Chapter 16

F illed with preparations for the hunt, Friday passed quickly at Dunglass, especially after word arrived from James Mòr that he and his guests would join it.

On Saturday, Colquhoun, Galbraith, and other invited noble guests left at dawn with their men and Colquhoun’s greyhounds and rode off through the woods. They would cross the plain in view of the castle and head north to meet other hunters and stalkers at a gathering place at the south end of Loch Lomond.

Stalkers were already combing hills and glens in that area for signs of deer.

Shortly after the riders left, minions followed, leading garrons to carry back any deer that the hunters killed early enough to roast for their celebratory feast.

Meantime, waiting only until they heard from their own watchers that the environs of Dunglass were free of intruders or anyone else who might carry tales of their interest in Dumbarton, Ian, Mag, Rob, Alex, and their men rode into the woods to a place where they could safely tether their mounts. There they waited until men watching the steep path down from the castle reported signs of activity there.

At the woodland site, Ian twitched impatiently, then paced until Rob growled, “Enough, man. Ye’ll drive me daft.”

Grinning and primed for action, Ian said, “I want to know what our lads ahead of us can see. I must learn for myself what is happening.”

“Then go,” Rob said.

“Art sure your man is on the gate?” Mag asked as Ian turned to leave.

“If he is not on it now,” Ian said, “he soon will be.”

He walked quickly but cautiously amid the trees but had gone only a short way when one of his lads emerged from shadows ahead. “What news?” Ian demanded when he was near enough to make himself heard in a normal tone.

“Many ha’ been leaving, sir, many riders and gey more afoot. The horsemen rode ahead, o’ course. One o’ them flew the Stewart banner, and at least six or eight wi’ him wore noble garb. Doubtless, it were James Mòr and his nobles, along wi’ his usual armed tail o’ men.”

“So he has kept his word and will join my lord father,” Ian said, relieved. Pointing, he added, “Go to the men yonder, and tell Sir Magnus I’ve gone on. He must send a horseman to tell the laird how many are riding his way and that some are armed. Then Sir Magnus and the others should meet me where we agreed.”

The others soon joined him in a wood near the river Leven, with Mag leading Ian’s horse. Dismounting beside him and handing him its reins, Mag said, “That lad you sent told me that there are at least four watchers on the walls.”

“They won’t trouble us,” Ian replied. “Rob and I are going there to pay respects to James Mòr from MacAulay of Ardincaple, who was sadly unaware of any deer hunt. By following the river Leven south from here, we’ll look as if we had forded it, aye?”

Mag shook his head, but his hazel eyes twinkled appreciatively.

Ian and Rob had no need to offer their spurious explanation at the gate. With eight men riding behind and one riding before them, flying the MacAulay banner, they reached the top of the path unchallenged.

Jed Laing opened the gates before they reached it, and they rode right in.

As they had hoped and expected, the remaining guard at the castle was small. From the look of the place, most of the men who had been inside were taking part in the hunt, hoping to bring back venison to augment the castle’s depleted stores.

Ian did note one unusual detail, however.

“Most of the men I see here are men who served Gregor Colquhoun,” he said when Gorry hurried to meet them. “I see only a few that I don’t recognize.”

“Aye, but there be Stewarts inside,” Gorry said. “Except for them on the wall, these outside be underlings. The captain o’ the guard did tell them on the wall tae keep close watch for trouble. ’Twas the senior man on the wall that tellt Jed tae open the gate when he saw ye were MacAulays,” he added with a grin.

“Tell Jed to leave that gate ajar,” Ian said. “We have more men coming.” He glanced at Rob. “You and I can attend to those on the wall before then, aye?”

“Aye, sure,” Rob said, drawing his dirk.

Leaving the men in their tail to look after the Stewart minions in the yard, Ian went up one stairway and Rob another. The four men keeping watch from the wall all faced outward, so they accomplished their task with ease and in silence. Then Ian waved one of the rampart flags to summon Mag and Alex with their men.

“We’ll wait now for our chief guests to return,” Ian said. “I look forward to seeing the look on James Mòr’s face when he discovers our wee surprise.”

