Chapter 17

Sir Michael Sinclair arrived at Roslin an hour after darkness, while everyone still lingered at the supper table. At Hugo's suggestion, they had not set up the privacy screens, so they were able to see Michael as he strode into the hall and thrust whip, gloves, and cloak at a gillie who hurried to assist him.

"Where is she?" Michael demanded as soon as he saw Hugo.

It was Isabella, however, who said, "Where else should she be but in her bedchamber with my new grandson, Michael? Have you forgotten your courtesy in your great rush?"

He smiled, made a perfunctory bow, kissed her, and greeted Sir Edward. Nodding to Sorcha and Sidony, he added, "Good evening to you, too, but I hope you will all forgive me if I do not linger. I want to see Isobel and our wee son."

"Shall I order a tray for you there, or will you join us after you have admired him and tucked up your lady for the night?" Isabella asked.

"I suppose I ought to come down," he said with reluctance, looking at Hugo. "I warrant we have much to discuss."

"Aye," Hugo agreed.

"Then order more food," Michael said, casting an eye over the table, which by then was nearly empty of platters and bowls. "And fetch out the best claret, too."

Grinning, Hugo sent a gillie to the kitchen and another to fetch the wine.

As Michael strode to the stairway corridor, Sorcha said casually to Hugo, "I'd like more of the wine in that jug by your elbow, sir, if any remains."

Since he had sent the gillies away, he rose to pour it for her himself, catching her eye as he did. "Don't expect to gain much by lingering, Skelpie," he said with a teasing smile. "We'll not invite you to take part in our conversation."

"I did not expect that, sir," she said with airy dignity. "That my safety and Sidony's may be at risk because we do not know what is going on or what your cousin can hope to accomplish is of no account to me whatsoever."

She saw him hesitate and knew a brief hope that he would see the danger to her and to Sidony as sufficient reason to explain everything, just as Michael had done for Isobel.

But Hugo only gave a slight shake of his head as if to clear it before he said, "You will be at no risk, lass, if you stay inside the castle walls as I bade you. Do you mean to join us for our talk, sir?" he asked Sir Edward.

"I doubt you need me," Sir Edward said. "Moreover, I have promised to give the countess a game of chess. Shall we adjourn to your solar, madam, or play here?"

Resisting a strong temptation to get up and pour her wine over Hugo's head, Sorcha followed Sir Edward's gaze to Isabella and met a shrewd look from the countess. Feeling heat in her cheeks, she raised her chin and told herself not to be a noddy, that most likely the countess knew no more than she did about any of it.

Isabella shifted her attention to Sir Edward again, saying with a slight smile, "I am thinking Michael and Hugo should talk in the solar, whilst you and I stay here, sir. They will not want to talk out here, but they may want to confer with you. If so, it will prove more convenient for all of us if they need only step out here rather than return here from Hugo's chamber or some other. Moreover, when Michael returns, if they serve him in the solar, he and Hugo can begin their talk straightaway, thereby allowing him to return to his wife and child the sooner."

Hugo nodded. "As always, madam, your suggestion is an excellent one."

Thus, when Michael returned, his supper awaited him in the solar, and he and Hugo adjourned there. As they left the dais, Sir Edward asked Isabella with a laugh if the chessboard and pieces were not stored in the solar, and when she agreed that they were, he followed the other two inside.

He returned moments later with the board and a wooden box. Removing the pieces from it, he began arranging them on the board's inlaid-leather squares.

Sidony cast a pleading look at Sorcha, who said at once, "Pray, excuse us, madam. We'll leave you to your game, and visit Isobel and our nephew now."

"Don't stay long," Isabella said, her attention already on the board. "New mothers and their bairns need their sleep."

Hurrying up the stairway, Sorcha stopped at the half-landing and told Sidony to go ahead without her. "I'll join you in a few moments, but I've just thought of something I want to do first."

Sidony nodded and, as usual, displayed no curiosity. As soon as she had disappeared around the next curve, Sorcha peered down the stairway to be sure she was alone, then turned to the door in its tiny recess. Half expecting to find it locked, she was delighted when the latch lifted easily and silently. The door swung inward.

