Chapter 14

B y midafternoon, Lina realized she missed Ian more than she had thought she would. She had expected to return easily to her usual duties and chores. But even her weaving seemed dull compared to the time she had spent with Ian. Reminding herself that men always left women behind when they went into battle did not help.

Nor did Muriella or Lizzie help. Having become friends at Bannachra, and delighted to reunite at Inch Galbraith, they had hardly stopped talking since.

Lina realized that for the first time in her memory, she was lonely.

The door opened to admit Lady Aubrey, looking distracted. Visibly startled to see Lina but recovering quickly, she said, “I thought you had walked to Annie’s, dearling, with Muriella and Lizzie.”

“I had begun weaving this length of fabric before we left for Bannachra, so I decided to work on it instead,” Lina explained, resting her shuttle. “I don’t want to offend Annie, though. Perhaps I’ll walk over later and visit her by myself.”

Lady Aubrey smiled. “Those two lassies have become fast friends,” she said. “But doubtless you are worried about Ian, too. Your father told me why he returned to Dunglass without you. ’Tis a difficult and dangerous task he undertakes, I fear.”

Feeling a twinge of guilt but having no fondness for falsehoods, Lina said, “In troth, Mam, I do not worry about his safety as much as I worry that he might fail. Everyone says Dumbarton Castle is unassailable.”

“You cannot help him by worrying, love. He will do what he must do.”

“You looked as if something were troubling you when you came in, Mam. Is aught amiss?”

“Nay, love, just a wee puzzle that I must sort—”

The solar door flew open then, diverting both of them. “Mam, Mam,” Muriella cried, dashing in with Lizzie moving more soberly at her heels. “Andrena and Mag are coming home! They must be near, too, because Lizzie and I were talking and talking, so I did not realize what I was sensing until it grew too strong to ignore. But we did not want to go and meet them without telling you.”

“That was considerate of you,” Lady Aubrey said dryly.

“I thought it was,” Murie said on a note of satisfaction. “So may we go?”

“Did you not visit Annie at all?”

“We saw her, aye. But she was taking a basket of things up to one of her kinsmen on the mountain, so we came away again.”

Lady Aubrey nodded, but Lina said, “I thought you said that Dree was dreadfully worried or sick, Murie.”

Lady Aubrey gave Lina a keen look. “They are returning much sooner than we had expected,” she said with a frown.

Realizing that if Andrena was pregnant, their mother would likely know of it, Lina said, “I did sense her worry after Murie spoke of it, Mam, but not pain or fear.”

“She is no longer fearful,” Murie said. “But something is amiss.”

Lady Aubrey said, “Wait here for them then. If you sense that they are near, they are likely at Craggan, and if Andrena is unwell, they may spend the night.”

Lina nearly said that they were unlikely to stop at Craggan, since Colquhoun was at Dunglass. But she held her peace because just thinking about Dunglass sent her thoughts flying from Andrena and Mag back to Ian.

The rest of Ian’s journey home passing without incident, he and his party reached Dunglass shortly before midnight Saturday night.

Learning from a gillie that, although some of their guests were still up, Colquhoun and his lady had retired, Ian said to his two companions, “We’ll get some sleep, too, then, but I must speak with my parents first in the morning. So, Rob, I want you to find out from Alex and Mag what progress, if any, the others have made. My father will have thoughts to add, too, so we’ll confer with him later. Then, after the midday meal, I’ll want to meet in the hall with everyone.”

Rob nodded without comment, so Ian turned to Galbraith. “I’ll take you in now, sir, and turn you over to my father’s steward. I hope you will forgive me for abandoning you. But you’ll want supper and a room, and I don’t know which ones are in use and which are not. When I see my father, I’ll tell him that you are here.”

“Aye, sure, lad, do what ye must,” Galbraith said. “I’ll look after myself and will likely find someone amongst your guests to bear me company.”

After giving orders to the steward to see to Galbraith’s comfort, Ian added, “Have someone wake me when my parents begin stirring. And, prithee, tell them that I would speak privately with them before they break their fast.”

Assured that all was in train for the morrow, Ian went to bed. But he felt as if only minutes had passed when Hak shook him awake at dawn on Sunday. “The laird and his lady be dressing,” Hak said. “He said they’ll meet ye in the solar.”

Knowing that his parents rarely dallied in the morning, Ian performed his ablutions hastily but with care. Then, donning a fresh tunic and his blue-and-gray plaid, he went directly to the solar and found his parents waiting for him.