Less than an hour later, riders appeared in the north, riding hard until they reached the track to the castle. Men on the wall recognized Colquhoun’s banner.

The gates opened. The horsemen rode in.

Their leader flung himself from his horse near Ian.

“Himself said tae tell ye quick, sir! The only men wha’ came from the castle a-seeking him tae hunt were afoot. We saw nae riders. They’ve all disappeared.”

He was touching her, his fingers lightly stroking her skin, making her arch upward, trying to press harder against them. But he teased her so until flashes of heat roared through her body and she moaned deep in her throat.

His hands, fingers, and lips had been all over her, delightfully touching and tasting her wherever they roamed.

Faith, but the man could stir her senses in so many ways and more than anyone she had ever known, often without touching her at all!

She could smell the leathery scent of him.

The tormenting fingers drifted to her breast and belly, then up again.

Catching hold of that tormenting hand, she pulled it to her mouth and kissed it, touching it with her tongue to taste its saltiness. But when she would have moved it lower, past her belly to the fork of her legs, the hand shifted in hers. It gripped hers now, and firmly, so that she could not pull it free.

Raising it to his mouth, he sucked her little finger, then the next, and the next, until she wanted to scream.

He moaned then. The sound tormented her even more.

“I want you,” she murmured. “Please, I want you inside me.”

“Do you?” he asked. But her increasing passion had stirred his, too, and he did not wait for an answer. He moved himself over her.

She reached for him to help, but his eager cock had already found the entrance to its favorite sheath, and…

Lina’s bedchamber door opened abruptly, and a female voice said, “The mistress sent me tae ask if ye mean tae lie abed all day, m’lady.”

Staring at the elderly maidservant and striving to conceal the mixture of dismay, fury, even embarrassment, that filled her, Lina said, “Thank you for telling me. I shall be down directly.”

The woman left without comment, and Lina got up and swiftly performed her ablutions. She was determined to have private speech with her mother.

Unless she was dreaming of Ian, the image of Lady Aubrey on the ground under the misshaped tree haunted her. But it was as if her mother and Lady Margaret conspired to defeat any chance of private talk. Lady Margaret seemed to have changed from a woman who sought solitude to one who could not bear to be alone. Either that, or she was determined to perform a belated spring cleaning.

“James Mòr and his lot have escaped, then,” Mag said when Ian told him what the messenger from Colquhoun had said.

“They have, aye, but we’ll go after them,” Ian replied grimly. “First, we’ll secure the Stewart men who are still here. Mag, you and Rob check inside. Alex and I will confine the ones in the yard. Gorry, if you still have the key to that tower room, you can lock some of our prisoners in there if you need to.”

The Stewart followers were soon secure. Ian gathered his men around him.

“Mag, you, and Rob, and your men will ride with me. Gorry, you come, too. Alex, I’m leaving you and your men here with Jed Laing and his lads to welcome whomever Jamie sends here. Don’t let anyone—especially Douglas or Buccleuch—inside these gates. We don’t want either one taking over this castle before Jamie arrives. Tell them they are to secure the burgh and the harbor for his grace. And warn everyone not to mistake friend for foe,” he added, giving Alex a direct look.

In return, he received a barely discernible nod. Alex would look after any Colquhouns who had remained at Dumbarton.

“And, Alex,” Ian added as an afterthought, “be glib with the Border lords but… um, tactful.” Hearing his father’s favorite word from his own lips, Ian smiled. Then, to Alex, he added, “You’ll have your eight men plus the Colquhoun lads who were inside.” He looked at Gorry. “Another dozen, you think?”

“Ten,” Gorry said.

“Enough to do the job,” Ian said. “I’ve a sack on my saddle full of Colquhoun banners. Hang them from the ramparts for Jamie’s watchers to see.”

“We’ll attend to that,” Alex said. “You look after yourselves.”

Nodding, satisfied that Dumbarton was in capable hands, Ian shouted for his men to mount. Flanked by Mag and Rob, he set off down the road from the castle and heard the heavy gates shut behind the last of their men.

“Which direction do you suppose James Mòr will have taken?” he asked the other two as they scanned the Vale of Leven ahead and its river plain below.

