Amanda Scott (5 page)

“I should perhaps tell you,” he added, “that his grace also wants to gather a flotilla of boats to meet the Steward and protect him on his journey. Doubtless, he will ask you how many boats your Macleods can contribute.”

“Aye, well,” Macleod said, “I did wonder why he had moved up the date for our Council, but it presents nae difficulty for me. I dinna think the Steward’s the best man, but I’ll lend a boat or two, and I’ll no stand against him. Indeed, ’twill provide excellent opportunity to show off my beautiful Mariota . . . That is to say, it will if her sister be safely wedded by then.” He smiled meaningfully at Hector.

Hector grimaced. He was not surprised that Macleod had agreed so readily to cooperate. Like most of the others to whom he had taken his messages, Macleod doubtless looked forward to the splendid, if not yet royal, revelry that would accompany Shrove Tuesday’s feasting at Ardtornish, because the winter thus far had been dreary and wet, albeit not particularly cold. Satisfied to have successfully avoided one pitfall, Hector turned the subject to a more challenging one.

“I’ll assume from your agreement that I may tell his grace he can count on you, sir, but as to Mariota’s attending the festivities, I hope she will attend them with me. Indeed, if all goes well, perhaps we can introduce several of your daughters to suitable families there. But first, it is my hope that we might discuss my desire to win your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

“I ha’ already told ye, ye can ha’ Cristina wi’ me blessing. She’ll make ye a fine wife.”

“Macleod, I’ve no need to hide my tongue behind my teeth with just the two of us here. I don’t want Cristina. I want Mariota, and well do you know it. Set your superstitions aside and think of what such a marriage will bring to you and yours.”

“I ken fine that ye want Mariota. Every man that claps eyes on the lass wants her, but I’ve said and I’ll say again that ye’ll no have her until Cristina be wedded. If ye dinna ken any man who wants Cristina, ye must take her yourself or leave them both be, and I’ll thank ye no to mention the matter to me again.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Hector said, dropping his civil manner at last and not without relief. “You gain naught by antagonizing me, and I have no sympathy for your foolish superstitions. His grace and my family are pushing me to marry, so perhaps you may imagine how they will react when I tell them that I’ve found the woman I want, but her father won’t let me have her because of his superstitious nature. You know that his grace loves a good story. Why, I warrant he’ll repeat it to every Islesman he meets. Is that what you want?”

Macleod glowered, but Hector understood from his silence that the older man was at least considering the difficulty of his position. He would not want to aggravate MacDonald, and all the Isles knew that both Maclean brothers were in high favor with the Lord of the Isles. To make an enemy of Hector the Ferocious would do Macleod no good at all.

The older man maintained his silence for some moments longer. But then he sighed, nodded, and refilled both mugs.

“Ye make a good point,” he said. “I’ll no pretend that your proposal’s to me liking, but when ye put the matter in such a manner, ye leave me nae choice but to bend me principles to suit ye. An ye promise me ye’ll do all ye can to see me other lasses well married, and that ye’ll stand by me if ill luck befalls Clan Macleod, I’ll arrange your marriage, and we’ll drink to it now, the two of us.”

Smiling, but ruthlessly suppressing the surge of triumph he felt, Hector met Macleod’s steady gaze, touched mug to mug, and drank to their agreement.

Chapter
3

The Isle of Mull

H
ector entered the great hall at Duart Castle two evenings later just as his four-year-old namesake let out a scream of fury and took a swing at his mother, who was attempting to pick him up.

Lachlan Lubanach Maclean, his namesake’s fond father and Hector’s twin, stepped between the two, picked up his angry son, nodded a brief welcome to Hector, and bore the still-screaming child from the room. Clearly, the pair did not go far, because the screaming stopped abruptly, then began again on a different note. A few moments later, silence fell, although Hector’s quick ears picked up the sound of his brother’s stern voice, and he felt a pang of sympathy for the child.

Meeting his sister-in-law’s rueful gaze, he said, “I seem to time my entrances badly of late. I must try to mend my ways.”

“Where else have you timed yourself badly?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Glenelg,” he said. “My entrance there was even more dramatic. I arrived just in time to save a lovely lass whose skirt had caught fire.”

