Amanda Scott (10 page)

“If you had not constantly tried to control him, he might not have felt such a strong urge to defy you,” she said before she thought.

Duncan’s face whitened, and Mary felt a tremor of fear. Then he said with a calm more frightening than if he had lost his temper, “What do you know of such matters, that you dare to speak so to me?”

“I should not have said that,” she admitted. “Ian rarely blamed you for anything you said to him. He knew that you cared for his safety above all else. He just felt constantly constrained, sir, and he frequently wished that you had more faith in his ability to look after himself.”

“We saw how capable he was of that the night he was murdered.”

Bannatyne shouted, “The dwarf’s got her, sir. He’s bringing her up now.”

“Oh, good,” Mary said, turning to join the others.

“One moment,” Duncan said, catching her arm. “Who are those children and what do you intend to do with them now? If you took them from MacCrichton—”

“They came with me from Shian Towers, but if you are thinking I abducted them, it was no such thing. They insisted upon accompanying me.”

“I can well believe you were in no good position to argue with them, but what will you do with them?”

“I did mean to stay tonight at Bardie’s cottage, and take them to Maclean House in the morning. I don’t think Pinkie can get far on an injured foot though.”

“You can take one of our horses for the children,” Duncan said, “but you must not return to Maclean House.”

“Faith, sir, do you still mean to issue orders to me? I was just beginning to think that you had changed since we last met.”

“I mean to make you see reason, Mary Maclaine. For you to go home now would be foolish.”

“Thank you very kindly, but I do not know where else you think I can go. In any event, I will decide for myself what I must do, and what I decide does not concern you. You have not adopted us, sir. You have merely given us aid.”

“Now, see here—”

“They are calling us. I must see if Pinkie is truly safe.”

“No, you don’t. I have not finished speaking to you.”

“Then finish. I don’t want to stand here till dark.”

“Ungrateful little fool,” he growled. “I am not speaking just to hear myself talk, you know. You cannot go to Maclean House for the simple reason that it is the first place MacCrichton will look for you.”

“Then just where would you have me go, sir?”

“Go to your aunt.”

“And how am I to do that? You must know she has gone to Perthshire with Neil to your cousin Calder’s house. Diana is expecting her baby soon after Christmas, and they knew if they were to get there to be with her, they would have to go before the heavy snows begin.”

“You should go to Perthshire,” he said stubbornly.

“Would you have me walk there from here? No,” she added curtly when he opened his mouth. “You must see that’s impossible. I shall stay at Maclean House, just as I’d planned to do from the start.”

“Now, look,” Duncan snapped, “if you have taken those children from Shian without MacCrichton’s permission, you have given him another reason to be angry with you. I saw how he reacts to your defiance, or do you deny that defiance was the cause of that little scene I interrupted when I first saw you at Shian?”

“That will do, Duncan Campbell. You have no right—”

“Don’t babble at me about rights! You gave me the right to speak when you asked for my help, and I say you haven’t spared a thought for any consequences. You acted impulsively, your actions endangered two innocent children, and …”

Mary stopped listening. It was clear to her that he meant to have his say, and that there was nothing she could do to stop him, but she knew she had done nothing to endanger the children. They had chosen to accompany her, and Pinkie’s fall had been no more than a horrible accident. Even Black Duncan, were he thinking clearly and not just losing his temper again, would admit that no one could have expected her to hold their hands all the way to Maclean House.

He ran out of things to say at last, and she said, “If that is all you want to say to me, sir, perhaps you will excuse me now. Pinkie is calling me.”

With that, she turned and left him, hurrying to hug the little girl.

Chuff said in surprise, “He saved her, and he isna much taller than me.”

“No, he isn’t. This is Bardie Gillonie, Chuff. I hope you thanked him for his help. Did you have any difficulty, Bardie?”

“None tae speak about, lass. Me shoulders made for a tight fit, but I just wriggled a bit, and the wee lass were so glad tae see me, that I didna mind a whit. Ye should ha’ come tae fetch me straightaway.”

“I was on my way to you when I met Duncan,” Mary said. “We did not realize how much we would need you, Bardie, but I am very glad you came.”

