Seduced by a Rogue (10 page)

“More than for her sister,” Dow said, grinning. “Nobbut what the lady Fiona be a beauty, too. But that mettlesome lass would
lead any man a dance. Pert, she be, and from what I ha’ seen, she likes nowt more than stirring mischief. Has a mind of her
own, that lass does. The lady Mairi be the dependable one. I’ve nae doubt that, left to himself, his lordship would name her
his heiress and call it good.”

“One cannot doubt that he protects them both vigilantly,” Rob said.

“Aye, sure. He’s a practical man, is Dunwythie. I did hear that he has returned to Annan House—leastways, the family is there.
I’ve nae doots ye frightened them back there yourself, did ye threaten to seize their estates.”

“‘Twas not
my
threat, just a warning of the sheriff’s power.”

“Aye, sure, that would be it.”

Having no desire to discuss that matter, Rob said, “Annan House lies near the mouth of the river Annan, does it not? And therefore
near the Firth?”

“It does,” Dow agreed. “It sits atop Annan Hill, south of Annan town.”

Seeds of the daring idea that had half formed in Rob’s mind earlier began to take root, nourished by details that could help
them grow into a feasible plan.

When they had finished their whisky, he told Dow to talk to his chief herd about butchering two lambs and an older ram past
its prime. “When you’ve attended to them, seek out Fin Walters,” Rob said. “He will have other tasks for you that require
more skill than most of our lads have shown. I’d take it kindly if you could impart some of your knowledge to a few of them,”
he added.

“Ye’d ha’ me train them that would do me out o’ good labor, would ye?”

“Other than Fin and my stablemaster, the men here are sadly untaught in aught but horses and weaponry,” Rob explained. “Also,
I want to provide the tower’s upper chamber for my grandmother’s use when she visits, as she has threatened to do soon. She
left a number of her things here, but I warrant she would prefer to see that chamber refurbished. If you come across aught
in your travels that you think might suit or amuse her, prithee get word of it to me. And if you hear aught else about a clan
war threatening, send word of that to me as well.”

Dow agreed, and after he had gone about his business, Rob stared into the hall fire for a long time. He decided his grandmother
and Alex were right in saying that he owed his greatest duty to his clan. But Alex had been wrong to declare him incapable
of persuading Dunwythie to submit. Rob was nearly certain now that with a little exploration and careful development of his
idea, he just might succeed.

Normally, when he saw a problem, he attacked it, trusting his instincts to guide him aright. He thought of himself as a man
of action rather than a schemer or plotter. Trying to manipulate people, as Alex did, never sat well with him.

Arguing, making his point, that was all fair and good. He could listen, too, and he could accept ideas that he recognized
were better than his own. But it had gone right against the grain with him to think he must persuade a proud man like Dunwythie
to submit to Alex’s command and control.

Rob smiled grimly at that last thought, realizing that what might really have disturbed him about that was that
he
did not like submitting to Alex.

But he did believe in duty, and regardless of what Alex had said, he was loyal to their clan and he did understand that loyalty
carried obligation as well.

It had become undeniably clear to Mairi that her life at Annan House was not going to change a whit, despite the many things
her father had taught her before and during their recent visit to Dunwythie Mains. She was still trying to imagine how to
alter that situation when Phaeline summoned her to her solar Monday afternoon.

Phaeline reclined against cushions on a settle by the small cheerful fire, her feet on a cushioned, embroidered stool. Her
face was paler than usual, but she looked every inch the fashionable noblewoman that she was.

Her white silk veil draped perfectly at her shoulders and revealed just the right amount of the beaded caul covering her hair
and her ears but for the tiny bit of lobe beneath which her pearl eardrops dangled. Matching pearls encircled her still smooth
throat and dipped low enough for the long end to slide into her deep cleavage as she straightened a little at Mairi’s approach.

Stopping in front of the footstool, Mairi made a brief curtsy and said, “What may I do for you, madam?”

Phaeline looked at her for a long moment without speaking. But Mairi was accustomed to such moments and waited. At last, Phaeline
said, “Fiona tells me you are finding less of interest to do here after your visit to Dunwythie Mains.”

Mentally condemning her sister for a telltale, and a false one if she had not said that she, too, was frustrated, Mairi said
only, “In troth, madam, I had only begun to grow acquainted with the things my lord father was teaching us. I do think I might
benefit by watching them finish preparing and planting the fields here.”

“My dearling, you are a fool even to think of such things. No man looks for a wife who can properly plant barley. He looks
for one who can give him sons, a woman who is decorative and kind to others. More, he wants an obedient, loving wife who will
also be a good mother to his sons. As for learning more about fields, it is naught but fact that no woman can manage estates
as well as a man can.”

“My cousin Jenny knows as much as any man does about such things, madam,” Mairi said. “I do not believe that your brother,
Sir Hugh, thinks Jenny a poor wife for him.”

“Mercy, you do say the oddest things, Mairi! I never said our Jenny makes Hugh a bad wife. But her father raised her to manage
his estates. Moreover, as her rank matches Hugh’s and he is satisfied that she knows what she is doing, he is willing to let
her make her own decisions.”

