Highland Master (7 page)

With her maidservant Ailvie’s help, Catriona changed to a more becoming moss-green gown and matching silk slippers. Then, curbing her impatience, she let Ailvie brush her tangled hair and plait it into a smooth coil beneath a white veil.

Returning to the great hall, she noted her mother’s approving smile and saw that servants in the lower part of the hall were setting up for the evening meal. Food would
not appear for another hour, but her grandfather liked his meals on time, so there must be no delay unless unexpected guests arrived or if, by some stroke of fortune, her father and brothers returned in time to sup with them.

The likelihood of that event was small. When Shaw and his sons entered the Highlands, word would reach Rothiemurchus hours if not days before they did.

“I’ve not seen that gown afore,” Lady Annis said. “It becomes ye well.”

“Her gowns all become her,” Ealga said. “Morag’s become her, too.”

“Thank you, madam,” Catriona said. “I never look as tidy as Morag does, though,” she added, smiling at her good-sister.

“You never take the pains to do so,” Morag said.

“ ’Tis youth that becomes them, Ealga,” Lady Annis said. “Catriona,” she added, “your injured gentleman has not emerged yet, so he’ll get nae rest afore we sup. We must hope that the arrow, in striking his head, did not curdle his brains.”

Catriona chuckled. “If it did, I saw no sign of it. Nor, if he were addled, do I imagine that Granddad would tolerate his presence as long as he has.”

“Let us adjourn to my sitting room whilst they finish setting up the tables,” Lady Ealga suggested. “I told Aodán to show our guest to his room when he does emerge. He will want to refresh himself before facing us again.”

“Before facing Grandame, you mean,” Catriona said, tossing that lady a grin.

“Aye, laugh,” Lady Annis said with a piercing look from under her thin, gray eyebrows. “But know this, impudent one. Ye’ve taken your temperament from me
rather than from your gentle mam, so ye’d do well to take a bit o’ my good sense as well. Ye’re impetuous as well as impudent, lassie, and ye can be willful withal.”

Catriona knew better than to return a saucy reply to that observation, especially since it was true. She said coaxingly instead, “You turned out well, Grandame. And I do have you to show me how to go on.”

“Ye do, aye, if ye’ll but listen to me. Now, do we go upstairs, or not?”

Still reluctant to risk declaring himself a member of Clan Cameron, which, truce or none, would likely prejudice his host against him, Fin said, “I will gladly tell you about myself, sir. But I must warn you, I am not at my best and might do better to ascertain first if you have questions about hosting Rothesay’s meeting.”

“I will stay here until Shaw returns,” the Mackintosh replied. “If Davy Stewart wants his meeting before then, we’ll hold it here. Rothiemurchus was my seat until just a few years ago and is as safe as Moigh would be for such a meeting.”

“It does seem safe enough,” Fin agreed. “But the lady Catriona did speak of trouble hereabouts… enough to draw you here from the peace and safety of Castle Moigh. Should Rothesay be wary of such trouble?”

Mackintosh snorted. “Wary of the worthless Comyns? Why should he be? That clan clings to its very existence whilst claiming title to land that has been in Mackintosh hands for a century. They are nobbut a nuisance. One of them has even dared to offer for our Catriona. And some, including my grandson James, do say that we might lay
the troubles to rest were her father and I to agree to the match.”

The notion of the forthright lady Catriona involved in such a marriage seemed preposterous to him, but Fin said only, “Such weddings can sometimes succeed in allying otherwise unfriendly clans.”

“Aye, sure,” Mackintosh said. “But Rory Comyn is a lackwit too full of himself for his own good or anyone else’s and too quick to seek offense where none is meant. Moreover, the proposed alliance would benefit only Clan Comyn, because they want Castle Raitt added to Catriona’s tocher, which is a thing I will
not
do.”

“So Raitt sits on the land that the Comyns claim.”

“It does, but we drift from the main subject, lad, so tell me more about Davy Stewart. I’ll admit that Scotland has seemed more peaceful since he took on the Governorship.” With a chuckle reminiscent of his granddaughter’s, he added dryly, “I doubt that the King’s life is more peaceful, though.”

“There have been ructions,” Fin admitted. Knowing that it would be unwise to add that the ructions had occurred most often with men whose pretty wives had caught Rothesay’s eye, he said, “Doubtless that is one reason he seeks allies who will at least give an appearance of supporting him against Albany.”

“Aye, well, I want to think a bit more on the matter,” Mackintosh said. “Sithee, the lad does be one to reck nowt, and he is headstrong. But drink up now, Fin of the Battles. They’ll be serving supper after they ring yon bell for vespers.”

“Do you keep a chaplain here, sir, or do you lead a service in the hall?”

“Neither. I leave Kirk matters to parsons, bishops, and the like. But I do want to ken the time of day. They’ll be ringing that bell soon, though, and I warrant ye’ll want to have a wash afore our ladies see ye again.”

“I would, aye,” Fin said, feeling a rush of relief at the respite.