“I were passin’ above,” the dwarf said, “and I heard a ruckus, so I came tae see what it was. The lass canna go far, though, I’m thinking.”

Mary had bent to examine Pinkie’s foot, and she saw that the ankle had swollen. After prodding a bit and receiving no more than mild protests from her patient, she said, “I do not think it is broken, but it’s badly twisted. Fortunately, Black Duncan has said we can take one of his horses. Would you children like to ride a horse?”

“Aye, we would that,” Chuff said, his eyes sparkling.

“We would,” said Pinkie.

“That’s fine then.” Turning back to Duncan, she said, “We will accept your generous offer, sir.”

“Good. I take it you mean to stay with Gillonie for the night at least. Perhaps he can talk some sense into you and persuade you to stay longer.”

“Oh, I don’t think we need beg Bardie’s hospitality for more than a bite of supper,” Mary said airily. “Now that we have a horse, I think I’d rather get back to Maclean House as soon as we can.”

“Now see here,” Duncan began, but she interrupted him again.

“You have had your say, sir, and I thank you kindly for your concern, but I have made up my mind. No one would dare try to take me from my home, and you are mistaken if you think Ewan will care enough to come for the children. Indeed, I daresay he has realized by now that he is well rid of all of us.”

“But—”

“I do not want to quarrel with you,” she said, smiling and extending her hand to him. “You have been more kind to us than I ever thought you could be, and I would be wickedly ungrateful to say otherwise. So if you will just tell us which horse we should take, we can part friends, and the children and I will be on our way. Bardie, you do mean to accompany us, I hope.”

“Aye, sure, lass,” Bardie said, but he was watching Duncan.

Mary looked back at Duncan and suppressed a sudden urge to smile, for fierce Black Duncan was staring at her as if he could not believe his ears. For a moment she feared he might explode, but then with a surly look at his men, and another at Bardie, he grunted and told Coulter he could give her his horse.

“I’ll carry the child down to where we left them,” he said. “You can walk from there till we rejoin the others. Then you can ride one of the Dunraven horses.”

Avoiding Duncan’s eye, Mary followed the men silently to the path and waited while Coulter and Bannatyne put the children on the horse. Then thanking the three men equally, she turned to follow Bardie, leading the borrowed horse.

The dwarf lumbered ahead of her, his awkward gait carrying him faster than one might expect. He said nothing until they had topped the rise. Then he stopped and said, “Ay-de-mi, but I never thought he’d let us walk off like that. I never before saw such a look as the one he gave you when you walked away from him to join us, lass. His jaw fair dropped tae the ground. What did you say tae him?”

“Nothing at all, Bardie. I was perfectly polite, I assure you. Well, at the end, at all events,” she amended, thinking of some of the things she had said earlier. “He tried to give me orders, which I think is simply a habit with him, you know, but he has no call to think I will obey them. I let him have his say, thanked him for his concern, and told him that I mean to return to Maclean House with the children. I hope you won’t tell me, like he did, that I must not.”

“Nay, then, why should I? It is your home, is it not?”

“It is.”

“Then I hope you told him tae hold his whisst.”

Mary smiled. She might not have said it in so many words, but she had certainly silenced him. Before her smile faded, however, a niggling thought stirred, that she might live to regret having angered Black Duncan Campbell.

E
WAN MACCRICHTON, HAVING REACHED
Loch Linnhe without finding Mary, was not in a good mood. Seeing a lone rider approaching as he and his small party of men rode north along the shore road, he muttered a curse.

MacSteele, riding beside him, said, “Who is it, laird?”

“The devil, I’m thinking. That’s Allan Breck, and he’s a dangerous man, so don’t let him engage you in conversation. He knows too damn much already.”

“Aye, I remember him, but I canna say he looks like much of a threat,” MacSteele said critically. “Ye could break him in two wi’ your bare hands, laird.”

Ewan did not reply, for he thought Breck might be near enough to overhear. Instead he drew rein, signing to his men to do likewise, and waited.

“A fine good day to you, Ewan MacCrichton,” Breck said cheerfully. He was a slender man of medium height in his late twenties with curly black hair, deep-set grey eyes, and a long narrow face marred by smallpox scars. Crooking one thick black eyebrow, he said, “I was just on my way to Shian to offer my felicitations.”

