Amanda Scott (30 page)

“Was?”

“Aye, sir. What I must say to you would be easier if he were here to speak for himself, but as it is, you have only our word and that of our henchmen, although we did take several prisoners.”

“You have never given me cause to doubt your word, sir. I do not doubt it now.”

Lachlan had the grace to feel a twinge of shame, knowing that although he always spoke the truth, his phrasing might sometimes be deceptive. He said, “Thank you, sir. As you know, after you left, Hector and I waited for Mackinnon at the jetty, but when he came, he brought a small army. ’Twas an ambush, but although they attacked us, I did receive sufficient warning to prevent disaster.”

“My dear fellow! God must have been watching over you, but how came this timely warning?”

“As you know, sir, I have a certain facility for acquiring information.”

MacDonald’s lips twitched as he nodded.

Relaxing, Lachlan said, “I received word from one of your loyal followers, Ian Burk, that Mackinnon had arranged for two of his expert bowmen to misfire before the end of the hunt, killing Hector and me.”

“’Tis true Niall had no love for you,” MacDonald said, frowning. “He even accused you of attempting to seduce my daughter.”

“You know of my deep admiration for her ladyship,” Lachlan said. Much as he would have liked to elaborate, he knew it was not the time, and went on to say quietly, “Despite the warning, I gave him the benefit of assuming he would realize that such behavior was unworthy of him. However, I took necessary precautions.”

“I see,” MacDonald said. “Do I understand then that it was not the simple pleasure of my company that kept you and your brother so close to me today?”

“Not entirely, sir,” Lachlan admitted. “We wanted to survive the hunt.”

“And evidently, Niall failed to come to his senses.”

“He and twenty of his men advanced on us from the top of the hill, weapons drawn. He drew his sword on me, your grace, threatening to spit me where I stood.”

“Faith, lad, I knew well his volatile temper and his dislike for Clan Gillean, but to have done such a thing to any guest of mine was dastardly.”

“Aye, sir. Thanks to Ian’s warning, however, I had sent messages to our people on Mull, so my kinsmen kept watch throughout the day. When Mackinnon and his men attacked, my men descended on them in force.”

“Niall fell, you say?”

“I am sorry to admit that my own sword dispatched him, your grace. I meant only to disarm him. He slipped on a wet board, so I checked my thrust, whereupon he flipped his sword and tried to club me with the hilt.”

“Aye, I’ve seen him use that trick myself.”

“I leaped aside, but the weight of his sword and his own momentum carried him into my blade, whereupon he stumbled and fell off the jetty into the deep water there, still clutching the sword. With its added weight, he sank too fast for me to catch him, and he never came up again.”

MacDonald shook his head. “I’m thinking it was only by God’s will that you survived the initial ambush. Twenty men, you say? Against just you two.”

Lachlan nodded. “As you know, sir, Hector alone is worth three men-at-arms in battle, and I did little more than talk for the short time we had to hold them at bay before our men could engage them. When Mackinnon’s men saw ours, they were ready to lay down their arms, but he ordered them to fight to the death. I’m sorry he is dead at my hand, sir, but at least he is powerless now to harm you or yours.”

If MacDonald felt distress over Mackinnon’s death, he did not show it. Nor did Lachlan expect him to, the mild reaction being wholly in keeping with his understanding of MacDonald’s character. The Lord of the Isles was a politician, even a statesman. He would want to assess his position and Clan Donald’s before giving more thought to Mackinnon, let alone to his own feelings.

“We seem no longer to be sailing toward Ardtornish,” he said mildly as the galley picked up significant speed. “One of your men has taken the helm, sir.”

“A necessary, precautionary measure, your grace,” Lachlan said. “It is possible that Mackinnon made a secondary plan in case his first failed, as it has. Indeed, I think his clansmen will lose no time in declaring a blood feud, so the three of us must have a quiet talk about the future, somewhere other than Ardtornish.”

Eight men of Gillean having persuaded the royal oarsmen to share their oars, the other eight were now climbing back into Mackinnon’s longboat.

“What manner of talk had you in mind?” MacDonald asked, watching them.

“A private one, your grace, so that you, Hector, and I can decide how matters stand with us. MacDougall and these others can stand witness to some proposals we want to make that I believe will benefit us all if you agree.”