Greeting his mother by kissing first one soft hand and then her cheek, Ian straightened and turned to his father. “Good morrow, sir.”

“Glad ye’re back but sorry ye missed seeing Mag and Andrena yesterday, lad,” Colquhoun said, giving him a paternal double-clap on the shoulder.

“Sakes, I thought Dree meant to spend a month in Ayrshire.”

“She had been unwell,” Colquhoun replied. “Glad as she was to meet Wilhelmina and Erskine, she had been worrying herself sick over Lina. I told Mag to take her on home in the galley. That way, he can get back here faster.”

“Strange that she would go home, though,” Ian said. “You must have told her that Lina is safe now.”

“It did seem odd, aye,” Lady Colquhoun said. “But one does not inquire too closely, you know, when someone appears unwell and yet reluctant to speak of it. When they left, she did have more color and seemed to be her usual self, but even so, your father told Sir Magnus he should stop at Craggan last night to let her rest.”

Wondering if Andrena had sensed his marriage to Lina and was worrying about that, too, Ian braced himself and said, “I have news for you.”

Smiling, Lady Colquhoun said, “ Good news, I trow. What is it?”

Colquhoun remained silent, but his gaze was sharp.

Meeting that gaze, Ian said, “I’m married.”

Lady Colquhoun’s jaw dropped. She looked at her husband, whose lips had tightened to a thin line.

Colquhoun recovered first. “You are what ?”

Hardly what one would call an explosion, so Ian said, “I married Lina MacFarlan. Sithee, sir, it was like this…” In explaining what had happened, he would have preferred to leave out Dougal’s exact threats in deference to Lady Colquhoun’s sensibilities. But he realized that, if his parents were to understand the need for such haste, he could not. When he told them about his declaration and then paused to let them speak, both were silent.

Then Lady Colquhoun gave herself a little shake and beamed at him. “That is good news, dearling. I shall adore having Lina as my good-daughter. I am gey sorry to have missed seeing you marry, but I do think you made an excellent choice.”

“Thank you, Mam, I do, too,” he said. “You missed only the brief declaration, and we do mean to have a priest marry us properly in the Kirk later. Everyone can attend that ceremony.”

“I, too, have no objection to Lina, but why so hasty, lad?” Colquhoun asked. “Could you not have protected her by simply declaring yourselves betrothed and waiting for the parson? In troth, you did not need to rush back, as you did. After all, persuading James Mòr to yield Dumbarton will take time.”

“Our betrothal would not have deterred Dougal,” Ian said. “I ken fine that the Kirk takes that ceremony to be as powerful as a marriage, sir. But in fact, it is not. By Scottish law, a husband can return an unchaste bride. If Dougal had a chance to spread his venom, that alone would have destroyed Lina. But now that she bears our name, I doubt that Dougal will dare do her harm.”

“Aye, perhaps,” Colquhoun said. “But ye’ll be occupied for some time here.”

“Have you arranged another meeting with James Mòr then?” Ian asked, certain he already knew the answer to the question.

“Nay, not yet. He must soon bow to reason, though. His rebels control the harbor, so ships refuse to enter, and many local folks have hidden their beasts and grain out of fear of rebel marauders. He must be getting low on supplies.”

“Where do you and Lina mean to live, dearling?” Lady Colquhoun asked.

Grateful for the diversion because, despite any lack of supplies, he could not agree that James Mòr would be reasonable, Ian said, “We’ll live at Craggan, Mam, if that will suit you and Father.”

“Aye, sure,” Colquhoun said. “Choose where ye will, lad. Likely, ye’ll take more of an interest in our estates now.”

Ian nodded, although he was more interested in retaking Dumbarton for the King so he could return to Tùr Meiloach and collect his lady wife.

One small rub did still exist. Although the ever-unpredictable Colquhoun had expressed no objection, he had likewise not yet given the marriage his blessing.

Mag and Andrena reached Tùr Meiloach in time for Sunday’s midday meal, and one look at her older sister told Lina that Murie was right.

Something was amiss.

However, when Murie demanded to know what was wrong, Andrena said she was fine. And, in truth, Andrena did look much as she always did, albeit somewhat pale and quieter than usual.

When Murie pressed harder, Lady Aubrey intervened.

“Eat your dinner, Muriella,” she said. “And do not indulge your curiosity so far that you ignore Lizzie. Remember that she is our guest.”

