Betrayed (2 page)

“I don't know what ye want,” Flora told him, “but whatever it is, ’Tis not here, my lord. As ye can surely
see, there is little here of any value” She curtsied and attempted to close the door on him.

Angus Gordon swiftly placed his booted foot in the door, preventing her. “’Tis a fine herd of cattle ye have in yon field,” he said.

Flora nodded. “Aye.”

“And just where did ye get such fine cattle?” he asked her.

“Get? We
didn't get the cattle, my lord. We raised them. They are all we have, and are to be used to dower two of my young mistresses,” Flora told him, looking straight at Angus Gordon without so much as a blink.

“These lasses are Dugald Hay's get?”

“Aye.”

“And how many lasses did that devil's spawn beget?” the laird demanded.

“Flora! Flora! For shame! Don't keep the laird of Loch Brae standing on the doorstep. Ask him into the hall for a cup of cider.” A young female had appeared behind the housekeeper. She was tall for a girl, and almost too slender. She wore a simple wool gown, dark in color, and draped across her chest was the red and green Hay plaid, which was fastened to her shoulder with a rather fine silver brooch. “I am Fiona Hay, my lord, the eldest child of Dugald Hay and his wife, Muire,” she said quietly.

It was impossible not to stare. Fiona Hay was absolutely lovely. Her hair was the color of a raven's wing, with the faint hint of a blue sheen. She was very, very fair of skin. Her features were perfectly set in a heart-shaped face. She had small white teeth, a slim, elegant, straight nose, a lush mouth, and a pair of oval-shaped emerald-green eyes, fringed in thick dark lashes, that were looking directly at him.

“A-Angus Gordon, mistress,” the laird finally managed to grate out, tearing his gaze from the girl.

“And yer business with the Hays of the Ben, my lord?” she asked him coolly, ushering him into the tower house.

“I want my cattle back, lady,” he said bluntly.

She turned her emerald-green eyes on him, saying as she did, “I don't have yer cattle, my lord. Why would ye think I have yer cattle?” Her tone was deceptively innocent. She led him up the stairs into the hall. “Flora, cider for the laird.”

“There are eight head of cattle in yer meadow, mistress,” Angus Gordon said evenly as his brother and clansmen entered the hall behind them. “Eight head of cattle were stolen from my herd this very morning. The trail led up the ben to yer meadow, where eight head of cattle now graze. Ye don't have to be clever to solve such a puzzle.”

“The cattle in the meadow belong to me, my lord,” Fiona said calmly. “They are my twin sisters’ dowry. I am sorry ye have lost yer beasts, but those in my meadow are not they.”

How could anyone look so sweet and innocent and be so bold a creature, the laird wondered. He knew damned well that the cattle in the field beyond the tower house were his. She knew it, too, yet she could look directly at him and lie without a quiver. She was obviously her father's daughter. Of that he had no doubt, but it would shortly be settled. “My brother has just examined the cows for a specific marking that all my cattle bear. If the cattle bear that marking, then there can be no doubt that they are mine,” Angus Gordon told her sternly.

“The cattle are mine,” Fiona Hay said sweetly. “I
mark each of our beasts by nicking them on their left ear.”

He was astounded. This was the sauciest wench he had ever met in all of his life! “What a most odd coincidence,” he replied through gritted teeth. “My cattle are marked in the exact same way.”

“Then it is simply my word against yers, Angus Gordon,” she said in a dulcet tone.

“Ye
know verra well that the cattle are mine, mistress,” he responded angrily. “They are mine, and I mean to take them back!”

“The cattle are mine
,”Fiona responded, but then her voice softened. “My younger sisters, Elsbeth and Margery, are to be wed tomorrow. Each brings her bridegroom four cattle apiece, my lord. Would ye ruin the only chance these poor lasses have to be respectably married?”

He had not yet gotten his cider, and he badly needed it, he decided. His own men were crowded about, listening avidly to the exchange between their chieftain and the lovely girl. He could see that their sympathies lay with the girl, not because they were disloyal but because Fiona Hay was fair, orphaned, and obviously doing her best by her family.
Or so it would appear.
He muttered a dark curse under his breath.

“Yer cider, my lord,” Flora said, shoving a tarnished silver goblet into his hand while casting him a black and disapproving look.

“Jamie-boy, the cattle?” he asked his brother. James Gordon nodded in the affirmative. “Left ears, all notched,” he said cheerfully. “They
could
be ours, Angus.”

