Amanda Scott (27 page)

Cristina looked from one to the other in astonishment. “Me?”

“To be sure,” Ian Dubh said. “I cannot imagine what my son was thinking, leaving you to follow him on your own. Most inconsiderate of him, I think.”

“In fairness, sir, he did not leave me to follow him. He told me I was to stay here at Lochbuie, that he would likely have duties and so forth, and so would not have the time to look after me.”

“Just so, and very typical, I must say, when he has a beautiful new wife to show off to everyone, to be spending his time thinking only of matters of business and doubtless planning to be at hand for any mission his brother might choose to assign to him. But he is newly married, and one of his solemn duties is to present his lady to MacDonald. Since that has apparently slipped his mind, we must do all in our power to make sure his lapse does not offend his grace or the Macleods. Therefore, I would take it kindly if you can be prepared to depart after we break our fast in the morning. I presume you can accommodate us both here for the night.”

“Oh, but are you sure? That is, yes, sir, of course we can,” Cristina said when her first words were met with a glacial look that reminded her instantly of Hector and made her wonder how she had ever thought his father was less intimidating.

“I’ll go upstairs with you,” Mairi said, adding with a teasing grin, “Doubtless, you will want my sage advice as you choose what gowns you will wear.”

“Oh, yes, do come with me,” Cristina said, already thinking about what she would need. As they hurried upstairs to her bedchamber, her heart was singing.

Chapter
14

W
ell,” Mairi said as they entered Cristina’s chamber, “are you angry with me for sticking my oar into your affairs?”

“Is this your doing then?”

“Mostly, but I cannot take all the credit—or blame, if that is your feeling.”

“Nay, for I’ll admit I’ve been wishing I could go to Ardtornish.”

“Aye, well, Hector was a villain not to make arrangements for you to follow him, especially since he had boats aplenty to carry you, but I do understand why he did not insist that you accompany him to Duart. He must have expected to find his father in a rare taking after receiving such a curt command to present himself. And, indeed, when word reached Ian Dubh that he meant to seek an annulment, he was angry enough to flay him, but in the end, I don’t think he handed him his head, although he did make his feelings plain.”

“Are you sure?”

“Aye, for after Hector left for Ardtornish, his father became thoughtful, and then he set aside his beloved documents and said he would have to take a hand in things. Seizing my opportunity, I told him that when I’d asked about you, Hector had said you were not going to Ardtornish. I said I thought that a pity, because I knew my father would want to meet my new sister. So here we are.”

“I’m very glad. I hadn’t realized how sorry I was not to be included in the festivities, because I did not mind staying here whilst he went to Finlaggan. Oh, but mercy, what am I to do with Isobel and Aunt Euphemia?”

“Bring them along, of course. Two more will make no difference to our oarsmen, and Ardtornish has plenty of room. If Hector forbids you to share his room, you may share mine—at least, until Lachlan returns from wherever he is, which he is sure to do before his grace’s reception for my grandfather. But I doubt that your husband will order you to sleep elsewhere.”

“He will not be pleased to see me,” Cristina said with a grimace.

“Bless the man, he cannot eat you,” Mairi said, laughing. “Nor will he blame you when he sees that you have come with his father. He may be a trifle cool to you at first though, particularly if he strictly forbade your going.”

“He didn’t forbid it exactly,” Cristina said, remembering. “He just said that I was to stay here.”

“Well, that’s all right then,” Mairi said comfortably. “But where is Mariota? You have not mentioned her.”

“My father came and took her with him to Ardtornish,” Cristina said.

“Without offering to take you or Isobel or even Lady Euphemia?”

“He did not mention me, but he did say he would not take a hoyden or a jabber-woman with him,” Cristina said, making Mairi grin.

The grin faded quickly as Mairi said, “You know, I can perhaps understand his leaving your other sisters with Adela to look after them, because she seemed quite competent to me, but he ought to have taken Lady Euphemia with him, even if he did not want Isobel. Mariota should not be at my father’s court without a reliable woman to act as her chaperone.”

“You have met my aunt several times now,” Cristina said. “Do you think she could keep Mariota out of mischief?”

