Clandara (3 page)

“Only if it's good,” he answered. He found it more and more difficult to control his furious desire to hold her and kiss the lovely soft lips until they ached, and yet he would never have outraged the virtue which was so precious to him. He not only loved her, but he respected her. He did not know which was the greater miracle.

“I spoke to my father yesterday,” Katharine told him.

“And he refused to hear of me and threatened to send you out of Scotland,” James finished for her. “I expected as much. Is this your good news, my beloved? …”

“No,” she laughed, “no, my wild, impatient one. That's only the beginning. He was furious and he said exactly that – about my being sent abroad. And he banished me to my rooms. He was very, very angry, James. I could do nothing with him, nothing at all. It was my brother Robert who persuaded him.”

“Your brother! By God, I didn't expect him to be our ally.”

“You don't know him,” she answered. “Robert is the sweetest of men, and next to you he is the dearest person in the world to me. He would do anything to make me happy, James. I told him how much I loved you and it was he who saw Father and made him agree to receive you. You are to come to Clandara tomorrow! Now, is that good news or not?”

“The best in the world, Katharine my love; if I can see your father I will convince him. If I was the devil I'd win over St. Peter in order to get you!”

“From what they both said of you, you might indeed
be
the devil,” she said. “James, tell me something. Are you as wicked as they say? Not that I care, beloved … I don't care what you are or what you've done. But I should like to know from you.”

For a moment James did not answer her. Twenty years of violence and debauchery rose up and mocked him. So many fights that he had lost count; nights when he roamed the streets of Edinburgh when he and his brothers were students at the University, looking for women and accosting the passers-by; fights and drunken forays into the brothels and raids upon the lands of the Frasers, stealing their cattle and chasing their people out into the moors to die.

He had never been aware of evil until he met Katharine; he had lived like a wild animal, without pity or remorse, and as she waited for his answer she sensed his shame and regret for the past.

“James, my darling … forgive me. I had no right to ask. The past is your affair. Forget I ever asked you. Please.”

“You have every right, if you're to marry me,” he said at last. “And whatever I've been, Katharine, I never lied in my life. It's a poor virtue, but the only one I can boast. I shan't lie now. If your father said I was a murderer, he told the truth; a cattle thief and a whoremonger … all these things and more. Do you still love me?”

“More than ever,” she told him, and taking his hands in hers she kissed them.

“Since I met you,” he said, “I've changed myself. I've not laid a hand on a woman or drawn my sword on any man. I have tried to be worthy of you, Katharine. If you marry me, I will spend my life trying.”

She put her arms around him and drew down his head and kissed him, long and passionately as he had taught her, and then his arms came round her and she was pressed so tightly against him that she could hardly breathe. They went backwards down upon the ground, and her desire rose to meet his until she trembled. Their world grew dark; the bright sun, the wind, receded, and her senses clamoured and begged and a cry of surrender was torn from her shaking lips. As he held her he felt as if he were on fire; for a moment he hesitated, fighting himself and her, and then he thrust her away from him. She lay looking up at him, her blazing hair loose over her shoulders, and there were tears in her eyes.

“James, James, what did I do wrong?”

“Nothing, my love. Nothing. The danger is past, and it was all my fault.”

“You could have taken me,” she whispered. “I wished it.”

“I know,” he said. “But I'm not going to anticipate our wedding. Sit up, my darling heart, and braid up your hair. I must look your father in the eye tomorrow.”

He smiled and helped her upright, and touched the shining red hair as she bound it up again.

“What colouring will our children be?” he wondered. “If our son has your hair he will be the first Red Macdonald for generations.”

“My son will be like you,” she answered. “Black as the night crow. And brave and splendid above all other men. Promise me one thing.”

“Anything. Anything in the world.”

“Promise me that whatever my father says to you tomorrow, you won't be goaded into a quarrel. I know Father. He may have agreed to Robert but only because he thinks he'll win. And if you lose your temper with him, then all is lost. I know he'll try to make you.”

