Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Rob did not know whether to curse Lady Clendenen, now beaming at them, or kiss her. What he did know was that he should kick himself for his stupidity in imagining that the lass would not recognize his voice straightaway.

His intention had been for Henry to present him to her in full view of an audience so fascinated by his entrance that everyone would think they had just met. And a fine entrance it had been, too, he told himself.

Having contrived his outfit with Henry's generous assistance and the aid of Henry's tailor, he had been very pleased with it. But perhaps because of that confidence, he had not given enough thought or credit to Lady Adela's intelligence. He had likewise underestimated her ability—even in the tumult of the royal court—to recognize a voice she had heard only in the darkness.

But to have made the comment about his father and Will without counting the cost had been a worse mistake. He knew he might well tell her everything in time, but he had hoped to choose that time. It had been foolish to assume he would have that luxury and truly dimwitted to think he could fool her for long.

She then astonished him again, for when Lady Clendenen and de Gredin reached them, she greeted them both warmly, as if she had not been ready to shred his face with her fingernails only ten seconds before.

"I hope we don't intrude, dear ones, and that you'll not be offended, my lord, if I treat you as one of my family," Lady Clendenen said. Without waiting for a reply, she went on, "I wanted to tell you that Isabella is talking with Donald of the Isles now. But she will soon be ready to depart. I thought you might like me to present you to her before then, my lord, to refresh her memory of you."

"I thank you for your kindness, madam," Rob said, affecting the flat, higher-pitched tone again, albeit softening the assumed accent and taking good care not to look at Adela. He felt instinctively that she would maintain her composure more easily if he did not catch her eye. He wondered, though, if either Lady Clendenen or the irritating de Gredin had noticed the increased color in her cheeks.

Glancing at the latter, he saw only that the insolent dog was gazing at her.

"Sakes, but I'm remiss in my duty, my lord," Lady Clendenen said. "I ought to have presented my cousin, Chevalier de Gredin, to you at once. Pray, forgive me."

Rob nodded when de Gredin looked at him, deciding to take an aloof tone with the slink rather than a friendly one. See how he likes that, he thought.

He did not trust the chevalier, but if he had had to explain his distrust, he knew he would be hardpressed to provide a good reason. His instincts had served him excellently over the years, though. He would not ignore them now.

No sooner had de Gredin murmured a polite greeting than her ladyship said, "I warrant Etienne must be a cousin of sorts to you, too, sir, since you are both kin to me. In troth, I think every Scottish nobleman must be kin to every other one."

"Do you think so?" Rob asked. "I imagine not every-one would be so delighted to hear that as one might think."

Her eyes twinkled. "Indeed, you have the right of it, for I can promise you, I never mention to anyone that our poor Lady Ardelve's abductor was another cousin of mine. And only think how repugnant to have to admit kinship with the upstart—"

"Take care, madam," Rob interjected hastily as her ladyship's gaze drifted toward the royal dais. He grinned as if they shared a joke but said earnestly, "Say naught here that you do not want to hear repeated in every household in town."

"I fear that is most unfortunately so, cousin," de Gredin said, also smiling.

Her expression now rueful, Lady Clendenen turned to Adela and said, "They are right, my dear. I should not have said a word, but sometimes my tongue rattles like a clapdish. It does not do to offend folks with the powers of pit and gallows, though. And in this room, that includes half the men and more women than one might think."

"Mercy, madam," Adela said, flicking a glance at Rob. "You terrify me."

De Gredin said, "A royal court can be a dangerous place for one who lacks experience with powerful men, my lady. However, my own experience with such people is great, and I am ever at your service. Do not hesitate to command me."

"Thank you, sir," she said, shooting another glance at Rob.

His usually glib tongue failed him. He would have liked to make a brilliant remark to impress her and disarm de Gredin. But before he could think of one, the latter said ruefully, "I fear my cousin exaggerates our relationship, Sir Robert. I am but distant kin to her, so I doubt I'd claim any connection to your family."

"Don't expect me to tell you," Rob said, recovering. "My father said I had no family pride. I do, of course. Who would not, given my ancestors' heroism at Bannockburn and afterward? Even so, one hesitates to boast of one's ancestors lest others expect one to act as they did. Don't you agree?"

De Gredin grinned. "I do see your point, sir. But to have won your spurs as young as I'm told you did, you must have proven yourself with a sword."