Rob frowned thoughtfully.

Mag shrugged.

Woodland lay to the east and ahead to the north, the river Leven to the west. Since the river was nearing its confluence with the Firth of Clyde, it was wider and deeper there than farther north. The road to Loch Lomond stretched alongside it.

Mag said, “James Mòr’s lot took no boats. Someone in the burgh would have reported it if they had. ’Tis unlikely, too, that they’d ford the Leven straightaway. They’ll also want to avoid Colquhoun or MacAulay lands, aye, Rob?”

Rob nodded.

“Nor will they have traveled eastward along the Clyde,” Mag added. “Your own people would have seen them.”

“They might try to reach Murdoch’s castle at Doune,” Ian suggested.

“Too far,” Rob said. “Also, Jamie has taken possession of Doune.”

“They may not know that yet,” Ian said. “Jed Laing said that James Mòr took more than two score men with him. So where are they?”

“Out of sight somewhere,” Mag said. “If they are daft enough to try for Doune, they’d head up east Lomondside rather than go cross-country, I think.”

“And to head west, they’ll go from west Lomondside,” Rob added. “They’d have to ford the Leven, and there is a ford in the woods a mile north of here.”

“Aye, sure,” Ian said. “I ken that place fine. By a clachan that’s nobbut an alehouse and two cots. But if we ford it there, and they stay on this side—”

“They’ll run into your father and the hunters,” Mag said. “I’m thinking they may head north to Arrochar or into the Highlands beyond. Many Highlanders looked dimly on Jamie’s return. They may welcome James Mòr.”

“The Loch Lomond road is what we want for now,” Ian said. “The one on the other side of the river winds more than this one does. We’ll have hunters on both sides, and the locals will help,” he added. “The day the rebels captured Lina and Lizzie, Dougal and his men made a show of strength that must have irked many of them. I’ll wager that someone will soon tell us exactly which way they went.”

Neither of his chief companions accepted the wager.

They had ridden little more than a mile from the base of Dumbarton Rock and had just passed the clachan with the alehouse when they met two young men afoot. One led a garron with a small deer roped across its back.

Ian signed to his men to draw rein.

“Have you seen a party of riders recently, on this bank or yonder?”

“Aye, a party o’ two dozen men or more flying a banner we dinna ken,” one replied. “They be riding toward the loch. Said they was a-seeking the hunting party. But when we told ’em the ones after the great stag be in the woods east o’ Balloch, they kept tae the road. Said they’d head west and find their own deer.”

“Likely, they’ll see few deer at all, that road,” the other man said.

“I’ve seen you before, I think,” Ian said.

“Aye, Sir Ian, me granddad runs the alehouse yonder.”

Thanking them and extending his respects to the lad’s grandfather, Ian waited only until they were beyond earshot before he said to the others, “That party they saw, unknown banner or none, has to be James Mòr’s.”

“Aye, and I’m thinking they’ll stay west of the loch,” Mag said. “Patrick must be with him, but they certainly won’t ride to Inch Galbraith.”

“Or any other island,” Rob said. “Too confining, too easily besieged.”

“What about Dougal, though?” Ian asked. “Mayhap we should look more closely at his sudden departure. Gorry, to me!” he shouted over his shoulder.

Andrew Dubh MacFarlan and his men were moving along a ridge high above the Loch of the Long Boats, watching the shoreline but keeping to the heights. They were afoot, and Pharlain’s three galleys were ahead, well south of them, on the loch.

The galleys had left Arrochar at dawn. But no banners flew over them, which was unusual for Pharlain. The boats contained no extra oarsmen. Nor were they heavily laden with armed men, as they would be for invasion or battle.

In fact, the three boats carried fewer men than usual.

Those boats had stirred Andrew’s curiosity enough to want to keep an eye on them. When they passed beyond Tùr Meiloach’s south boundary, he had led his men upward, knowing that they would see much farther from the ridgetop.

The boulder-and-talus-strewn route they followed now was unknown to most people. Its treacherous terrain had claimed lives and thus had supplied some of the tales that had helped protect Tùr Meiloach.

