Chapter 17

A fter sending the others to meet James Mòr’s men, Ian had not waited. He was confident that with Bannachra in the balance, Mag, Rob, and the twenty men with them would easily defeat anyone coming up the glen.

As he spurred his horse across the hillside to meet Pluff, Ian knew from the boy’s terrified expression that the news he carried was bad.

Wrenching the horse to a halt a short distance from the gasping boy, he said curtly, “What are you doing at Bannachra?”

Bending over, hands on his thighs, trying to catch his breath, Pluff looked up at him helplessly.

“Out with it, lad! Who else is here?”

“No to say… ‘here’… exactly,” Pluff gasped out, grimacing.

“Tell me!”

“ ’Tis her ladyship… She went out o’ the castle. And the lady Lina—”

“Lady Margaret and Lady Lina went out?”

“Nay, our lady Aubrey did leave tae go a-walking.”

“Then what did Lady Lina do?” Ian asked, although he could guess.

“See you, that were later, and none so long ago, neither.”

Wanting to shake him, Ian growled, “ What was later?”

“Lady Lina followed her mam. I’d ha’ gone wi’ her, but she didna want me.”

“Which way did they go?” Ian asked. Fear that they had gone east toward James Mòr and the rebels caused his throat to close on the last few words, making them barely audible.

Understanding enough to point westward, Pluff said, “Yonder, up the glen, sir. I dinna ken how far or where. Nor did our lady Lina ken where her mam went, neither, ’cause she asked me.”

“Does either of them have a dog or a manservant with her?”

Pluff shook his head.

“What are they wearing?”

Pluff’s brows knitted together in thought. “Lady Lina had a yellow gown on. Her ladyship wore a reddish-brown-colored one, I think. Aye, and a big green shawl that looked too hot tae wear on a day like this ’un.”

“You have good eyes, Pluff.”

“There be another thing ye should ken, though,” Pluff said.

Impatient to be away, Ian had begun to turn his horse but paused. “What?”

Hastily, Pluff said, “There was riders, sir, six o’ them. They passed by none so long after the lady Lina left. They slowed, so I think they meant tae stop. But one o’ them pointed tae the ramparts and muttered tae the others. Then, they rode on.”

“Thanks, lad,” Ian said, trying to suppress his surging fear for Lina. “Go back inside and look after the lady Margaret. I’ll find your ladies, never fear.”

“And ye’ll take care o’ them, aye,” Pluff said, nodding.

“I will,” Ian said grimly. He could hear a clash of arms below in the glen, so battle had begun. What the devil Lina and her mother had meant by coming here—sakes, by letting Lady Margaret leave the safety of Tùr Meiloach—was a question to which he meant to have an answer before he was much older.

Crossing the burn as soon as the men were out of sight, and realizing that she knew, or thought she knew, where her mother was heading, Lina paused to ask herself why she was trying to catch up with her. To reach the hillside clearing they had visited with Lizzie, they had turned back eastward for a time after crossing.

Suspecting that her mother was indeed going to the clearing, Lina wished that she had thought to wear the mossy green cloak that she had brought, because it would help her conceal her presence in the woods. Too late to be thinking about that now, though, she told herself firmly.

If the clearing was where Lady Aubrey was going, it might be quicker, she knew, to try to get ahead of her by angling that way as she climbed the hill.

“But what if that dream, or whatever it was, was wrong and Mam is just going somewhere near there?” she murmured as she hurried up the grassy slope toward the woods above. “If I go the wrong way, I might be too late.”

Guiding his horse up the track along Fruin Water, Ian urged it to a lope for a short distance until the track made a sharp curve to his left and another back to his right, following the rocky course of the water rushing nearby.

Hearing a roar ahead, he soon reached the waterfall making the racket. The track was steep there, so he let the horse pick its way. Cursing all willful women, he tried to focus on what he’d say to the two of them when he caught them—and not let his fertile imagination provide gruesome images of dangers they might have met.

Trying to imagine himself telling Lady Aubrey what he thought of her haring off on her own at such a dangerous time daunted him, given what he knew of her and of her husband’s respect for her abilities. But the thought of Lina following her out of concern for her safety made his intent clearer. He would flay them both.

