Highlander Unmasked (34 page)

“I’ll marry Jamie, of course.”

Rosalind’s face fell, and a mix of disappointment and distress pinched her delicate features. “Oh dear, dear,” she muttered. “I’d so hoped…I’d thought perhaps Laird MacLeod—”

Meg stiffened.

Rosalind frowned, noticing Meg’s reaction. “Just because I’ve not asked you what happened between you and Alex MacLeod does not mean that I don’t realize that something did.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Margaret Mackinnon!” Rosalind stomped her tiny foot in what Meg realized was supposed to be emphasis. “Don’t pretend ignorance with me. Why, we left court in such a hurry, I barely had time to change into my traveling clothes. And poor, dear Alys has never had to pack so quickly.” She threw up her hands. “Wrinkled silks, crushed velvets, torn lace…anything could have happened.”

“We were fortunate, indeed, to escape unscathed.”

Rosalind’s mouth twitched, but she otherwise ignored Meg’s playful retort. “And if such haste was not bad enough, you barely spoke five words the entire trip home and your eyes were red and puffy for days. Really, dear, you should have let me put a cool posset over them to prevent those horrid black circles.”

“As I explained, I felt ill and wanted to return home.”

“Ill!” Rosalind made a sound of disbelief and rested her hands on her slim hips. “I may not be as learned as you and your father, but I do have the sense God gave me.”

Meg’s eyes widened with surprise. Had her mother just been derisive? Rosalind must truly be annoyed; she didn’t have a derisive bone in her body.

“Please, Mother. There really is no need to discuss this further. There was, and is, nothing of import between Alex MacLeod and myself.”

Meg whipped around to stare at her mother, who had just issued a most indelicate, unladylike snort. When she recovered from this latest shock, she continued, emphasizing the point: “I’m going to marry Jamie Campbell.”

Rosalind shook her head. “But it was obvious to anyone who looked, Alex cares for you so much. Your father’s health is much improved, surely you can wait—”

“It’s over, Mother,” Meg interrupted sharply.

Rosalind shot her a hard look in return, pursing her lips with obvious displeasure. “I’ve told your father…He’s delayed long enough. He has something to tell you that might change your mind.”

Curious as to what her mother meant, Meg lost no time and hurried down the stairs to find her father.

It didn’t take long. The Mackinnon chief sat hunched over a stack of ledgers in the second-floor library of the old tower, two stories below the room she had occupied only moments before, massaging his thinning pate with his wrinkled fingers.

He glanced up as she entered the room. His short stature coupled with an impressive girth suggested a more jovial personality than was indicated by his serious visage. Meg supposed that in expression, if nothing else, she resembled her father.

Relief brought a slight turn to his lips, but it could not be described as a smile. It struck Meg how much older he looked after his recent illness. The poison had left its mark.

“Ah, Meg. I’ve gone over these accounts repeatedly—I’m worried about the amount of land held by wadset, and I can’t find the entries for the north.”

Meg leaned over her father and flipped through the thick stack of parchment.

“The entries are listed first geographically, then alphabetically by clansman, then by acreage, and finally by type of obligation, whether wadset or tack. Under each entry I’ve listed the date and method of payment, whether in grain, cattle, or silver. For each tack, you will see the grassum the clansman paid for the lease initially, then the yearly rental portion, again broken down by tack duty. The entries you are looking for should be…” Her finger traced the faint scratches of the quill down the page. “Right here.”

“’Tis so obvious, how did I not find it?” he said dryly.

Meg blushed, unsure whether he praised or jested with her. She continued on, suspecting the former. Like her, her father appreciated thoroughness and attention to detail. “I’ve cross-referenced these entries in another ledger by wadset and tack. The total obligation for lands held by wadset are listed in that ledger. It should be easier to determine the amount from that. If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll fetch it for you.”

The Mackinnon could only shake his head in amazement. “My dear girl, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Meg felt a momentary swell of pride, but it was also a subtle reminder of her duty.