“Ye’ll not have time to go upstairs, so just use the ewer and basin in yonder corner,” Mackintosh added, pointing. “The jib door beside the washstand opens on the service stair. If ye want the garderobe, it lies three steps up on your right.”

Realizing that he would be putting off the inevitable if he delayed further, Fin said, “You did say that you wanted to know more about me, sir.”

“I did, aye, but I want to think now. Forbye, the women will ask ye all that at supper, and I’m thinking I have nae need to hear ye spit out the details twice.”

Having returned to the hall with her grandmother and mother while Morag ran up to get a shawl, Catriona had just begun to think that her grandfather might have ordered supper put back when the inner chamber door opened and he stepped through the doorway. Fin followed him, looking freshly scrubbed but tired.

Immediately feeling guilty again about trying to slap him, Catriona smiled and felt a rush of pleasure when he smiled back. The smile was not the small one she had seen on the hillside earlier but wider and more natural, lighting his eyes and revealing his even white teeth.

The Mackintosh strode to the central chair at the long high table, facing the lower hall, and gestured Fin to
the seat at his right. Morag hurried in as the other three women took their places. Lady Annis sat at her husband’s left with Ealga next to her, Morag next to Ealga, and Catriona at the end.

For some time, everyone’s attention fixed on servers who proffered platters of food and jugs of whisky and claret. But when Lady Annis had accepted all that she wanted, she leaned forward and said across her husband to their guest, “One trusts that ye’ve found all ye need, sir. Did they show ye to your chamber?”

“Not yet, my lady,” he said. “We talked too long.”

Catriona had leaned forward when her grandmother did, and his gaze caught hers long enough for her to smile before he shifted it politely back to Lady Annis.

“What did ye talk about?” her ladyship demanded of him.

If the question disconcerted Fin, he did not show it. But the Mackintosh said curtly, “What we discussed concerns others, my lady, and
will
remain between us.”

The emphasis on that single word made Catriona look to her mother, hoping that Ealga might understand what he meant. But Ealga watched her own mother.

Lady Annis kept a gimlet gaze on her husband but turned it at last to Fin and said, “Do such concerns include where ye hail from, Fin of the Battles?”

“At present, my lady, I come from the Scottish Borders,” he said.

“Ye’re not a Borderer by birth, I trow,” she said. “Ye lack the sound and manner of such. Ye sound like ye hail from a place nearer to Glen Mòr.”

“I have lived in the Borders for years, but I do know the Great Glen,” he said. “I spent my childhood in Lochaber
near the west shore of Loch Ness. I regret to admit, though,” he added glibly, “that I never saw the monster that dwells there.”

Ignoring that gambit, if gambit it was, Lady Annis said, “My father was Hugh Fraser of Lovat, on the east shore of Loch Ness. I ken most folks fine from Inverness down both shores to Loch Lochy. Who are your parents?”

“My father was known as Teàrlach MacGill, my mother as Fenella nic Ruari,” he said. “I also spent some years in Fife, madam, near its eastern coast.”

A movement from her grandfather—almost a start—diverted Catriona’s attention as Fin spoke. But she could not read the Mackintosh’s expression, because he had fixed his attention on Fin and did not say a word.

Her grandmother said, “Your father’s name does sound as if I ought to know it, but MacGill is a general sort of patronymic, is it not? I expect that your business with the Mackintosh pertains more to your having come here from the Borders. Still, I suppose I must not question you about what you did there or…”

She paused, clearly hoping that he would invite her to question him. But Fin just smiled as if he were waiting for her to finish her sentence.

Sighing, she said, “What did your father do in Fife that required him to take your family so far from Lochaber?”

Fin looked startled then, as if he had not expected the question, but Catriona could not imagine why he would not, since he had mentioned Fife himself. Evidently, they were not to pursue the subject, though, because the Mackintosh said, “Bless me, lad, if I did not forget to ask ye how soon ye’d be expecting your men to join ye.”

“His men?” Lady Annis shifted her attention to her husband again and then back to Fin. “Ye’ve men of your own hereabouts, too? Where are they?”

“I can boast of only two, madam, and they should rejoin me tomorrow or the next day. But now that you bring them to mind, sir, it occurs to me that they’ll seek me at Castle Moigh unless I can get word to them to come here instead.”

The Mackintosh laughed. “By morning, there won’t be a man in Strathspey who does not ken that Catriona brought ye here. I’ll put out word for our people to watch more keenly than usual for strangers, but I trow that your lads will find ye.”

Conversation became desultory after that, although Catriona had hoped that her grandmother would press Fin harder for information about himself and his family, because she had sensed soon after meeting him that he was keeping secrets. Moreover, although his antecedents sounded common, he had traveled more than most Highlanders did and spoke better than most other noblemen.

And his sword was that of a warrior.

However, the Mackintosh bore him away to the inner chamber again when the two had finished eating, saying cryptically that he had made his decision.

The statement stirred her curiosity. What decision, and why not share it with all of them? They would doubtless learn of it in time, but she wanted to know now.