Amanda Scott (37 page)

“I won’t marry anyone else,” she said flatly.

“Faith, d’ye think we’re offering ye a choice? Ye’ll marry when we say and whom we say, for I’m marrying ye to the man myself, and ye’ll no be gainsaying the rightful Mitered Abbot o’ the Holy Isle.”

“Rightful, is it?” Lachlan said grimly. “At last account, his holiness, the Pope, still had not agreed that you are anything rightful, Fingon Mackinnon.”

Mairi held her breath, but Fingon said, “I came only t’ tell ye, ye should enjoy this next hour together, because it’ll be the last one ever for one o’ ye.”

“Hour?” She nearly choked on the word.

“Aye, for we’ll ha’ the wedding at midnight, I’m thinking. No need t’ wait longer, since ye’ll no need a gown or bridesmaids and such. Moreover, ’twill leave the rest o’ the night for your new husband to enjoy his wedding rights.”

Lachlan said curiously, “Am I meant to attend this wedding, then?”

“Och, aye, for is that no why we’ve brought ye here? Ye’ll be our most honored witness, because we’ll want ye to gaze on the stern man who will enjoy your lass’s submission whilst ye slave for the devil in hell.”

“Then I’ll have to enjoy what time I have left with her, I expect.”

“Aye, sure, you do that, lad. If ye can perform, knowing what lies ahead o’ ye, the devil will surely welcome ye as his own.”

As he turned away and the torchlight fell briefly on a lanky figure behind him with fiery red hair, they realized for the first time that he had not come alone.

The door slammed to, and the two were gone.

“That was Shim MacVey,” Mairi exclaimed. “I thought he stayed on Isla.”

“I, too, but we knew he was a Mackinnon man. Mayhap he just came home.”

“But he is the reason Ewan Beton went to Loch Gruinart the day he found Elma’s body,” Mairi said, telling him what Ian had told her. “How could Shim have known that the salmon were leaping there that day?” she added.

“They don’t leap for long, so he must have been there shortly before, and Elma’s body was in plain sight on the sand. So why did he not find it?”

“Because he killed her himself?” she suggested.

“Or because someone who had expected her body to be found much sooner told him in hopes that he or some other innocent would go there and find her.”

“Perhaps,” she said, moving toward him, seeking comfort, but although he put an arm around her, he said, “Hush now. I must think.”

“We
both
must think,” she said.

“Aye, well, if you want to help, sweetheart, pray that I know the man who comes to take us to your wedding, for he may be our only hope.”

“What do you mean to do?”

“I’ll think of something, but it would help if the one that comes to fetch us is one of the two who were here when I brought your father, because I got friendly with both lads. I’m hoping we can persuade one to help us escape.”

“More likely it will be Shim MacVey, but even if it is not, I do not see how one or two lads could do much against all of Fingon’s men,” she said, frowning.

“I can talk the feathers off a duck,” he said. “So you just leave that to me.”

“I wish you would stop saying that,” she snapped. “I do have a brain, you know. I could help if you would let me. I don’t know who was with you earlier or if we are even at Dunconnel, but I do know that one of the men who carried me down here seemed unhappy about my abduction.”

“Excellent news,” he said. “Now, if that man and my man are the same—”

“But if they are not—”

“We’ll discuss it more then,” he said soothingly. “In the meantime, kiss me again. I should hate to think of dying and never tasting your kisses again.”

“I do wish you will be serious,” she said. “We should certainly have more than one string to our bow.”

“Lass, if the hall here is swarming with Mackinnons, it won’t matter how many strings we have to our bow, or arrows. But talking may still turn the tide.”

“Your talking can only work if someone listens,” she said fiercely. “A situation like this requires action. What we need is an army of our own.”

“Aye, sure, but I’m it, sweetheart, and I’m not by nature a man of violence.”

“You just killed a man yesterday,” she reminded him.

“That was necessary.” His arm tightened around her, and when her body leaped as it always did, she knew that with no control over what would come, she welcomed any diversion, but particularly the one he nearly always had in mind.

She sighed and nestled more comfortably against him, but if he had interest in more than cuddling, he did not show it. She wondered if perhaps Fingon was right and the thought of impending death inhibited him.

“You’re a brave lass,” he murmured sometime later, kissing her neck. “If we win free of this, your family will be proud.”