As they ate, Mag asked a few questions about Lina’s and Lizzie’s capture and captivity, but Lizzie went on chatting quietly with Murie, leaving Lina to answer him. She said only that the man leading the rebels was Dougal MacPharlain and that the rebels were much farther north than anyone had thought they would be.

Lady Margaret said curtly, “A dreadful thing, that! They had no right, Magnus. I have told your father that he must not let that happen again.”

Mag looked at Lina, then at Lizzie, whose eyes were fixed on her trencher.

“Have ye more questions, lad?” Andrew asked. Without awaiting a reply, he added, “Because if ye don’t, I should tell ye that, yestereve, right here on this dais, Sir Ian Colquhoun declared himself and our Lina married.”

“Good sakes!” Andrena exclaimed, turning to look at Lina. “You’re married?”

“I just said so, aye,” Andrew said. “That devil MacPharlain threatened to ruin her good name. And that after having had the temerity to beg for her hand himself.”

Lina leaned forward to see that despite Mag’s instantly avowed outrage at Dougal, his eyes were brimming with humor. He wished her happiness in her marriage as if the very thought of that marriage amused him.

Andrena was also smiling, but she shook her head, as well. “What demon possessed you to marry Sir Ian of all men?” she asked. “Do you care for him?”

“He is kind to me, and I like him,” Lina replied. “So do you, come to that.”

“I do, aye. But you have so often disapproved of him. What changed?”

“I’d liefer not discuss that here,” Lina said. “But one does easily develop affection for a man brave enough and clever enough to sneak into an enemy castle at the risk of his life simply to discover if one has come to harm there.”

“He did so again to rescue you,” Andrena said, nodding. “Sakes, but it is exactly the sort of thing he would do, too, just to prove that he could. Marrying you, though, even to protect you from Dougal, surprises me much more. But your agreement to marry him is even more astonishing.”

“Aye, well, I have no regrets… not yet, at all events.”

Andrena said more soberly, “Mag told me that the King has asked Ian to reclaim Dumbarton for him.”

Lina nodded. “I don’t know how he can possibly do that, though.”

“Ian is most resourceful. If anyone can do it, he will. Aye, Mam,” Andrena added, leaning forward to look past Lady Margaret and reply to a quiet question from Lady Aubrey, “I am ready to go upstairs. In fact, I’m ready to sleep.”

“Get along to bed then, lass,” Andrew said. “I mean to keep your husband yet a while, because I’ve reason to think that Pharlain is gathering men and arming them, so he may try again to seize Tùr Meiloach. Sithee, Dougal was gey angry when I refused to let Lina marry him, and he and his da be gey quick to leap into battle. Pharlain also declared that any charters I have must be forgeries.”

“That villain!” Dree exclaimed. “He didn’t!”

Lina glanced at Lady Aubrey and saw confirmation in her expression—and something else, too—before Andrew said, “Some dafty told him that Jamie wants landowners to show him the charters that prove their rights to their estates. Since Pharlain canna produce any, he’s putting it about that mine be false.” Pausing, he added thoughtfully, “I’ve caught nae spy here yet, but I ken fine that Pharlain may have a man or two here just as I have mine at Arrochar. Doubtless, I’d be wise to look over my documents to be sure that nae one has tampered with them.”

Feeling an inexplicable sense of alarm, Lina glanced at her mother just as Lady Aubrey said mildly, “Pharlain may hope that you do that very thing, sir. He may have set an informant to watch for you to reveal your hiding place. You would perhaps be wiser to stay well away from it.”

Beside her, Lady Margaret muttered, “Excellent advice, that.”

“Aye, true enough,” Andrew agreed with the warm smile for Lady Aubrey that he reserved solely for her. “In any event,” he added, “since Mag returns to Dunglass tomorrow, I want to get his opinion afore then on some tactics I have devised. None o’ the rest o’ ye need linger.”

Lina saw Mag and Andrena exchange glances. Then Mag looked at Lina.

Understanding his silent plea, she nodded. “I’ll go up with you, Dree. We can talk more whilst I help you prepare for your nap.”

Andrena nodded, and Murie began to stand just as Lady Aubrey said in a tone that brooked no argument, “Muriella, you and Lizzie will come to the solar with Lady Margaret and me, as usual, when her ladyship has finished her claret.”

With a nod and a barely concealed grimace, Muriella sat back on her stool.

“Sakes, what a din!” Alex exclaimed as he, Rob, and Ian were going downstairs to Dunglass’s great hall for their midday meal.