When she shut the door, the tiny chamber was dark inside except for a dim, rectangular glow revealing the laird's peek. It was about six inches wide, perhaps two in height, and a good inch or more above her head when she stood on tiptoe.

Cursing herself for not finding time before to examine it, especially since she could hear only the murmur of their voices and not make out one word they said, she groped for one wall of the chamber and bent to feel about on the floor. When her hands met rough-covered padding, then the wooden frame and legs of a footstool or prayer stool, she gave mental thanks to Isobel, certain her older sister's insatiable curiosity was responsible for the stool's presence.

Taking care to move silently, she set the stool below the peek and stood on it to find that it provided an excellent view of the solar. The gillies had set a table for Michael's supper near the small fireplace, and Hugo sat opposite him. She could see them both clearly. Even better, she could make out what Hugo was saying.

Knowing Michael would not want to discuss anything until he had heard whatever Hugo could tell him that Isobel had not about how he had found her and delivered her baby, Hugo tried to explain it briefly.

Michael listened with his usual patience, although his interest in Sorcha was clearly as nothing to his interest in his wife and child. And Hugo found it hard to omit his frequent irritation with Sorcha. Noting distinct signs of amusement in his cousin, he strove to limit his complaints and did so easily when he began to describe the events in the clearing near Ratho.

"Sorcha was most helpful to us both," he admitted at the end. "But to have set out alone, knowing she risked the same fate as the lad she had persuaded to go with them, was both dangerous and foolhardy. She can be glad her father did not accompany you tonight, for if I were he—"

"I know that feeling," Michael interjected. " 'Tis why I was glad to leave Isobel at Lochbuie, where I thought she would be safe. If I were to learn that she—"

"She did naught to deserve censure," Hugo said quickly. "She believes it was the wicked abbot's men who captured her as she returned to the castle after bidding you farewell." He sighed, adding ruefully, "To be fair, I should also say that had Sorcha not been so impulsive, I would not have reached Isobel in time."

Michael nodded, but Hugo had reminded himself with his own words that Michael's own father had married a woman also prone to impulse.

"Your mother, as you might surmise, is wroth with Waldron," he said. "She has commanded him to present himself here and explain himself. I think I have persuaded her not to confront him if he fails to obey her."

"Faith, she summoned him here?"

"She sent a message this afternoon and was prepared to confront him at Edgelaw if he ignored it. I think my father's presence may have helped persuade her to listen to reason."

"Aye, well, she has great respect for him, as we all do."

"Did you know that Waldron holds Edgelaw only at her pleasure?"

"I never thought about it," Michael said. "But I do seem to recall now that it is mentioned amongst my parents' marriage settlements."

Hugo grimaced. "I ought to have realized how it is. But she and Henry hold joint baron's courts, both here and in the north, and I tend to forget that she wields the same powers in Strathearn and Caithness that he wields in Orkney, except for the power to coin her own money. I suppose I just assumed that he controlled all the estates and gave her free rein over Strathearn and Caithness when both he and you are absent. In any event, she means to evict him if he does not come here."

"I trust you mean Waldron and not Henry," Michael said with a grin that faded as he added, "This could complicate matters for us here Tuesday night if Waldron decides to slip men into the glen to keep a watch on her."

"Aye, it could," Hugo said. "I've set extra guards, and I've also let it be known that I mean to be away only the one night. That in itself may present a problem since the moon will rise early Tuesday. I'd as lief that no watcher see me leave again so soon after my return from Edinburgh."

"Use the tunnel," Michael recommended.

"I'm thinking I'll have to, although I don't like to do so at such an hour, when anyone guarding the entrance is more likely to draw attention to it. Also, we had hoped the moonlight would make matters easier for those who come here, but if Waldron sets watchers, it may—" Breaking off, he fought a sudden, compelling urge to look up at the west wall of the solar and added hastily, "—not do that."

He knew Michael had caught the slight hesitation, and as their eyes met, Hugo reached for the wine jug and poured wine into his own still-half-full goblet.

Michael said, "Do you think you might bestir yourself to find someone to refill that jug? I want to finish this excellent mutton before it gets cold."

