A Noble Deception (The Douglas Clan) (2 page)

A shout of laughter burst from Lord Albermarle’s barrel chest. “Lachlan Ramsay?
Now
ye must be jesting. Lachlan Ramsay, as in Viscount Strathcairn?”

“Aye, the very same. He is my wife’s nephew, but more importantly he isna a Douglas.
The king willna have any grounds to take Kildrummond, if it comes to that, because it will be in the hands of a Ramsay.”

“So ye’ll hand over yer earldom and all it ent
ails to an insignificant young viscount—wi’out lands of his own, I might add—over yer own Douglas kinsman.” Mirth still tugged at the corners of Lord Albermarle’s lips. “Alright then, John, I concede. Pray, tell me, what other reasons have ye for this mad scheme of yers? Nothing ye’ve ever done before had only one purpose to it.”

Lord Kildrummond chuckled as well
. “’Tis tied to the first reason, I admit. Ye see, Edward, ye’re married. Ye’ve a beautiful wife in yer Rosamund, and ye’ve been devoted to her since the day ye wed. Lachlan Ramsay, on the other hand, isna married. Or at least he wasna the last time I inquired.”

“
I’m certain he still isna,” Lord Albermarle put in dryly. “From what I remember of the lad, he isna the type to settle into matrimony wi’out being dragged to the altar.” When the old earl’s eyes sparkled mischievously, he added, “Ye dinna mean to drag him to the altar.
Tell
me ye dinna mean to drag him to the altar, John. I’ll have no part in that.”

“Of course
not. Ye said it yerself, the lad has no lands of his own. He’ll drag himself there, I’m certain. For the earldom of Kildrummond, and its lands and wealth, he’ll do it.”

Lord Albermarle’s eyebrows
knitted together as he worked out the old man’s plan. Then a wave of understanding swept over him.

“Ah, I see. Ye wish
for him to marry yer Moira.”

“I wish
for him to marry my Moira. I want to ken my daughter is provided for when I’m gone. I want to ken she’ll always have a home in Kildrummond. I owe it to my Lilian to do this for our lass.”

Lord Albermarle groaned.
He could have contested his kinsman’s wish to preserve Kildrummond from the king’s greedy hand, and maintained an easy conscience. But not this, not Moira’s security. Edward Douglas, Earl of Albermarle, was a father several times over himself. Illegitimate or no, Moira was still the dying earl’s only child.

“I’ll think
on it,” he said evenly.

In truth, though, he knew
how that thinking would go.

Two

THE WIDE, DUAL doors to the stables at Slains Castle in Aberdeenshire stood ajar. Daylight seeped lazily through the entrance, weakened by a sky that was heavy with the threat of snow. It cast a colourless pallor over the lone bay gelding housed within and the figure stooped beneath it. The rhythmic melody of a hoof pick scraping against an iron shoe was the only sound to be heard.

It was this
peaceful atmosphere that greeted William Hay, Earl of Erroll, as he stepped into the doorway across the path of the grey daylight.

“Lachlan, ye’ve a visitor
.” His cultured voice echoed off the low, slatted wood walls.

Lachlan Ramsay’s gelding
whickered at the noise, and pulled its front hoof from its master’s hand. A puff of steam emitted from the animal’s snout, condensing against the sharp chill in the late winter air. Rather than fighting, Lachlan let the leg go and stroked his bay’s thigh reassuringly. When the beast settled, he peered around its rump to determine the source of the voice.

T
he Earl of Erroll peered back at Lachlan, a look of pure distaste on his noble face.

“I shall never
understand why ye insist on doing that yerself,” he stated, nodding at the dung-coated scraper which Lachlan held in his hand. “Yer squire should be doing that for ye.”

Lachlan chuck
led. Lifting the bay’s hoof again, he resumed his scraping. “There’s a great many foul tasks I leave to my squire, my Lord. This task I keep to myself. My mount and I, we have a bond. One which I nurture so that he willna fail me in battle.”

“He hasna failed ye yet
.”

“I havena let a
squire near him yet.” Finished with the hoof, Lachlan focussed on the Earl. “I have a visitor, ye say?”

“Ye have. He waits for ye in my private chamber.”

“If I may, my Lord, why have ye come to fetch me yerself? Dinna mistake me I am flattered, but why not send a servant for me?”

“
I wasna doing anything so important that I couldna deliver the message to my best knight in person. Besides, yer visitor is of great power and wealth. I were obliged to see his summons safely delivered.”

Lord Erroll’s statement, infused as it was with a
playful sense of mystery, piqued Lachlan’s curiosity. He raised a dark eyebrow inquiringly.

“’Tis Edward Douglas, Earl of
Albermarle,” Lord Erroll explained.

“The Earl of Albermarle
is here to visit
me
, my Lord?”

