Kilgannon (35 page)

I smiled back at her and asked her to thank Berta. "I'll take Sibeal myself," I said, calm again. Upstairs we passed the boys on their way to their lesson with Gilbey. Both of them unnaturally subdued. I stopped to hug them and to tease about some silly thing and was pleased to see their spirits rise in response. Within moments they were teasing me in return and went off with Gilbey, acting like themselves again.

"They are wonderful," gushed Sibeal. "Have you thought of having children of your own?"

I glanced at her, thinking of the child I had lost. "Yes, of course," I said cautiously. "And you? How are you feeling?"

"I feel marvelous. Why would I not?" she trilled as I opened the door and she followed me inside the room that had been Sorcha's. It was my least favorite in the castle. The room itself had no grave drawback or unpleasant feature. It was a large and comfortable room, furnished with taste. But Sorcha had lived here, and it was in this room that Alex had slept with her and here where their sons had been conceived and where she had told him horrible things and bade him never to return. It was not a room I spent time in or enjoyed. It was a private joke, shared by Berta and Ellen and me, that those we disliked were always put into this room, and the message Ellen had brought had been intended to cheer me, which it had. I smiled to myself as I showed Sibeal the room and she cooed over its comforts. Berta had been here before me, for everything was clean and a fire had been laid.

"So very lovely!" Sibeal said as she fingered the bed hangings and turned to look at herself in the long mirror. Her slender self.

"And how is the child?" I asked as I went to the window and opened it slightly. The rain that had been threatening all morning had begun falling. In the center of the courtyard Alex, Angus, and Matthew talked. I turned back to Sibeal.

"The child?" Her surprise was evident, but she recovered quickly. "Oh, I lost it." She turned back to her image.

"How terrible for you," I said, wondering if it were true.

"Yes, it was. But you know, I simply lay myself down for a nap one afternoon and woke to find the child next to me." She turned to me with ingenuous eyes. "It was dreadful."

I stared at her,
open-mouthed
, as I thought of my own miscarriage. That such a thing had happened I did not believe for a moment. Such things did not happen. No woman who had miscarried could talk of it in such a manner. Then I saw the irony of it. She had done me a wonderful favor by removing Malcolm from my everyday life, and she had deceived him in the process. Malcolm, the deceiver, had been snared very effectively. I shook my head in wonder but never replied, for we heard shouting through the open window and I leaned through it with a heavy heart to see that what I had feared was real. Alex and Malcolm were below, in the center of the courtyard, arguing. Alex stood, arms crossed over his chest, as Malcolm circled him, talking angrily. Angus came into view then, shouting at Malcolm, who shouted back. Alex watched the two of them and his arms fell to his sides. He looked defeated.

By the time I reached the courtyard it was empty, and I ran to the outer gate. They were on the top terrace, unmindful of the rain that had turned into a downpour or of the handful of men who clustered around them uneasily. Matthew stood grimly to one side, Angus, his mouth in a tight line, next to him, Alex and Malcolm faced each other.

"The truth," Alex roared, his face red and the cords in his neck standing out. His hands were clenched at his sides. "The truth, Malcolm. Just tell the truth. Or say nothing!" "I am telling the truth, Alex," Malcolm shouted back. "Ye don't listen. Ye never listen." He waved a hand in the air as he sneered. "Of course, ye don't need to. Yer the earl, yer the chief of the clan. Ye don't need to listen to me. Ye listen to Angus and Thomas and all the others, but ye dinna do what I say!"

"The truth, Malcolm," Alex roared again. 'Tell me the truth!"

"Ye want the truth? The truth is ye have everything! Everything! I have nothing. Nothing! Ye have no idea of what a hell my life has been. No idea, Sibeal lied to me. To me! There was no child. It was a trick! My whole life has been a hell!"

Alex's voice was taut. "And so that's why ye poisoned me."

"No! Yer not listening. Ye never listen!"

"And so that's why ye poisoned me."

"Ye wouldn't give me the ship back! How was I to make money?"

"And so that's why ye poisoned me."

