Highland Master (5 page)

“Mayhap
they
attracted attention. Or mayhap you did without knowing that you had. I did ask you earlier if you had enemies hereabouts,” she added. “You said only that you had not passed this way before.”

He was silent long enough for her to take two strokes with the oars and for that odd prickling awareness of him to stir again before he said, “By my troth, lass, I have
not
passed this way before. I have heard, though, that rather than enjoying a repute for civility, the men of Clan Chattan are a fractious lot. Also, you did mention trouble brewing. It seems logical that my mishap may have resulted from that.”

Noting that he still had not said whether he had enemies in the area, Catriona nibbled her lower lip, thinking. She could not refute his logic, for it was excellent. But she was reluctant to discuss the irritating Comyns with a stranger.

“I see,” he murmured provocatively.

“
What
do you see?”

“That I may be right,” he said. “Just who is stirring this trouble of yours?”

Grimacing, she said, “ ’Tis only the plaguey Comyns. I cannot think why they would trouble you, though.”

“Comyns? I thought that clan had nearly died out.”

“Aye, but they were once lords of Lochindorb Castle, which lies near here and is now home to the Lord of the North. The Comyns seek to grow strong again.”

“Do they hold a grievance against your confederation, then?”

“Nay, they act in response to imagined complaints and their own arrogance,” she said. “Much of their sense of ill-usage arises, as most such conflicts do, from land that they think should be theirs but which is and always has been Mackintosh land. Except for Lochindorb and all of its estates,” she added conscientiously.

He was silent. Glancing back again, she saw him frowning. When she rested her oars and gave him a quizzical look, the frown eased and he said, “How quickly did you come upon me? Do you recall?”

“Not exactly,” she said, returning to her rowing. “Does it matter?”

“It might,” he said. “The trees in those woods were too far apart for me to miss seeing an archer who stood near enough to shoot me from point-blank range. But I could have missed seeing one who shot from a greater distance.”

“Mayhap something distracted you, kept you from seeing him.”

“I doubt it. I don’t recall what I was thinking when the arrow struck. But being alone in unknown woods as I was, I was not careless. Nor was that shot an accident. Might a Comyn have had cause to shoot a stranger here on any other account?”

Resting her oars again, she shifted enough on her seat this time to look at him without getting a crick in her neck. “We have not agreed that the archer was a Comyn,” she said. Her tone, she hoped, had been matter-of-fact, but his eyes had narrowed. Hastily, she added, “He could as easily have been a poacher who missed his shot as an archer performing some great feat of archery.”

She could feel her cheeks burning and turned back to her rowing, fearing that he had noticed her increased color and hoping he would not quiz her about it.

He said evenly, “Such a bowshot in the open may be easy for most archers. But one from the distance and with the concealment necessary to prevent my seeing the archer is not. And whilst we have
not
determined that the shooter was a Comyn,
you
have not yet said whether some Comyn or other might think that he had cause.”

“One cannot know
what
such a man may think,” she replied. “Earlier, you mentioned the noisy jay. I thought he’d got noisy because of your mishap, but—”

“Jays are noisy by habit,” he interjected.

“They are, aye,” she agreed. “But they are also noisy when predators invade their territory. The squirrels were noisy, too. Also, the ravens.”

“Ravens?”

She nodded. “They must have scented fresh blood,
just as Boreas did, and hoped to feast on whatever they found.”

“We can forget the ravens, since there was no blood before the arrow struck me. But someone else
was
in those woods. If you did not see anyone…”

“I did not see or
hear
anyone,” she said when he paused. “We were upwind of you, sir, and thus, too, of whoever shot you. Boreas scented naught until the breeze dropped, and we found you shortly after that.”

“Wolf dogs do catch scent on the air,” he said thoughtfully. “Surely, though, if a stranger had been nearby, he’d have caught wind of him then, too.”

“One would think so,” she agreed. “But it did take some time to reach you. And the ravens had got louder. Mayhap the man who shot you took advantage of their racket to run away, or mayhap the stronger scent of blood hid his scent from Boreas. In any event, we do not know who it was.”

“Nay,” he said. “Nor do we know why he shot me.”

Catriona glanced over her shoulder and saw with relief that they were nearing the island. The castle’s stone curtain wall rose from just above the high-water mark on the gentle slope. The heavy gate stood ajar.

Everyone would know by now that she was bringing a stranger home. Had her father and brothers been there, they would be waiting at the landing. As it was, their welcoming committee consisted of two stalwart men-at-arms and one grinning boy.

Eyeing the two men-at-arms who approached from the gateway, Fin wondered if he had been foolhardy to accept the lass’s invitation. Belated memory of Clan Chattan’s
motto, “Touch not the cat but with a glove,” suggested that he
was
a fool.

But he had had no other choice.

His orders had been to persuade the Mackintosh to accept a role that the man might be reluctant to play. And the Mackintosh was on the island.

However, accepting hospitality at Rothiemurchus still presented sufficient difficulty to give Fin’s conscience another twinge.

In truth, no actual law forbade dispatching one’s erstwhile host
after
having accepted his hospitality… as long as one waited until one was no longer under the man’s roof. Moreover, if he were to decide now against staying, he would stir the lady Catriona’s curiosity if not her outright distrust. As to his honor…

That half-thought had only to enter his mind to produce a mental image of his powerful, exceedingly volatile master that made him speedily collect his wits. Whatever his personal dilemma was, he had a duty to execute, and simply put, the Mackintosh was here. All other concerns must surrender to that one.