“Mercy! You must tell us all about it, but you are always welcome here, sir, as you know. As for Hector Og’s temper, I expect he comes by it honestly, as does his brother. My mother has frequently said that I’ve simply borne the children I deserve. Indeed, I’m grateful that our wee lassie has inherited her father’s temperament instead of mine.”

“Then I’m thinking you’ll have to watch her even more closely than the lads,” he said, grinning. “Have I told you what your husband was like as a bairn?”

“I’ve told her all she needs to know,” his twin said as he returned to the hall and strode forward to greet Hector properly. Lachlan was some inches shorter than he was, and slimmer, his hair a shade or two lighter, but otherwise the resemblance between them was strong. “I apologize for that abrupt departure,” he said. “Hector Og is developing a mind of his own, not unlike some others I could mention.”

“You are not referring to me, I hope,” Hector said.

“Nay,” Lachlan said, grinning impudently at his wife. “Not you. We did expect you back some days ago, however. What kept you?”

“A number of things.”

“Indeed? I thought you were just delivering his grace’s invitations to the Shrove Tuesday feast and collecting boats for my flotilla.”

Mairi laughed. “You thought no such thing, and well do you know it since you had as much to do with sending him off as my father did. Do not let him tease you, sir. If the truth were known, I suspect he wishes he might have gone with you.”

“Now that,” Hector said with a smile for his twin, “would definitely have stirred conjecture. Do you not think folks might have wondered why his grace had sent his Lord High Admiral to issue such invitations, not to mention asking them to provide boats? Faith, they’d have thought we had a war pending.”

Lachlan shrugged. “The only war hereabouts at present is the one we are waging with a headstrong four-year-old.”

Hector chuckled. “So my small namesake has his own mind, has he?”

“Aye,” Lachlan said, giving him a straight look.

“You were very severe with him.”

“I was. He will inherit great power one day, and with power comes responsibility. If he does not learn to rule himself, he will be a poor leader of others. Therefore, I’ll thank you not to encourage his insolence, if you ple— What do
you
want?” he added in a much sterner tone, looking past Hector.

Turning, Hector beheld his nephew, standing sturdily in the narrow archway through which he had departed so ignominiously only moments before. He met his father’s stern gaze, not flinching even when Lachlan folded his arms across his broad chest and narrowed his eyes.

“Please, my lord, I’ve come to apologize,” the little boy said. He showed no fear, but spoke in a clear, firm voice, albeit with a childish lisp that gave short shrift to his l’s and r’s.

“To whom do you wish to direct this apology?” his father demanded.

“To you, sir,” he said, “but more to my lady mother. I-I’m sorry, mam!”

Tears sparkled in his eyes then, and when Mairi opened her arms to him, he flew into them, hugging her hard.

“Take him to bed, sweetheart,” Lachlan said with an indulgent smile.

“I will,” she said. “But don’t the two of you dare discuss anything important until I return, or I’ll have something to say to both of you. Have you eaten, by the way?” she asked Hector.

“Aye,” he said. “I went to Lochbuie first to clean up and have my supper.”

“Good,” she said. “I’ll just tell them to bring brogac and a few tidbits to keep you from starving before morning. You’ll spend the night with us, of course.”

“I’d like that, thank you,” he said.

“No need for thanks,” she said. “’Tis as much your home as ours, as always, but if you tell him one thing before I return, I’ll hand you your head in your lap.”

He grinned at her, his fondness for her strong. With her glossy black curls, dark blue eyes, flawless skin, and magnificent figure (despite being the mother of three small children), not only was Mairi of the Isles a beautiful woman but also a strong and worthy wife for the future chief of Clan Gillean.

His own taste had always strayed to a different sort of woman, more submissive, and one that—to his way of thinking—was more feminine, although no one would ever accuse Mairi of being unfeminine. He just preferred women who admired his strength rather than those who attempted to compete against it. He hoped Mairi would not take long putting the bairn to bed. He wanted to share his news, but he knew better than to do so before she was there to hear it.

Lachlan said, “So tell me briefly what you learned and how many boats I may count on. What of MacDougall of Dunstaffnage?”

