Chapter 9

A t Sinclair House, determined to reveal no hint of the eagerness she felt to see Giff again, Sidony played with a clearly more comfortable Will and a cooing Anna until their nurses announced that it was time for their supper.

Changing to the pale green, lace-trimmed dress and matching slippers she would wear for supper, Sidony tried to occupy herself with her needlework but gave up after wandering thoughts had twice caused her to prick her finger.

Leaving her door ajar and checking more than once to see that her hair and the simple white silk net and veil that covered it were perfectly in place, she waited only until she heard her sisters’ voices on the landing before hurrying to join them. As they went downstairs, the steward opened the front door to admit Giff.

Following the others, Sidony paused on the last step with one hand on the newel post and turned to face their guest as he crossed the threshold.

“Welcome, sir,” Isobel said with a smile as he entered. “I’m glad you are able to join us. I hope your quest was successful.”

“Completely successful, my lady, thank you,” he said, his gaze meeting hers briefly before moving past her to encounter Sidony’s. He smiled then.

“I trust our people provided you with a good midday meal,” Adela said.

“Unfortunately, madam, due to my own tardiness, I missed dinner at Lestalric.”

“Oh, dear, then you must be nigh starved by now!”

“Nowt of the sort,” he said, grinning at her. “I dined on half of a very tasty meat roll clad in crisp, buttery crumbs, half a mutton bridie made by someone with a hand for light pastry, and half of an excellent currant scone.”

Speaking as one, Sidony and Isobel said, “Why only halves?”

“He can tell us after we sit down,” Adela said. “If the food is ready, it would be an offense to the cook to leave it standing whilst we chatter here.”

Adela’s reputation for household management being legendary in Edinburgh, it did not occur to the others to debate the point. She and Rob had turned Lestalric Castle from a long-neglected warren into such a welcoming home that members of Scotland’s elite clamored for invitations to their frequent supper parties.

On the thought, Sidony said, “Did you say Rob will be back for your supper?”

“I did,” Adela said as they reached the dining parlor. “He promised he would, but he will likely have to return early Wednesday to join Isabella’s cavalcade.”

“Take Michael’s chair, Giff,” Isobel said, gesturing toward the head of the table. When they had said the grace-before-meat, she nodded to the servants to begin serving, then said, “Now, Giff, tell us your tale.”

He did so, proving himself an entertaining storyteller and making them laugh more than once in the process.

“What happened when you met Jake’s father?” Sidony asked.

He smiled. “Captain Wat Maxwell is a good man, I think. Young Jake introduced me as if I had been a lord, but as he did not know my name—it not having occurred to him to ask—he could not give it. So I introduced myself and was much surprised, I can tell you, to learn that Captain Maxwell had heard of me. But when his son confessed his sins, he told him they would talk later and sent him off. If I’ve taken his measure, the lad had a few painful minutes coming to him.”

“What did you think of Fife’s ship?” Isobel asked.

He shot her another look even more speaking than the one Sidony had noted before, and said, “’Tis a good one. Hoists more sail than most men would carry on a boat that size, but she should handle much as a galley does, despite a higher, heavier stem and stern. The central area is similar, and she can carry fifty oarsmen with benches for eight oars on each side. Moreover, she boasts a stern port for loading cargo like some merchant ships. As to Maxwell, I’d say he knows what he’s doing.”

This time it was Adela and Isobel who exchanged glances.

About to demand to know what the others were keeping from her, Sidony saw that Giff was watching her. So, instead, she asked him a question that had been puzzling her since he’d told his story. “Why did those two men attack you, sir?”

He shrugged. “Likely, they mistook me for easy prey.”

She held his gaze. That anyone could think him an easy victim with his sword slung across his back, as she was sure it must have been, was ludicrous. He walked as if he owned the world even without the sword.

With a frown, as if her question had stirred him to think, he said, “Young Jake did say he’d seen them watch me go out to the Dutch vessel and back.”

“Someone may have set them to watch you,” Isobel said.

“But why?” Sidony asked.

“Sakes, I don’t know,” Giff said, then added ruefully, “I should not speak to you so, my lady. Indeed, I would make amends. The afternoon has turned sunny. Will you do me the honor of strolling with me later through the gardens?”

