We are hoping that you can help him solve this puzzle of his.”

Ian Dubh’s grip was firm, his smile welcoming. “’Tis a good match,” he said. “You are Master of Roslin, are you not, and grandson of Sir William St. Clair, who accompanied Sir James Douglas and Robert Logan on their ill-fated attempt to carry the Bruce’s heart to Jerusalem?”

“I do have that honor, sir,” Michael said.

“But I heard that Sir Henry’s
father
was the one who carried Bruce’s heart, sir, and fought beside him at Bannockburn, too,” Isobel said.

“Nay, lass,” Michael said. “Henry wasn’t born until fifteen years after Bruce’s death, and my grandfather’s, come to that. Our father died thirteen years later.”

“Many make that mistake, Isobel,” Ian Dubh said. “When a man is famous, it is natural for those who talk of him to paint him in ever more glorious ways, as if boasting of such knowledge somehow links them more closely with him. Sir Michael’s father was also Sir William St. Clair. He died in a fall from a horse.”

“He was a soldier, too, though,” Michael said.

“Indeed, he was, like his father and grandfather,” Ian Dubh said. He looked as if he would say more, but he glanced at Lachlan and Hector instead, then back at Michael, before he said, “I think perhaps you will want to speak more of this alone, lad.”

Michael looked at Hector and Lachlan, too, hesitant to agree if it might make him appear rude to them.

Isobel had been watching Michael carefully, and she understood his discomfort in the face of his growing audience. Nevertheless, it took nearly all the strength of mind she possessed to speak now. Quietly, she said to no one in particular, “It is Michael’s secret, after all. Mayhap he should know what it is, if indeed Ian Dubh can tell him, before we all share in it.”

Hector had stiffened at his father’s suggestion, and her words only made him stiffen up more. Lachlan, too, looked about to protest.

Before either of them could say a word, Ian Dubh said in a tone Isobel had rarely heard from him, “I will speak to Sir Michael alone.”

“Isobel must stay, sir,” Michael said firmly.

Looking annoyed, Ian Dubh said, “As she is to be your wife, that is your decision to make, lad, but I would caution you. Such secrets are not the province of women. Not only might she inadvertently betray you, but should these enemies of yours suspect that she shares your confidence, her life might be in danger.”

“I believe she will be safer knowing, sir. Moreover, I gave her my word.”

“Then there is no more to be said. You two may leave us, however,” he said to his sons.

Without another word, they left the chamber.

Isobel watched in wonder until the door had shut behind them.

Ian Dubh said evenly, “You are surprised that they left, lass?”

She nodded and then, recollecting herself, turned back to him and said, “Yes, sir. I did not think they would go, or that they would allow me to stay if they did.”

“I am still Chief of Clan Gillean, Isobel, for all that Lachlan has taken over most of my duties these past years. I allow you to stay only because Sir Michael commands your presence and, as I understand it, has every right now to do so.”

“Do you think you know what my enemies seek, sir?” Michael asked.

“Before I answer that, I think Isobel should know that your father, like his before him, was not just a soldier but a Knight Templar and thus a very fine soldier indeed. One must suppose that you and Sir Henry are Templars, too, are you not?”

Despite long experience, the rush of dismay that Michael felt was such that for once he failed to control his features, and his mouth dropped open before he could prevent it. Warily, he said, “The Order of Knights Templar no longer exists, sir. It ceased to do so long before I was born. Moreover, I am a man of peace.”

The old man’s blue eyes twinkled. “Sakes, lad, you need not hide your teeth with me, unless you do so for the lass’s sake, in which case, I apologize, but you did say she was to hear all.”