“Faith, I doubt that anyone could influence that young woman sufficiently for that, but it would certainly look better to others if she were with them.”

Cristina agreed but refrained from pointing out that she had had nothing to say in the matter and changed the subject to the important matter of her clothing.

Brona entered a few minutes later, and after asking her to send someone to tell Isobel and Lady Euphemia of the treat in store for them, the two young women turned their attention to Cristina’s packing.

The next day dawned gray and cool, and the air against Cristina’s face felt soft with a hint of rain. But lack of sunshine had done nothing to dampen her spirits as she boarded Ian Dubh’s longboat for the journey up the island’s east coast to the Sound of Mull. Intermittent sunlight emerged shortly before they stopped at Duart to enjoy a late midday meal, and they wasted no time thereafter before boarding the longboat again and sailing the remaining five miles to Ardtornish Bay.

Ardtornish Castle, principal residence of the Lord of the Isles, sat sixty feet above them on a rocky promontory that jutted into the Sound at the west end of the bay. One of eight castles guarding the Sound, its brownish black basalt-block walls loomed dark and formidable against the shadowy afternoon sun. Just as formidable were the towering, sheer basalt cliffs that formed the bay.

“The Morvern Witches’ skirts are flying up today,” Mairi said, gesturing toward misty spills of water billowing out from the cliff walls as the oarsmen rowed them into Ardtornish Bay. “You can see
Creag na Corps
from here, too.”

“I know that rock,” Cristina said, staring at the highest cliff. “That’s the one from which they throw felons to their deaths on the rocks below, is it not?”

“Aye,” Mairi said soberly. “But we’ll see none of that on this visit. This is a festive occasion, and everyone will be here, mayhap even my sister Marjory.”

“If so many are here,” Isobel said as the oarsmen deftly turned the longboat and swept it up to the landing in grand style, “where are the boats they promised?”

“Most likely in Loch Aline, yonder to the west, if they have not already sailed to meet my grandfather,” Mairi explained. “’Tis a safer harbor, because the longboats and galleys are less exposed to the weather there, and to mischief as well.”

“Sakes,” Isobel said, “who would dare make mischief against a man as powerful as the Lord of the Isles?”

“You’d be surprised,” Mairi said. “Sometimes the ones you least suspect prove to be great villains, and men of power are always targets.”

“Truly?”

“Trust is often a sometime thing,” Mairi said soberly. “Feuds can stir amidst even the greatest of friends, and a man in my father’s position often finds himself surrounded by as many enemies as allies. However, for the next few days, everyone will be smiling. Just don’t trust every smile, Isobel,” she added. “Pay attention to actions, too. A wise woman heeds the whole demeanor of a person, and his actions, not just his smiles and bows and flattering words.”

Cristina was amused to see how seriously the little girl took Mairi’s advice. But she knew that it was sage advice and that she’d do well to heed it herself.

They retired to Mairi’s chambers for an hour to refresh and tidy themselves before she led them to the great chamber of the main tower, where her father greeted his guests and where Cristina saw at once that the Lord of the Isles’ court might hold more pitfalls than she had feared.

Directly to MacDonald’s right stood the Green Abbot of Iona, a tall, willowy man, garbed in the knee-length black robe and fine trunk hose of a courtier. And standing next to him, smiling flirtatiously as they chatted, was Mariota. Until then, although Cristina had known Fingon since her childhood, she had never noticed how foxlike his narrowed eyes, long nose, and sharp chin could make him look.

Mariota had not yet seen her, and as Cristina waited for her to do so, a slight prickling at the nape of her neck caused her to glance behind her. As she did, her husband entered the chamber with his twin at his side.

The pair of them made an impressive appearance, for not only did they wear the splendid French finery that many of the Isles nobility preferred for court dress—and which their command of the seas allowed them to procure—but as tall as they were, and as broad-shouldered, they caused many a head to turn their way.

Lachlan was speaking to Hector, but Cristina knew her husband was not listening, for his gaze had riveted on her. His eyes blazed, and his jaw was set hard.