"The merest slicer," Rob said modestly with silent apologies to Sir Edward as he wondered who de Gredin's informant had been. "I'm told one must practice daily to remain skilled, and I've been away for years. Fell out of the habit, I'm afraid."

The smile this information elicited from de Gredin was a superior one, and seeing it, Rob congratulated himself. It would do no harm for de Gredin to believe himself the more skilled of the two with a weapon in hand—not, in any event, when the time came to test that skill, as Rob rather hoped it would.

Donald of the Isles took formal leave of his grandfather, the King, a short time later amidst great fanfare.

Since Donald habitually wore no hat when he came to court—a ploy learned from his father to avoid having to remove it in the King's presence—no part of that leave-taking ceremony suggested aught but that the two men were of equal stature. The elder was King of Scots, the younger King of the Isles.

That, as Adela knew, was how all Islesmen and Highlanders viewed Donald, whom they called MacDonald. There could be only one MacDonald at a time, but there were Stewarts aplenty, as many illegitimate as legitimate. Moreover, the King apparently took no notice of which was which.

All of his many offspring considered themselves of royal blood, entitled to royal privileges. However, not only were the Stewarts a younger clan than most in the Isles and elsewhere, but their surname derived from their hereditary position as royal stewards. The present King's father had served Robert the Bruce so, and the King himself had served the grandson who succeeded Bruce. When the latter died without issue, Robert the Steward inherited by Bruce's own order, his claim sustained by the Scottish Parliament if not by most Scottish nobility. He had reigned now for nine years and had consistently proven himself a better Steward than King.

What Adela had seen of his court so far did not speak well of the vast family. Nonetheless, she reserved her opinion, knowing her elder sister, Cristina, was well acquainted with the King's daughter, Princess Margaret Stewart, widow of the first Lord of the Isles and mother of the present one. And Cristina liked the princess.

Adela watched MacDonald's entourage gather around him and parade from the room, but if her opinion of the Stewarts sank more when the princes at the high table went back to their dicing and drinking before MacDonald had left the hall, every other part of her remained intensely aware of Sir Robert of Lestalric.

He stood silently not two paces away with the equally silent Lady Clendenen and de Gredin flanking him.

Although Adela dared not look at him, she sensed that he was as powerfully aware of her as she was of him. Energy flowed between them and had done so from the moment Lady Clendenen and de Gredin had interrupted their conversation at so illchosen a moment. Adela found the strain of having to greet them politely and continue to behave in a civil manner nearly unbearable when what she wanted to do was to drag Sir Robert of Lestalric outside by an ear and have it out with him.

That thought, flitting through her mind, nearly made her smile, but she wondered at herself, too, because the thought was alien, the sort of thing that might occur to someone else but never to the woman she had become in the past weeks. It reminded her of angry moments in the past with Sorcha, a past that seemed eons before her abduction. At least, it had seemed so during recent weeks.

She had been in control of a large household and of herself in that long ago time, easily able to control her younger sister Sidony, nearly always able to manage their father, and even to guide if not always control the headstrong Sorcha. But of late, she had felt as if she controlled no portion of her life or of herself.

How the change had occurred she could not have said, but her reaction to Sir Robert's deceit—indeed, to the man himself—had been more like the old Adela. As for the energy surging through her, urging her to take him to task and hinting that she would thoroughly enjoy doing so, that was energy she had not felt under any circumstance for years, if ever. So strong was it that she had scarcely noticed Lady Clendenen's mention of Waldron. Her ladyship might have spoken of anyone at all.

"Doubtless this gathering will grow rowdier now that Donald has gone," Isabella said, rejoining them as the last man in the parade of Islesmen left the hall. "I mean to leave, as well, but Henry has offered to arrange an escort for me if you want to remain, Ealga, so—"

"Mercy, no," Lady Clendenen said with a laugh. "The only folks who should linger are those who want to drink and carouse with Fife and his cronies. Those women yonder amongst the players are already behaving in a manner that I find unnerving." Turning to Sir Robert, she said, "As much as I wish we need not say goodnight so soon after making your acquaintance, sir, I believe we must do so before Lady Ardelve encounters any of the worst offenders."

"I, too, mean to depart, madam," Sir Robert said. "Henry has offered me a bed at Sinclair House tonight, and his people know me, so if he does not mean—"

"He will go, too," Isabella said. "He said he hopes to converse with you before you retire, since you mean to go early in the morning."