The longboat, sail raised and one oarsman per oar, was pulling rapidly eastward ahead of them.

“Where have you decided to hold this discussion?” MacDonald asked.

“The fortress of Dunconnel strikes me as an excellent site.”

“Faith, lad,” exclaimed MacDougall, listening perforce to the exchange, “ye’ll kill us all an ye try to land at Dunconnel in this storm that’s blowing up.”

“I admire Dunconnel, sir, and I know it well,” Lachlan told him, watching two of his men set the galley’s sail. “I know, too, that it stands presently unused with only a lad or two to man its beacon fire if needed. We’ll land safely, I promise you, but the difficulties of landing will assure us the privacy to talk undisturbed.”

With the wind behind them, the galley made excellent speed. Ahead, the longboat was nearly out of sight.

Lachlan saw MacDonald exchange a look with MacDougall and knew both men were concerned for their safety, but he decided not to repeat his assurances. No harm would come to anyone aboard unless through some happenstance of nature or attack by a superior force, both of which were unlikely.

“Dunconnel has no harbor,” MacDonald pointed out calmly.

“We have landed there many times since our boyhood, your grace. Hector and I know the safest approach, and my helmsman is excellent.”

“Still—”

“I’ll not deny that we may have some exciting moments if the wind picks up, but no harm will come to us. Moreover, I thought you would appreciate my choice.”

“Why?”

“Because not only did our mutual forebear, Conal, King of Dalriada, build Dunconnel but a mere handful of men, such as ours, can defend it against a much larger force. ’Tis said that one man alone can lower the portcullis if he knows the trick, and once down, it can withstand an army. It seems the ideal place for us.”

“In plain words,” MacDonald said dryly, “you mean to hold me captive.”

“As I said, sir, I mean to ensure that we risk no interruption. I likewise want us to be comfortable, and to that end, I have sent the longboat ahead with a few of my dependable followers to see to our arrangements. Since I know that your stores are being replenished everywhere now, I’m hoping they will find enough food to prepare a decent supper for us all.”

“By my troth, lad, you seem to have thought of everything.”

Lachlan hoped he had and knew Hector hoped the same. They had embarked upon a tricky business, in which a single mistake could mean their deaths. But the reward for success might be greater than even Hector suspected.

“Well, lass,” Alasdair said to Mairi, “have ye lost your tongue?”

Her stomach churned at the sight of him. She had never been enamored of the idea of marrying this burly, smirking, younger version of her grandfather, but now, comparing him to Lachlan—and notwithstanding that gentleman’s distressing ulterior motives—the very thought galled her.

Lacking Robert the Steward’s sense of humor and a few other social graces, Alasdair simply stood watching her, waiting for her to reply.

“You should not startle people like that,” she said sternly.

“Ah, but my beloved sister Margaret had no time to talk to me, lest she not be dressed in time for supper, and I found your conversation amusing.”

“How much did you hear?”

“Only the bit when Elizabeth said you want to marry him, and when you said you
have
to marry Alasdair—oh, and the bit where she flung the pox my way. I own, I’m not certain from that brief exchange whether your problem lies in wanting to marry straightaway, and thus wondering if we shall ever become betrothed, or if I am the problem in and of myself.”

“Well, you shall just have to keep wondering,” Mairi said, “for I do not mean to say one word to you on that subject. You might have sent a message, sir, warning us of your arrival. Indeed, you must have known that his grace’s deer hunt was today. Why did you not stop at Craignure Bay?”

“Don’t be stupid. I did send a message to his grace’s high steward, and I did not want to hunt. I loathe grand occasions unless they are of my own devising.”

“Well, your message must have gone astray, because when you did not come to Finlaggan and failed to join us for the hunt, we simply did not expect you.”

He shrugged. “I went to John Og first.”

Elizabeth still held her hand over her mouth, as if, Mairi thought, it had somehow stuck to her lips, but at these words, her demeanor altered radically. “Has the baby come? Oh, Alasdair, pray do not hold us in suspense!”

“Aye, it came. Neither John Og nor Freya would tell me what they mean to call it, though, for fear of fairy mischief or some such before the christening.”

“But is it a boy?”

