Amanda Scott (40 page)

“Not so wise, sir, but I do watch people and try to learn from them.”

Hector chuckled at the memory of her eavesdropping, and realized it was the first time his sense of humor had stirred since seeing the two figures fall off the rock. Giving her shoulder a gentle, affectionate squeeze as they came into sight of the great-hall courtyard, he saw that a reception committee awaited them.

Cristina, too, had observed the small but growing crowd gathered on the east side of the great hall, but lost in her thoughts as she was, she could not stir any interest in them. Only after she and Hector rode into the yard and people rushed to meet them did she try to focus her mind, but her thoughts refused to cooperate until she recognized the Green Abbot striding angrily toward her.

“There she is,” he exclaimed, angrily pointing a finger at her. “Murderess! She killed her sister, as I saw with my own eyes. Clap her into irons, I say!”

Cristina stared blindly at him. “I . . . I . . .” But she could not continue, could not deny that Mariota’s death, although not murder and despite what Hector had said, was somehow, in some way, her fault.

As she gaped at the abbot, her father appeared beside her, his face red with fury. “What ha’ ye done?” he demanded, reaching for her and pulling her off the palfrey. Giving her a shake, he added, “’Twas a wicked, wicked thing you did!”

“She didn’t!” Isobel cried as Hector dismounted and set her on the ground.

Then Hector was beside Cristina, his strong hand reassuringly gripping her shoulder as he snapped, “She did nothing of the sort, Macleod, and you know it. And so do you,” he added, turning to the abbot. “What you saw was my lady wife nearly sacrificing her own life to save her beloved sisters, and ’tis an abomination for you to accuse her as you did. By heaven, if you were not a man of the cloth—”

“But I am a man of the cloth,” Mackinnon said. “What is more, I wield more power in these parts than even MacDonald does.”

“I’ll challenge that,” MacDonald said, moving to stand near Hector.

“I’d challenge it, too, if I were you,” another voice said, and Cristina saw Robert the Steward step up beside MacDonald.

“Would you, sir?” Mackinnon said, raising his chin. “Would you also question my word when I tell you that you have won support from a man who takes gelt from his abbey kirk to fill his own coffers, a man who cheats his own people?”

“Are you now hurling vile accusations at your liege lord?” MacDonald asked in a gentle voice that nonetheless shot shivers through Cristina and made her tremble. But Hector’s hand did not twitch at MacDonald’s icy tone, and she was certain that steady hand on her shoulder was all that kept her upright.

“My only liege is my Lord God,” the Green Abbot said piously, not intimidated. “You have defied His laws, MacDonald of the Isles,” he declared. “You have taken from your own people, even forced your own kirks to give good gelt for the holy oil you should be giving to them freely.”

As Cristina watched and listened, Lady MacFadyen’s words echoed in her mind, and without a thought for consequence, she heard herself using Hector’s favorite word as she said, “Sakes, Fingon Mackinnon, but you demanded that the people of Coll donate years’ worth of oil to you. And if you demanded it on Coll, I’ll wager you demanded it from other isles as well.”

Mackinnon turned to her again, his eyes blazing with anger, and that reassuring hand dropped from her shoulder as Hector stepped in front of her.

“My lady wife speaks the truth,” he said for all to hear. “I warrant that you are responsible for even more mischief than that if the truth were known.”

Mackinnon stepped toward him. “Why, you heathenish upstart, how dare you speak so to me! Do you know what I can do to you? Excommunication is no mere word to me, Hector Reaganach, but a power that will send you to hell!”

“Hold there,” MacDonald commanded. “For all you say, Fingon, you do not hold sway on these grounds. Indeed, if I had my way, I’d hang you for your misdeeds, because I believe we know less than half of what you’ve done. You’ve long had a reputation for wickedness, and should be ashamed of yourself.”

Mackinnon whirled toward him, but Hector caught his arm as it went up.

“Sakes, man, don’t be daft,” he said. “Be you cleric or madman, my duty is to my liege. If you take another step or raise that hand again, I’ll smite you down.”

“You dare!”

Silence fell as the two glowered at each other, until Robert said, “You know, MacDonald, I advise you to confine this mischief-maker to his Holy Isle. Indeed, as soon as I properly wear the crown of Scotland, I may issue such an order myself.”