She looked at Isobel, who nodded, then held her breath. But when Adela remained silent, she said, “I would like that, sir, but I would like it even more if you would answer my questions.”

Before he could reply, Adela asked what news he had about English activity in the Borders. “Rob heard that Fife is at outs again with Douglas.”

“How did he hear that?” Giff asked.

“News travels with the wool from the Border monasteries,” Adela said.

“Moreover, if we have heard it, you may be sure the word will soon be all over Scotland,” Isobel said. “Certainly, the Lord of the Isles will know.”

“How?”

Sidony looked at him in surprise. “Why, you should know that we hear everything in the Isles, sir. Our sister Cristina married the good-brother of the Lord High Admiral of the Isles, who is the best-informed man in all Scotland.”

“Aye, he is,” Isobel said. “Lachlan Lubanach has informants everywhere. Little happens anywhere in Scotland that escapes his notice.”

This fruitful topic provided discussion until they had finished their meal. Standing to leave the table, Giff said, “Will you want a cloak, Lady Sidony?”

Her ladyship having disclaimed any need for her cloak despite the thin fabric of her skirt and bodice, Giff ushered her from the dining parlor to a door leading out to the gardens behind the house. As they passed her sisters, Lady Adela murmured, “Do not disappear out there, sir.”

Flashing her a smile, he said, “I have no intention of doing so, madam. But if you are in a rush to return to Lestalric, you need only tell me and we will go at once.”

“Nay,” she said with a fond look at Sidony. “I’m in no hurry.”

Outside with the door shut, Giff put a hand under Sidony’s nearer elbow and guided her toward a more distant path. Several windows overlooked the garden.

“You are very quiet,” he said.

“I want to know something, but I doubt you will tell me.”

He chuckled. “You cannot know until you try me.”

“Very well, then. What secret do you share with Isobel and Adela?”

“What makes you think I share any secret with them?”

“The way you looked at Isobel when she asked if your day had been successful. And again, when she asked what you thought of Fife’s ship.”

“You are observant, lass. Anything more?”

“Aye, sure, the way Isobel and Adela looked at each other when you said Fife’s Captain Maxwell knows his business. Each time it made me feel as if one of you might soon order me off to bed so the grown-ups could talk.”

“That was unkind of us,” he said, shifting his hand from her elbow to her shoulder and pausing on the pebbled path to face her. “Do you want to clout me again? I ken fine that you’ve no fish in hand this time, but . . .”

That drew a smile at least, but she said, “Will you tell me what the three of you know that I do not? Or do you not trust me?”

“Sakes, lass, how can I know if you are trustworthy till I know you better?” When she stiffened, he added hastily, “In troth, you know much of it already.”

“What do I know?”

“I told you I was looking for a ship and would return west when I found one. Thanks to their husbands, your sisters knew I’d had my eye on one in the harbor and was to ride to Leith today to see about hiring or purchasing it.”

In the fading light, her eyes were little more than enlarged black pupils in colorless pools, yet he thought he had never known anyone with eyes so clear or a gaze so steady or so intense.

“I see,” she said. “But why did Isobel care what you thought of Fife’s captain, and why did they look at each other so when you said he knows his business?”

Impulse stirred to say that was his affair, not hers, but instinct warned him that to make a greater mystery of it would just inflame her curiosity.

“I cannot speak for your sisters,” he said, shoving a hand through his hair. “But we have heard that Fife built his ship primarily to make trouble for Henry.”

“Do you know what sort of trouble?”

“We can guess,” he said, wondering how hard she would press him and trying to think what he could say that would not be a blatant snub or untruth.

To his surprise, she nodded and said, “I expect Fife’s intent must be plain enough then, but doubtless we should say no more about that.”

A nervous tickle stirred in his mind. “Why do you say that?”

Her eyes widened. “Sakes, I did suppose that you must be wholly in Hugo’s and Rob’s confidence, and Michael’s, too. Are you not?”

“I am, but I do not know why you should assume that.”

“Because Hugo and Michael sent for you.”

“Aye.” The tickle had become a tingling chill and was spreading. “So . . . ?”

“So one must suppose,” she went on matter-of-factly, “that Fife seeks whatever you and the others found in the gorge, and that you mean to transport it to Girnigoe or somewhere more distant on your journey to the west.”

