Amanda Scott (18 page)

“He is a most attractive man, don’t you agree?” Sidony said.

Sorcha did not answer, but watching him as he put back his head and laughed at something one of his men said, his strong, white teeth gleaming in the firelight, she was thinking the same thing. Why on earth, she wondered, had Adela not made a stronger push to attract the man, to encourage him to ask for her hand? She knew Isobel had invited Adela to visit Roslin, because she had invited them all, saying they might come together or perhaps one or all of her three unwed sisters might travel south with another family if Macleod did not wish to make the journey. And Adela had known that Sir Hugo
would likely be at Roslin much of that time. Yet she had put off going until the early winter had made it impossible. Had it been Sorcha instead who had met him at Orkney…

She set that thought aside, unfinished. It would not do to be thinking that way, not when Sir Hugo was the only hope Adela had of restoring her reputation.

Realizing that Sidony had repeated her question, she said, “He is handsome enough, but in my opinion, he is like most attractive men, insufferably fond of himself.”

That was so, she told herself, but he was far more amusing than most of his ilk, and she enjoyed talking with him. At least, she did when he was not flinging orders at her, or scolding her, or telling her to straighten her veil. But in truth he had not done much of that after they had left the clachan that morning.

Soon after she finished her excellent supper of roasted rabbit and bannocks, she detected a halo of light edging the hilltops east of them and realized the moon was rising.

Yawning, Sidony said, “I’m ready for bed. Shall we go?”

“You go ahead,” Sorcha said. “I want to watch the moonrise.”

“It is not even a full moon yet,” Sidony protested.

Sorcha shrugged. “I like to watch it, even so. It will be full in a few days, so it is round enough to suit me.”

Hugging her, Sidony bade her goodnight and walked toward their tent.

Sorcha got up from the boulder on which she had sat to eat her supper and began to wander along the loch shore, away from the firelight. She wanted to savor the
moonrise without distractions. She had strolled for only a few minutes, however, before the hair on the back of her neck lifted. Even so, the light hand touching her shoulder gave her a severe start.

With a shriek, she whirled, ready to strike.

As he had before, Sir Hugo caught her hand easily, saying, “Nay, Skelpie, I told you, you’ll not strike me again.”

“I wasn’t hitting
you
, exactly. You just startled me.”

“Where are you going?”

She lifted her chin, wanting to jerk her hand away but not certain he would allow it and not wanting to give him the satisfaction of disallowing it. “Could you not simply suppose that I was seeking the privy pits, and leave me to find my way?”

“You are going the wrong way,” he said. “We would never dig the pits this close to the water, as you should know. They lie yonder in the woods.”

“Well, I wasn’t going there, anyway,” she said. Then, recalling what Sidony had said about Michael’s silent movement, she said, “Do all men from Lothian walk like ghosts in the dark?”

He chuckled, and the sound warmed her. The hand still lightly holding her wrist warmed her, too. She swallowed, not sure what more to say when he did not answer her.

At last, in a voice that sounded strangely uneven, he said, “I just wanted to be sure you did not wander far. It would not be safe to go beyond sight of our encampment except at the pits. I have men posted around that area to guard against strangers. But I’m sorry if I gave you a fright, lass. I did not mean to.”

“You didn’t frighten me,” she said. “You just startled me, and I don’t like being startled. Do you mean to hold my hand all night?”

“Mayhap I should,” he said, lightly stroking the inside of her wrist with his thumb as he looked into her eyes, holding her gaze with his. “I’ve come to fear that you may fall into trouble if I don’t watch you closely.”

Although she knew the stroking was probably just an idle gesture of which he was unaware, added to the way he was looking at her, it produced an odd feeling deep inside that made it hard to think or to breathe properly.

“Why did you wander away from the rest of us?” he asked.

“I wanted to watch the moonrise,” she said, wrenching her gaze from his. “See, there it comes now. It’s peeking at us over that hilltop.”

“Aye,” he said quietly. “I see.”

Silvery light began to spill down the hillside to the loch, touching its still water and turning it into a long, silver, serpentine ribbon between the dark hills.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she said.

“Aye,” he agreed.