Looking from man to man, Cristina noted furtive movement not far behind Robert and MacDonald. To her annoyance, she saw Fergus Love easing his way toward her through the onlookers there.

He was watching her, and when her gaze met his, he winked impudently.

That he could approach her, even flirt with her, with her husband beside her and her sister having just plunged to her death, appalled her. She turned haughtily away, but curiosity being stronger than willpower, only a moment passed before she looked back again.

Fergus was still coming toward her, nearing a point behind and between Robert and MacDonald. Was the man mad?

As the thought crossed her mind, she saw him reach inside his doublet and begin to take something out. Even as mesmerized by his daring as she was, she recognized a dagger hilt when she saw one.

Crying a warning, she thrust herself between MacDonald and the Steward, shoving both aside as hard as she could, and saw the dagger flash toward her.

Chapter
21

H
ector’s attention had riveted itself to Fingon Mackinnon, and as he waited tensely for the man to stand down, something pricked him into wondering why Fingon was behaving so oddly. The man had clearly wanted to stir trouble from the moment they had returned, and it was unusual for him to make mischief at court.

Suddenly, with a discernible gleam of triumph, his gaze darted sideways.

Hector heard Cristina cry out and felt her leap away from him toward MacDonald and the Steward. Instantly, he kicked the smirking abbot solidly in the stomach and knocked him flat. Without waiting to see him land, certain he would not soon get up, Hector whirled as Cristina pushed between MacDonald and the Steward, and saw the dagger flash up to meet her.

With thought for nothing but that dagger, he flung himself after her, reaching for her as he did. When his hand touched fabric at the back of her gown, he grabbed it hard and wrenched her toward him, lifting her off her feet and swinging her toward his left hand, as he kept moving toward the flashing dagger.

She screamed again, this time in frustrated fury as much as fear, he knew, but she was safely behind him and the man who would have killed her, and Robert as well, stood in front of him. Having not taken sword or axe to search for his errant bride, and with his dirk thrust as usual into his boot, he held no weapon of his own as he lunged at Fergus Love. He did not need one.

The dagger went flying as one powerful forearm knocked Love’s right hand up, and the man screamed in such a way that Hector was sure he had broken his arm. But to make sure Love would cause no more trouble, he shot a heavy fist to the man’s chin, felling him to the ground. Standing over him, wishing he would get up so he could hit him again, Hector fought to control his fury. It was MacDonald’s right, or Robert’s—but not his—to determine Fergus Love’s fate.

Reaching down, he hauled him up and thrust him into the waiting hands of two men-at-arms who had plunged through the crowd to aid him as soon as they realized trouble had erupted.

As they hustled Love away under strong guard, Hector turned to Cristina.

She eyed him angrily, and he nearly smiled, because she looked like his Cristina again. Evidently, she had fallen when he thrust her behind him, because she was dusting her skirt off with Isobel’s help and glowering like an angry child. He wanted to take her in his arms.

She said tartly, “I think you ripped my gown, and he would not have harmed me. He had already recognized me and was turning the blade aside.”

“Cristina, he nearly killed you,” Isobel said, touching her arm as if she would soothe her temper away.

“He was threatening the next King of Scots and MacDonald, who is my liege lord,” Hector said sternly, adding in a quieter tone, “And before you take me to task in front of them and everyone else here, my lass, you might pause to think about the penalty for striking the Lord of the Isles
and
the heir to the kingdom of Scotland.”

Her face paled, and she glanced from MacDonald to Robert and back.

“What
is
the penalty?” Isobel asked, wide-eyed.

Hector was already wishing that he had not mentioned penalties, because it had occurred to him that the one for striking MacDonald was death from
Creag na Corps
. In order that the same thought not occur to Cristina, he added, “Never mind, Isobel. You had better apologize at once, lass, and hope the Steward does not order you back to Stirling to stand trial for what you did.”

MacDonald smiled at her and said, “Don’t frighten your lady wife, sir. She undoubtedly saved his life and perhaps my own as well. That villain is clearly deranged to have attempted such violence here before so many.”

“He had help, your grace,” Hector said, moving to stand over Mackinnon, who was struggling to rise with the help of one of his minions. “I realized in the midst of it all that something was amiss. ’Tis my belief that the Green Abbot stirred things up a-purpose to divert attention from Fergus Love just as he diverted ships away from the flotilla protecting Robert. He knew what Love meant to do here.”