"Oh, no," Lady Clendenen protested. "You must not leave Edinburgh before we come to know you better, sir. I'd hoped you would do me the honor to dine with Lady Ardelve and me tomorrow before we return here for the evening festivities."

Certain that the baron had no intention of leaving, Adela felt no surprise when he said mildly, "Nay, my lady. I go only to attend to duties of my new position. I've not seen Lestalric for nearly a decade, you see, so I mean to have a look at the place tomorrow."

"Then, mayhap you would deign to take supper with us at Clendenen House," she said hopefully. Glancing at her cousin, she said, "De Gredin, I include you in my invitation, too. You gentlemen will do as you like afterward, of course. I prefer to enjoy the court at suppertime or earlier. To my mind, the activities grow less enjoyable afterward. But we need not come here every day."

Isabella smiled at Adela and said, "I believe you have not visited Holyrood Abbey, my dear. You should make a point of seeing it whilst you are here."

Adela wondered at the apparent non sequitur, but Sir Robert said, "Aye, you should, Lady Ardelve. Lestalric lies not far from the abbey. Perhaps we can arrange a riding party if Lady Clendenen or the countess would condescend to lend us an air of respectability. Indeed, I'd be delighted if you all would join me."

De Gredin chuckled. "Take care, my lord, for I'll wager they think you mean tomorrow. And they may well expect that invitation to include me, although I doubt that was your intent."

"You malign me, monsieur," the baron said instantly. "I'd be honored if everyone joined me tomorrow. Such a party would vastly improve a day I had expected to be filled with duty and despair. I fear Lestalric, once a fine property, may have been neglected in past years. I'm told my brother stayed there when the royal court was in Edinburgh, but my father preferred Logan House."

"Logan House?" Adela said, looking sharply at him.

"Aye, my lady," he said with a wary look that she knew was for her alone. "'Tis my family's fortalice in the Pentland Hills."

"Then Logan is your surname?"

"Aye, and so the lord chamberlain did announce me." He watched her intently now.

"I recall that," Adela said. "At the time, though, I did not realize—"

But Isabella interrupted to say, "Do I understand, sir, that you are inviting us all to ride with you to Lestalric and perhaps to the abbey tomorrow?"

He smiled. "To be sure, Countess, if would please you."

"I shall have to take it under consideration," she said with an answering gleam of humor. "I'd intended to stay only a day or two to see Donald. And as he is departing for Glasgow in the morning, to take ship to Isla, I had nearly decided to return to Roslin tomorrow."

"Faith, Isabella," Lady Clendenen protested. "You've just arrived! Moreover, you brought enough baggage for a month!"

"Aye, I did, but I mean to spend more time here after Henry returns to Orkney. I brought much of what I'll need then this time. Our Isobel does not mean to leave Roslin whilst her bairn is so small, though, and I want to spend time with them, too. I warrant you'll all get on well enough without me."

"What would you like to do, Lady Ardelve?" Sir Robert asked, surprising her. She had been wondering only if the others would decide to go with him or not.

When her startled gaze met his warm one, Adela knew she was blushing. "I expect I'll do whatever the others choose," she said, hoping she sounded cool but not as if her words dripped icicles. "I am her ladyship's guest, after all."

"We shall be delighted to go with you, sir," Lady Clendenen said instantly.

When his lips twitched, Adela's earlier anger stirred and she wrenched her gaze away from his lest she reveal it to the others and create one of those dreadfully uncomfortable moments she loathed so much when others created them.

"Perhaps I should fetch Henry now," Sir Robert said.

"Quite unnecessary," Isabella said. "Henry walked outside with MacDonald's entourage. He said he would call up Lady Clendenen's coach and meet us at the gate tower. How did you come here tonight, Lestalric?"

Adela glanced back at him the moment his attention shifted to the countess. She thought she saw his look of amusement return, and he continued to affect the silly accent he had been using as he said, "I rode my horse, Countess. I don't trust contraptions like her ladyship's coach. Enough to rattle one's teeth from one's head, I should think. What think you, de Gredin?"

"As I've rooms here in the Castle, I need not think of coaches at all," de Gredin said, smiling. "But, as to comfort, I am in full agreement with you."

"Will you walk out with us then, sir?" Sir Robert asked. "I doubt I can provide escort for three such enticing females by myself. More likely, I shall be overwhelmed by eager swains determined to cut me out."