She glanced up. “You’re not looking at it!”

“Nay,” he said, capturing her gaze again. “I’m looking at a wee golden witch, and one I should not be alone with, staring at the moon.” He hesitated, still looking into her eyes. A moment later, he said gruffly, “Where’s your sister?”

“She’s gone to bed,” Sorcha said, tugging gently to free her hand from his. To her disappointment, he did not try to hold on to it. “But I don’t want to go back yet,” she said. “I want to watch the moon for a while, but you can go back if you like. I promise you, I’ll go no farther.”

“Nay, lassie, I’ll stay.”

In the silence that followed, she found it hard to concentrate on the moon. Although he did not say another word, his presence loomed beside her, making her more aware of him than she had been only moments before.

He did not touch her, but she could sense his strength and feel warmth radiating from his body. His clothing smelled of wood smoke, and she could hear him breathing. When he had looked into her eyes her heart had begun beating harder than the slight exertion of walking alongside the loch warranted, but she could feel its pounding easing. Her body began to relax.

When the rounding moon had risen free of the crest of the hill, knowing he would soon insist they return, Sorcha said into the stillness, “What does he want?”

“Who?”

She did not bother to reply, and after a long moment, he said, “I told you, he seeks vengeance.”

“I know that is what you said, but I have been thinking, and if revenge is all he wants, why take Adela? And if he wants to punish her, why not send her back now that he has ruined her, to reap the horrors of her ruination? Why take her all the way to Edinburgh? What does he really want, and why does he think that holding her prisoner will get it for him?”

Again, silence followed before he said, “I cannot tell you the whole tale, because it is not mine to tell. But I will tell you this much. He believes the Sinclairs have something that belongs to the Roman Kirk, something he says he means to return to the Pope when he finds it. And he is certain he will find it.”

“Sakes,” she said, astonished. “What is it?”

“That is the part I cannot tell you. I have sworn an oath, lass, and I cannot break it, certainly not without greater cause than a woman’s curiosity.”

“Duty and your sacred honor again, I suppose.”

“Aye, and you need not say it like that. Trust is always a matter of honor, and a vow can never be more than a matter of trust. That is why Michael and I, and so many others, support Ranald of the Isles. He is a true Celt. He could easily have raised an army and taken the Lordship into his own hands, and many would have supported him. But he did not do it, because he had given his word to his father that he would see his grace’s wishes fulfilled and would see Donald of Isla installed as the new MacDonald. Ranald’s word is as good as any legal document, and better than many. Because of that, all men who know him trust him completely.”

“Are you as trustworthy as Ranald of the Isles?” she asked.

He hesitated, making her wonder what consideration she had stirred to delay his response. But then he said firmly, “If I give you my word, you may trust it.”

“Then give me your word that you will marry Adela when we find her.”

“Nay, I’ll not do that,” he said. “We’ve already gnawed that bone, and you should know that I meant what I said. It must be her ladyship’s choice, not mine or yours. Now, though, I must return you to your sister.”

He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her toward the firelight, and she did not resist. Indeed, she enjoyed the warm feeling of him touching her and wondered again at Adela’s stupidity. It occurred to her that he had not answered the part of her question about why Waldron
had abducted Adela. But looking up at his strong profile as they walked, she decided she did not want to press the point. Likely, he would just tell her it was a part of the story he could not reveal. In any event, she did not want to break the easy mood between them.

For one flickering moment, earlier, when he had been looking into her eyes, she had thought he might kiss her and had felt a surge of disappointment when he had not. But thinking of it now, she scolded herself again for a fool, because common sense warned her that if he had kissed her, it would have stirred a whole new set of problems that she did not even want to contemplate.

Still, she was glad he had refused to promise he would marry Adela. If only she could think that Adela would be stupid enough to refuse his offer.

But Adela was not stupid. If she had accepted Ardelve, she would simply leap at the chance to marry Hugo.

Any woman would.

Walking back to the fire with him in companionable silence, she saw that Sidony had not gone to bed after all. Instead she sat near the fire, watching Rory toast a remaining bannock, talking earnestly with him. He glanced at her and nodded from time to time, clearly trying to keep one eye on the bannock dangling precariously from his slender toasting stick, and the other on Sidony as she talked.