“I will be as meek as milk,” he promised her. “I have too much to lose to mind a few insults. But I've a feeling I'll get a bonny reception, all the same!' He laughed and held her close to him. “Don't be afraid for me; I shan't fall into any trap. I'll go to him bonnet in hand.”

“What of your own father?” Katharine asked him. “Does he know you intend to marry me?”

“He does,” James answered grimly.

“And what did
he
say?”

James did not answer immediately. Sir Alexander's reply had been shouted from the head of the dinner-table in the Great Hall at Dundrenan, and it bellowed still in his son's ears.

“Katharine Fraser! I'd sooner ye brought back a common hoor as a bride. If it isn't one and the same thing.”

Only the intervention of his younger brother Hugh had stopped father and son leaping at each other. They had stood glaring and spitting with fury, and for the first time in his life the evil old man had retreated before the greater rage of his elder son. “Marry her then, but I warn ye, if you bring her here the servants'll poison her inside a week.”

James shrugged and said lightly: “He was not pleased. But you've no need to worry on his account. I have no mind to live at Dundrenan under his shadow when we're married. I have a fine house at Kincarrig which is empty. It will make a bonny home for us until I inherit Dundrenan. Father is an old devil, but he won't trouble us. As for my brothers, they'll like you well enough.”

“When they see that we are happy both families will be reconciled,” Katharine said. “But we may have to wait, James. Father won't agree to any hurried marriage.”

“All I pray is that he'll agree to a marriage at all. The time of it will come about of its own accord. And when I come to Clandara tomorrow I shan't come empty-handed.”

“What will you bring?” she teased him. “Some of our cattle that you drove off in the night?”

“They've been slaughtered,” he reminded her. “I haven't raided your people since our cousin married your father. I must say I've been tempted once or twice. There's little enough to do in the long evenings … How is Margaret? I'd half forgotten her existence.”

“Well enough,” Katharine said. “I think she must find it dull.”

“She's a dull woman, but a kind one. Sweetheart, shall we go back to France after we're married? Why not visit the Marquise? She'd be delighted. I used to watch her watching us. She had all the sentimentality of the strumpet. I swear she hasn't enjoyed herself so much for years as she did while you and I were there.”

“She was very sweet to me,” Katharine laughed. “She used to come into my room at night – do you know, James, she wore rouge and rice powder even in her nightgown – she looked so ridiculous, like a little painted doll – and asked me what we had done and what you had said and whether you had kissed me! I think she enjoyed imagining how furious Father would be. She was my mother's cousin and she never liked Father.”

“I'll never forget the first time I saw you,” he said. “I was bored to death with my visit to the Château Delahaye. I knew I had to stay abroad for a while – there was that duel with Angus Mackecknie and the scandal got too much even for us – and then I went to the Marquise's supper party and saw you. You were wearing a white dress and there was a little crowd of Frenchmen standing by you, all ogling as if their eyes were about to fall out of their heads. I remember how angry it made me.”

She had been the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She stood out in the crowd of overpainted, twittering Frenchwomen like a magnificent rose in her simple, white satin gown with lace at her breasts and elbows, and her glorious hair unpowdered. He had wanted her from the first moment, and then, when he had arranged an introduction, the sound of her name only aroused him more. A Fraser. What a triumph, he had thought, what a godsent means of dissipating the idle days of his exile. The vileness of his intentions made him shudder when he remembered them. But they had not lasted long.

“I remember you,” she said. “And when I met you and knew who you were – oh, James, it doesn't seem possible! When you think, if we'd met here in Scotland we'd have hated each other and turned away.”

“We would,” he agreed. “The only difference is, I'd have taken some men and lain in wait for you one night. I could never have forgotten you, Katharine, or let you go to someone else.

“And if it had begun like that,” she murmured, “instead of going out together, hunting and dancing at the Marquise's parties, I would have ended by loving you just as I do now.”