Giff fought to think. If she had not guessed it all, she had guessed enough to be dangerous. If she knew still more . . . “Does this supposing of yours also suggest to you what that object might be?”

“I should think it must be some part of the treasure.”

As he fought to avoid revealing his shock, she added, “If Fife wants to lay hands on it, he will certainly make a nuisance of himself. Have you considered that the man in black who attacked you with the club might be Fife’s man?”

He had not considered that. He was still struggling to stay calm when what he wanted to do was to shake out of her everything she knew and how she had come to know it. Instead he said, “Why do you suspect that the man serves Fife?”

“Why, because you said Jake Maxwell had seen the men watching you, and Fife’s men do wear black, as he does. Surely you ought to consider the possibility.”

He glanced toward the house.

“Come over here,” he commanded, drawing her into the shadow of a shrub large enough to conceal them. Then, with his hands on her shoulders, meeting her innocent gaze, he said sternly, “What treasure are you talking about?”

She raised her chin but made no effort to free herself. Nor did she reply.

Impatient now, he gave her a shake. “Tell me.”

“Mayhap I should not have mentioned it. I think I should say no more.”

Gripping her shoulders hard enough to make her wince, he said, “Then I’ll carry you straight to Roslin, and you can explain this to Hugo, Rob, and Michael.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Oh, yes, sweetheart, I would. I certainly would.”

Sidony’s heart pounded. She believed him, but she could not decide what to do and wished she had never mentioned the treasure. She had not expected to make him angry, and that she had done so stirred mixed emotions. To a degree, she wanted to placate him, but she found his anger oddly exhilarating, too—so exhilarating that she experienced a curious whim to see what would happen if she defied him.

The result, inevitably, was silence.

“Well?”

“You are bruising my shoulders.”

He released her, but he still stood much too close.

“Step back,” she said. “I can’t think whilst you’re looking about ten feet tall.”

“I’m not moving,” he said. “Which is it to be, to tell me or them? And don’t think I won’t just pick you up, put you over my shoulder, and take you to the stables whilst I saddle my horse—or that your sisters could stop me.”

She shook her head. The more he urged her to decide, the harder it was to think, let alone to make a decision.

“Tell me what you know about the treasure,” he said curtly.

That, being less encompassing, was easier. “Just that Hugo, Michael, Rob, and Henry—and you, I suppose—are guarding one. Also, that Fife wants it.”

“Who told you?”

She hesitated. That was harder to answer, but when he frowned, she said, “No one did, really.”

“Don’t take me for a fool. Someone told you.”

“No, sir. That is, no one told me intentionally,” she added hastily when he gripped her shoulder again. “I just heard them talking.”

“So you listen at doors, do you?”

“I do not!” she said. “They forget I’m there. Even if they remember, they just lower their voices, but I have quick ears. And they soon forget again, anyway.”

“Who is it that you heard?”

Shrugging, she said, “Different ones at different times.” Ticking them off on her fingers, she said, “Isobel, Adela, and Sorcha, of course, but also Michael and Henry.” She thought a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Rob or Hugo—”

“How the devil could you have heard such things from all of the others?”

“I told you, they forget I’m there. You know they do. You’ve made comments yourself about how they do.”

“That was when you disappeared into the garden at Clendenen House soon after you’d angered Hugo, not when you were in the same room with them all.”

“Aye, sure, but they forget whether I’m there or not there. They often make me feel as if no one can see me. I know they don’t mean to, but—”

“Of course, they don’t,” he said. He looked angrier than ever, but strangely, his tone was gentler as he said, “Who else have you told of this treasure, lass?”

“Why, no one,” she said, surprised.

“No one at all? Why did you not talk openly about it with your sisters?”

“Sakes, sir, I still remember the time I repeated something I’d heard my father say when he forgot I was within hearing. He skelped me so hard I could not sit comfortably for a sennight. I was eight. One does not forget such a lesson.”

“Evidently, one also learned to keep as quiet as a mouse when folks were talking secrets.”

“Aye, sure, because people get just as angry being reminded, as if it were my fault they’d forgotten me. And, too, of course, one does like to know things.”

“You’re sure you haven’t said anything about this to anyone else?”

“Who?” she asked. “I would never tell the servants, and in troth, it is better that my sisters not realize how much I have heard them say over the years.”