Rosalind blew into the room. “Tack, wadset! Who cares about leases and mortgages? Your only daughter’s heart has been broken—”

“My heart wasn’t broken.”
It was ripped apart and torn to shreds.

Rosalind continued on as if Meg hadn’t spoken. “And all you can talk about is land! Lachlan Mackinnon, you’ve something much more important to discuss.”

“What’s all of this hysteria about, Rosie?”

Her mother shook her finger right under her father’s nose. “Don’t you ‘hysteria’ me. I warned you something like this might happen. You should have told her right when we returned, and now the poor child is about to sacrifice her everlasting happiness for you.”

Her father sank back a little in his chair. A bit shame-faced, he turned to Meg. “What’s this about, lass?”

“I’ve decided to write Jamie and accept his offer of marriage.”

He nodded. “A good choice.”

“Good choice!” Rosalind shrieked. “Have you listened to nothing I’ve said? Why, the girl is in love with Alex MacLeod, and you have nothing to say but ‘Good choice’?”

Her father sighed. “Meg’s a woman grown, capable of making her own decisions. And Jamie Campbell is a powerful ally. What would you have me say, wife?”

Rosalind crossed her arms, positioning herself in a manner that demonstrated her every intention of digging in her heels. Meg barely recognized this controlling side of her mother. Although she knew they loved each other, Meg had always assumed that her father held the reins in the marriage. That there might be more to her parents’ relationship than she’d assumed was vaguely disconcerting.

“I want you to tell Meg what you know of Laird MacLeod.”

“I assure you, Mother, I’m not interested in hearing any more about Alex MacLeod—”

“Margaret Mackinnon, hold your tongue,” Rosalind said sharply.

Meg dropped to a chair, mute, staring at the strange angry woman next to her. The same woman who hadn’t even raised her voice when Meg used her best silver platter to slide down a snow-dusted Cuillin peak when she was eight or used her precious Flemish tapestry as target practice when she was eleven.

Her father looked equally unsettled. “Very well, dear,” he said placatingly. “But, Meg, this must be kept in the strictest confidence. Only a handful of people know what I am about to tell you.”

Meg nodded, perplexed by the unusual vehemence in his voice. She waited for him to continue, curious and a bit apprehensive about what this was all about.

He appeared to be weighing his words carefully. “Alex MacLeod was sent to court at the bequest of the Island chiefs to discover information about the rumored attempt by the Lowland Fife Adventurers to recolonize the Isle of Lewis.”

It took a moment for his words to settle in. The color drained from her face. “You mean that Alex was a spy?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” her father answered. “Though nothing quite so dramatic. He was basically just to keep his eyes and ears open and see what he could learn. Given that he is the brother of a chief, and has been to court many times, we felt Alex’s presence at Holyrood would not be seen by the Lowland government as suspicious. But it was also convenient that he had not been too tightly connected to his brother these past few years.” He paused, clearing his throat. “Of course, not many people are aware that for the last few years Alex has fought with the outlawed MacGregors.”

Meg stared dully at her hands, now curled into tight fists in her lap. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d known that Alex had been up to something, had realized there was something he had not been telling her, but she would never have guessed that he was a spy. Not a mercenary at all. Nor apparently was he estranged from his brother.

Little oddities suddenly made sense: playing cards with Jamie in the room full of the king’s men, his anger at the mention of the MacGregors and the Lewis political situation on their ride that day, lurking in the dark corridor…

Her stomach lurched. When they’d had their first kiss. Had he kissed her simply to cover up his presence in the hall?

“Tell her the rest,” Rosalind said impatiently, obviously sensing Meg’s distress.

Her father sighed and continued reluctantly, “The information that Alex uncovered at court enabled the Island chiefs to ready their assistance, secretly, to the MacLeods of Lewis. When the Fife Adventurers landed and occupied Stornoway Castle a couple of weeks ago, we were ready—in large part because of Alex.” Her father seemed inclined to stop, but Rosalind nudged him along with a piercing stare. “And Alex has joined Neil MacLeod in leading the resistance on Lewis.”

