Amanda Scott (31 page)

“Now, I wonder what little bird can have told you that,” he said.

Fiona opened her mouth, but when Anne gave her a stem look, she shut it again, turning fiery red.

“Is it true?” Anne asked.

“Aye, it is,” he said. “I doubt it’s anything to worry about, though. I’ve a notion it was an impulsive act, because aside
from that incident, my homecoming was unexpectedly pleasant. Uncle Eustace has proved a most generous host.”

“Host?”

“Oh, aye, he persists in behaving as though he owns Hawks Rig, but since I am still legally dead, I suppose that by law perhaps
he does.”

“He sounds as horrid as ever,” Anne said, lowering her voice and glancing at the other table to be sure no one there was paying
heed to them. “You should do something to straighten that business out,” she added firmly.

“I will,” he said, “but I thought I’d wait and see just how my being officially dead affects other matters first.”

She had neither the need nor the inclination to ask him to explain that statement, knowing he hoped the odd situation would
spare him the necessity of marrying Fiona, so she asked instead if Fiona wanted to play another game.

“You play him, Anne. You will enjoy it much more than sitting and watching us play.”

“Aye, give me a game, my lady. I’ll let you be the fox if you like.”

“No, thank you,” she said. “If I am to make the choice, I’d prefer the geese.”

He gave her another teasing look, and she soon saw that he paid little heed to his moves. Nevertheless, she concentrated carefully
on hers.

The trick was to use one’s geese to crowd the fox into a corner of the board until it could no longer move, but one could
only do that if one did not lose too many geese. The fox “killed” a goose by jumping over it and could kill several in one
turn with a series of hops if the gooseherd was not careful.

“You
let
me take that fellow,” he said a few minutes later.

“Yes, I want to put this goose where the fox was,” she said, doing so.

He frowned and began to play more carefully.

“You two don’t need me,” Fiona said with a chuckle. “Mother and Lord Berridge are playing cards with the others now, so I
am going to watch them for a while and listen to Jake sing and play his lute.”

Anne scarcely heeded her, so engrossed had she become in her strategy, but a moment later, Kit said, “Who told you about the
shooting?”

Startled, she met his gaze and said, “Jake told Fiona. I’m sorry I brought it up, though. I should not have done so. I was
just annoyed that you had mentioned how much better I looked.”

“But I was glad to see you looking more yourself again.”

“Thank you, but you ought not to mention such things to Fiona. She doesn’t understand the meaning of discretion but just blurts
out whatever comes into her head. I should not have mentioned the shooting for the same reason. It upset her, and I had no
intention of doing that, but how dreadful to be fired upon.”

His gaze met hers again, and the intensity of it made her realize she ought to look away, but she could not do so. Gently,
he said, “It would have been more dreadful to be shot or killed, I assure you.”

“Yes, of course, but do you think your uncle did it?”

“He did not do the actual shooting, because we caught the man who did, but he will not talk, so we cannot be sure Eustace
put him up to it.”

“But who else might have done so?”

“Ah, you see the business as I do. Moreover, I suspect that quite a few items are missing from Hawks Rig. Some rather valuable
things amongst them.”

“So he’s stolen from you, too,” Anne said grimly. “How vexatious!”

“Yes, you might well say so. However, I’m at a stand, because in truth, I don’t remember exactly what was there when I left,
and my father might have sold any number of the things I do recall without telling me. I don’t think he did, but I cannot
prove it one way or the other unless I can find a dated inventory.”

“I would say that the sooner Eustace Chisholm goes back to wherever he came from, the better it will be for you, and for Fiona,
too.”

“I do wish you would not keep flinging Fiona at me,” he said. “Moreover, if you mean to immobilize my poor fox in that tiny
comer you’ve left for him, I wish you’d get it over with. I should have known you’d be skilled at this game.”

“Well, yes, I think you might. I told you that I’d had little sisters. My brother was a good player, too. Moreover, my father
taught us when we were small that the fox must always lose if the player with the geese plays them correctly.”

He shook his head at her, but he was smiling. “Shall we play again, mistress, or would you prefer to join the others?”

She had seen Olivia looking their way more than once, and much as she would have liked to continue playing, she knew her duty.
“We should join the others,” she said. “Poor Fiona must be dreadfully bored. Look at her. She is nearly asleep on that stool.”