Nevertheless, Andrew and his men knew it well and traveled swiftly.

They had gone above the headwaters of his south boundary onto Colquhoun land some time ago. Below them to the east lay Loch Lomond. Earlier, they had looked down the length of Glen Luss, and he could see Glen Finlas ahead.

Glen Fruin lay just beyond it.

He had left Malcolm and a few guardsmen to keep the tower secure. Annie Wylie was inside to watch Murie and Lizzie. He also had watchers on the passes and on each of Tùr Meiloach’s borders. No one had reported anything unusual.

But Pharlain was up to mischief, and Andrew had been uneasy ever since his wife and Lina had insisted on returning to Bannachra with Margaret Galbraith.

Dougal had captured Lina and was doubtless furious to have lost her. What if he knew where she was now? What if he knew that Aubrey was with her?

A distant shout from below to the east caught his sharp ears. He raised a hand to stop his men.

The shout came again, and someone shouted, “That be Calum’s Tam, laird!”

Calum Beg guarded Tùr Meiloach’s southeast pass. Tam was one of his sons, so Andrew nodded to his hornsman. Two light blasts would bring Tam right to him.

Minutes later, Tam, a wiry man much the same age as Andrew but thinner and graying at the temples, hurried up to him and touched his cap.

“Me da sent me, laird. There be trouble a-comin’ this way from Dumbarton.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“The Laird o’ Colquhoun sent tae tell ye that James Mòr and dunamany men wi’ him left Dumbarton shortly after dawn tae join Colquhoun in a great hunt at the south end o’ the loch. But them from Dumbarton vanished, and the laird fears they forded the river Leven and be makin’ their way north tae Arrochar.”

“If James Mòr goes to Arrochar, he may find nae one home,” Andrew said. But he was thinking rapidly.

“Aye, me da said he’d no seen a sign o’ them yet. But since her ladyship and the lady Lina did go to Bannachra, he kent fine that ye’d want tae know.”

“Laird!” someone cried. “Be that lot going ashore yonder, d’ye think?”

Ahead, Andrew saw that Pharlain’s lead galley had turned toward the shore. It was a quarter-mile off Colquhoun land now but well south of Craggan. If men disembarked there, they would be but a two-hour walk from Glen Fruin.

Horsemen coming up the glen could cover the ground even faster… if naught delayed them.

Soon after Ian shouted for Gorry, the man reined in beside him. “Aye, sir?”

“You will recall that message I dropped in their ladyships’ chamber before we departed with them. Do you know who found it?”

“I can tell ye that scrap o’ vellum were gone when next I opened the door,” Gorry said. “I’d heard nowt of it, nor o’ their ladyships. So me lad and me had a peek. Finding them gone, we reported their disappearance, which nae one else had done yet. But if anyone else found that scrap, sir, I’d ha’ heard, though it puzzles me how anyone else could get in without he had a key.”

“Do you have the only key to that room, then?” Mag asked, frowning.

“At present, Dougal has the only other one,” Ian said. “Right, Gorry?”

“Aye, sir,” Gorry said. “Me lad and I had tasks tae do after ye left that day. So it wasna till someone asked did I forget their ladyships that we went up together and found them gone. I’d seen plain enough that ye dropped that message in the middle o’ the floor. It wasna there later, nor the lassies neither, o’ course.”

“What happened next?”

“I sent the lad tae fetch the captain o’ the guard and showed him what we’d found. He asked some questions. But dunamany folks had seen me all the afternoon a-doing me usual chores wi’ the lad. Nae one accused me o’ nowt.”

Rob said, “Dougal found it himself then, aye.”

Nodding, Ian said, “He must have, which means he was coming back for my lady to take her with him. I doubt that he’ll be returning to Dumbarton, though, especially if James Mòr is heading for Arrochar.”

“Aye, if Dougal is wise, he’ll stay home for a long while,” Mag said.

“Look,” Rob said. “Is that not one of your lads coming yonder, Ian?”

A man that Ian recognized as Hew Laing, a Dunglass gillie, dashed out of the dense woods ahead of them and ran toward them as fast as he could pelt.