"I'll go with you, and willingly," de Gredin said.

"How kind you are, my dear chevalier," Isabella said. "Will you lend me the support of your arm? I find some of the passageways here quite treacherous underfoot. Do not you find them so, Ealga? Mayhap you should take his other arm. Adela will not mind walking with Lestalric."

De Gredin had turned toward Adela, but he held out his arm at once for the countess. If a cloud of disappointment flitted across his brow as she offered the other one to Lady Clendenen, he recovered speedily.

"Don't glower at me, lass," Sir Robert murmured in his normal accent as the other three preceded them from the hall. "Some caperwitted dafty will draw his sword to protect you, and I'll have to slay him."

"I'll glower if I want to," she muttered back. "If I have to pretend to be in charity with you much longer, sir, I shall lose my temper completely."

"And doubtless will feel much better for the losing of it," he said. "Watch your step here. It's one of the uneven bits that annoy the countess. If you won't take my arm, at least do me the courtesy of remaining upright until you are safe inside her ladyship's coach. Consider my reputation as a cavalier."

Seeing nothing to gain by trying to explain why losing her temper would not make her feel better, she said instead, tersely, "What happened to Einar Logan?"

"I'll tell you all I can of what you want to know, but not here and not now," he said firmly. "If you will resist persuading the countess or Lady Clendenen to forbid our outing tomorrow, I will contrive a way to speak privately with you then. Mayhap we can arrange enough time for a full explanation."

"But you did say that Logan is your family name."

"You ken fine that I did," he said, looking into her eyes.

"Is Einar Logan a kinsman?"

"Most Logans are kinsmen to each other, lass, but I'll answer your questions tomorrow as well as I can. For now, recall that this castle has ears everywhere. I do not make a gift of my private affairs to just anyone."

"I must know one more thing, sir."

"What is it?"

"Is Einar still alive?"

He hesitated, then said, "Aye, and that's all I'll say about that now."

She wanted to ask why he had hesitated, but although the annoying voice in her head insisted it was an indication that he had lied to her, she could not make herself believe it. She had known liars—not many, to be sure, for most Highland folk, noble or not, disdained lies. They would occasionally equivocate, though, and she had the distinct impression that he was equivocating now.

But evasion was not lying. And although his behavior gave her furiously to think, she no longer feared for Einar's safety. Not only had Hugo said he was safe, but now Sir Robert had said he was alive. So he was, for the moment at least.

Outside, in the torchlit, misty dampness of the inner courtyard, they found the coach and Henry. To her surprise, he waited not only with Lestalric's horse but with another for himself.

"Borrowed it from the royal stable," he said with one of his happy grins. "Your coach is a handsome vehicle, Ealga, but my backside is bruised from my shoulders to my knees. And my head still aches from a clout against the roof."

"You talk a deal of nonsense, sir," Lady Clendenen said roundly. "You were wearing your hat, so if anything got clouted it was not your handsome head. By all means, though, ride with Lestalric. That will leave more room for us."

They bade goodnight to de Gredin and climbed into the coach, where Adela found herself much more comfortably seated than before between the countess and her hostess. The two older women chatted amiably, leaving her alone with her thoughts and a tingling awareness of Lestalric riding only yards away.

Once Rob and Henry were mounted, Rob let him lead the conversation, which he did easily, discussing members of the royal court and the apparent rapid deterioration of the King's mental and physical faculties.

"I'm glad he recognized you," Henry said as they passed through the gate into the tunnel beneath the tower and the heavy iron portcullis that guarded it.

"Do you think I look so much like my grandfather?" Rob asked.

"Sakes, I barely remember him," Henry said. "Only met him once unless we count visits he must have made to Roslin when I was a child. But I don't recall those. Your father visited more often, but he never came after you left home."

"I warrant he feared you'd want to know why I'd left," Rob said. "He'd not have liked explaining that, I think. Not to you or to Sir Edward."

"He'd have known we'd side with you, all of us at Roslin," Henry agreed. "He must have guessed we'd hear your side of it, too."

They were silent for a while after that. But when the coach had drawn a short distance ahead, Rob said, "I invited them all to make up a riding party tomorrow when I visit Lestalric. We may stop at Holyrood, too."