“Either that, or she is entranced by the lad’s music,” he said with a chuckle. “Since his skill is scarcely great enough to
cause anyone to go into a trance, I’d agree that she’s bored.”

“Have you come to join our game?” Berridge asked as they approached the other table. “I warn you, her ladyship is beating
us all. If I have a pair, she has a triplet. If I have a triplet, she has a quartet. And she scoops the aces at every hand.
At the rate she’s cleaning my pockets, I shall be under arrest for debt by morning.”

“You exaggerate, sir,” Olivia said, but she looked much more cheerful than usual. “Fiona, would you like to take my place?
I should stop whilst I’m winning lest they see how easily my luck can change.”

Fiona opened her eyes and straightened on her stool, looking like a startled fawn. “I… I do not know how to play poque,”
she said.

“These gentlemen will be happy to teach you,” Olivia said. “You must show an interest in the things men enjoy, you know, so
you will know how to entertain them when your husband’s friends visit Hawks Rig.”

The statement produced a pregnant silence, since her careful phrasing made it clear that she believed even the ownership of
the Chisholm estates remained in doubt. Anne shot a look at Kit, saw that he was amused, and decided he had every right to
be. Whatever the standing of the betrothal, no magistrate would refuse to void the official declaration of his death. Even
Eustace could not be so foolish as to think he would retain control of Hawks Rig.

Berridge said, “I for one am content to stop playing this wicked game. My luck is out, and I warrant that will not change
even if her ladyship departs the lists. If you are not going to join our table, Sir Christopher, perhaps you might take a
turn about the hall with me. I believe we have kinsmen in common.”

“Do we, sir? I’d be happy to explore our family trees together, but only if our hostess will be kind enough to excuse us.”

“Lord, yes, she’ll excuse you,” Toby said with a laugh. “Wants to count her winnings, don’t she? Moreover, it’s past time
our Fiona went to bed. She’ll soon fall asleep and topple right off that stool of hers.”

Olivia frowned at Fiona but said, “Perhaps you had better take her upstairs, Anne. She has scarcely moved this past hour.
Go with your cousin, Fiona.”

Kit caught Anne’s eye, and his expression told her that he was either annoyed with her or annoyed that Olivia was sending
her away. She was irked about that herself. It was not so much having her activity directed, for she was used to that, but
she did not want to leave. She had enjoyed the evening, although she could not congratulate herself on the success of Fox
and Geese as an opportunity for Kit to get to know Fiona better, since she had played with him longer than Fiona had and neither
one had spared her a thought after she had left them.

As she and Fiona went upstairs together, she wondered why her cousin could not seem to see what an excellent man he was, how
superior to his uncle in every way. To be fair, she did know that Fiona saw Kit’s superiority. The problem was that Fiona
was not taken with either man, and unlike most girls her age, she displayed little interest in marriage. Whether it was the
result of her mother’s constant scheming to unite her with power and wealth, or simply something lacking in the girl, the
desire to wed seemed never to have stirred in her.

As they entered Fiona’s chamber, Anne said bluntly, “Do you never want to marry, Fiona, or do you simply not like Sir Christopher
any better than his uncle?”

“He is very kind,” Fiona said, “but he is rather old, too, is he not? At least eight or nine and twenty. If I were able to
choose my husband, I should choose someone closer to my own age, would not you, Anne?”

Since she did not think Kit old at all, Anne wondered if Fiona had forgotten she was by only two years the younger cousin,
but she did not ask. Kit, after all, had expressed the same yearning to choose his own spouse. She wished Cardinal Beaton
would send his reply soon, so they could all be done with wondering.

Olivia was supremely confident that the matter would end happily for her daughter. But since Olivia was interested only in
the Chisholm power and wealth, and since her words indicated that she was still uncertain which man would retain control of
both, Anne could only believe she expected Fiona to marry the winner, regardless of what his eminence decided.

Eustace seemed supremely confident. He flirted just as blatantly as ever with Fiona, but he likewise flirted with Olivia.
And while the latter might say what she chose about having sworn off men, Anne had watched her flutter her lashes and smile
at every gentleman in the house save Sir Toby.