Rounding a curve a short time later, he caught a glimpse of movement to his right on the steep, forested hillside beyond the fast-moving burn. Yellow fabric, certainly a woman’s skirt, whisked out of sight amidst the trees there.

“How the devil…?” He shook his head, scanning the burn. Despite its rapid flow, he could see the bed beneath it a few yards upstream. Urging his mount closer, noting how the animal’s withers trembled, he said, “Now, lad, it’s not as deep as the Leven was. And we’re far enough above the falls now to be safe. Hie in, laddie.”

Tossing its head with a snort, the horse obeyed.

As it made its way across the burn, Ian forced himself to relax lest his anxiety increase the horse’s disquiet. On the far side, it scrambled up the bank—slipping here, sliding there—but it was a canny beast and sure-footed.

Riding up the steep, grassy hill to the trees was another matter. He felt exposed in the meadow and he had seen no sign of the riders Pluff had mentioned. Reaching the woods, Ian decided he might be wiser to tether his mount if only to move more quietly. Heaven knew where or how far the women would go. But it was clear to him that whatever they were doing, they were behaving oddly.

Just then, he glimpsed the yellow skirt again. Dismounting and tethering the horse, he adjusted the sword on his back and the dirk in its sheath, and set out on foot, moving quickly. Thanks to the thick layer of pine duff and beech leaves underfoot, he also traveled silently. He soon saw that his instinct had been right.

The woman he followed was Lina. She did not look back.

“Foolish lass,” he murmured. “I’d teach her a gey good lesson if I walked up behind her and slung her over my shoulder… or over my knee.”

Aware that her sense of danger had increased significantly and attributing the increase to the scene she was sure lay just ahead, Lina hurried on. She had not seen Lady Aubrey again. But if she remembered how to reach the place they sought, she still had some distance to go.

Moving faster, she kilted her skirts higher to keep them from tangling around her legs. Her sense of danger grew stronger, more impending, until it filled the very air around her. But her mother was still ahead of her. Certain that danger threatened Lady Aubrey, Lina could not let her own fears force her to look behind every tree.

Then, ahead, she caught sight of movement beneath the trees and saw what looked like a faint trail wending through denser shrubbery. Snatching hold of her skirts, she ran that way, then stopped when she saw a flash of russet through the greenery—only to startle violently seconds later when a grouse broke cover with clapping wings and the eerie, low-pitched double-hoot common to the bird.

Taking a moment to collect herself, she scanned left and right but saw nothing moving. The sensation of danger now lurked behind her. Instinct urged her on.

Deciding that she was letting her imagination run riot and needed to focus on finding her mother, Lina went determinedly forward.

The lass had jumped nearly out of her skin, so she was sensible enough to be nervous. She’d lost sight of her mother, though, and heaven knew where she was.

Ian sighed. Recalling again the men Pluff had seen, he wondered where they were but dismissed them without hesitation. He had seen no sign of horses in the woods, and one could easily reach Colquhoun land from Glen Fruin. It lay just the other side of the hills that cradled the head of the glen, so, for all he knew, they had been Colquhouns who had joined the hunt and were heading back to Craggan.

He saw Lina moving again. She was now some yards below the crest of the hill. Aware that she might well be heading over that hill into Glen Finlas, he strode up behind her until, in just three long strides, he would have her.

She whirled, and color surged into her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

“I came after my foolhardy wife,” he retorted. “You deserve a scolding if not worse, little wife, for taking a risk that may be greater than any I’ve ever taken.”

“How could it be?”

“There is a battle raging below us, even now, in the lower part of the glen.”

“Faith, who is fighting?”

“James Mòr and his followers escaped from Dumbarton. They fight my men, Rob MacAulay’s, and the MacFarlans who serve Mag. Where is your mother?”

“Ahead of me somewhere. She turned back toward Bannachra.”

“Then we will also turn back,” he said, fighting to keep his hands off her. “But we will return the way we came, on the trail, because I must collect my horse.”

“I can’t go back. You don’t understand!”