“Could?”
The laird shouted at his younger brother.
“Could?”

“Well, Angus,” Jamie replied, nonplussed by the
outburst, “if Mistress Hay notches her cattle on the left ear as we do, then who can tell whose cattle they are, unless, of course, the beasties could talk.”

The clansmen in the hall chuckled, only to be silenced by a fierce glare from their master.

“Angus.” James Gordon spoke low so that only his brother might hear him. “Don't be so stony-hearted. If the cattle are indeed ours, then the lassie was damned clever to have stolen them from beneath our very noses. Ye have more cattle than ye can count. Without them her sisters will not get their husbands. Ye canna take them back now. Besides, there is the chance they might be hers, and then ye would do a great injustice to the Hays.”

“The cattle are mine,” Angus said in a near whisper to James. “For God's sake, Jamie-boy, look about ye. ’Tis a poor excuse for a chieftain's house, this tumbling-down tower. And look to the girl. Beautiful, but as thin as a sapling, and the old woman, too. I will wager there is nothing in the stable even worth stealing. Did ye look?”

“An ancient plow horse and a pony, both as thin as their mistress.”

“Then how, ask yerself, could they have a herd of eight fat cattle?” the laird said reasonably. “The cattle are mine. If I allow the lass to steal them and I don't punish her, or at least collect payment for them, every petty thief in the district will come to try and steal my cattle. I will forgo punishing her, for she is but a lassie, but she certainly canna give me their worth in any kind. So I have no choice but to take them back.”

“At least give her the option of purchasing them,” softhearted James said.

“Yer a kind lad, Jamie-boy,” his elder brother said. Then he turned back to Fiona Hay. “The cattle are
mine, Mistress Hay. We both know that is the truth of the matter. I will argue it with you no more. If, however, ye wish to purchase the beasts from me, I will gladly sell them to ye.” He looked her directly in the eye.

She stared back. Tall with a hard-looking frame he was, Fiona Hay thought. Hair as black as hers, and green eyes, too, but a dark green, not the emerald of her own eyes. He couldn't take the cattle, she thought desperately.
He couldn't!
Not with Walter Innes and Colin Forbes coming on the morrow to wed her sisters. Why had she waited until the last minute to steal the damned beasts? If only she'd taken them two at a time over the last few months, but the truth was she hadn't the means to feed them. The cattle would have lost weight if they had been in her care for too long. She couldn't offer her prospective brothers-in-law scrawny cattle. She had attempted to take the creatures last week, but the cowherd's dog had set up a barking to wake the dead. She supposed that was what had alerted the laird of Loch Brae to watch his cattle more closely. What on earth was she
to
do?

“Well, Mistress Hay? Will ye buy my cattle, or will I drive them back down the ben to their own meadow?” Angus Gordon demanded.

A proposal, outrageous but possibly workable, entered Fiona's mind at that moment. He could not accept, but he would certainly be shamed by it and leave her in peace. “I have only one thing of value that I might give ye in exchange for the cattle, my lord,” she told him, refusing to admit even now that they were his. “It is my most precious possession. Will ye have it?”

“Take it
” James hissed at his elder sibling. “Honor will be satisfied, and none will call ye weak, Angus.”

“I would know what this valuable property is first, Jamie-boy,” the laird told his brother. He looked again
at Fiona. “What is this most precious possession that ye would offer me in exchange for my cattle, Mistress Hay? A dozen head of cattle don't come cheap, lass.”

“Eight, my lord,” Fiona replied softly.

“Twelve, including the ones you stole from me last autumn,” he answered her as softly, his eyes meeting hers.

“Twenty head total. I'll need eight more head to dower my two youngest sisters, but they're only seven and ten years of age now, so I would not want them until Jean and Morag are old enough to wed. I canna feed them.”

She was the most outrageous lass he had ever encountered, Angus Gordon thought again, amused in spite of himself. She audaciously stole his cattle, yet when caught, attempted to bargain with him for more of them. He was not as hard-hearted as Jamie thought, but if he allowed the girl to evade the consequences for her thievery, he'd have no end of trouble. He managed to keep the look on his handsome face severe, but it was not easy. His brother was right. Fiona Hay was a very clever wench. However, he was no fool. “Twenty head of cattle is a costly amount, Mistress Hay.
Ye
must be certain that what ye offer me in exchange for them has an equal or even greater value. Just what do ye propose to give me in exchange for my beasties?”