“Alex? Fighting on Lewis?” she echoed softly. She’d guessed what he was going to say, but it still came as a shock. Her mind was racing, trying to put together what she’d just learned with the conversation with Lord Huntly. Why would Alex be agreeing to fight for Huntly?
He wouldn’t.
“But how? For how long?”

Her father shrugged. “He’s been there for over two weeks, arriving just before the Adventurers. He probably left court about the same time you did. Neil and Alex have been organizing raids on the settlement at Stornoway, intercepting food and supplies meant for the Adventurers—wearing them down, much like last time. Small skirmishes thus far, but that will soon change.”

“I knew he was up to something, I just never suspected—” She jerked back as if she had been slapped. The second betrayal hit nearly as hard as the first. Her father, the man she’d fought desperately to please, to convince that she could manage Dunakin, had not confided in her.

Acute disappointment formed a solid, bitter lump in her throat.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why was I not informed that you intended to help the MacLeods of Lewis? How could you keep something so important from me?” She choked on her last words, unable to control the emotion strangling her voice.

Her father was in league against the king, and she’d been kept in the dark.

“You are many things, Meg,” he said gently. “But you are not chief. That is a position I hope to hold on to for a few—nay, many more years to come.”

Her father did not trust her.

“Lachlan, you are doing an atrociously poor job of this,” Rosalind warned.

Her father glanced over at Meg, noticing her distress. “It’s not like that, lass. I’m proud of you. You’ve acquitted yourself admirably in the face of difficult circumstances, with your brother…” He fiddled with some loose parchment on the table, flustered as he always was when discussing Ian. “Perhaps I rely on you overmuch. Your mother accuses me of demanding too much of you. I never thought so, but perhaps she is right. If you want to marry Jamie Campbell, do so because
you
want to, not because you think that is what I expect of you. Often the best solution is not the most obvious. Trust in yourself.”

“Yet you do not trust me,” Meg accused, still hurt that he had not confided in her.

“Nonsense. You must realize that you are not privy to all the decisions made around here.”

In fact, Meg hadn’t realized that.

“It was safer for you not to know. The fewer people who know of this, the better. We don’t want to risk the king getting word of our involvement.”

“I would never—”

Her father held up his hand. “I know that. If I’d known you were going to become involved with Alex, I would have warned you. And then when you came home, you spoke only of a proposal from Jamie. I wasn’t convinced, or I refused to let myself be convinced, that what your mother told me about your feelings for Alex MacLeod were true.”

Her cheeks grew hot. She heard her mother make a “humph” sound that said
I told you so.

“If you wish to wait for Alex MacLeod to return before you answer Jamie, I do not object. But you must understand that the situation on Lewis is extremely volatile—and of course very dangerous. There is a chance—”

He stopped abruptly when Meg paled.

“I’m sorry, Meg, but I do not want you to suffer under any false illusions. Alex may not return. And even if he does, the king will hardly be pleased with him. With rumors circulating in London of a plot to overthrow the Fife Adventurers, Neil has already been put to the horn. The same could happen to Alex.”

There were thousands of questions running through her mind. She didn’t realize that she’d voiced them aloud. “What’s the nature of our involvement? What chiefs are involved? Does the king suspect us? When do they plan to take the castle? What news have you had from…”

“From Alex?” Rosalind finished for her.

Meg nodded.

“We are in daily communication with the men fighting on Lewis. In addition to the MacLeods of Dunvegan and the Mackinnons, the MacDonald of Dunyveg, MacLean of Duart, MacLaine of Lochbuie, MacLean of Coll, and the MacQuarrie of Ulva are all party to our plans. We have provided men and supplies, of course, but our primary aid is information. If the king suspects our involvement, he is not yet ready to move on his suspicions other than to forbid travel to the Isle of Lewis—which is why our messengers travel at night.”