Ian realized that his meeting had already begun.

“What we hear proves you were right,” Alex said to him as they neared the great hall entrance. “Everyone has a plan. And no one likes anyone else’s.”

Entering the hall and striding to the dais, Ian scanned the men already seated at the high table with his father. Lady Colquhoun was taking her meal in the solar and would be leaving Dunglass soon to stay with Ian’s sister Susanna.

At least a dozen lairds and knights were present. Most came from areas away from Loch Lomond. Of them all, he easily deduced that the two most powerful Border lords, the Earl of Douglas and Scott of Buccleuch—both much older than Ian himself and accustomed to command—would take the lead if he let them.

Douglas saw him first. “Just the lad we want,” he declared in stentorian tones. “Ye’ve a supple mind, Ian Colquhoun. We need that now, for we’ve come to the dismal conclusion that none o’ these damnable plans can succeed against Dumbarton. We might take the town and secure the harbor, but that castle remains invincible. Nowt we’ve heard yet suggests otherwise.”

“Does everyone here agree with your assessment, my lord?” Ian asked, scanning the gathering again as he stepped onto the dais.

“I say we should let your father handle this, lad,” another, rather bull-like laird declared brusquely. “Colquhoun’s reputation for persuasion is unsurpassed. He has met with James Mòr once and will soon contrive another meeting.”

“Sakes, d’ye want to sit by whilst such talks plod on?” the dark-haired, wiry Buccleuch demanded. “James Mòr kens fine that nae army can take that castle.”

Argument erupted on every side. Voices from the lower hall, although quieter, echoed those of the noblemen.

Ian said loudly, “I do have a plan that may work.”

Those nearest him fell silent, and the silence spread rapidly outward.

He waited until he knew that everyone would hear him.

Colquhoun was watching him intently, sternly.

Meeting his gaze, Ian said, “I would suggest that my lord father invite James Mòr and the whole garrison to join him for a day of deerstalking and a grand feast.”

Taking leave of the others who were still at Tùr Meiloach’s high table, Lina and Dree went silently upstairs and met Tibby on her way down.

“I’ve put fresh sheets on the bed, m’lady,” she said. “Your things, Lady Lina, be in your own old room now.”

“We used your bed,” Lina confided when Tibby had gone on downstairs.

“I’m glad you did,” Andrena replied. “With such a hasty wedding, you certainly had no time to prepare. And Ian is nearly as tall as Mag is.”

No sooner had they shut the door to Andrena and Mag’s chamber, though, than Andrena turned and said, “I know that you and Murie sensed something amiss with me, Lina, just as I knew that something horrid had happened to you.”

Lina grimaced. “I thought your worry was about me. But it wasn’t, was it?”

“Nay. I ken fine that Mam has not told you—”

“That you are with child?” Lina said, moving to the washstand. “Nay, she said naught about that. But I suspected it before you left. When did you tell Mag?”

Andrena smiled ruefully. “Not until we reached Ayrshire. I feared if I told him at once, he’d not let me go, and I wanted to meet Wilhelmina. I knew he’d be wroth with me for not telling him until then. But I also knew he’d understand.”

Pouring water into the basin, Lina glanced at her. “Then you got sick, aye?”

“Right after he left,” Andrena said, deftly undoing her laces. “Oh, Lina, I’ve never been so sick. Wilhelmina found a skilled herb woman, but I wanted you . Mag says now that the bairn must be a wee lassie just as contrary as I can be. I thought that I would lose my baby, though, and I was terrified.”

“I suspect that, after he learned how sick you had been, he was even angrier about your failure to tell him,” Lina said, handing her a wet cloth to wash her face.

“He was furious,” Andrena said. “And even more so when he learned that I’d sensed your danger and tried to leave to look for you. In faith, I’ve seen him angrier with me only once.” She sighed. “I’m still sick now and now, but not like I was then. And I know you’ll have something to help me.”

“I can concoct something, aye. But I have a question for you. Have you sensed anything amiss with Mam?”

“Only when she feared that our father might lead an enemy to his charters. I’ll admit that I felt some alarm at that, myself, though.”

“I did, too, aye,” Lina said, relieved. “I expect that’s all it was.”

“Good,” Andrena said. “Now, tell me about Ian and how you came to marry him. By my troth, I doubt that you’ve ever surprised me as much as you did today.”

They chatted comfortably until Mag came upstairs a few minutes later.