“My maidenhead,” Fiona said quietly, her gaze never leaving his. She stood tall and proud and defiant.

‘Jesu!”

The laird's amazement was evidenced only in a slight widening of his dark green eyes. It was the most brazen proposal he had ever heard. Then he realized that the girl did not expect him to accept her offer. He was obviously supposed to be so taken aback by her boldness that he would demur and depart, leaving her
with his cattle. He smiled wolfishly at her. “I accept yer offer, Mistress Hay.
Yer maidenhead in exchange far twenty head of my cattle.
It seems a fair bargain, although I think ye may have gotten the better of me.”

He had accepted her!
Fiona grew very pale with shock. What kind of a man was he that he had accepted her? What kind of a fool had she been to have even made such an offer? The laird of Loch Brae spit into his palm and held it out to her. Her knees were suddenly threatening to give out on her. The Hays of the Ben might be poor, but they were honorable, or so her mam had always said, and Fiona had no choice now, lest she bring disgrace upon her family name. Spitting into her own palm, she reached out and shook his hand. “Done, my lord!” she told him, never once looking away, although her stomach was roiling with nervousness.

“Oh, no, Fi! Ye canna do it!”
two young voices cried in unison.

The two girls pushed through the Gordon clansmen to where their elder sibling stood. They were auburn haired, amber eyed, and identical in features. Their distress was more than evident.

“The bargain is now struck, sisters,” Fiona said.

“But if ye give him yer maidenhead, who will have ye to wife one day?” asked Elsbeth, tears in her bright eyes.

“If I don't give him my maidenhead, who will have
ye
to wife, Elsbeth? Or Margery either?” Fiona asked. “The Forbeses and the Inneses will have their dowries or they will not have ye, I fear. Besides, by the time I see Jeannie and Morag safely wed, I'll be much too old to marry. I won't mind growing old here upon the ben.” She patted her sisters, comforting them as best she could.

“But what if he gives ye a child?” asked Margery.

“The Gordons take care of their own, Mistress Hay” the laird reassured her. “If yer sister bears my bairn, I will not desert either of them.”

The twins began to weep simultaneously.

“Flora” their elder sibling said, “take my sisters to our chamber and stay with them until I call for ye.”

The older woman shepherded the two girls off, alternately scolding and cooing at them as they went. “Now, hush, ye two. Up the stairs with ye! Embarrassing yer sister. And her so brave and only looking out for yer happiness.”

“Tarn, where are ye?” Fiona called out to Flora's husband.

“Here, mistress.” An old man shoved through the clansmen.

“Have we cider enough to quench the thirsts of all these men?”

“Aye,” he answered dourly.

“Down the stairs and outside with ye, laddies,” the laird ordered his men. “Tarn will bring ye cider. Refresh yerselves while Mistress Hay and I make final our arrangement. Ye, too, Jamie-boy.” Angus didn't need James appealing to his conscience.

When the hall had emptied, Fiona invited the laird to sit by the fire. “I canna offer ye wine,” she told him honestly. “I have but two barrels left in the cellar. The Forbeses and the Inneses are mighty drinkers.”

He nodded and raised the goblet. “This cider will be fine. The weddings are tomorrow?” He settled himself by the hearth, but the blaze was small, offering little warmth.

“Aye, Colin Forbes is to wed Margery, and Walter Innes will wed Elsbeth. They'll be here with their clansmen and pipers early in the day. A priest is coming from the abbey at Glenkirk to perform the ceremony.
We don't have our own priest. My father didn't like priests, although my mother insisted on calling one each time she gave birth so we might be baptized, or buried. When she died giving birth to our Morag, he would not send for the priest. Morag is not baptized, nor was our mam shriven before she was buried. When our father died, I didn't call the priest for him, though he begged me to do so,” she said with a fierce satisfaction. “I shall ask the priest to baptize wee Morag tomorrow after my sisters are wed. ’Tis not right she be a heathen.”

“Ye'll come with me to Brae Castle after the weddings,” the laird told her. “And yer two little sisters, and the old servants. They can't remain here, Fiona Hay. I'm amazed this tower has not fallen in by now. Ye'll all be safe with me.” What on earth was he letting himself in for? Angus Gordon wondered. But of course he could not leave the two elderly servants alone to care for the two small girls in a dwelling about to tumble down about their ears.