"An excellent notion," Henry said. "It will provide a measure of protection for you without endangering them if you do have enemies about looking to put you in your grave. Do you want me to go along?"

"In troth, I'd as lief no one go with me but Lady Ardelve."

Henry glanced sharply at him. "Like that, is it?"

"Sakes, I don't even know what dangers lie ahead," Rob said. "I cannot deny that she attracts me as no lass has before, but I need to get my feet on the ground at Lestalric before I do aught else. So I'm not going to make the poor lass an offer she's certainly not eager to receive from any man right now. She's had a blow—nay, two heavy blows! First, the damnable abduction and your cousin Waldron terrifying her all the way from the High-lands to Lothian. Then Ardelve falling over dead beside her. Has it occurred to you that his death may be questionable?"

"Are you asking if I think someone murdered the man?"

"I expect I am. Someone murdered my father and Will, did they not? What if a connection exists somehow betwixt their deaths and Ardelve's?"

"Such as what?"

Rob shrugged. "I don't know. He was only here because of Adela. What if they connected her abduction to Waldron's search for the treasure and wanted to prevent her from returning to the Highlands before they could question her?"

"That's possible, but with Waldron dead, I cannot think who such an enemy might be. No one outside the Order and my family knows that the treasure exists."

"Not so," Rob said. "Waldron knew, and when we rescued Adela, the glen was alive with our men and his. Most of them can't know what we have, but they must guess we have something to protect. And, thanks to my ready tongue years ago and Will's penchant for boasting, I'd wager that a number of people know the Logans guard a secret. What if someone thinks we all know the same one?"

Henry grimaced. "I'd meant to ride to Roslin before I leave for the north, as I'm sure my mother will expect if she does go home soon," he said. "But perhaps I'll put that off and ride with you when you go to Hawthornden. I'll wager you're right in thinking that's the most likely place for your grandfather to have concealed whatever it is. I can easily get to my maps from there, too, if we need them."

"Are they at Roslin?" Rob asked.

"Aye, a good many from the chest are. Have I ever shown them to you?"

"Nay, ye ken fine I've got nowt to do wi' old maps and such, me lord," Rob said in the accent he had favored during his self-exile.

Henry chuckled. "You made a fine serving knight, my friend. I like my comforts too much to have ever done what you did, but you seemed to enjoy it."

"Most of the time," Rob said with a wry smile. "I like the life, and Hugo was easier on me than Sir Edward was on any of us at Dunclathy."

"Tell me more about this business with Adela," Henry said a moment later. "If you don't mean to offer for the lass, what are your intentions?"

"Presently, I hope to reassure her," Rob said. "But to do that, I'll need time alone with her without risk of interruption. The devil of it is how to contrive that without further endangering her reputation. Her abduction did enough damage without my making it worse."

"Aye," Henry said. "I noticed a few black looks cast her way tonight. I know Mother urged her to accept Ealga Clendenen's invitation, but this may be dangerous territory for her. What with that unholy litter of Stewarts clawing at each other for status if not power, and with Fife determined to rule them all despite Carrick's being rightful heir, the ground is riddled with pitfalls for the unwary."

"True," Rob said. "But I can do nowt about that. Also, Henry, she's a bit peevish on the subject of Einar Logan."

Henry choked back a laugh. "Why would she be?"

Rob lifted his chin. "She says she's grateful for his assistance in rescuing her, and—" He remembered his resolution not to betray her, then recalled as well that he'd told her to tell Hugo what she had overheard. Certain she must have done so, he said, "She heard me tell Hugo we'd have to put an end to the fellow."

Henry laughed.

"You may think it's funny," Rob said with a sigh. "But I promise you the lady Adela does not. Nor, I'm sure, will she find it amusing to hear the truth."

"You mean to tell her, then."

"I do," Rob said. "May heaven aid me."

Henry frowned, then said, "I have so far found the Macleod sisters to be completely trustworthy, and I have no reason to believe otherwise of Adela. If anything, she is steadier of temperament and certainly less likely than either Isobel or Sorcha to act impulsively. But have you considered that by appearing to develop an interest in her you might be marking her as a target for your enemies?"

"That did occur to me," Rob admitted. "But I don't know how to prevent that, Henry, and I've promised to be as frank with her as I can be."

"I see. Then I'll say no more about it."

Rob wished he could believe him, but having a pretty clear notion of what Henry was thinking and not at all sure he was wrong, he said nothing.