“Oh, aye, of course it is. Why would I care about the name, else? I hoped they’d name him for me.”

Meeting Mairi’s gaze, Elizabeth said, “Alasdair, do you
want
to marry?”

“Of course I do,” he said. “All men should marry and produce bushels of children to carry on their name and look after them in their dotage.”

“But do you want to marry Mairi?”

He shrugged. “Aye, certainly. She’s turned out well, and her tocher will be impressive. However, my father had made no move to arrange it before now. Nor had yours, although that is about to change,” he added with a straight look at Mairi. “Which makes me deduce that I must be the obstacle rather than the prize.”

She knew better than to trust him with the truth, because Alasdair was sly. As a child, he had been the sort to collect information merely to use it to his own advantage, often to the detriment of others. She was glad, too, that Elizabeth made no move to go on to their room, because the great chamber was empty, the other women apparently having accompanied Lady Margaret to the inner one.

That realization made her wonder if Alasdair had even shown himself to her mother. It would be in keeping with his character for him to let the bevy of women walk right past him without saying a word to draw attention to himself. He would, she decided, have expected his sister to see him and exclaim or even shriek her surprise and delight at his arrival. Indeed, she could not imagine Lady Margaret behaving otherwise at seeing her youngest brother so unexpectedly. Yet there had been no sound at all to indicate such a discovery.

Instead, he had overheard Elizabeth’s comments and Mairi’s replies. Not for a moment would she assume that he spoke the truth about how little he had heard.

She tried to remember what they had said, but she could not. They had been speaking of Lachlan, but she was certain they had not mentioned his name. In any event, it would not do for Alasdair to suspect that Lachlan wanted to marry her or that she had become fond of the notion, particularly if, as she suspected, Alasdair had come to Ardtornish to tell MacDonald that Robert the Steward believed that the time was right at last to approach the Pope.

“Come,” Alasdair said, grasping her arm. “I’ll pour the two of us some wine from that fat jug yonder, and you can tell me all the gossip of his grace’s court.”

“You had better pour some for Elizabeth, too, sir. It would be improper for me to sit alone with you, sipping wine,” Mairi said with a minatory look at her sister. She wished they could just snub him and leave, but she knew from unhappy experience that he would complain of any such rudeness to Lady Margaret.

She hoped MacDonald and Lachlan would return soon, because the less she had to deal with Alasdair on her own, the happier she would be. On the other hand, the last thing she wanted was for her father to agree now to betroth her to Alasdair.

With the wind at their back, the journey was swift, and the formidable rock fortress of Dunconnel loomed ahead little more than an hour later. The waves were higher than before, thunder rumbled distantly, and black clouds overhead dripped as if they were overfull and ripe for splitting.

“Ye’re plain daft, lad,” MacDougall growled. “Just look at that.”

The sight ahead was awe inspiring, to be sure, for on the north, west, and south sides of the islet, sheer rock cliffs plunged several hundred feet straight into the sea. Lachlan’s first thought was to agree with the older man, to wonder if they could land safely, or having landed, could ever get off again.

MacDonald caught his eye but said nothing. He, too, had been to Dunconnel many times and knew its secrets.

The helmsman ordered the sail lowered for more control as they swept around the north end to the shelter of its leeward side, where midway, the sheer walls opened into a pair of narrow, craggy inlets. Neither was easily navigable, and the wind had stirred up even the leeward-side water. It surged around them, and heavy seas broke in mountains of foam over the jagged rocks in the larger inlet, toward which they were heading. But the sturdy helmsman remained undeterred, taking them straight in and easing alongside the longboat, where it rode at anchor with a four-oared coble bobbing beside it.

“With permission, your grace,” Lachlan said, signing to two of the larger oarsmen to descend into the coble, “you and I will go first.”

At a second gesture, Hector and a third man-at-arms almost as large as he was steadied MacDonald as he swung his legs over the side of the royal galley, and then lowered him carefully to one oarsman in the coble as the other did his best to hold the smaller boat steady. Minutes later, with powerful strokes of the oars through the roiling water, the coble plunged into a narrow, sandy creek and beached hard on its pebbly shore. Two men that Lachlan had sent ahead stood waiting to assist MacDonald out of the coble.