Amanda Scott (13 page)

Fiona eyed her uncertainly but then, in her usual fashion, submitted to Anne’s stronger personality. “If you say it, it must
be so,” she said, snuggling under her quilt and allowing her cousin to tuck her in.

As Anne bade her goodnight, it occurred to her that were Sir Christopher the man Fiona had begged her to marry, she might
not have refused so quickly or so firmly. Her lips burned again at the thought, almost as if he had kissed her again, and
chastising herself for thoughts that any right-minded person would roundly condemn, she reminded herself that he was betrothed
to Fiona and would make her a much better husband than Eustace would. “And arranging
that,”
she told herself, “is where your duty lies, my girl.”

Kit’s thoughts likewise kept returning to that kiss, but although thinking about Lady Anne Ellyson made his return journey
seem swifter than expected, he told himself the impact he experienced was due to nothing more than having suffered through
eighteen months without touching or kissing any woman. Still, it was pleasant to think of Lady Anne and to wonder how she
had fared with her aunt.

He found Willie and the other men easily despite new clouds that kept drifting across the moon and dimming its light, but
it was not easy to persuade Blind Sammy and his lads to seek their prey elsewhere. While waiting impatiently for his return,
they had thought only of the cattle at Ellyson Towers. Not until one of the others remembered an estate just over the line,
the owner of which nearly always penned his kine in the same place, did Sammy agree to pass up the Towers.

So agreeable did he become thereafter, however, that Kit decided to send an anonymous warning to Lady Anne’s steward to take
particular care of the Ellyson herds during the next fortnight or two.

Sammy and the others seemed happy enough with the cattle they collected without incident from the English estate, and as Willie
had promised, the men were talkative afterward and proved extraordinarily well versed in the news of the area.

“Och, aye,” Sammy said when pushed for information about Hawks Rig. “Sir Eustace—or Ashkirk as he’s been calling hisself these
past six months or so—be a wily fellow and guards his cattle well, just as the auld laird did afore him. He be none so generous
as the auld man, though.”

“The previous laird was a generous man?” Kit had never thought of his father in such terms.

“Och, aye,” Sammy said, shooting him a speculative look. “Ye’ve the look o’ him, ye ken. Ye’ll no wander these parts long
afore folks take note o’ that, lad.”

“Do you know who I am, then?” Kit asked, concealing his surprise, for he had not given his name but had depended on their
accepting him as Willie’s friend.

“Och, aye, ’tis plain ye be the auld laird’s son. What I dinna ken is if ye be young Kit rose from the dead or one we ha’
never heard tell of afore ”

Glancing at Willie, who shrugged, Kit smiled wryly. “I am Kit Chisholm,” he admitted, “but I’d as lief you tell no one else
just yet about my being here.”

“As ye like,” Sammy said. “We’ll be mum as the fleas on me auld hound.”

“Can you tell me just when Eustace claimed the estates?”

“Straightaway, he did,” Sammy said. “Arrived less than a sennight after the auld laird’s death. Canna blame him, though, if
he thought ye was dead.”

Kit nodded. “What of our people? Does he look after them well?”

“He does not, for he’s turned off most o’ them. Some went tae live wi’ family, but some ha’ disappeared. Sir Eustace ha’ brought
in his own men, who dinna be from these parts, and they keep themselves tae themselves.”

Such news was unsettling. If his uncle had entrenched himself at Hawks Rig and surrounded himself with his own men-at-arms,
Kit knew Fin Mackenzie was right. He would have to move cautiously until he knew what he faced.

It occurred to him that he might not enjoy the luxury of choosing his time to confront Eustace. If Lady Anne somehow managed
against the odds and before the wedding to persuade her aunt and the unfortunate Fiona that he lived, Eustace would immediately
leam the truth, and he should prepare himself for that.

He was wondering if he should just ride to Hawks Rig and have it out with his uncle at once when Sammy, who had turned to
speak to one of his men, turned back and said, “D’ye ken that Sir Eustace be about tae wed, sir?”

“Aye, on Friday, I’m told.”

“The lad here tells me the wedding’s tae be at Mute Hill, and your uncle be there now and might stay if her ladyship invites
him. Sir Eustace would liefer eat his beef from someone else’s larder any day than from his own.”

Frowning, Kit said, “So the wedding will be at Mute Hill?”

