Amanda Scott (34 page)

Tempted for no reason that she could fathom to grin at him, she resisted the impulse as sacrilegious and looked quickly away. Outside, though, as everyone strolled back to the keep, she fell back a bit with him and looked up at him again.

“Pray, sir, what was so amusing back there?”

He chuckled. “I was just wondering how many prayers you had offered. You looked as if you were plotting more sins rather than begging forgiveness for those you’ve already committed.”

She grinned impishly at him. “Since the good Lord sees into my mind and into my heart, sir, He knows how contrite I am.”

“And when you are not contrite at all. Don’t forget that, Skelpie.”

Thankful that he could not see into her mind and heart, and not wanting to quarrel with him—at least, not until she learned what he and the countess would decide to do about Adela—she changed the subject.

They chatted amiably until he excused himself to accompany Isabella to the ladies’ solar and Sorcha went with Sidony to visit their wee nephew and Isobel.

“Very well, Hugo,” his aunt said as they entered the comfortable new solar from the dais in the great hall. “Say what you will to me.”

He moved to shut the door first, but pressure from the other side stopped it as his father followed them inside.

Isabella arched her eyebrows. “You, too, Edward?”

“Aye, madam,” he said easily. “I hope you will not forbid it.”

Hugo looked from one to the other and felt energy between them that he had not noted before. His aunt had stiffened, but as her gaze met his father’s and Sir Edward said nothing more, her tension eased.

“Very well,” she said. “But if the pair of you expect to form a league against me, you will find that it will not serve. What Waldron has done is most serious.”

“I agree,” Sir Edward said. “Will you not take a seat, madam?”

“Aye, but the two of you must do likewise,” she said. “I won’t have Hugo looming over me like a Colossus whilst he tries to persuade me that I ought not to confront Waldron. That
is
what you mean to do, is it not, sir?”

“Perhaps,” he admitted, taking a pair of stools from near one of two narrow, arched windows overlooking the courtyard and moving them nearer her chair. His father sat on one and Hugo took the other, saying, “You recall that in our discussion last night, you mentioned the incident here last summer.”

“Of course I remember,” she replied testily. “I am not senile, Hugo. Had I not believed that Waldron must have
died when he fell from the ramparts, I should have called him to account for his actions straightaway.”

“He believes those actions and his recent ones were righteous, aunt.”

“Nonsense, how could he?”

“You asked few questions about that at the time.”

“Aye, well, I had learned to ask little about men’s affairs except when they affected Strathearn or Caithness,” she said. “Your uncle was rarely forthcoming about anything having to do with Sinclair affairs. And, during the time that Sir Edward acted as Henry’s guardian, he also generally neglected to discuss matters of Sinclair business with me.”

She shot Sir Edward a look of irritation, if not resentment, that Hugo realized was similar to one he had several times seen on Sorcha’s face. Clearly, tension existed between his father and the countess that he had failed to recognize, and it occurred to him that a countess in her own right might well resent being denied guardianship of her heir. For as much as Henry was heir to Roslin and other Sinclair holdings, so was he heir to the even more valuable lands of Strathearn and Caithness. Moreover, his Orkney princedom had come to him because of his mother’s kinship with the Norse King. Despite those details, Sir William Sinclair had awarded guardianship of his sons to his friend and fellow knight, Sir Edward Robison. And doubtless he had done so without explaining his reasons to their mother.

These thoughts flashed through Hugo’s mind as he said, “So you do not know what Waldron sought here at Roslin.”

“I did not know he sought anything. I know only that
you and Michael were quite oppressively secretive about the whole business. Then Henry, when he came here shortly afterward, behaved in a similar manner. Something excited him at the time, though. I do remember that. Do you mean to tell me what it was?”

Hugo glanced at Sir Edward, whose lips tightened slightly.

The look was sufficient to strengthen Hugo’s instinctive reaction. “That is Henry’s tale to tell, madam. I do sincerely believe that if you ask him, he will tell you, but the matter is delicate. I dare not reveal it without first having his leave.”

“I see.”

“Pray believe that I do not mean to offend you, Aunt Isabella,” Hugo said. “I have faith in your discretion, and I know Henry does, too. That we have not shared it with you before is due to our concern for your safety, and that of many others.”

Isabella looked thoughtfully at him before she said, “I will do you the courtesy of believing that you mean what you say, Hugo, as you have always been truthful to me. But surely you do not mean to say that honor precludes your telling me why I should not demand that Waldron account to me for his sins.”

“I won’t say that,” Hugo said. “Indeed, I would not presume to tell you what to do or not to do, because I do not have that right. But I would like to know how soon you’d expect him to come here.”

“Why, straightaway, of course, although as I have not yet sent the summons, I expect he will choose to come tomorrow.”

“Michael will arrive tonight,” Hugo reminded her.
“The rest of his grace’s cavalcade will be in Edinburgh tomorrow by midday. Did you not mean to attend the King’s court with us all on Tuesday?”

“I should go, I expect. But the court will remain in Edinburgh for some time. As Isobel and my new grandson are here now, I have decided to stay with them.”

“And if Waldron does not come here tomorrow? What then?”

Now it was she who looked at Sir Edward—ruefully—and the expression with which he met that look was another with which Hugo was familiar.

It was the same stern look that his father was apt to acquire whenever he learned of something that Hugo had hoped to accomplish without his knowledge.