“Better for whom?” he asked, arching his eyebrows.

But he was no longer so angry, and she felt enormous relief.

Smiling back wistfully, she said, “I just meant that I’m no prattler. You are the first person who has seemed much interested in what I have to say. Now and again, the others ask my opinion of something they have chosen to wear or to serve for guests to eat, but even then, they usually just expect me to say that whatever they have chosen is wonderful and perfect for the occasion.”

She expected him to dismiss that observation, but he did not.

“We’ll walk a little farther, I think,” he said. “I have more to say to you, and although your sisters might think nowt of it if they look out once and don’t see us, if we stay out of sight for long, they will send someone to search for us.”

“Aye,” she said. “I heard what Adela said to you.”

She was not sure she wanted to hear what he would say to her, though.

As they walked, he said soberly, “The others will have to know about this.”

“All of them?”

“The result will be the same whether it is one or all,” he said. “Any of the men would be bound to tell the others, and likely they will all speak to their wives. You must prepare yourself for that.”

She nibbled her lower lip. “Michael may understand, and mayhap Henry, but Hugo won’t, nor Rob. They’ll think Sorcha and Adela were careless.”

“Sakes, lass,” he said impatiently, “they were all careless, the men, too.”

“Aye, sure, but they won’t see it that way. They are much more likely to blame me and my sisters.”

“If they do, they do,” he retorted callously. “That is simply the consequence of your actions and your sisters’ actions.”

“How like a man,” she said scornfully. “Why is it when women do something, it is a fault deserving punishment, but when men do it, it is still the women’s fault?”

“Is that the way you think it is?” He sounded amused.

“Don’t laugh at me! Far too often, that is the way things are.”

He faced her, stopping her in her tracks. “If you believe that,” he said, “then you should take more care to keep out of the path of your kinsmen’s displeasure.”

“I did not do this on purpose! Moreover, although I see that you believe you are obliged to tell them I know, surely you need not tell them how I know.”

“So you would have me lie to them?”

“You don’t have to lie.”

“Then, what would you have me say that would not be a lie when they ask how you came by this knowledge of yours?”

“Oh, well, I do perceive the difficulty when you put it like that, but you will explain to them how it came about, will you not?”

“I’m going to explain something to you, my lady,” he said grimly. “You say you did not do anything on purpose, but you did. You made a purposeful choice to remain right where you were and listen to those conversations.”

“But I couldn’t just—”

“Of course you could,” he said ruthlessly. “You are not a child’s rag doll that has to remain where it is dropped until someone moves it. You are a young woman with a will of her own. Had you acted as you should, you’d have made your presence known the instant you knew the others did not intend their conversation to reach your ears. That’s the plain truth whether you want to hear it or not.”

“You don’t understand!”

“I do understand. You have persuaded yourself that you can’t make decisions, that you do what you do because of the expectations, actions, or wishes of others . . .”

“But—”

“. . . when the truth is that you make choices the same way anyone else does,” he went on. “Every choice is a decision, whether you choose to call it one or not.”

Her face felt hot, and tears sprang to her eyes. “Do you really think that?”

“I know it, and I’ll prove it to you,” he said, woefully oblivious to her distress. “Tell me again how you came to ride to Roslin Gorge yesterday.”

“Just as I told you before,” she said, dashing an arm across her eyes so she could see him better, then wishing she hadn’t, because he looked grim again. “I was going to go to Lestalric as Isobel had suggested, but when I reached the roadway, it just seemed better to go the other way. So, you see, it really wasn’t a decision at all.”

Hoping she had explained it clearly, she tried to read his expression but could detect no hint in it of acceptance.

Giff was doing his best to keep his temper. He could see that she believed what she said, and he knew he had already been hard on her, but he had come to realize that the others in her family had failed her abysmally by not recognizing what she thought of herself—and them—and correcting the errors long before now.

To that end, he said bluntly, “You did not, actually, tell me even that much before. You changed the subject several times, in fact, to avoid answering that question. And now that I hear your answer, I can understand why. I had thought you honest—more honest than most, in fact—but now I wonder.”

This time the tears that welled up spilled over, but he ignored them as he had earlier. It would not do to let them affect him now, or he would fail to make her see what he was certain she could see if she’d just let him explain it to her.