"Aye, sure," Hugo replied, standing. "I'll return shortly," he added as he strode quickly to the door.

Sorcha, too, had discerned Hugo's hesitation and knew with a sudden, panic-stricken certainty that he had felt her watching them. Swiftly, she bent to replace the stool, then straightened to feel for the door latch. Lifting it as quietly as she could, knowing he would not pause to shout for wine or anything else, she slipped out of the chamber, shut the door, snatched up her skirts, and fled upstairs to Isobel's room.

Stopping just outside it, she drew a breath to steady her pulse, listening hard for the slightest sound of his approach. Hearing none, she opened the door and stepped inside, smiling at the tender scene before her.

Both Sidony and Isobel sat on Isobel's bed, gazing at the sleeping baby in Isobel's arms. He held his tiny hands clasped beneath his rounded chin.

Sidony put a finger to her lips, murmuring, "We wondered where you'd disappeared to. But come and look at this precious wee laddie, won't you? Isobel says they mean to name him tomorrow before Michael has to leave again."

Sorcha pulled a stool near the bed and sat down, smiling at the baby and hoping both of her sisters would believe he held her full attention, although her ears strained for the first hint of Hugo's footsteps. She had no doubt that he would come.

They were discussing the naming ceremony when the light rap on the door interrupted Isobel. "Who can that be?" she said. "Michael would not knock."

"Sidony, go and see," Sorcha said.

She did so, opening the door to Hugo. "Good evening, sir," she said. "Our wee lad is sleeping, but if you've come to see him, I know that you are welcome."

"Aye, sure," Isobel said, smiling at him. "Come in, Hugo."

Hugo was looking at Sorcha with an intensity that sent heat to her cheeks. But it stirred heat in other places, too, allowing her to hope he would think her merely discomposed by his entrance into her sister's bedchamber.

Realizing he was unlikely to believe such discomposure could last long with her, she lifted her chin defiantly and said in what she hoped would pass for a sweet voice, "I wager Michael will be here soon if your conversation has ended, sir. 'Tis fortunate for you that you can claim two such fine chaperones, is it not?"

His eyes narrowed, but he shifted his gaze to Isobel and said, "He won't come straightaway, my lady, for we have more yet to discuss. I came up for another purpose and thought I should let you know that he may be longer than you'd expected. I'm glad to see that your sisters are still here with you."

Isobel thanked him, but when he left the room and shut the door, she shifted her gaze to Sorcha and said sternly, "I saw that look he gave you. So I'm guessing you're lucky he does not know you just came in here. Just what mischief have you been up to now?"

Sorcha shrugged. "I cannot think why you should believe I have been up to anything. Will the babe's naming ceremony be directly after breakfast?"

Isobel held her gaze a moment longer, then agreed that it would be and added that Michael had declared they would hold the ceremony in the bedchamber as tradition demanded. "Thus, Father will have naught to complain about," she added with a smile. "His new grandson will not leave this room before he is properly baptized, to tempt any wicked fairy to make off with him."

If she retained her suspicions of Sorcha, she said no more about them, and Sorcha escaped with Sidony before Michael came upstairs.

Bidding Sidony goodnight at her bedchamber, Sorcha could not resist slipping back down to the chamber on the half-landing again. Making certain no one was nearby on the stairs, she opened the door again and slipped inside, shutting it behind her. The intense blackness of the room threatened to swallow her, and she quickly opened the door again. Someone had pushed cloth of some sort into the laird's peek, and she had no doubt who had done it or that he was at that very moment watching from below to see if it moved by so much as a hair's breadth.

That she had learned so little was frustrating. That he undoubtedly suspected her might prove unfortunate, but she doubted that he would ask her if she had been watching them. For one thing, he could not be sure unless it occurred to him to ask her sister Isobel that she even knew the laird's peek existed. And he certainly would not want to be the one to inform her of it.

Shutting the door, she went to her bedchamber, where she idled away the few minutes before Kenna came to help her prepare for bed by wondering where the tunnel that Hugo had mentioned might lie. She wondered, too, what mischief he and Michael had planned for Tuesday night that a full moon could reveal to someone from whom they had expected to stay hidden.