“And always will, I pray to God,” he said.

“I must get back.” She stood up, and they embraced again, tenderly this time and a little afraid of themselves.

“Where's that old servant of yours?” he asked her.

“Over there by the bend in the loch road. It's a miracle that he's held his tongue about our meetings. Do you know he nearly shot you once when he saw you take me in your arms! He told me afterwards that he was just about to fire when he saw me reach up and kiss you and realized it was not taking place against my will! Poor old Angus. He's very good and devoted and he's so angry with me that he can hardly speak. Can I take him with me to Kincarrig?”

“You can take what servants you wish, my love. The household will be composed and run according to your pleasure. Come, we must walk back, the sun is nearly over the edge of the mountain there. It will be dark in half an hour.”

They walked back holding hands, James helping her down the steeper part of the hillside until they came to the two horses which were placidly cropping at the stubbly grass.

“My darling.” He held both her hands and suddenly went down upon his knee before her. She stroked the black head which was bent over her hand.

“Pray that all will go well with us tomorrow. Pray that God will help us to gain our happiness.”

“I will pray,” he promised her. “I haven't spoken the name of God except to swear by it since I was a child at my mother's knee. But I'll pray tonight as never before. Now mount up, Katharine my love. And farewell until tomorrow!”

“Go to the courtyard and see if that's James returned!”

The old man sitting in his chair by the open fireplace in the Great Hall of Dundrenan had been listening for the sound of a horse for the past hour. His grey head was thrust round the tall back of the oak chair and he scowled at the servant who ran to obey him.

Sir Alexander Macdonald was nearly seventy; he was short and thickset, with powerful arms and a trunk like a wrestler. Even at his age, he could break a man's back if once he managed to lock him. As a young man he had been feared and hated by his enemies and loved by his own clansmen, for there was no one like him in a fight. When James Stuart, the rightful King of Scotland, returned from exile in France and tried to wrest his throne back from the English in the rising of 1715, Alexander of Dundrenan had dragged his men away from their fields and their cattle and ridden out to do battle. He was fortunate in suffering no more than a heavy fine for his part in the Rebellion, for along with his courage he possessed a high degree of cunning, and he had made useful friends among the Scots who governed on behalf of England. While other men lost their heads and their estates Dundrenan remained safe, and its chief confined his activities to harassing the Frasers. But he had never forgiven or forgotten the money he had been forced to pay to bribe his way out of a charge of treason. If he hated anything as much as he hated the Clan Fraser and its chief, he hated King George II of England and the English.

“'Tis the master himself, lord.”

“Tell him to come straight to me,” the old man snapped and settled back in his chair.

His eyes were not black like his son's; they were a peculiar colour, almost the same yellow as the agates he wore in his dagger hilt, and they had earned him the nickname of “The Lion”. There was an ugly light in them as he waited for his son. Sir Alexander knew where he had gone.

When he heard James's step on the stone floor he did not look up or move. He stayed motionless until his son's shadow fell upon him and then he raised his eyes and glared at him and said slowly: “Come back, are ye? Fresh from courting, I suppose.”

“You may suppose what you please,” James's answer snapped back at him. “If you've a mind to repeat your insults of last night, I have no mind to listen to you,” and he turned as if he were going to walk away.

“Wait!” The old man sprang up. “Don't dare to turn your back on me, you renegade! Snuffling round the skirts of our enemy … Ach, James, you smell of where you've been!”

“I've been to see my intended wife,” James answered. “I told you last night that I had made up my mind and Katharine has spoken to her father. He was as displeased as you. But that makes no difference to either of us. And since you betray so much curiosity, the Earl has agreed to receive me tomorrow!”

“It's a trick,” Sir Alexander shouted. “A trick to get you inside their damned castle and then cut your throat … Son, son, are you bewitched? Go there – alone, I suppose. God's wounds, if you go you'll go with a company of men and your brothers at your back!”