“Aye, but their chapel will hold a good many folk for the mass, and the gardens will be open, so anyone who wants a peek at
the wee bride can see her.”

“I want to be there,” Kit said, wondering if he could escape Anne’s notice at such an event. “I don’t want anyone to recognize
me straightaway, however.”

“Aye, sure,” Sammy said. Even in the dim moonlight, Kit saw the other man’s eyebrows rise nearly to his hairline. Clearing
his throat, Sammy added, “If that be how it lies, sir, ye’d best attach yourself tae someone who were invited, I’m thinking.
Them at Mute Hill be unlikely tae heed an extra gentleman after everyone crowds inside, even one as big as what ye are.”

Kit hoped he was right, although he could not imagine whose party he could succeed in joining without comment.

Catriona gave a crow of delight. “Thank the fates,” she exclaimed. “Now he will set Mistress Carmichael and fall in love with
her.”

Maggie grimaced. “Ye’re as bad as that Fergus Fishbait.”

“I’m no such thing!”

“Well, dinna be so sure o’ yourself. What makes ye think he’ll love her?”

“You’ve seen her, Maggie, and you said yourself that all men fall flat for beauty. Fiona is an heiress besides. No mortal
man could fail to love her.”

“We’ll see,” Maggie said. “Until then, we must watch them all carefully and try tae determine which is Claud’s mortal.”

“What be the pair o’ ye up tae now?” Fergus demanded, popping into view.

“Ye should be watching your lass,” Maggie said.

“I was, but she’s sleeping, and ye two be up tae summat, Maggie. I ken ye well, and I could see at once that this lass here
wants summat o’ young Chisholm.”

“I just want him to marry Mistress Carmichael,” Catriona said. “That is what Lady Anne wants of him, too, and now he’s going
to see how beautiful her cousin is, because he means to attend the wedding.”

“What good will that do? Mistress Carmichael be marrying his uncle.”

“Nay, for when Kit Chisholm sees how beautiful she is, he will tell them he’s alive and still betrothed to her.”

Fergus looked skeptical. “That be all ye want?”

Catriona glanced at Maggie, who said, “That’s only part of it, but I’m no so sure I should tell ye the rest.”

When Fergus bristled, Catriona said, “You said yourself that we must tell him, Maggie. We need his help, and as smart as he
is, we’ll need his ideas, too.”

Preening now, Fergus looked expectantly at Maggie.

“Verra well,” she said. “What I didna tell ye is that Jonah Bonewits ha’ melded Claud wi’ a mortal, likely one o’ them at
Mute Hill or Hawks Rig. We ha’ tae decide which one, so we can rescue him.”

“How?” Fergus asked, clearly scared again by mention of Jonah.

“We’ll seek mortals wi’ characteristics o’ my Claud,” Maggie said.

“But I dinna ken what he’s like.”

“The first thing ye’d notice is that he falls in lust at the twitch o’ a lass’s hips,” Maggie said with a slanting look at
Catriona. “He’ll be impulsive, too, and thoughtless, and he willna like following rules. It shouldna be difficult.”

“Aye, sure,” Catriona said, “but he’ll be kind, Claud will, and he’ll be frightened, too, and yearning to come home. In sooth,
Fergus, we do not know how he’ll affect the mortal he’s bound to, so we must watch them all and try to learn who has changed
recently—women as well as men. Isn’t that so, Maggie?”

“Aye, it is,” she agreed. “Use your brain, Fergus. Catriona seems tae think ye’ve got one.”

He shot her a resentful look but then smiled at Catriona. “We’ll find him,” he said confidently. “Ye’ll see.”

Maggie nodded, satisfied that she and Catriona might make a good team after all. At least, the lass understood how to manage
the likes of Fergus Fishbait.

D
uring the night, the rain began again, pouring down in gusting sheets that slammed against the closed shutters of Anne’s windows
and created such a din that it awakened her. It was not the first time she had wakened, either, for Sir Toby had come home
late, as usual, and had either brought friends as he so often did, or had roused Eustace to join him in his revelry. Anne
had not cared which it was. She had just pulled her pillow over her head and ignored the noise.

The rain was a different matter, however, for she could not remember if Fiona’s shutters were open or closed when she had
visited her earlier. The younger girl frequently slept with her windows unshuttered, and since only the upper halves of the
windows at Mute Hill House were glazed, if she had not shuttered the lower halves, rain would be blowing right into her room.