"Who was at the peek?" Michael asked when Hugo returned. "Please tell me it was not Isobel."

"I cannot say for certain that anyone was there," Hugo said. "Instinct tells me someone was, and that it was that skelpie Sorcha. But instinct is not evidence, and I found none. I found all three of them together with the bairn."

"I see that you did take the precaution of stuffing the hole with a white cloth," Michael said, grinning. "We ought to have thought of that when we realized that closing off this part of the hall put the laird's peek over the solar, but since no one uses the peek now, I expect everyone forgot. I did until you reacted as you did."

"Aye, well, one does not expect to find spies in the walls here," Hugo said. "Also, we have not used this room for private talks before. I did think about the peek when my aunt invited me here to discuss confronting Waldron, but I felt no such threat then. I certainly did tonight."

"I, too, had a brief sense of being watched but dismissed it. As you say, one does not expect spies to hover about here the way they might elsewhere."

"If we have spies here, I do not know them," Hugo said. "And since our indoor servants are all local folk with strong loyalty to Roslin, the Sinclairs, and to me, I think we can eliminate that possibility. Our men-at-arms have all been tested often. If I trust some more than others, 'tis because of a greater level of skill rather than matters of integrity or loyalty."

"Aye," Michael agreed. After a pause, he added with a reflective look, "A point has occurred to me that you may find interesting."

"What?"

"Lady Adela's would-be bridegroom accompanies his grace's cavalcade. Ardelve arrived at Lochbuie with Macleod's second boat when it returned. He's announced that he, too, means to support his grace in Edinburgh."

"And why, pray tell, did you think I should find that interesting?"

"I just thought it might. Another matter that I hope will interest you is that we're going to name the lad in the morning. I'd like you to stand gosti for him."

"Aye, sure," Hugo said, truly pleased. "You honor me. As to Tuesday night, you'll be with the others, and my father as well, so I think I will sup here and use the tunnel. That will draw less curiosity at this end than if I were to ride out again after dark. I'm guessing your mother will have heard from Waldron by then, too, and if he defies her, as I warrant he will, she is going to press for action."

"Aye, sure, she will, and 'tis a wonder you were able to persuade her to delay it until then. Are you sure you succeeded?"

"She gave me her word," Hugo said. "Sorcha did, too. Both promised not to leave the castle without first consulting me."

Michael nodded. "Mother won't break her word."

"I hope Sorcha won't, either," Hugo said. The instinct that rarely failed him when it came to reading people had so far remained utterly mute on that point.

The following morning emerged from darkness in new curtains of mist above a milky fog that hovered close to the river, muffling its sound. Drifting wisps of gray and white settled like veils over treetops or nested amid the shrubbery.

Wanting exercise after a day spent almost entirely withindoors, Sorcha dressed herself before Kenna came to her chamber. Then she threw on her cloak, hurried downstairs, and came face-to-face with Hugo as she entered the hall.

He greeted her with a look that was half smile, half frown.

Thinking he would demand to know where she was going, she forestalled him by saying, "I want to walk outside. I've been lying awake this past hour, and I want fresh air and exercise. I am not accustomed to being caged."

"I'll go with you," he said promptly. "We must not stay out long, though. The countess rises early, and as soon as we all break our fast, Michael and Isobel want to hold the bairn's naming ceremony."

She nearly told him she would prefer to walk by herself but resisted, knowing perfectly well that she wanted nothing of the sort. If all went as she hoped, he was unlikely to invite her to walk with him again, because Adela would be free as soon as the countess dealt with the horrid Waldron.

Outside, the mist spilled around corners and over the walls of the courtyard. It was the clinging sort, made up of droplets so tiny they lacked weight enough to fall, so they stuck to one's eyelashes and kissed one's cheeks.

In the northeast corner, the tall lantern tower seemed to disappear in a dense cloud of the stuff, and the flagstones beneath Sorcha's feet felt slick with it as she walked. But she did not mind the damp. Nor was she chilled, because as usual when Hugo was beside her, she could feel warmth radiating from his body.

It occurred to her that such a mist could hide many things, even men. "Does this mist not make it difficult to guard the castle?" she asked.

