Highland Lover: Book 3 Scottish Knights Trilogy (16 page)

A chill shot up Jake’s spine, and he experienced a sudden recurrence of feelings he’d had as a child when his father had sent him into the hold. He did not doubt her word. Something deep inside him acknowledged her integrity. Whatever she was about to tell him, she believed with all her heart.

“Tell me,” he said.

“On the day Davy died, he was thin as a rail, and cold. They had starved him. He lay on his side, curled tight against deep pain. He held one hand out with its palm open, hopeful of catching grain that sifted through the floor of what must have been a mill above him. The only light in his dungeon came from beams filled with dustlike bits of meal. But he was too weak to bring them to his mouth.

“He lay there, helpless, and just faded away. But I knew as I watched that he had been in that chamber the whole time he was at Falkland. He felt pain until the end. His hair was mussed and stiff with dirt, and I think that upset me as much as anything, for he was a bonnie lad and always looked princely fine. That Albany and the Earl of Douglas insisted that Davy died of natural causes outraged me. But I could say nowt to anyone of what I’d seen.”

Striving for calm, he said, “ ’Tis as likely you dreamed that, is it not?”

“Is it?” She stopped walking, caught his arm, and turned him to face her. Her penetrating eyes gazed steadily into his. “
Was
it just a dream I had, sir?”

Jake dampened his lips. He could no more lie when she looked at him like that than he could close his eyes and vanish magically from her sight.

“Nay, lass, I don’t believe it was a dream. What you describe fits with what Wardlaw told me. Davy was little more than a skeleton under desiccated skin. His clothing, his hair, even his face and lips bore a dusting of meal. Although he’d been a prisoner at Falkland for only eighteen days, he’d lost more than half of his weight. They’d starved him and denied him water. The monks could tell as much from the state of his body.”

“Someone must have given him water,” she said. “I don’t think that anyone could go so long without it.”

“I agree, but as Albany’s primary seat, Falkland teems with his minions. One of them likely dared to provide water for Davy without daring to do more.”

“At all events, sir, you do believe that I saw him. It happened on the very day they say he died. And from what I saw, he did just fade away as if God had taken pity on him, perhaps even taken him by the hand. I also had the sense that I could hear some of his thoughts. I felt his pain.”

“I believe you,” he said. “Is that the only time such a thing has happened to you, or did you know beforehand that Jamie’s ship would be captured?”

“The Sight does not work like that… not for me, at all events,” she said. “I did see my brothers die, as well. But I don’t believe that I’ve ever seen an event before it has happened, only when it does. However, I do get odd feelings at other times, which I’ve come to believe mean that
something
will happen. So far, I have never been able to identify, predict, or prevent the happening. The feelings are not nearly specific enough for that. I did have some
such feelings whilst we sailed, but there was naught in them to explain
why
I was having them.”

Truly curious now, he said, “What are these feelings like?”

“I don’t know if I can describe them well enough for you to understand. I can give you an example, though. I had a cat I loved dearly for nine years. Then, for no apparent reason and at odd times, I began feeling as if I loved him too much. He’d do something to make me smile, or he’d say something… What?”

Jake knew he had failed to conceal his disbelief. “Sorry, lass, but I’ve never known a cat that could talk.”

“Aye, well, wee Pallie did, in cat sounds to be sure, but clearly. Forbye, you divert me from my explanation. If you do not want to hear it—”

“I do, and I apologize for interrupting you. Tell me.”

“When Pallie would do something to amuse me, I would smile or laugh, and suddenly, I’d feel a slight pricking sensation—mental, not physical—as if warning me of caring too much. Not long after those feelings began, a dog killed him.”

Tears sprang to her eyes at the memory, and Jake wanted to touch her, to comfort her, but also to tell her she had let her imagination run amok. However, he was not sure of that, himself. The fact was that he’d had a similar experience, years before, when such a “feeling” had led him to save a man’s life.

He said, “You say that you had such feelings during the voyage?”

“Aye, since the night we collected Jamie, Will, and Orkney at Bass Rock,” she said. “Those sensations were more physical, though, more akin to shivers than aught
else. I had one when Ciara said ships were approaching the
Maryenknyght
.”

“That may have been merely apprehension, don’t you think? Surely, when you realized who your traveling companions were, you felt a sense of peril just in knowing that men who wished Jamie ill were searching for him.”

“Perhaps. But I had another of those sensations this morning when I saw Mungo striding round the yard. I’m not afraid of him, sir. I have no cause to be. But seeing him free, and apparently caring for naught, chilled me to the core.”

Chapter 8

A
lyson eyed Jake uncertainly. She had been sure that, just moments before, he had nearly laughed aloud at the thought of wee Pallie talking to her. But Jake had listened to her. And, so far, despite that one moment when he’d stirred her doubt, he had not dismissed anything that she had said.

She had not told him that when she’d “seen” Davy, it seemed dreamlike until she awoke, sitting up with tears running down her cheeks, and knew without a doubt that it had been no dream. She had not meant to tell Jake about the Sight, not until she’d seen how he peered through the circle stone, as if he expected that he might see a scene such as the one she had described to him.

He was a strange man, was Jake Maxwell, a man unlike any in her family. Although he was a friend of Ivor’s, he was not like her cousin. She had often been wary of Ivor, especially as a child, because if someone made him angry, one could see it building until it erupted. It was, she thought, like watching sparks in tinder, glowing a little, smoldering, and then bursting into flame.