Knowing she would not go back to sleep if she did not check, Anne got up, put on her robe, and slipped her feet into fur-lined
mules. Then, her way lit by low-burning night candles set inside porcelain water basins at each end of the gallery, she hurried
to Fiona’s room, quietly opened the door, and stepped inside.

As she had feared, wind was whipping the curtains about wildly and rain pelted the floor. Shutting the door to keep it from
banging, and taking care not to slip in the puddles, she hurried to shutter both windows. Fiona’s bed curtains hung half open,
and she could see her cousin sleeping peacefully despite the noise of the storm outside or the sudden muting of it when the
shutters were closed.

Smiling, Anne crossed the room again and opened the door.

Eustace Chisholm stood just outside it, his hand stretched toward her as if he were reaching for the handle. He stared at
her in astonishment. Even with distance still between them, she could smell wine on his breath.

Firmly suppressing both her shock and a flash of anger, she gazed stonily at him, knowing she would be wiser not to say what
she was thinking, which was that someone really ought to have drowned the detestable lecher at birth.

He straightened with the abruptness of a man not certain of his control over his movements and snapped, “W-what the devil
are you doing here?”

“I came to be sure that Fiona had closed her shutters,” she said icily. “She frequently leaves them open.”

“Foolishness,” he said. ” ’Tis raining fit to flood all Scotland, and even on an ordinary night, open windows invite danger.
I’ll soon put an end to such nonsense, I promise you.” When Anne did not reply but continued to gaze directly at him, he said
stiffly, “I came to be sure the storm had not frightened her.”

“This is her home. She has weathered many storms here.”

“Oh, aye, but a man likes to protect his lass, you know,” he said. “I expect it is no more than any man about to wed would
do.”

From the other end of the gallery, startling them both, Malcolm Vole said, “Dear me, what is all this? It seems a very odd
time and place for an assignation.”

“Mind your tongue, sir,” Eustace snapped.

Malcolm stood straighter, his eyes narrowing as he said in his haughty way, “This is a gentleman’s house, sir, even though
its master has long passed to another world. I want to know what you and Lady Anne mean by this unseemly meeting.”

Anne’s temper threatened to overcome her, but before it could find purchase, the look of dismay on Eustace’s face altered
her emotions considerably and nearly served as her undoing instead, for she suddenly had all she could do not to laugh. If
humor was inappropriate, it served nonetheless to steady her, for even her foolish aunt would not think for a moment that
she had arranged to meet Eustace or that he had arranged such a meeting with her outside Fiona’s door. Only Malcolm Vole was
fool enough to imagine such an absurdity.

To his credit, Malcolm was clearly unimpressed by Eustace’s blustering denial that he had had any such unseemly intention.

“Not that I must answer to you, but my meeting Lady Anne here was entirely unexpected,” he said. “As to
my
presence here, I thought I heard Mistress Fiona cry out and feared that the storm must have terrified her.”

“Indeed,” Malcolm said dryly, raising his eyebrows in patent disbelief.

At that moment, Anne almost liked him.

Eustace did not. “You … you are offensive, sirrah,” he said.

Anne had had enough. “Now that we both know Fiona is safe, Sir Eustace, Malcolm will show you back to your chamber. I’ll warrant
he is up for the same reason that we are—to see that the storm stays outside where it belongs— and the route from this gallery
to the one where your room is can easily confuse anyone.”

Eustace scowled but did not attempt to argue with her, and as she watched the two men walk to the other end of the gallery,
she decided that whatever he had been drinking with Toby had addled his mind. Even the ever-foolish Malcolm would not believe
Eustace had heard Fiona cry out from a room at nearly the other end of the house from his own.

Maggie had barely settled in her parlor when Fergus hurried in, his face alight with purpose.

“I ken who be melded wi’ your Claud!” he exclaimed.

“Do ye now,” she said dryly. “And which one d’ye suspect?”

“It’s no suspicion. It be that varlet Eustace Chisholm.”

She frowned. “Why d’ye say so?”

“He were trying tae get into Mistress Fiona’s chamber, that’s why. Me lass had gone in tae shut the windows, and she walked
out bang into the wicked man.”

Maggie frowned harder. “Are ye saying ye suspect Eustace because he lusts after Mistress Fiona?”