"The safest way onto the promontory is over that treacherously narrow land bridge to the gate," he said. "Few men are brave enough to risk it without being able to see exactly where they are. Even if they make it to the gates, only a few can stand there. They could not position a ramming party, for example, nor could anyone easily breach our walls. Not only is Henry extending them considerably, as you know, but the new curtain wall stands outside the old one."

"But the new wall is not finished. What about an approach from the north?"

"The castle sits on the highest part of the promontory, and the hills to the north are rugged and heavily forested, as is the glen. So even in a much thicker mist, we're safe enough here. Today, I have lads in the forest and along the rim of the glen, watching and listening for trouble. The mist conceals them, too."

"You're leaving today," she said and was surprised to hear in her voice the sadness she had felt since waking.

He reached for her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, drawing her closer as he said, "Michael and I, and my father, will ride to Edinburgh this afternoon to meet Ranald and the cavalcade. Henry has a house there, as I may have told you, so we'll spend the night with him. I'll return tomorrow evening."

"Just you? Will not Michael and Sir Edward return as well?" She looked up as she asked and saw a muscle twitch in his jaw before his gaze met hers.

The searching look in his eyes told her that he still suspected she had been at the laird's peek, and she felt a tremor of guilt. Hoping the damp chill would keep her too-easy blushes in check, she continued to gaze innocently at him until she realized that his own cheeks had reddened.

"You are thinking what to say to me," she said indignantly, no longer caring what he had seen in her face. "You said you would always answer me honestly."

"Aye, and I will," he replied, his gaze meeting hers easily. "But you will recall that I also said I would tell you when I cannot give you all the answers you seek, because they are someone else's to give or because I do not know. I was but trying to decide which category this new question of yours fits. Michael and my father may return to the castle tomorrow, but I do not know exactly when, so I would ask you not to raise Isobel's hopes about Michael, as he is likely to sleep elsewhere rather than risk disturbing her."

She held his gaze a moment longer, but then his searching look returned, and not wanting to invite questions, she looked away first. That he had every right to demand equal honesty from her was one thing, but being obliged to answer honestly and then face his anger afterward was quite another.

"Your father may come with them, you know," he said in a gentler tone than she had expected to hear just then.

"I expect he will stay in town with his grace," she said. "He will not want to have to deal with me or with Adela's situation yet. Moreover," she added, forcing a more cheerful note, "Adela may be free by then, so if he does come, he will see that she is safe and will know that we did the right thing by coming after her. And then, if you still mean to do the honorable—"

"There is something else you should know," Hugo interjected.

Surprised but hoping his interruption meant only that he did not want to talk about his honor, that instead he might actually satisfy her curiosity about whatever was going to happen the next night, she waited hopefully.

He said bluntly, "Lord Ardelve rides with his grace's cavalcade."

"What?" She was surprised, but then she realized he was making too much of a small thing. "There can be nothing in that," she said. "The only reason he did not join them in the first place was that he'd expected to be a new bridegroom and did not want to leave Adela alone so soon after their wedding. But as they did not marry, he will have decided to support his grace. That's all it means."

"If that were the case, do you not think he would have attended his grace's installation, then come south to Lochbuie with us, rather than making what must have amounted to quite a scramble to join the flotilla before it departed?"

She shrugged. "The man has his pompous pride. It must have suffered a heavy blow when he saw his bride carried off, and worse if he believed as everyone else did that she was leaving with the man she loved. Doubtless, he wanted time to lick his wounds and did not want to face everyone so soon at the installation."

She felt him tense midway through her comments, and when she finished, he stopped her in her steps and turned her to face him. As her arm unlinked from his, she felt the misty chill again.

"Where do you come by such notions?" he demanded.

"No man likes his pride wounded," she said, surprised and defensive. "Nor does any man like to air his injuries in public."

"I don't mean that," he retorted gruffly. "I want to know where the devil you came by this fool's notion of yours that Adela ever loved me."

"I just know she does." She stared up at him. The mist had thickened silently around them as if Roslin Castle had vanished and left them in a world of their own.

He was glowering at her, not touching her, daring her to answer him. He looked about as angry as a man could look, yet she felt no fear. Instead, she felt warmed, as if a cozy fire burned within her.