“Prove it,” Mackinnon snarled. “Just try to prove any of that.”

“Do you think Love will not talk to us?” Hector asked. “He will.”

“Nay, then, he will not,” Mackinnon said. “He has naught to say.”

“We’ll see,” Hector said.

Noting two men near the stairs to the boat landing, and realizing that others below must have recovered Mariota’s body by now and would soon be carrying it up, he caught MacDonald’s eye and gave a slight nod in that direction.

MacDonald gave no sign of noticing but turned to Cristina and said soberly, “We are exceedingly grateful for your quick action, my lady. Your bravery—”

“Please, your grace,” she said. “I did naught for which you should thank me. I did not even think. I just acted.”

“It is by their actions that we know our friends, Lady Cristina,” Robert said. “And I count you from this moment my very good friend, indeed.”

She curtsied low, and when she arose, Hector took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, holding it there firmly.

“I hope you’ll both forgive us,” he said. “My lady wife has endured a trying day, and I would see her rest. With your permission, we’ll forgo taking supper with everyone in the great hall this evening.”

“You have our permission, sir,” MacDonald said. “Take good care of her.”

“You come with us, Isobel,” Hector said, and the child nodded.

“But why should we . . . ?” Cristina began.

Hector squeezed her hand harder, and to his surprise, she fell silent.

With Isobel following at their heels, he urged Cristina through the crowd and across the courtyard. When she tried again to speak, he said, “We’ll talk all you like when we reach our bedchamber, but not now, sweetheart.”

They were nearing the main entrance to the castle when he heard his twin shout his name from behind. Pausing, hoping Lachlan had no new orders for him, he turned and saw with relief that Mairi was with him.

Mairi caught Cristina in a warm hug and said, “What a horrible thing!”

“Aye,” Lachlan agreed quietly. “We’re sorry for your loss, my lady, and will do whatever we can to help ease your pain.”

She looked up at Hector. Sadness had returned to her eyes, but she no longer had the blind look that had frightened him so, and he was grateful. “We cannot go in yet,” she said. “They’ll be bringing her body up soon, and I must be there.”

“Nay, lass,” he said gently. “You’ll come with me and give me no more argument. Lachlan will see to her care, and Mairi will help. You can see her later.”

Mairi said, “Aye, he’s right, Cristina. You must rest. I’ll order supper sent to your chamber, and I’ll find Lady Euphemia, for I know she will want to help prepare Mariota’s body. You need not worry about Isobel either, because I’ll look after her, too. You’ll let me do that, won’t you, Isobel?”

“Aye,” Isobel said. “But only if Hector promises to keep his temper.”

Mairi laughed and looked at him with a teasing twinkle.

“I’ll say what I said before, lass,” he told Isobel. “I can only do my best.”

She smiled at him, nodded, and turned away with Mairi. Before Lachlan could follow, Hector said, “One moment, my lad, I want another word with you.”

When he stepped aside to speak to Lachlan, Mairi turned back to Cristina, saying, “Don’t fret. I have already told my husband that on no account is he to send Hector anywhere for at least a sennight. His place until then should be with you.”

Cristina nodded, remembering that Hector had said he still had much to say to her, and uncertain if she should thank Mairi for interceding. Nevertheless, she felt herself warm within at the thought of Hector staying near.

He spoke only moments with his twin before returning to her side. “We’ll go in now, sweetheart,” he said.

She made no further objection, knowing she could depend on Mairi to see that Mariota was attended as she should be. As the realization settled into her mind, she felt the warm place inside her grow larger. For almost as long as she could remember, she had been able to depend only on herself, because with the exception of a servant or two, everyone around her, in his or her own fashion, had proven either patently unreliable or too young to depend on. Now, in the space of little more than a month, she had found several people she could trust.

Mairi was one, Lachlan another, and Isobel . . . Isobel was wonderful, and she would miss her dreadfully when the child returned to Chalamine. And then, of course, there was Hector. She glanced up at him as she moved to pass him and go up the spiral stone stairway. He was frowning, but when her gaze met his, he smiled and put an arm around her, giving her a hug.