A shiver shot up her spine, but she fought to ignore it as she turned away with as much calm as she could muster to make her curtsy to the Lord of the Isles.

Hector could hardly believe his eyes, but there she was, the wife he had supposed safe at Lochbuie, curtsying low before MacDonald. As she smiled up at his grace, he drew her to her feet and spoke to her. Then she vanished from Hector’s view when a man and two women insinuated themselves between them to speak to MacDonald. So intent was he on seeing her again that another moment passed before he realized that the man was his father and one of the two women was Mairi of the Isles. The other was her good friend Fiona MacDougall.

The sight of Ian Dubh gave him pause, and he muttered an epithet.

“What did you say?” Lachlan demanded. “I swear you’ve not heard one word I’ve said to you.”

“I said, what the devil does he think he is doing?”

“You cannot be surprised that our august parent has decided to attend the festivities? He would not want to figure as one of the opposition to the Steward.”

“I don’t care one way or the other about his being here, although I’d expect him to have mentioned his intention when I saw him a few days ago,” Hector said grimly. “I do object to his countermanding
my
orders to
my
own wife.”

“I thought you wanted to
dis
own her,” Lachlan said gently.

“Don’t you start with me, my lad.”

“Then control your temper before you draw every curious eye,” his twin recommended. “Beat the lass for disobeying you if you dare, or tell our father to keep his fingers out of your marriage. But too many people are watching us now, including the wicked abbot, for you to indulge that temper of yours here.”

“Never fear that,” Hector said, scowling. “If so many are watching, they will merely think you and I have had a falling-out. And if you continue to offer me advice when I don’t want it, that may well happen.”

“Will it, indeed?” Lachlan asked, grinning impudently at him.

“Our audience may think so at least,” Hector said, punching him on the shoulder playfully but with enough force to make him stagger.

Lachlan laughed aloud and clapped him hard on the back. “Our father is looking at us, and his grace, too,” he said. “Do you want to continue this farce?”

“Nay, but I do have some few things to say to my lady wife.”

“Then go and talk to her. Greetings, your grace,” he added, stepping forward to make his bow and studiously ignoring the abbot. “I see that you have met my lovely sister-in-law.”

“I have, indeed,” MacDonald said, glancing from one twin to the other with a smile. To Hector he said, “You have done yourself proud, lad.”

“Thank you, your grace,” Hector said, looking directly at Cristina.

When he saw her eyes widen, he knew she had been fearful of his reaction to her presence, and that thought gave him pause, more so than anything his twin or his father had said to him. He realized in that moment that he did not want to frighten her or to fight with her. Knowing what he did want was another matter.

One moment he felt trapped with her in an unwanted marriage, the next he wanted to protect and comfort her as his wife. Indeed, from one minute to the next, he did not seem to know if he was on his head or on his heels.

Lachlan and Mairi were watching them, a half smile on his face, a slight frown on hers, but Hector ignored them both as he held out a hand to Cristina. “Will you walk with me, madam, if his grace and my father will give us leave. I have missed you and would speak privately with you.”

“His grace will certainly excuse you,” MacDonald said, smiling.

Ian Dubh nodded, his expression stern.

“Then it must be as you wish, my lord,” Cristina said with the calm that almost never seemed to fail her, as she placed a hand on his forearm.

He guided her away from the gathering around MacDonald, pausing only to see if his grace’s wife, Lady Margaret, had come in. He was glad to see that she had not, for otherwise he might have hesitated to take Cristina from the room. No one would complain if he did so now, however.

He thought the mossy green silk gown she wore was especially becoming to her. Its low-cut bodice emphasized the soft plumpness of her creamy breasts, and its blond lace trimming matched the color of her hair, which she wore simply, pulled back and confined in a gilded net. “Have you visited the battlements?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

“Then I’ll take you up to admire the view,” he said.

She went silently, preceding him gracefully up the narrow, twisting stairway and onto the ramparts of the castle. The view was breathtaking, because despite the gray sky, they could see for miles.

“See Duart there to the southeast,” he said. “And that castle west of us on the far promontory is Aros. Mingary lies even farther west, at the end of the Sound.”

“You are angry with me for coming here,” she said.