"I have told ye this, Alex," Malcolm said, emphasizing each word. "I will not tell ye again. It was an accident."

"Aye, so ye say. An accident."

"Aye," Malcolm said. "Yer making much more of this than it needs to be. Ye were fine. Just a day or so—" He turned as

Angus moved toward him. Alex stopped Angus with a gesture.

"I am confused," Alex said coldly. "Why would my own brother try to kill me?"

Malcolm threw his hands up in the air, "For Christ's sake, Alex, I dinna try to kill ye." He leaned into Alex's face and tilted his head. "If I had tried to kill ye, dear brother, ye would be dead now." Alex did not flinch. Matthew started forward and Angus put a hand on his arm.

Alex's tone was the same one he had used with Robert in Kent, the effort it cost him to keep control visible. "Be verra careful, Malcolm. Whether ye like it or not, yer actions almost killed me, and for a year I've been trying to blame it on everyone else, including the Stewarts. And all along it was ye." His voice dropped even lower. "It was ye."

"Ye dinna understand, Alex!" Malcolm shouted. "Ye never think of anyone but yerself! Do ye have any idea of what it was like to grow up with ye?" His voice grew shrill, mimicking a woman's voice. "Alex, Alex, oh, Alex, yer going to be an earl. Alex, yer so wonderful!" Alex watched his brother, his eyes narrowing. Malcolm wiped the rain out of his eyes and continued. "And Grandfather and Grandmother doting on ye. All of them, doting on ye. And all the time there I was. With nothing."

"I gave ye Clonmor." "Oh, aye." Malcolm nodded. "Yer castoffs. Yer generous with yer castoffs. In fact, I wanted to ask ye if Sibeal's child was yers. It would be just like ye to get there first."

Alex reached a hand out and grabbed Malcolm's shirt at the neck. The speed of it caught Malcolm by surprise, and Alex pulled Malcolm to him, speaking into his face, his words clipped. "Ye have a disgusting mind, Malcolm. I never touched her. If there is no child that isna my concern. Ye slept with her. And now yer married to her." He released his brother and shoved him away as his voice rose. "Is that what this is all about? That I am the older? That I inherit? Ye risked my life because ye don't like the order of our births?" He was advancing now and Malcolm was retreating. "Is that what this is, Malcolm? Jealousy?"

"No," Malcolm shouted back as he continued to retreat. "It is about fairness. It is about justice. Look at yerself,
Alex, bullying
yer brother in the rain. Wouldna Grandfather be proud of ye now?" Alex grabbed Malcolm's shirt again and held him there for a long moment, the two of them staring into each other's eyes. I held my breath. And then Alex released Malcolm and shoved him away. His tone was controlled but wintry.

"Poison is a woman's weapon, Malcolm. Ye may stay the night. But in the morning ye and Sibeal must be gone. Calum will take ye to Skye. Do not return until I send for ye."

They glared at each other for a long moment, then Alex turned to leave and saw me standing there. As he passed me I put a hand out, but he shook his head tightly and walked on.

Malcolm turned the other way and left, and the men faded away.

I stood in the rain with Angus and Matthew.

T
HE WINTER CONTINUED, COLD AND WET. WE WERE indoors more than we liked, the men restless. Angus had them practicing constantly, the ringing of their swords sounding throughout that wing. I grew to hate the sound of a sword being unsheathed. The children were underfoot, and we found ourselves scolding them for acting like children. But we also had evenings full of music and dancing.

And no Malcolm. He and Sibeal had gone as quickly as they had come and we'd had no word from them, which pleased me. Malcolm disgusted me. But Alex was not disgusted; he was distraught, and my arguments did nothing to dissuade him of the conviction that he had done something wrong. He searched for a reason that made sense, or something that he could have done differently. To me it was very simple. Perhaps hard to accept, but simple. Jealousy. Self-interest. Malcolm and the captain of the Diana had feigned that she was lost, and Malcolm had spent weeks with Alex supposedly searching for the truth while the money from her sale was in his pocket. How anyone could live that duplicity was beyond me, and I said so often, but Alex would not damn his brother and we argued about it many times. I could understand his not wanting to face that Malcolm had behaved so, but in the face of what seemed obvious to everyone else, Alex's behavior seemed only obstinate. We argued often about Malcolm, never more heatedly than when I suggested that the men who had attacked me in London had been paid by Malcolm. Alex had roared at me then, but I had met his anger with my own.