Thus, he easily deciphered the unspoken exchange between them and said with a sigh to his aunt, “You would ride over to Edgelaw to confront him.”

“Indeed, she would,” Sir Edward said.

Stiffening indignantly, Isabella said, “Waldron has sworn fealty to me as his liege. He would not dare to harm me.”

Sir Edward continued to regard her solemnly, but Hugo said, “He does not count cost when he believes he is right, madam. He has also sworn fealty to Henry and to the King of Scots, yet he not only invaded Henry’s home here at Roslin last summer but abducted two wholly innocent subjects of the King’s a sennight ago. Waldron believes that God will forgive him anything he does in His service, and you may be sure that in this matter he believes he serves both the Almighty and the Roman Kirk.”

“Mercy, I had no idea. In what manner does he serve them?”

“I can tell you only that he believes the Sinclairs took something long ago that belongs to the Kirk. That belief is false, of course, but I cannot explain more about that now. Still, I do want you to understand that you cannot depend on Waldron to behave in a chivalrous manner, even toward you.”

“Then you do not want me to send for him.”

“On the contrary,” Hugo said, allowing himself a wry smile, knowing that what he wanted was immaterial unless he could persuade her. “I would like you to send for him, because his reaction will reveal something about his situation and how many men he has left to serve him. He still holds the lady Adela, after all, and her sisters maintain, despite evidence to the contrary, that she stays with him against her will. I mean to set extra guards on the ramparts here, and throughout the glen, after you send your message. But I do ask for your promise that you’ll not leave the castle until we return from Edinburgh and can confer about what to do next.”

She was silent for some time. Then she said, “You seem certain he will not come. What if he does?”

“If he comes tomorrow morning, we will be here to meet him. If he does not, my men will have orders to stop him before he ever reaches Roslin.”

“If he comes alone, I want them to let him through.”

Hugo hesitated. He could not be sure Waldron would not agree to come alone if he thought it was the only way he could gain access to Isabella. And although they could pack the castle with men and weapons, they could not thereby guarantee her safety or that of Isobel and her baby if Waldron, alone or not, were inside its walls.

The last thought decided it, and he said, “Even if I
were to agree to that, madam, you know that Michael will not, because even alone, Waldron is too dangerous. He seeks vengeance against all of us for his mishap last summer. And if he should manage to get to Isobel or to the bairn…”

When he stopped to let the rest speak for itself, she nodded and said, “You are right, and I am a fool not to have considered their safety. Waldron has ever sought revenge for perceived slights against himself, and what Isobel did to him goes far beyond that, especially if he believes his own actions were justified.” Pausing briefly to reflect, she said, “Very well, Hugo, I accept your judgment.”

Profoundly relieved, he thanked her.

After a quarter hour of exchanging news and amenities with Isobel, when Sidony picked up the baby and retired to cuddle him quietly on the deep, pillowed bench in the window embrasure, Sorcha leaned closer to her older sister and said quietly, “I am glad you feel rested. I have something I want to ask you.”

Isobel smiled. “About Waldron?”

“Aye, because any number of secrets seem to be associated with him. At least, Hugo resists discussing him despite his holding Adela.”

“You should not call him Hugo, dearling.”

“Sakes, we delivered your bairn together! I don’t stand on any ceremony with the man. Nor do you!”

“Only when no others are about,” Isobel pointed out. “He is Michael’s best friend, and he has come to mean as much to me as one imagines a brother should.”

“Well, I don’t want him for
my
brother,” Sorcha said roundly. “He is too quick to scold and to issue commands to people over whom he has no authority.”

“None? Did you not rather thrust yourselves upon him?”

“Rather it was he who thrust himself upon us,” Sorcha said. “We were doing very well by ourselves. We had nearly caught up with Adela and her abductors when he came upon us. But from that moment, he took it upon himself—”

Noting her older sister’s amusement, she broke off, then said with dignity, “But you will not want to be hearing about all that. And I am more interested in what Waldron wants. What pressed him to abduct Adela in the first place?”

“I have already told you that I’ve given my promise,” Isobel said. “You cannot expect me to tell you if Hugo will not. What exactly did he say, anyway?”

“Only that Waldron believes they took something belonging to the Holy Kirk. Won’t you even tell me
why
he thinks they took it?”

“Sakes, Sorcha, you have passed a sennight in Hugo’s company. Does he strike you as a man who would steal from the Kirk? Does Michael?”

“I scarcely know Michael, and I do not know Prince Henry at all.”

When Isobel’s eyes flashed with anger, Sorcha added hastily, “I am sure that Sir Michael is all that is honorable, for I know you love him. But how can you know that Prince Henry had naught to do with such a misdeed?”

“But I do know that, and so would you after ten
minutes in Henry’s company. Moreover, it all happened long before any of them were born.”

“Then you do know about it! Oh, Isobel, pray tell me. I swear it will go no farther,” she added, lowering her voice and casting a look toward the window embrasure where Sidony remained reassuringly attentive to their nephew.

But Isobel was shaking her head. “I can tell you nothing more,” she said firmly. “Indeed, I ought not to have said that much.”

“But why should you know if I cannot?”

“Because I’m married to Michael. He and Ian Dubh, Hector Reaganach’s father by marriage, told me everything the night before my wedding. I had already learned certain things due to my insatiable curiosity, you see, and they feared that it might lead me into danger if they did not persuade me to take greater care.”