“I saw them Stewarts from Dumbarton, Sir Ian!” he shouted as he neared them. “They passed me t’other side o’ the river. We were all off the road amidst the trees, so they didna see me. I heard one say Glen Fruin be but a few miles ahead.”

“Glen Fruin? Art sure they spoke of Glen Fruin, not Arrochar?” Ian asked.

“Heard it plain, sir. I’d hid soon as I heard ’em, fearing they’d seek tae ken me business did they see me in such a haste. See you, I were tae fetch a garron tae carry our deer. I feared that lot might ha’ took the deer, did I let them see me. But when I crossed tae this side, one o’ our lads said ye was a-looking for that lot.”

“Where are most of the deer hunters now, Hew?”

“They cut eastward. My lot stalked one just northwest o’ the ford nearest Balloch. We’d carried that deer a mile afore we thought tae fetch a garron.”

“Damn their souls,” Mag snapped. “They’re making for Bannachra.”

“Can we get there before they do?” Ian demanded.

“Aye, if we cross the muir,” Mag said. “The nearest ford lies just ahead.”

“Show us,” Ian said. Then to Hew, he said, “You find Colquhoun or the Laird of Galbraith, or both. Tell whoever you find what you told me. Also tell him that I said you should ask him to lend you a garron for that deer of yours.”

“Aye, sir, I’ll run all the way.”

As he dashed off, Ian motioned to his men and said, “Lead on, Mag.”

A short time later, they splashed across the ford and into the woods on the west side of the river with Rob and the other men close behind.

Confident that Mag would take them into the glen well above James Mòr and the rebels, Ian felt the familiar zest for battle surge through him.

They would capture the treacherous scoundrel and his closest followers.

Then he would present them all as a fine gift to his grace, the King. It might be fine enough, when added to the recovery of Dumbarton Castle, to persuade Jamie to let him return to the arms of his serenely delectable lady wife.

Thankful to know that Lina was safe and sound at Tùr Meiloach, Ian rode on.

Lina was hungry, and it was past the usual time for the midday meal. She had been shaking out bed curtains and draperies, and rearranging linen and clothing kists—airing out, Lady Margaret had called it, and Lina hadn’t minded.

The remnants of her dream earlier stayed with her, reminding her of how her life had changed since Sir Ian Colquhoun had strolled into it. He had encouraged her to trust her feelings and to try things that she would never have imagined doing on her own. Just thinking of his touch or his voice brought the images back.

Those feelings stirred again when she thought about him as she went downstairs, expecting to join her mother and Lady Margaret for their midday meal.

To her surprise, she heard no voices as she approached the dais entrance to the great hall, where she had assumed that both Lady Margaret and Lady Aubrey would be expecting her. A lone gillie stood at the end of the dais nearest the fireplace, bereft of any fire now with the weather so warm.

“Where are their ladyships?” Lina asked him.

“Sakes, m’lady, they ate nigh an hour ago.”

“Are they in Lady Margaret’s solar, then?”

“Nay, m’lady. Whiles, Lady Margaret did go down tae the kitchen tae speak wi’ the cook. Then she did say she would tend tae her stitchery and doesna want tae be disturbed. Lady Aubrey did go outside tae walk.”

“Which way did she go?” Lina could hear her tension in her voice.

“She didna say. But that lad ye brung wi’ ye, Pluff, said he seen her heading up the glen. What will ye ha’ tae eat, then?”

“Bread and a wedge of cheese if there is some,” Lina said. “But make haste. I want to catch up with my mother.”

As soon as she had her food, Lina hurried out into the yard to find Pluff.

Having followed Mag by a circuitous route through the woods and across a boggy, peat-scented muir into higher country, Ian’s party crested the hill between the muir and Glen Fruin in less time than he had expected. From the hilltop, he and the rest of the men looked down on Bannachra Tower, which sat below them on a slight rise less than a quarter-mile away, overlooking Fruin Water.

“Either they’ve already passed by, or we’ve beaten them here,” Mag said.

“Nowt about that tower suggests that they’ve been here,” Rob observed.