“Some forty boats,” Hector said. “And MacDougall will come, of course, if only to try to find a husband for his younger daughter, Sarah, and perhaps one who will suit Fiona as well. I did not see her, but he says that although she is once again living at home and has emerged from her mourning, she is firm in saying she does not want to marry again yet. Sarah is no match for her, of course, but MacDougall should be able to find someone suitable for the lass.”

“MacDougall does not support the Steward,” Lachlan said.

“Nay, but he’ll be respectful and won’t risk offending MacDonald. He’ll send two longboats, too, because I made it clear that MacDonald would take it ill if he made an issue of his distaste. ’Twas likewise with Macleod of Glenelg.”

Lachlan frowned. “So you met him, too. I suppose that means you had to tell him about the reception for the Steward. MacDonald wanted to ask him personally.”

“I’ll explain all that, but—” He glanced toward the archway.

“Don’t fear her temper. Mairi won’t fly into the boughs over political details that she can guess for herself. ’Tis the more personal ones she’ll want to hear. She kens, for example, that you visited Macleod of Lewis and her sister Marjory. She will want to hear all their news. MacDougall she kens well enough, and Fiona visits us. I’ve seen him, too, but I wanted to hear what you think of him.”

Hector was not so certain that Mairi would be so discriminating. She had, after all, said not to say a word until she returned. Nevertheless, since Lachlan would one day be chief of their clan, he was as much Hector’s liege as the Lord of the Isles was. He was all but acting chief already, because their father, Ian Dubh Maclean, was more interested in scholarly pursuits than in political ones. That the Macleans were one of the ancient learned clans was a fact that he took seriously.

“How is our father?” Hector asked, more to turn the subject than because he expected any news in particular. Ian Dubh was usually involved in his studies at Bellachuan, their home on the Isle of Seil.

To his surprise, Lachlan said, “You can see for yourself. He’s here.”

“Here?”

“Aye, he said he wanted to visit his grandchildren. I was a bit worried about him, since such an interest seemed out of character, but it appears that he merely wants to discern if any of the three has the wit to follow in his path.”

“Do you think one can tell such a thing at their tender ages? Young Finguala is not quite two years old yet, and Hector Og and Ian are but four and three.”

“Father said he knew when we were still creeping on all fours that I’d be the scholar and you the warrior. He said you were protective of me from the moment I emerged from the womb, nearly twenty minutes after you did.”

“I wonder how he could have thought such a thing.”

“He said you squalled until the nurse picked you up and let you see me. Then you fell silent.”

“And your supposed intellect?”

“I looked at you, he said, and seemed contented, as if I knew the two of us could manage anything we desired in life. You looked odd a moment ago, by the way, when I mentioned Macleod. Is there aught of him that you should tell me?”

“Not before your lady returns. I like my head right where it is, thank you.”

A gillie entered then with a tray upon which stood two pewter goblets, a jug, a basket of rolls, a platter of sliced meat, and a jam pot.

Lachlan poured the whisky while Hector helped himself to a roll, breaking it in half and slipping two thick slices of roast beef into it.

“Thought you said you’d eaten,” Lachlan said with a grin.

“I did, but you eat better than I do. I don’t know what your people do to the meat here, but it always has more flavor than ours at Lochbuie.”

“Ask Mairi; she’ll know.”

“Ask Mairi what?” that lady demanded as she strode briskly back into the hall, smiling at both men.

“About meat,” Hector said. “What do you do to it to give it such flavor?”

“Faith, I don’t know,” she said. “I enticed one of the cook’s lads from Ardtornish to accompany us when we came here, and he tends to all that. I’m sure it has something to do with the spices he rubs into the roast before he puts it on the spit, but as he has never put a dry or tasteless meal in front of us, I have not troubled my head about it. You may ask him anything you like.”

He nodded but knew he would not bother. The meat at Duart was delicious, but the food he ate, as long as it was plentiful, was not important enough to him to waste his time quizzing his twin’s kitchen staff about their methods.

“So tell us your news,” Mairi said. “What of those at Lewis?”

“All well,” he said. “Your youngest nephew now has four teeth and a mop of blond curls. The eldest is to foster with Argyll after Easter. Your sister is in splendid health, and her lord is his usual stoic self, which was annoying during the time I spent with them, but which I came to recognize as an excellent character trait after I met his uncle at Chalamine.”