Jake did not seem temperamental and was certainly not as volatile as Ivor could be. Both of her older brothers
had had tempers like Ivor’s. Her younger brother, Ranald, was milder, more like their father… in many ways. She sighed.

“I understand why seeing Mungo without Niall would give you chills,” Jake said. “You fear for your husband, and seeing Mungo made you expect to see Niall, too. When you did not, your deepest fears stirred, chilling you.”

“Perhaps,” she said. Knowing that she had no acceptable way to explain why she believed that his explanation was inaccurate, she said no more.

“Is that what you were thinking about when you sighed just now?”

“Nay, my thoughts had shifted to other men in my life,” she replied. Then, giving him a look, she shook her head as if that might clear it of such impulsive declarations. “You are too easy to talk to,” she said. “I don’t usually share my thoughts, and I rarely mention the Sight. Some in my family are aware of it, but even those who are don’t understand it. They just think I’m a bit owf.”

“I ken
that
term,” he said with his quick smile. Sobering, he added, “I don’t think you’re owf, lass. Your mind seems sounder than my own. So, what do you think of those others that made you frown so?”

“I expect I do frown sometimes when I am trying to sort my thoughts,” she said. “I was thinking that you are different from Ivor and my brothers—less volatile. My older brothers were like Ivor; my younger one is not.”

“What’s this younger one like?”

“Do you have siblings, sir?”

“Nary a one.”

“I might have envied you before I knew what a loss
my brothers would be. I cannot tell you how many times, before then, I’d wished I had none.”

“They sound like troublesome louts,” Jake said.

“Eamon and Artan were just ordinary, domineering Highlanders. They were warriors, both of them, skilled with swords, dirks, lances, and such. But not with words. And both of them were short-tempered men who lacked courtly ways. I was thinking about that, comparing them to Ivor and to you.”

“I can understand comparing them to Ivor, because his temper is legendary. At least, it was until he married. But I vow, lass, although I don’t think of myself as courtly, I am as mild as bairn’s pap in every other way.”

“Mild” was
not
a word she would choose to describe him. He radiated too much energy. Often, the air around him seemed to crackle. She had seen him with a sword in hand, and striding thwart to thwart in a boat that tossed on stormy seas as if he did it every day. The twinkle in his eyes told her that he was teasing. Even so…

“Continue, lass,” he said. “I diverted you when you were about to describe your younger brother.”

“Aye, well, Ranald is as volatile as Eamon and Artan were but is otherwise their exact opposite. Nay, that is wrong, for it would imply that Ranald displays the courtly manners they lacked.”

“So Ranald is a lout, too?”

She shook her head. “They weren’t as uncomplicated as louts. Ranald is polite, I suppose, but he rarely thinks of anyone save himself. I’ve seen that in other men who fall youngest in their families. They seem to think that because others cleaned up their messes when they were small, others will go on doing so forever. And we do. We
all look after Ranald.” She paused, surprised at herself. “I don’t know why I tell you all this. It cannot interest you in the least.”

“But it does,” he said. “Never having had what one might call an ordinary life, I find other people’s lives fascinating.”

“Did you really grow up on ships?”

“From the time I was small until I was nearly fourteen, I did,” he said. “My mam died when I was six, and my da took me aboard his ship. Sithee, I was terrified I’d lose him, too, so he promised not to leave me behind until I was old enough to decide for myself what I wanted to do. He kept his word, too.”

“He sounds like a good man.”

“He is, aye. When I left for St. Andrews, we had lived at Duncraig Castle in Kintail for about five years. Da served Sir Gifford MacLennan there, and Giff serves the Lord of the Isles. Sithee, one of Giff’s good-sisters had married a Sinclair. Thus did I come to know the first earl and later our friend Henry.”

They chatted so until Will rejoined them and announced that he was hungry. Mace and Lizzie were close behind, so Jake and Mace sought a place out of the wind where they could eat the meal that Mistress Metlow had packed for them.

“It may take us some time to find a good place,” Jake warned them. “These clifftops provide a grand view, but winds have swept them nearly bare of shelter.”

Briefly eyeing Alyson and Lizzie, Will dashed off with the men.

Lizzie laughed. “Poor bairn, left wi’ the womenfolk and having nowt o’ it. Ah do wish that me Jeb had given
me a bairn afore he died.” Sitting on a nearby rock, she added, “Ah never thought to ask if thy man might ha’ left thee wi’ child, mistress. ’Twould ease thy loss an he did.”

“Nay, Ah canna think when he might,” Alyson replied, nearly forgetting to speak as Lizzie had. “Sithee, Niall were gey busy, always off and away.”

“So were Jeb, being a fisherman. But, sithee, it only takes once. So happen tha
might
be growin’ a bairn. ’Twould be a good thing, that.”

Alyson stared at her, wondering how a woman could be with child and not know it. It seemed a daft notion to her. Aware that Lizzie was eyeing her curiously, she said, “I hadna given it much thought.”

“Ah can see that. As bonnie as tha be, though, Ah’d wager the man plowed thee whenever he could. Tha’s only been wedded a wee while, me mam said.”

“Since just after Christmas,” Alyson said weakly.

“That explains how tha couldst be unsure. Me mam said she didna ken nowt till she were three months along wi’ her first.”

Desperate to change the subject, Alyson said, “I think we should follow the men, don’t you? They seem to have wandered right out of sight.”