“Then we’ll head down the glen,” Ian said. “We can welcome them.”

He glanced at the tower again. Something about it was wrong.

“Hark!” Rob said, looking eastward. “Hear that?”

Below them in the glen, Ian did hear a distant sound of hoofbeats and the clank of weapons and armor that usually heralded an armed force.

“We must stop them before they reach the tower,” Mag said. “My aunt will have left only a few men-at-arms to guard it—mere bodyguards, though, not a fighting force. Weir,” he shouted to one of the Clan Farlan men, “go to the tower and warn the lads there of their danger. Then do what you can to secure the tower, whilst we attend to those coming up the trail.”

Ian said, “We’ll wait for them at that narrow curve beyond the tower, yonder. I’m thinking we can hold them there.”

“We’ll surprise them, I’m sure,” Mag said. “And, judging by the sounds they make, we have almost as many men as they do.”

As they made their way down the hill, Ian glanced at Bannachra Tower several times more, wondering what it was about the place that seemed odd.

It struck him when they reached the track along the Fruin Water.

“Maggy, is not your aunt still a guest at Tùr Meiloach?”

“Aye, sure, she—” Breaking off with an oath, Mag added, “Blast the woman! Her banner is flying over the tower. She must have come home.”

Ian glanced back again and saw a thin, red-headed lad running toward them.

Tension swept through him. “Is that not Tùr Meiloach’s Pluff?”

“It is, by God,” Mag said, frowning.

“You and Rob take the lads and meet James Mòr and his lot,” Ian said. “I’ll make sure that Lady Margaret is safe and”—he swallowed a sudden obstruction in his throat—“and find out if anyone else is here with her. If so, I’ll see to them, too.”

Although Pluff had assured her that Lady Aubrey had taken the trail up the glen, Lina was beginning to wonder if she had come the right way. Fruin Water sped by alongside her, curving back and forth on itself as it tumbled down the glen. The path took the same course as the burn, and she had been following it for at least half an hour. But she had yet to see any sign of her mother.

Not long after climbing a steep bit of the path, beside a waterfall, she rounded a sharp curve and paused to scan a broader view of the glen ahead. The burn widened there and seemed shallower than it had been. It was much quieter in its passage, too, bubbling along as if it were talking to itself.

Pluff had offered to accompany her, but she was glad she had not let him. She had told him to make himself useful to Lady Margaret’s cook if need be.

The path continued its serpentine course up the glen. Birds chirped to each other, and a hawk soared overhead. High above it, an eagle soared lazily, as if it had no interest in food or aught save fresh air.

The thought made her smile. But the smile froze, and so did she, when she heard a man’s voice and realized it had come from close behind her on the trail.

Without stopping to think, she slipped around the next curve as fast as she could while making as little noise as possible. Then, with relief, she saw that if she climbed a short distance above the trail, a huge boulder there might conceal her.

Suiting thought to action, glad that her bare feet were as tough as whitleather and as sure on the granite slope as any garron’s hooves, she slipped behind the boulder. She could see the trail above but not the part behind her. Listening, with every other sense alert, as well, she heard more voices, quiet ones, and horses.

Looking up the glen again, she saw a woman on the steeply sloping hillside across the burn. She was striding up a grassy slope with scattered patches of dense shrubbery. The woman wore a green shawl over her head, draping to her hips, and was clearly visible as she neared trees above her on the hillside. The men were sure to see her.

The woman glanced over her shoulder.

Although the shawl concealed much of her, Lina easily recognized Lady Aubrey. Still hearing the voices and sure that any number of men were riding toward her, she kept perfectly still and willed her mother into the safety of the trees.

Keeping her head low, Lina peeped cautiously around the boulder, saw the nose of a bay horse, and eased back. Her mother had vanished.

The men passed below the boulder, two of them still talking. She did not know their voices or who they were. There were six men in all but no banner to identify them. None looked familiar until the last one rode by.

Her skin turned cold then, her face numb. She had never seen James Mòr Stewart or any nobleman who was close to him. But she did recognize Patrick Galbraith, and she knew that James Mòr was the only man Patrick followed.