“Never mind that,” she said, not wanting to look so far ahead. “Just think harder, sir. I don’t want to marry any Mackinnon, especially since I am sure Fingon means me to marry the worst of them, if only to teach me a lesson.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “That’s likely.”

She nearly snarled at him then, but the key in the lock stopped her.

Chapter 20

T
he door opened to reveal two men, one in the open doorway and Shim MacVey standing behind him with the ubiquitous torch.

Lachlan leaned close to Mairi, saying quietly, “Keep MacVey busy as we go up and give me a chance to talk with the other. He is your father’s man, I believe.”

“Aye, ’tis Aidan Kean,” she whispered, sure now that they were at Dunconnel and trying to recall all she knew about the place.

Lachlan said, “Good, then, if you know him—”

“I should be the one to talk to him.”

“Nay, because—” He broke off, having time for no more, because Aidan Kean was unlocking the cage.

Grateful that Aidan’s arrival had nipped the debate short, Mairi watched as Lachlan got to his feet, groaned suddenly, and grabbed his head with both hands.

“Are you sick?” she demanded, frightened. “What is it?”

“Not sick, just weak and a bit light in the head,” he said, winking at her as he straightened. “Lad, can you lend me your arm? I doubt her ladyship can support my weight, and with all those steps—” He broke off, bending to put both hands on his knees as if to steady himself.

Mairi looked at Aidan, who seemed willing enough to help, but wary.

When he hesitated, Shim said harshly, using the torch to emphasize his words, “I’ll see ye up them steps, ye villain, and ye’ll keep your lips tight shut the while, for me master warned me ye’d talk a hawk off its limb did we give ye the chance. And lest ye think ye can talk me round, I’ll just tell ye I’ve orders t’ gag ye an ye try it. The lad can look after her ladyship.”

With that, Mairi knew she was on her own and could think of only one thing that might improve the odds against them. With no idea what actions her father, brothers, or Hector Reaganach might have taken, she had small hope of success. Nonetheless, futile or not, she had to do what she could.

Shim ordered Lachlan out, then drew his sword to follow, saying, “I should bind your hands, but the master said ’twould gall ye more t’ be free.” Whacking him hard on the backside with the flat of his sword as he passed him, Shim added tauntingly, “Och, and if ye’re thinking t’ make a dash for it, ye should ken we’ve a host o’ Mackinnons above, all hoping ye’ll do summat t’ speed your trip t’ hell. An ye ask me, though, ye’re no fit t’ fight even a wee mouse.”

Lachlan said nothing, and Shim followed close behind him, putting the burning torch in a bracket. Continuing his taunts as they went upstairs, he occasionally prodded Lachlan with his sword.

Grateful for the torchlight, Mairi let them go ahead as she bent to adjust her boot, certain that Aidan would not worry about her trying to escape, and trying to estimate how easily anything she said would carry up the stairway. Turning slightly, she said, “Do you know who I am, Aidan Kean?”

“Aye, my lady,” the lad said, his voice trembling. “Ye be his grace’s daughter, the lady Mairi.”

She smiled. “I know your parents, too, Aidan. Your father is his grace’s loyal vassal, and farms land in Knapdale. He would want you to help me.”

“Aye, but what must I do? I’m sore afeard o’ that lot abovestairs, mistress.”

“Nothing dreadful, I promise you. Do you recall when Lady Marjory married two years ago?”

“Och, aye, mistress. Everyone does.”

“Well, do you remember how they passed the word that she
had
married?”

He nodded. “The beacons. Folks lit them all over the Isles.”

“I want you to light the beacon here, Aidan. Can you do that without telling any Mackinnons?”

“Aye, but they’ll ken soon enough, choose how. And what if one catches me?”

“You can explain that it’s no more than what you did for Lady Marjory, to celebrate her marriage, and you thought it right to do now. I swear I’ll see that no one blames you, Aidan. If necessary, I’ll tell them you did it at my command.”

“Aye, then, my lady, I’ll do it, and gladly.”

The footsteps ahead had stopped, and she knew she should say no more. Although she could not be sure with a dim lad like Aidan if he had truly understood what she wanted him to do, she dared not linger.

“Scold me, Aidan. Tell me to hurry.”

“Get along there now,” he snapped.