She nearly smiled but fought against it, fearing he would think she laughed at him. That would not do at all, even if she could explain her feelings to him, and she doubted that she could because she did not understand them herself.

"Don't look at me like that," he commanded, his voice still gruff with that odd angry note as he caught her by the shoulders and held her firmly where she stood. "When you twitch that damned dimple at me, I want to kiss you, and since you have forbidden that, it is not fair to tempt me."

"It is hardly fair to blame me for looking at you," she said. "Nor can anyone control what a ridiculous dimple does."

"Aye, well, I think we should go back inside," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. "You have not had much exercise, I know, but this mist is soaking us through, and before long we'll both be chilled to the bone."

He walked her across the courtyard as if he could actually see where he was going, and as she hurried to keep up with him, she could only hope the mist was thinner a foot higher than it was at her eye level.

Inside, they found the countess already at the high table, and Michael arrived minutes later, making Sorcha glad that Hugo had decided to return. He took her cloak from her and handed it to a gillie to dry by the fire. It had kept her dry enough, but she was sure that Hugo, lacking one, must be feeling damp.

If he was, he gave no sign of it, and when they adjourned to Isobel's bedchamber with Isabella's chaplain, Hugo played his part in the naming ceremony to perfection. To be sure, all he had to do was to hold young William Robert Sinclair, for that was the name Michael had given the chaplain to speak for the first time as he baptized him. Hugo then blessed the infant and vowed to remain bound to him as godfather for life. The ritual not only bound the infant to Hugo but tightened the bonds between the Robison and Sinclair families.

As she watched him tenderly smile at his godson, she felt the same deep warmth inside her that she had felt after the child's birth and so recently in the courtyard. Since the circumstances were so different, she thought it odd, but then the still-smiling Hugo looked at her, young William Robert made chuckling sounds behind the tiny clenched fist in his mouth, and she no longer thought it odd at all.

After the brief ceremony, the men adjourned to their chambers to tend to last-minute duties before their departure for Edinburgh. For a time, everyone worried that the mist would linger all day, but by midday, sunbeams had broken through here and there and the milk fog over the river had dispersed. A breeze stirred, and an hour later, when the men departed after their midday meal, all that remained to remind anyone of the mist was a sky full of billowing pale-gray clouds.

The rest of the day crept by at a snail's pace. No message arrived from Edgelaw, a fact that by suppertime had put the countess in a black mood. And Sorcha's mood was no lighter.

She had wanted to look inside the chamber on the landing to see if Hugo had overlooked the helpful little stool or had removed it. She also wanted to see if she could adjust the cloth he had stuffed in the hole so she could peek past it without detection. She had not dared to try that the previous night, lest it prove impossible.

To her annoyance, she found a shiny new hasp and lock on the door.

Isobel kept to her chamber for the rest of the day and announced her intent to retire early. Not only had she enjoyed little sleep the previous night waiting for Michael, but she had talked long with him when he had finally come to her.

Consequently, Sorcha and Sidony spent a long, uneventful evening with the countess and found her singularly uncommunicative on any topic of interest.

At last, unable to stand her own boredom any longer, Sorcha said abruptly, "What will you do if he does not come, madam?"

"I will make him answer for his crimes," Isabella said grimly. "Abducting a noblewoman, particularly for nefarious purpose, is a hanging offense."

"And if he does come?"

"Although his ingratitude infuriates me, I will hear his side of it."

Sorcha had a strong notion that had the countess continued, she would have added, "… and then I will hang him."

Their conversation became desultory again, and it was not long before Sidony was yawning. Sorcha excused them both for bed and found that she welcomed an early night, if only because the next day would come sooner.

The morning's gloom provided nothing to improve her mood. Rather than mist, however, she looked out on a heavy sky that threatened rain. The weather even clouded her thoughts, because all she could think was that it might prevent Hugo's return that night. And if it did, it might also prevent whatever mischief he and Michael had planned.

Not, she told herself, that they truly meant mischief, just to keep their secrets. And although she had not yet learned anything noteworthy about them, she certainly meant to find out exactly what those secrets were, one way or another.