Ian stood facing his father in Colquhoun’s inner chamber. The two were alone but would not be so for long, because Douglas and Buccleuch had demanded to be party to any discussion of Dumbarton. Ian knew that if his father stood against him, the others would, too. Any chance to take Dumbarton would end then in chaos.

Colquhoun sat behind the big table where he had stood after the rescue of Lina and Lizzie. That table was where he usually attended to the accounts for his estates. However, he sat now as he had often sat when calling his sons to account. His face was stony, his demeanor anything but receptive.

“Prithee, sir, I can explain what I propose to do,” Ian said. Tempted as he was to continue and explain as fast as he could, he knew better than to do that.

Colquhoun would cut him off as coldly as he would have before Ian earned his knighthood, but the silence between them lengthened, straining Ian’s patience.

His mind suddenly produced an image of Lina—calm, unflappable, even serene, despite being held prisoner by a villainous rogue and an erstwhile prince of the realm who yearned to be King of Scots. Her image steadied him.

If his lass could retain her composure, even her precious dignity, under such circumstances, he could constrain himself while he stood before the man who had sired him and who loved him despite his many faults.

“Aye, then, I’ll hear ye out,” Colquhoun said at last. “But I think ye’re daft to be suggesting a day’s stalking to the men ye’ve got here as a way to take back Dumbarton, and so I tell ye. I’d be remiss in my duty as your father if I did not.”

“I know it sounds daft,” Ian said, taking care not to address him as “my lord” or even “sir.” “In troth, that is the very reason I think it might succeed.”

Colquhoun motioned toward the nearest stool. Then he stood and fetched a jug of wine and two mugs from a niche beside the fireplace.

Recognizing both gestures as indications of his father’s greater willingness to listen, Ian drew the stool closer to the table and sat down.

Leaving Andrena with Mag, Lina went down to the kitchen where she found a pot of warm water on the hob and put it over the fire.

Turning to one of the cook’s minions, a skinny lad about Pluff’s age, she said, “Prithee, take a mug from the shelf yonder and fill it with barley for me.”

When the lad had dashed off with a mug, she went to the pantry to find the wee covered pot of ginger powder and some close-woven linen mesh.

By the time she returned to the kitchen, the boy was there with the barley.

Mixing it with the ginger powder, Lina poured the mixture onto a square of linen mesh and tied it into a ball with string. Then, she dropped the ball into a crockery jug, scooped boiling water over it, covered the jug, and left it to infuse.

Afterward, she found Mag and her father near the hall fire, talking.

“Is Dree asleep?” she asked Mag.

“Went straight off,” he said. “I promised to wake her for supper.”

“She told me what was wrong, sir. You have told Father, aye?”

“I have, but she does not want it to become common knowledge,” Mag said. “She fears…” He hesitated.

“I ken fine what frightens her,” Lina said. “It must be horrid to feel such a fear. But in troth, although I usually feel such strong emotions with her, I cannot. I have tried, but something inside me resists. Instead, I feel as if all will be well.”

“Then I hope you have inherited your mother’s gift, lass,” Mag said.

Lina shook her head. “Nay, how could that be? Would I not know if I could see things before they happen?”

“Such gifts are rare,” Andrew said. “My lady cannot foresee things at will and has experienced such events only two or three times in her life before now.”

“My words were but wistful thinking,” Mag said. “I don’t want my lass to worry whilst I must be away.”

“I wish I could reassure you,” Lina said. “The truth is, though, that the gifts I do have are not nearly as strong as those that Murie and Andrena have. Sakes, I did not even sense Dree’s fears or her illness. I did have a sense that she was worried. But that was all. Sithee, I selfishly assumed that she was just worried about me.”

“She was worried about you,” Mag said. “So I’m glad I returned to Ayrshire. When I arrived, she was in a rare tirrivee with my good-brother, Erskine, because he had forbidden her to try to find you. I saw straightaway that she was gey sick.”

Andrew frowned. “She looked hale enough to me.”

“She is better,” Mag said. “But the bairn makes it hard to keep food down, and she must take care of herself. But now I know that Lina will look after her.”

“I will, aye,” Lina said. “I am brewing a tisane now to ease her sickness. I know some foods that will be easy for her to digest, too, and Mam can help. After all, she birthed six children.”

“So she did,” Mag agreed. “I’ll be leaving Dree in safe hands, then.”