She was biting her lip, struggling to control herself, and he recognized signs of incipient breakdown. That would not do. Hoping he had judged her mettle accurately, he said evenly, “If you cannot control your emotions sufficiently to continue this discussion, perhaps we should go back inside.”

To his relief, her chin came up and she glowered at him. “Say what you will then, sir, although you have already made your low opinion of me quite clear.”

“Don’t be a fool,” he snapped. “If that were true, I’d not waste my time trying to make you understand the error in your thinking.”

She dashed her sleeve across her eyes again and sniffed so much like a child that he nearly put an arm around her to reassure her. He resisted and had his reward a moment later when she wrapped herself in dignity and looked straight at him.

Accusingly, she said, “You just told me you think I’m dishonest.”

“I did not,” he retorted, casting another look at the house and wondering how much more time they would have. “I said I’d noted your honesty. But do you expect me to believe you gave your horse its head yesterday and it just wandered of its own accord up the Canongate, onto the Cowgate, and all the way to the Roslin road?”

“Of course not. But when I realized what I’d done, I just thought that since Isobel would not expect me until supper, it would not make any difference if I rode to Hawthornden to visit Sorcha and . . . and perhaps see you again.”

“But even now, you are suggesting that you did not think any of that until you had already turned toward St. Giles instead of Lestalric,” he said. “So, try this tale of yours again, lass. Why did you turn toward St. Giles in the first place?”

“I just . . .” She grimaced, then visibly remembered something. “I saw Lady Clendenen’s woman talking to one of the gillies on the front step,” she said. “I . . . I was afraid they would tell her ladyship they’d seen me and I’d have to stop and talk. I like her very much,” she added hastily. “But I did not want to talk to anyone. So I suppose I did make a choice. I see that now, but at the time, I did not think it out. I just acted, and I never thought again about seeing them until now.”

He nodded, satisfied. “Now, tell me, if you rode on to see Sorcha or me, why did you turn tail when you did see me with the others in the gorge?”

“I did not turn back because I’d seen you. You know perfectly well that I rode on to Hawthornden. But then I discovered Sorcha had gone to Roslin, and having seen you with Hugo and Rob in the gorge, I thought I’d have to go there to see you, too. But . . .” She paused, then added uneasily, “Well, there was Hugo, but also if I wanted to get back for supper, I had no time for that.”

“Decisions, every one,” he said gently. “You see?”

“If decisions are just choices, then I do,” she said. “I’m not sure that is all there is to them, though. I tend to think of more momentous occasions and the way Sorcha and the others act when they make decisions about what I am to do.”

“I understand that,” he said. “But you need to understand that just making choices, which are decisions, nearly always affects other people. You must face up to that straightaway, too, because as you have realized, some of those people are going to be angry with you—and rightly so.”

“Must you tell Isobel and Adela now, before you tell their husbands?”

“I am not going to tell Isobel or Adela,” he said, remembering that he had already said nearly the same thing that day under very different circumstances.

She reacted much as young Jake had, heaving a sigh of relief as she said, “Thank heaven. I know Michael and Rob will tell them soon enough, and they will be as angry with me then as they would be now, but at least—”

“No, lass,” he said. “You must tell them, and without delay, because if you put it off, you will subject them to what you face, but without benefit of warning.”

She looked stricken but rallied quickly. “I ought to have thought of that,” she said. “How could I not? Have I grown so selfish that I now think only of myself?”

“Much less so than anyone else I know,” he said. “Put your chin in the air again, lass, for I prefer it so. And then we’d better go in before they look for us.”

“Aye, we’d best get it over,” she agreed.

They went to the solar, where they found both sisters sitting cozily near the fire. Giff watched Sidony, expecting her to hesitate with the moment of truth at hand.

But she walked straight in, leaving him at the threshold.

“Did you enjoy your stroll?” Adela asked.

“I have something to say to you, to confess,” Sidony said bluntly.

“Mercy, what?”

“I know about the treasure.”

Giff bit his lip to stifle his amusement. He knew what was coming, and just as he’d expected, Isobel and Adela both turned accusing glares on him.

Eyes shooting sparks at him, Isobel said, “Giff, surely you did not tell her!”

“No, he did not,” Sidony said. “You did.”