As Sorcha and Sir Hugo neared the pair, Rory slipped the bannock from the stick, broke it in half, and gave half to Sidony. When she broke off a piece and put it gingerly to her lips, Rory said something, and she smiled, making Sorcha wonder what on earth they had been talking about.

Sir Hugo muttered abruptly, “How well do you two know that lad?”

Sorcha shrugged. “We’ve known him since we were all children at Chalamine together. His mother, Bess MacIver, was our mother’s waiting woman. She stayed as our housekeeper for several years after Mother died, until her husband, Ranulf, was badly kicked by one of Father’s horses. Father helped them buy the cottage in Glenancross, near her family, and they have lived there since.”

“In other words, you don’t know that lad well at all,” he said. “I’m thinking he has designs on your sister.”

“Rory? You must be daft,” Sorcha said. “He would not think of such a thing. He has been very good to us, very protective, and he kens fine that his mother would have the hide off him if he were to hurt either one of us or seek aught from us that was unsuitable. He is an honorable man, too, Sir Hugo, and his honor means as much to him as yours does to you.”

“Pax, lass. I meant no offense. I do not know him, which is why I asked.”

Sorcha sighed. Once again, he had put her in the wrong without even raising his voice. She wanted to apologize, and at the same time, she wanted to smack him. She did neither, resorting to silence instead.

Sidony saw them and stood, bidding Rory goodnight before she hurried to meet them, saying, “I decided to wait for you, after all. They had a few bannocks left over, and Rory toasted one for me. I know I did not need more to eat, but it was delicious. Are you going to bed now, Sorcha?”

Wondering what demon possessed her usually bashful sister to babble on so, Sorcha agreed that she was indeed
ready to sleep and bade Sir Hugo a dignified goodnight. The moment she and Sidony were alone in their tent, however, she said, “What were you talking to Rory about so intently?”

Sidony sighed as she turned to let Sorcha undo the lacing at the back of her borrowed bodice. “I was telling him how worried I am about Adela, that’s all,” she said. “She has been missing for days, Sorcha, days that she has had to spend with those horrid men. I don’t mean to complain when I know we are doing all we can, but I keep wondering what they may be doing to her, and it frightens me.”

“Then don’t think about it,” Sorcha advised bluntly. “It won’t help Adela for you to torture yourself so on her behalf. Nor should you complain to Rory, dearling,” she added in a gentler tone. “He can do nothing to help her either, you know—none of us can until we find her.”

“No, I suppose not,” Sidony said, sighing. “Still, it did make me feel better to talk to him. I just wish we could know she is safe.”

“She will be soon. But no more burdening Rory with your worries.”

Chastened, Sidony promised she would not do so again.

They went to bed, and curled up beside Sidony in bedding that Sir Hugo and his men had provided for them, Sorcha slept deeply and well.

But the next morning, when they emerged from their tent a short time after dawn broke over the hills, the first thing they learned was that Rory had disappeared from the camp and had taken his pony with him.

One of Sir Hugo’s men approached them before they had walked more than a few yards from their tent. Explaining
what had happened, he said that his master wanted to speak to them.

“We are going to break our fast now,” Sorcha said. “Tell him we’ll be glad to discuss it with him as we eat, though.”

The man glanced over his shoulder, then leaned nearer to say in a brusque undertone, “I wouldna advise that course, m’lady. The master be in a rare temper, because he thinks ye kent fine that the lad were a-going, so unless ye want everyone to hear all he says to ye, I’d advise ye to go to him now.”

“I’ll go, then,” Sorcha said firmly. “Siddy, you go on over by the fire and fetch us both something to eat. I warrant this will not take me long.”

“Beg pardon, m’lady, but he said ye both should come,” the man said.

Sorcha opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of that but shut it again without saying a word. She would not allow Hugo to bully Sidony, but neither would she allow his dictatorial ways to stir her to the even more inappropriate behavior of voicing her opinions about him to his minions. So, instead, she nodded her head regally and gestured for Sidony to follow her.