“Ye are, aye,” Andrew said. “Ye might put a drop o’ whisky in that tisane o’ yours, though, lass. Cures any ailment, whisky does. Then, as long as we can fend off Pharlain and his gallous son if they try to steal ye back, we’ll all do fine.”

Lina smiled. “I don’t think they will do that now, sir. What could they hope to gain by such an act other than to bring the Colquhouns down on them?”

As she said those words, the fiendish, tickling chill slid up her spine again, and she wished she could take them back.

In the inner chamber at Dunglass, Ian faced Colquhoun across the big table. “Sithee, sir,” he said, “my idea hangs on the fact that you have taken such pains to maintain our neutrality. And although I ken fine that I may have damaged it when I rescued Lina, I doubt that James Mòr can know the whole tale of that even now.”

“D’ye imagine that Dougal MacPharlain will have told him nowt of it?”

“I don’t know what Dougal said to him, or if he said anything. That would depend on who found the note I left in Lina and Lizzie’s chamber. If one of James Mòr’s men found it and gave it to him, James Mòr would have summoned Dougal and demanded an explanation.”

“True,” Colquhoun agreed. “But since, as ye’ve said, Dougal was at Tùr Meiloach when ye arrived, threatening to ruin Lina, he must have avoided such a confrontation. Sakes, he had begged James Mòr to give him Lina, so James Mòr may well suspect that Dougal had a hand in the girls’ disappearance.”

“It is to James Mòr’s benefit to pretend that that’s exactly what he believes, even if he does not,” Ian said. “He can then continue parleying with you and pretend to be doing so in good faith. I still doubt that he is acting so, though.”

“James Mòr has done nowt yet to suggest that he suspects us of any involvement in the lassies’ disappearance,” Colquhoun said musingly. “But what if he learns that they are at Tùr Meiloach or, worse, that ye’ve married Lina?”

Ian had not considered those possibilities. But since Alex’s men might know where the girls had been going from Inch Galbraith, and his own men were excited about his marriage, someone could reveal either or both facts. Sakes, Mag had said more than once that Andrew Dubh suspected he might have spies at Tùr Meiloach.

“Gorry will likely tell us if James Mòr hears rumors about those things,” Ian said at last. “If he does, mayhap I can ask him and a few others to put it about that I followed Dougal and rescued the girls from him on the Loch of the Long Boats. In troth, Dougal is the most likely person to speak of their whereabouts or learn about our marriage. But James Mòr is unlikely to take Dougal’s word for much. He must know as well as we do that neither Dougal nor Pharlain is noted for honesty.”

“I won’t lie to James Mòr,” Colquhoun said sternly. “However, I could say that you rescued and married the lass to protect her from dire threats that Dougal had made against her. That is true. I can also disclaim personal knowledge of Lizzie’s exact whereabouts whilst admitting that I did hear she is with friends of Galbraith’s. That may cast suspicion on Patrick Galbraith, however.”

“Patrick is James Mòr’s shadow, not Dougal’s. James Mòr will likely know that Patrick had nowt to do with it. He may not be as sure of Galbraith, though.”

“Aye,” Colquhoun agreed. “Mayhap I should know exactly what you mean to do before I talk with Arthur.”

“I mean to spread word of a magnificent stag that dares to roam at will in the woods between Dumbarton and Loch Lomond. In troth, I saw it first near the pass above Glen Luss. Yesterday, it was near where Lina said she and Lizzie fell captive.”

“It is not strange to see deer in either of those areas.”

“Sir, this stag is fourteen points at least. Forbye, he is real, so word of his presence will spread quickly. I mean to have Gorry spread word of it throughout the castle, where they have enjoyed little meat of late. After I tell Gorry, you might suggest to James Mòr that in the name of making peace—or even just a brief cessation of haggling—you’d like to invite him and as many of his men as he can spare to stalk that splendid beast and enjoy a venison feast together afterward.”

“I doubt he’ll be daft enough to agree. But, if he does, what then?”

Ian allowed himself a smile and a slight shrug. “Why, Rob MacAulay, Alex, and I will ride to Dumbarton, profit from the reduced guard, and seize the castle.”

“Sakes, Ian, d’ye think that can be done so easily?”

“Aye, sure, sir. But there is one thing that I hope you will do for me first.”

“And what would that be?”

“I want Douglas and Buccleuch out of my way, but I don’t want to fratch with either of them. I’d liefer see you use your persuasive skills to get rid of them.”

A rap on the door drew an uncharacteristic oath from Colquhoun. But Ian welcomed the respite, however brief it might be.