"Ye just want to blame everything on him, Mary," he'd said.

"No, Alex," I'd answered. "Just that for which he's responsible. Look at it, for God's sake. You were about to go to Cornwall and search for the wreck. The poison hadn't stopped you, and you might find something damaging in Cornwall. Don't you think it just too convenient that those men knew exactly when and where to find you? The only thing Malcolm didn't know was that I'd be with you. And that may have saved your life, Alex. If they'd gotten into the empty coach and waited, they would have attacked you as you entered. You'd have been an easy target. Why can't you see this?"

"No," he'd bellowed. "No, Mary, it's not that simple."

"It is. Ask Angus. Ask Matthew. It's simple to everyone but you. Everyone else can see it. Why can't you?"

"Or is it just convenient to blame Malcolm when we both ken the men who attacked ye wore Campbell colors?"

I'd glared at him. "Robert told you he did not send those men to attack you."

"And Malcolm told me he dinna either."

"Alex, you are not a stupid man. Why are you being so blessed stubborn on this? You know what Malcolm is. You know he did this. Face it! Stop excusing him." "When ye stop defending Robert Campbell."

"He didn't do anything. Malcolm did!"

Alex threw his hands up. "Ye have an idea in yer head and ye willna see anything else. Do ye not see that it's
no’ that
simple?"

"Yes, actually it is. Alex, I get no joy in being right."

"Anyone but Robert," he said, and walked out of the room.

We did not speak for two days and then agreed only that we loved each other. We did not discuss the argument
again, but
I could think of little else. I told myself I would be objective about Will's behavior if I were in Alex's position, but when Will's letter came saying he and Betty and Louisa and Randolph would be arriving for Christmas, my confidence evaporated. What if it were Will? I wondered. Could I face with dispassion that Will had done such a thing? I decided I could not. I watched Alex's agony and relented. My husband needed my support, not my criticism. In his heart he knew what had happened. It was not important that he admit it to me. Things gradually got better between us, and I was relieved to have him return to acting like himself, the signs of his continued preoccupation with Malcolm visible only to those of us who knew him well. With me Alex was always tender and loving. Well, not always. Whenever I mentioned Malcolm he withdrew from me, and I would grow angry and we'd quarrel. Eventually I learned not to mention Malcolm and to my surprise began to forget him altogether. Life was better without him, and we slipped into a routine as if he did not exist.

My family arrived on the Mary Rose on a sunny December day, and my mood lightened considerably. Alex stood beside me, and Jamie held my hand, jumping up and down with excitement, while Ian stood on tiptoe to see if Will carried the packages he had written about. Our greetings were noisy and joyous, and the boys danced around us all as we walked up the hill, the precious packages in their hands already. I kissed my brother and Betty, thanked Will for his thoughtfulness, and smiled at Louisa and Randolph's expressions of astonishment as they looked around.

"I had no idea," said Louisa, her eyes wide. "I knew Kilgannon was a castle, but I pictured one of those dreadful brown towers one sees by the border, all square and blunt. This is beautiful."

Alex grinned behind her and raised his eyebrows. "Ye dinna think I'd bring yer precious niece to a
croft house
, did ye, Louisa? I. told ye I'd take care of her." He turned to wave a hand at the buildings. "It's
no’ much
now, ye ken, but we have plans to enlarge." He laughed at their expressions.

"Well," Randolph said. "It looks as though you already did. And quite a bit. Tell me about the construction."

"I was
no’ here
for most of it, Randolph," laughed Alex as they left us. Will hurried to join them, and Angus and Matthew appeared at the outer gate. The men exchanged loud and silly greetings, and I smiled to see them laughing together.

"Well, my darling, tell me," said Louisa, linking her arm in mine. "How are you?" "Happy," I said, smiling. "Very happy."