Ewan looked him straight in the eye. “Were you now?”

“Aye, I heard that you took my advice and convinced the wench to tie the knot at once instead of waiting till spring.”

“Aye, I did that,” Ewan said, “but I did not know the news had spread.”

Shrugging, Breck said, “You told me you have to pay your fine by Candlemas, and lenient as the Barons’ Court has been in such matters, I could not help thinking you would not expect another extension.”

“You said as much when you advised me to press her as soon as her aunt and cousin had left Maclean House. What made you think we had gone to Shian?”

“Considering that half the authorities in the Highlands are looking for me, and the other half would shoot me on sight if they got the chance, it behooves me to keep an ear to the ground. Moreover, she is my kinsman, although she makes much of telling folks we are not close. I must say, though, you cannot have made it clear to folks where you mean to hold the ceremony. I’ve heard that you went into Lochaber, even that you went to Perthshire so that she could be married from Rory Campbell’s house. I knew that last one was a fabrication, and since I had just come from Lochaber myself without hearing a word about your presence there …” Spreading his hands, he fell silent.

“I took her to Shian,” Ewan said. He added grimly, “I’ve heard things myself, man, and I cannot say I liked what I’ve heard.”

“If that lass has been telling tales out of school again—”

“It was not the lass. It was Black Duncan Campbell who told me.

“Black Duncan!” Breck frowned. “That cannot be. You are hardly on speaking terms with that villain.”

“Nevertheless, it was he who told me that you have been blethering all over Rannoch Moor and Lochaber about how you mean to take a great deal of money back to France with you this time. Mentioning my name at the same time, he said.”

Breck’s eyes shifted, but he said defensively, “What if I have spoken of money? That has naught to do with you. It is ever my custom to take the second rents with me when I return to the lairds in France.”

“Aye, but those rents have been growing scarcer by the day,” Ewan said. “You told me yourself that folks resent being made to pay both the government and their exiled lairds. They were willing enough to support them for a time, but they cannot afford to do so any longer. I can understand that. I have enough trouble collecting enough from my tenants to pay my men. Had to sell half my sheep just to feed and house them.”

“Well, tenants must pay.” Breck’s eyes narrowed as he added, “As for you, I
will
say this much. I shall expect a generous portion of whatever the lass helps you find. You’d not have known about her gift had I not told you, and our cause needs more funding.”

Ewan kept his temper with difficulty, and only because he knew Breck’s reputation. An affable and popular man when sober, Breck turned ugly in his cups or when someone thwarted his will. Of his nerve there could be no question, for as a wanted felon, he risked the rope each time he set foot in Scotland. A chance encounter with an army patrol or a convivial evening in the wrong dram-house could be the end of him, yet here he was, riding the open road as casually as any man out for an airing.

Deciding it would be as well to change the subject, Ewan said casually, “I take it you have come from Maclean House.”

“Aye, I spent the night there last night.” Breck grinned, his good humor apparently restored. “I doubt I’d have been welcome if my aunt were there, but I passed a pleasant night forbye.”

“Was anyone there?”

“Not a soul in the house. A few herds about the stables, but they paid me no mind. Even the housekeeper, Morag MacArthur, was away for the night.” His eyes bowed again with sudden suspicion. “Look here, why do you want to know that? Where’s Mary?”

“She ran away,” Ewan told him.

“You bloody fool! You must have frightened her.”

“Like as not, she had a vision, telling her she’d been wrong about me being desperately in love with her,” Ewan said sarcastically.

“Nay, it wouldn’t be that. The lass never has visions about herself.”

“She says she don’t have visions about finding things either,” Ewan snapped.

“She will if that seer of yours said she will,” Breck retorted. “She’s the only seventh daughter hereabouts. You’d best find her and tame her a bit, my lad.”

“Oh, I aim to do that, right enough,” Ewan growled.

Duncan was furious. He had been feeling generous, even noble, knowing that Mary Maclaine had not expected him to help her, or anyone with her. She knew that he disliked her, and she knew why.