“Aye, I could hardly believe it myself, but ‘tis so. I’ve
seen it wi’ my own eyes. Do wash yer hands before ye come, though. I’d wager ye’d no’ want to bring the smell of horse shite wi’ ye when ye meet him.”

Lachlan released the gelding’s hoof,
and whispered a kind, gentle word to the animal, which responded with another steamy snort. Then he stepped out of the stall into the long, central corridor, and bent to the bucket of water that his squire had placed there less than a quarter of an hour ago. Already the liquid, which had been searing hot when the lad had delivered it, was uncomfortably chilled; it stung Lachlan’s chapped hands, and he was forced to make quick work of removing the offending muck from his fingers and under his nails. When he was finished, he shook off the excess ice water, and followed the earl out of the stables and over the grounds to the castle.

Overhead the sun had broken through the slate of cloud, and patches of golden light streamed onto the snow-covered hills below.
A frigid wind stirred, biting at Lachlan’s cheeks and the tip of his nose. He pulled the upper swath of his plaid over his black hair and around his face so that only his dark eyes could be seen.

I
nside Slains Castle the cold did not recede. Nobles, knights and servants alike were bundled in all manner of garments as they wandered the corridors on their way to and from heated chambers.

When they reached Lord Erroll’s private chamber
, a guard posted outside the room opened the door. Lord Erroll stepped through first, followed by Lachlan.

Indeed, as
Lord Erroll had announced, Lord Albermarle of Kinross waited within. He was seated at a centre table of imported Scandinavian ash wood—a luxury Lord Erroll could well afford. A pewter goblet was clutched in the visiting earl’s jewelled hand, both of which rested on the polished surface of the table in an easy manner.

It had been many years since
Lachlan last saw the Earl of Albermarle, and when Lord Erroll had announced his presence in the stables, he recollected vaguely the image of a regal and intimidating figure.

Confronted with the man in the flesh once more
, he was every bit as formidable as Lachlan remembered. His thick, dark hair, which drifted to his shoulders and pillowed there, was elegantly streaked with silver threads. A fine fox-fur cloak was fastened across his breast and drawn back to reveal a stylish tunic of pearl-crusted black velvet. He smiled when Lachlan approached.

“Viscount
Strathcairn,” he acknowledged with a slight teasing tone.

“Yer Lordship,” Lachlan answered
, bowing. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Lord Albermarle sat forward in his chair
, releasing his grip on the goblet. Assessing the young Viscount’s tall, lean form he said, “I come wi’ summons.”

“Wi’ summons, my Lord? Who summons me?”

“Lord Kildrummond; he requests an audience wi’ ye.”

“My aunt is no’ ill, is she?

“Nay, lad. Lady Glinis is well. As beauteous as ever.”

“
I am glad to hear it. If it isna my aunt, then what other reason can Lord Kildrummond have for summoning me?”

A secretive smile passed over the earl’s lips, though it did not quite reach his eyes.
“
That
, Lord Strathcairn,” he said enigmatically, “I canna tell ye. As much as I’d like to, the old goat forbade me to breathe a word of it. Says he wants to speak wi’ ye personally. And I, being the loyal kinsman I am, have acquiesced in consideration of his health.”

“
I’d heard he were poorly. He’ll recover though, nay?”

Lord Albermarle glanced to Lord Erroll, a shadow passing over his handsome face. “Nay, he willna.”

“Oh
... I see.” Lachlan shifted from one foot to the other, unsure of the proper response. Lord Albermarle and Lord Kildrummond, he knew, were close. Not only in proximity, for theirs were neighbouring lands, but each man was in high esteem of the other. The pain in Lord Albermarle’s statement was thick. Almost tangible. He looked like a man deeply affected by his kinsman’s impending death.

He also, Lachlan thought, looked like a man that
would
not
appreciate an offer of condolences from a lowly Viscount such as himself. Wisely, he decided to keep quiet.

“
Given that there isna much time left for Lord Kildrummond, ye’ll come wi’ me on the morrow to see him,” Lord Albermarle concluded. “If ye be willing, that is. And also if Lord Erroll be willing to part wi’ ye.”

“
Of course I am,” Lord Erroll answered.

“My Lord, are ye sure this is the best time? Wi’ things the way they are at present—”

“Dinna worry about all that, lad. We’re no’ on the eve of war just yet. I havena given Moray my answer. Indeed, he’ll no’ have it any time soon, for I wish to consider it in great detail.”

“
Moray?” Lord Albermarle questioned. “Ye mean to say that Douglas seeks the support of Clan Hay? So he’s determined to keep the feud wi’ old Fiery Face alive then, is he?”

Lord Erroll shrugged. Lachlan looked between both men, confused. “I thought
James Douglas were the ninth Earl of Douglas.”

“He is, lad,” Lord Albermarle replied.

“Then who is Moray?”