Smiling at him, she picked up her skirt, turned, and hurried up the stairs.

Shim waited with Lachlan at the doorway to the anteroom between the great hall and the main entrance with its great iron-tipped portcullis.

“Sakes, but it took ye long enough,” he said grimly.

He stood aside as Mairi entered the anteroom, and motioned her to precede them into the great hall. She glanced at Aidan, felt reassurance when he nodded, and then walked with dignity past the other two into the hall, hesitating only as she passed through the archway, when a memory stirred.

Some twenty men were in the hall, but two drew her attention, for they stood only a few feet away, beside the huge fireplace and its roaring fire.

Fingon Mackinnon faced her in his long robe. The other man, doubtless her intended bridegroom, stood with his back to her. Since Fingon had said she would be marrying a minor Mackinnon, she had expected to see someone in a common shirt and skins, or a belted plaid, but the man facing Fingon wore a moderate-length black robe over fashionable gray leggings.

As the thought crossed her mind that the figure was familiar, he turned.

Mairi gasped as Niall Mackinnon smiled and held out a hand, saying, “Come, lass. No need to look as if ye’ve seen a ghost. I’m no dead yet.”

Lachlan, following Mairi into the hall, saw her stupefaction and knew he must look as stunned as she did.

“But I saw you die,” he protested.

Niall’s smile turned sardonic. “My holy brother would prefer you to believe a miracle spared my life—perhaps even one of his own performance—but whilst one certainly credits God for one’s gifts and capabilities, what saved me was simple attention to detail.”

“How?” Mairi asked before Lachlan could utter the flippant retort that had sprung to his lips.

Niall said, “’Twas a matter of knowledge gained through years of meticulous maintenance of Craignure wharf, my dear. Its supports consist of great stone pilings connected by some twenty feet of horizontal planks that protect boats from banging against the stones, and provide mooring even at the lowest tide. However, below the timbers, there is space enough between piers for one to swim under the wharf.”

“Twenty feet down?” Mairi said skeptically, as well she might if a man actually had to swim down twenty feet and back up the same distance before breathing, Lachlan thought, realizing she had not reasoned the matter through.

Niall said, “You forget the tides, lass. When the tide is high, scant space exists between the water and the timbers atop the wharf. Indeed, extreme tides in the Sound have inundated that wharf. But the incident occurred at mid-tide on a normal ebb, you see, so I had only to wait until everyone had gone and trust that our attackers had left no watchers atop the tower.”

“Attackers?” Lachlan said. “As I recall the matter—”

“Your recollections are of no interest to anyone,” Niall snapped. “The only reason you are not gagged, sir, is that we want to hear your protests, so that all here can see you powerless.”

Mairi said hastily, “How did you know when it was safe to swim out?”

Lachlan had suspected earlier and knew now that she feared he would anger the high steward into harming him, but he did not care if he did. He had to extend the proceedings as long as possible if they were to have the slightest hope of escape. To let her marry Niall Mackinnon was unthinkable, and if it cost him his life, he would find a way to prevent it. But Niall was explaining that he had been able to see through the narrow spaces between the wharf timbers.

“I nearly froze to death in that water, I can tell you,” he said, “but I warrant ’twas the cold that stopped my wound’s bleeding. I could see enough, at all events, to be sure my murderers had left no great body of men at Craignure, and I doubted they would risk one or two to the onslaught of my kinsmen that was bound to occur as soon as my brother learned of my supposed fate.”

Mairi frowned. “So you just waited for Fingon to come fetch you?”

“Shim here was in the trees on the bluff, hoping for a clear bowshot. I knew he had seen what happened and, cut off from me as he was by men of Gillean, would find Fingon. And I knew Fingon would come at once, because he would not believe me dead unless he saw my body with his own eyes.”

“Such explanations are tedious,” Fingon complained. “Lachlan Lubanach has no need of them, and you can tell Lady Mairi later anything you want her to know.”

A knot of fury in Lachlan’s throat ached to explode, but he choked it back, knowing any reaction from him would only augment the Mackinnons’ satisfaction.

However, Mairi did not conceal her feelings. “You cannot truly think I’ll marry you,” she exclaimed. “Why, you are as old as my father, and although I do know such marriages occur, one expects to gain great advantage from them. But neither side gains advantage here!”