“But, don’t you see, madam? I would have such knowledge, too, and in the unfortunate event that—”

“Pish tush, Mairi, do not be pretending to
me
that you would look upon my failure to give your father a son as an unfortunate event! You would be twice the fool I sometimes
think you are if you did
not
covet the estates for yourself. However, your father has faith that we will have a son. He teaches you only because Hugh
reminded him that he could die at any time from a fall or other mishap, and that you should understand what your responsibilities
would be. I have no doubt, though, that your father expects Hugh to guide you if such a tragic event should occur.”

“Indeed, madam, I have no wish for aught to happen to my father, or to you. I would gladly welcome a brother, for that matter.”

“I am glad to hear that, because if you have not already guessed as much, I will own that I am with child now. I have hitherto
told only your father, because he cossets
me enough without the entire household feeling obliged to do so.”

Although Mairi was sure the rest of the household had recognized Phaeline’s behavior and suspected its cause as quickly as
she and Fiona had, she did not say so. She said, “I will do all I can to help you, madam. I do think that learning new things
is good for anyone, though. And since Father has begun to teach me—”

“Bless me, Mairi, but you put me out,” Phaeline said. “I know well how it is with you. Since you were small, if you got your
teeth into an idea, naught would do but that you must carry it out. Very well, then, if you are restless and want to learn
about management, manage your sister. Where is she? I do not believe I have laid eyes on her since we broke our fast this
morning.”

“I don’t know, madam. I thought she was going to sit with you. I have been in the kitchen, assessing what we have of barley
water, ale, and other such items.”

“Well, find your sister. But here, take my keys,” she added. “You may take over more of
my
duties, and welcome. But mind you do naught without consulting me first. Meantime, I would count it a boon if you can contrive
to keep your sister out of mischief. And do, my dearling, at least
try
to think of ways to make yourself more pleasing to a suitable husband, or I do truly fear you may never attract one.”

Mairi’s sense of the ridiculous stirred, nearly drawing a smile at this echo of her own words to Fiona only days before. However,
she accepted the keys, curtsied again, and went obediently to find her sister.

A long search of the house proving fruitless, she walked to the gate and asked the guard there if the lady Fiona had perchance
left the premises.

“Aye, m’lady,” he said. “She did take one o’ the maidservants with her, so I thought there could be nowt amiss in her taking
a short walk to the river.”

“Is that where she went?”

“I think so, aye,” the young man said. “She started out that way, any road.”

Thanking him, and seeing no need to take a maidservant or anyone else with her in this time of peace, Mairi set out across
the hilltop toward the Firth-side slope, where a path wound down around the tree-protected field there, to the riverbank.

As she began the downhill trek, however, she heard Fiona calling her name, and turning toward the sound, saw her sister and
Flory, the maidservant who waited on them both, hurrying across the hill and waving as they came.

Thinking it was fortunate for her sister that she had shouted when she had, saving her a hike down and back again, and at
the same time feeling bereft of the freedom that a lovely brisk walk would provide, Mairi went to meet them.

“Where did you go?” she asked when she was sure Fiona would hear.

“Oh, just here and there, wandering where the fancy took us,” Fiona said glibly. “In troth, Mairi, I was feeling so pent up
inside the wall that I just wanted to be outside, if only to watch the tide go out. Do you not feel the same these days?”

“Aye, I do, Fee, but I’ll thank you not to be telling your mother how
I
feel,” Mairi said bluntly. “‘Twas
you
who complained as we were leaving the Hall that we would have naught but our usual duties and pastimes to occupy us here
and
you
who complained again after we returned.”

“But you agreed with me! You know you did.”

“’Tis true, I did. I’ve been feeling as if I’d returned to my childhood. I expected our father to provide me some duties relating
to managing the house and the fields here. Instead, I do only the usual things. However, your mother did just give me her
keys to the pantry and buttery,” she added with a smile.

“You are welcome to them and to any duties Father might provide, but do not think I shall be sharing them, because I won’t,”
Fiona said. “Heaven knows when he will return in any event. He left only a few days ago on this trip and said he means to
stop at Dunwythie Mains after visiting lairds at the north end of the dale.”

“He is concerned about conflict erupting here,” Mairi said. “It has occurred to me, in fact, that we do not know what one
does at Annan House to prepare against trouble. I mean to ask Jopson, and I think he will tell me. Do not you?”

“Sakes, I don’t care what you ask or what he says. What do you expect you will have to do with it, even if he tells you? Do
you imagine the men here will take orders from a woman? In troth, I think Mam must be right about leaving
all
such things to men. I think it would be very hard to take charge of a large estate.”

“Hard, aye,” Mairi said. “But if one knows what to do and tells other people what they
must
do, they will do it. Our people are accustomed to taking orders, Fee, and to trusting us Dunwythies to know what we are doing.
If they believe the person issuing the order has the right to do so, they will obey.”

“Aye, sure, but only if they think you are right,” Fiona said sardonically.

“I mean to ask Jopson, anyway,” Mairi said. “He may refuse to tell me, but I hope he will not.”

Accordingly, the following morning, directly after Mairi had broken her fast, she sought out her father’s steward, finding
him in the forecourt, where he was talking with Gerrard, the captain of the Annan House guard.