“Sakes, d’ye hear what that lass be thinking?” Maggie demanded of her two companions. “Why ha’ we taken nae notice o’ that
afore?”

“Notice o’ what?” the still-invisible Fergus demanded. “Ye shouldna peer into me lass’s mind like that.”

“Whisst now, let me think,” Maggie snapped. ” ’Tis true, she does do that.”

“Who does what?” Catriona asked. “You are making my head spin, Maggie. I don’t know what she is thinking. Indeed, I can rarely
tell what Kit is thinking.”

“Then I’ll tell ye,” Maggie said. “She were thinking how Olivia, the black-draped widow wi’ her megrims and fusses, has only
tae look at a man tae flirt wi’ him. I’d no be surprised but one touch o’ a man’s finger would stir her tae forget things
as easily as any member o’ the Forgetful People.”

“Here now,” Fergus protested. “There be nae need tae cast stones, Maggie Malloch. I havena forgotten anything o’ importance
in centuries.”

“Only how tae keep yourself visible tae us,” she retorted. Turning to Catriona, she said, “Ye see where me thoughts be taking
me, for when ye wiggle one o’ your wee fingers at our Claud … ” She paused expectantly.

“Aye, that’s right, his mind turns instantly to lust,” Catriona said, her eyes widening. “Oh, Maggie, do you think it’s possible
we’ve found him at last?”

“But ye canna just murder the widow and hope her death frees your Claud,” Fergus said, showing himself at last. “Ye ken what’ll
happen if ye’re wrong!”

“Aye, now there’s the rub,” Maggie said with a sigh.

“Aye, sure,” Catriona agreed. “Recall that if you kill the wrong one, Jonah’s spell will allow the Evil Host to claim Claud
for all time, and quite likely yourself and anyone else who touches upon that spell, right along with him.”

“What?” shrieked Fergus. “Ye never told me we could go, too!”

“Pish tush,” Maggie said. “There be nae reason tae think—”

“And ye call me the forgetful one!” Fergus snapped, still in high dudgeon. “Did ye chance tae think that if ye kill any mortal,
the High Circle will most likely blame all three o’ us for it? If we’re banished, we’ll all be fair game for the Host!”

“Ye leave that tae me,” Maggie said. “I can manage the Circle. Nobbut I’ll agree this would all be much easier if I could
just snap me fingers and the right mortal would just perish on the spot without anyone else being the wiser!”

Kit and Eustace returned to Hawks Rig the next day, taking the jester with them, but when the anticipated message from Branxholme
arrived late Tuesday morning, Olivia sent a rider at once to Hawks Rig to request their return.

“His eminence is coming here on Thursday,” she informed Anne and Fiona when she had read the message, “and Buccleuch will
come with him. That gives us less than two full days to prepare, and I imagine they will bring a large party, because the
cardinal enjoys puffing off his importance. Find Malcolm, and send him to me. We must be sure they find nothing amiss at Mute
Hill House.”

Anne had been only fourteen when James, King of Scots, had stayed at Ellyson Towers during his second visit to the Borders,
but she recalled the bustle and uproar that preceded his visit. Her mother had remained calm, however, saying that the King
was a young man like any other, and would doubtless enjoy his stay very much. And so it had proved.

Since she could not imagine that Cardinal Beaton would be any more difficult to please than the King of Scots, she set about
with her usual calm doing all she could to help prepare for the visit. Since Olivia sincerely believed that his eminence must
be looking forward to visiting such a fine place as Mute Hill House, she was content to let Anne and Malcolm carry the burden,
offering occasional casual suggestions that sent servants scurrying. Fiona helped, too, although she seemed to be looking
forward to the return of the jester more than to the return of her suitors or to meeting the powerful cardinal and learning
of his decision.

The party from Hawks Rig returned Wednesday evening in time for supper, and to Toby and Fiona’s delight, Mad Jake accompanied
them.

By the time the cardinal’s party rode into the yard the following afternoon, all was in order, and although Anne was astonished
at the number of visitors, she knew that everyone could be comfortably accommodated.

Malcolm had been nearly civil to her throughout the bustle, clearly grateful for several of her suggestions, particularly
after she mentioned that she had gleaned her knowledge through watching her mother prepare for a royal visit.