“
Archibald
Douglas. James’s brother, and the Earl of Moray.”

“Isna Lord Albermarle from Moray?”

Both lords laughed heartily at Lachlan’s naivety.

“Edward Douglas, Earl of Albermarle who ye see be
fore ye, holds the lands of Kinross which are
in
Moray,” Lord Erroll explained. “Just as
John
Douglas, Earl of Kildrummond, holds lands which are
also
in Moray. But that isna to say that either is the
Earl
of Moray. Honestly, Strathcairn, ye’ll need to learn who’s who in this business wi’ the Black Douglases where ye’re going. And soon.”

“
Lord Douglas—that is James, the ninth Earl of Douglas—seeks support in his opposition against King James, since he doesna seem to be getting any help from John of Islay.” Lord Albermarle clarified gently. “Islay, that is the chief of Clan Donald, is the last pillar of the triad alliance wi’ William Douglas, murdered by Fiery Face himself, and the Earl of Crawford—Alexander Lindsay—dead these two years past.”

“Aye, I ken all that,” Lachlan
’s cheeks reddened.

“Dinna take offense, lad,” Lord Erroll put in. “Ye havena had the benefit of court and noble society since ye’ve been in my employ
. We dinna hold that against ye; ‘tis only a bit of fun.”

“I took no offense, my Lord,”
Lachlan assured. It was truth—he was not offended. He was
embarrassed
. His lack of political understanding was a product of his landless title, and it humiliated him at times.

Shooting a knowing look at Lord Albermarle, Lord Erroll said, “Perhaps this journey comes at a fortuitous time.” When Lachlan
raised his brows questioningly, the earl answered, “Aye, lad, I ken the reason for the summons. Lord Albermarle has told me, for I insisted on knowing why my best knight were being taken from my service. ‘Tis worth yer while to go, I promise ye. Ye’ll take a man of yer choosing wi’ ye, of course.”

Lachlan
knew immediately who he wished to take. “If yer certain, my Lord, then I’d request Sir Alexander MacByrne.”

Lord Erroll groaned.
“Of course he’d have to ask for my second best knight. Alright, so be it. I’ll send word to MacByrne that he is to pack his belongings.”

“And
ye canna give me even the smallest hint why I’m being summoned?”

“Of course I could,” Lord Albermarle answered, “but I willna. Ye’ll ken the reason soon enough. F
or now, see to yer affairs; we leave at first light.”

“Yer Lordship,” Lachlan acknowledged, bowing to Lord Albermarle. Then doing the same to Lord Erroll he repeated, “Yer
Lordship.”

He exited the chamber, and the guard outside closed the door behind him
. The solid thud of oak colliding with stone, followed by a metallic click as the door latched shut, echoed along the corridor. Within the chamber deep male voices hummed in resumed conversation. Lachlan longed to press his ear to the door that he might hear what was being said, but when he paused, seriously considering it, the guard eyed him discouragingly. Raking his fingers through his thick, dark hair, Lachlan strode away.

He was not sure what to make of this journey. On the one hand he was wary of leaving Slains. He rather liked the life he’d carved out for himself here. A nobleman without the benefit of lands (thanks to his grandfather for pishing away the family’s wealth and vast holdings), Lachlan, like his father before him, had been forced to take a knighthood with the Earl of Erroll. One needed food, coin and shelter, after all.

Under William Hay’s leadership he’d risen in the ranks, proving himself a trusted and worthy servant. His life was by no means luxurious. But it was comfortable.

On the other hand
he did not like that the feud between King James and the Black Douglases had reached Lord Erroll. Lachlan liked the action of training and battle as much as the next man, but this was different. If Lord Erroll were pulled into the fray, the earl would be siding against the king.

Which meant
Lachlan
would be siding against the king.

Which meant treason.

Perhaps, then, this summons to Kildrummond had come at a fortuitous time, as Lord Erroll said. It was a notion which his friend, Sir Alexander MacByrne, agreed with.

“I’ve no wish to fight the king,” Alex said as the two knights sat together in
a tavern later that evening. “I’ve heard that Lord Erroll considers standing wi’ Douglas.”

“He didna
outright deny it when he and Lord Albermarle discussed the matter earlier,” Lachlan confirmed. “I’d think that, were he a mind to keep out of the quarrel, he would have said so.”

He regard
ed Alex with a sidelong glance; a sense of guilt prickled at the back of his neck. Alex had been his friend since childhood. It was Lachlan who had brought him to Lord Erroll—when he’d sought a place in the earl’s guard, Alex had followed. It was Lachlan’s fault; Lachlan was the reason Alex faced the possibility of conflict with the king. He took a long draught of his ale to silence his conscience.

“
I find that the more I think on it, the more eager I am to go. Lord Kildrummond is a hospitable man, and I am curious about the purpose of this summons.”