The coble’s bow scraped bottom, diverting his attention. When the boy who had accompanied the two men-at-arms splashed into the shallows and tried to pull the craft ashore, Fin jumped out to help him.

His rawhide boots got wet, but he did not mind. He’d worn them to protect feet that had lost their Highland toughness after years of riding in the Borders and lowlands, instead of walking barefoot everywhere, as most Highlanders did.

“The Mackintosh would see ye straightaway, m’lady,” one man-at-arms said when Fin and the lad had beached
the boat. “He’ll be in his chamber, but Lady Annis and your lady mother be in the great hall. They want tae see ye, too.”

Fin extended a hand toward Catriona, but she stepped ashore on her own and with a grace that surprised him. Few could emerge unaided from such an unstable craft with anything but awkwardness.

He had seen from the hilltop that the fortress covered most of the island, except for its wooded northern end. When they reached the gateway and passed through it into the yard, he saw that a four-story keep formed the southwest angle of the curtain wall. The fortress boasted two other, smaller towers, one at the north end near the gateway, the other at the southeast corner. One man stayed by the gate.

“Tadhg,” the lady Catriona said, addressing the small gillie, “prithee, run ahead and tell the cook that Boreas will soon want his supper.”

“Aye, sure,” the lad said cheerfully. Raising a hand to pat the big dog’s withers as if to reassure it that it would not starve, he dashed off toward the keep.

Boreas continued to trot alongside Catriona and the remaining man-at-arms.

As they hurried across the rocky, hard-packed-dirt yard toward timber stairs leading to the main entrance, they passed an alcove between the keep and the row of wooden outbuildings against the curtain wall. Fin saw a path leading to a lower entrance, and when Tadhg pulled open the door there and disappeared inside, he decided that it likely opened into the scullery and kitchen.

He followed the others up the timber stairs and inside, then up more stone steps and through an archway into the
great hall. It felt chilly despite a roaring fire in the huge hooded fireplace that occupied much of the long wall to his right.

He saw three women standing halfway between the fire and the dais at the other end of the hall. One was thin and elderly, the second a young matron, and the third fell between them in age. She was more attractive than the other two and a couple of stones plumper. Their veils and gowns proclaimed them all noblewomen.

“There ye be, Granddaughter,” the oldest of the three said in a high-pitched voice that carried easily, although she did not seem to have raised it. “Ye’ve been gone an age, lass. I hope ye did not roam too far afield.”

The young matron looked disapprovingly at Catriona but kept silent.

The plump, attractive lady smiled warmly.

“I did not go far, madam,” Catriona said to the eldest as she went to them and made her curtsy. “Nor must I linger here now, because my lord grandfather has sent for me. Before I go to him, though, pray let me present to you this gentleman whom Boreas and I found injured in our woods.”

“Mercy, dearling, I wish ye would no ramble with only that great dog to guard ye,” the plump lady said. “A body might meet
any
one these days.”

“In troth, you might,” the younger matron said. “Why, you ken fine that—”

“Never mind that now, ye two,” the old woman said, holding Fin’s interested gaze. “Do present your new acquaintance to us, Catriona.”

“He is called Fin of the Battles, madam,” the lass said as Fin made his bow. “This is my grandmother, Annis,
Lady Mackintosh, sir.” Gesturing to the others, she said, “This is my mother, the lady Ealga, and my brother James’s wife, Morag. Fin of the Battles came into Clan Chattan country to speak to the Mackintosh,” she added.

“Then, ye must take him to your grandfather straightway,” Lady Annis said. “But I would ken more about ye, Fin of the Battles. Ye’ll join us for supper.”

“With the Mackintosh’s leave, I will be pleased to do so, your ladyship,” Fin said. He saw that the “great dog” had flopped near the fire and closed its eyes.

When Catriona turned toward the dais end of the hall, her grandmother said with a gesture to the man-at-arms who had come with them from the shore, “Take Aodán in with ye, lassie. The Mackintosh may have orders for him.”

Fin’s lips twitched in a near smile. Lady Annis was too polite to insult him by demanding that he leave his weapons behind. But she evidently believed that one guard could protect the Captain of Clan Chattan if the need arose.

There would be no such need, which was just as well. Wounded or not, Fin knew that he could win a fair fight against any single opponent.

“This way, sir,” the lass said, gesturing toward the dais. “In Father’s absence, my grandfather uses our inner chamber.” Then, quietly enough to keep anyone else from hearing but with the note of humor that he had heard before, she added, “I warrant he will occupy it after Father comes home, too.”

“The Mackintosh likes to get his own way, too, does he?” Fin murmured.

Her twinkling gaze met his. “All men expect to get their own way.”

“Women do, too, do they not?”

She shook her head. “Women may hope to do so in some things. But, surely, you know that when heads knock together, men
usually
win.”

“Not always?”

This time, she chuckled. “Nay, as you did see for yourself.”

He hid a smile of his own but let her have the last word, for now.

A gillie appeared from an alcove at the end of the dais to Fin’s right and hurried to open the door at the rear of it for them. Catriona stepped into the room beyond with Fin at her heels and the man-at-arms, Aodán, behind him.

“Sakes, is this an invasion?” a gruff voice demanded, drawing Fin’s gaze from the huge bed in front of him, where he had expected to see the Mackintosh, to a table at the far right of a room that looked to be the same width as the great hall.