“Nay, Lina, you will do as I say.”

She clutched his arm. “Mam is walking into a trap, Ian. Sithee, I know she is, and she does not know it.”

“Then tell me where she is going,” he said. “I’ll follow her whilst you stay safe here,” he added reasonably. “Think, lass! I can protect her. You could not.”

“She will go to a clearing in the trees,” Lina said with a sigh. “I cannot describe the place well enough for you to find it, though. I know where it is only because Lizzie, Mam, Murie, and I went there one morning soon after Galbraith brought us here. We took our midday meal with us. I recognized the place at once.”

“What do you mean, you recognized it?”

She hesitated, nibbling her lip.

“Tell me.”

“You will think I’m daft or telling a falsehood,” she said.

“Lass, I ken fine what your opinion is of any sort of falsehood. If you’ve ever told one in your life, I shall own myself amazed.”

“Well, I don’t think I have. But since you—”

“We are not discussing me. How do you know where she is going?”

“I saw the place, and more than once, sir. The first time was on our wedding night. I’d have told you then, but you were nearly asleep, and I thought you would be irked that I had paid heed to such a thing at such an important time.”

“Aye, sure, I would have,” he agreed, knowing that was an understatement. “But how did you know the clearing? There must be many on these wooded hills.”

“There is a tree, a misshapen one. It must be a beech because it is gey tall with a slender trunk. But beeches’ trunks are usually as straight as straight can be. This one turns back on itself and then grows straight again.”

“I warrant I can find such a tree if it is near the crest of this hill.”

“I don’t recall that it is near the crest. Anyway, I must go with you. It would be more dangerous to stay here alone. There is danger in the upper glen, too.”

“Aye, Pluff told me he had seen six riders ahead of the others. Sithee, a host of men, many on horseback, left Dumbarton with this morning to join my father in a hunt for that magnificent stag we saw. That made it possible for others to help me retake the castle. But James Mòr and his closest followers had already fled.”

“I’m glad you took the castle and sorry they escaped,” she said, fervently hoping to avoid more discussion of those six riders. If Ian learned that they had nearly caught her, there would be further argument and thus further delay. Hastily, she added, “But they are gone now, and we must not stand talking. Mam is in grave danger, sir. I have seen that danger four times now, and in much the same way. She is walking through a wood, and she may be carrying things in her arms.”

“What things?”

“Scroll-like things,” Lina said warily. “Then, as she passes the tree, a hand reaches out and grabs her.”

“Sakes, lass, that sounds like the sort of nightmare a man has after a night of too much drinking,” Ian said. “You will have to do better than that.”

“I cannot help what it sounds like. I have never endured such a thing before. Nor do I think that aught occurred on our wedding night to account for it.”

“Our wedding night!” But as he said it, he recalled her mentioning that night just moments before—something about trying to speak to him then.

“Right in the middle of things, aye,” she said. “Moreover, I do not think I’ve ever before dreamed the same thing twice, let alone four times—or whilst standing on stairs or staring at a fire. You must heed me, sir, but let us walk as we talk. We can come back later for your horse. Forbye, he may have returned to his stable.”

“Since his stable is at Dunglass, I hope he did not. But he is well tethered, lass, so we must fetch him.” He spoke a bit distantly, because he was thinking of all that she had said and recalling his sense that she had seemed distracted… at the highest point of their first coupling!

Wanting to shriek at him that they had no time to fetch his horse but knowing that if she did, she would more likely inflame his temper with hers than persuade him of anything, Lina forced herself to calm down. She hoped that if she could compose herself, he might grow calmer, too. That had sometimes happened with Lizzie, so perhaps it might work with Ian, too.

Quietly, she said again, “Mam is in grave danger. I know that as well as I know that you stand here, Ian. You have spoken of the magic of Tùr Meiloach—”

“This is not Tùr Meiloach,” he said curtly.

Clearly, her self-imposed calm was not affecting him.

“I am as sure of her danger as I can be,” she said. “Prithee, sir, believe me.”

“You are imagining things, lass,” he said. Then, apparently noting that she had stiffened at those words, he added hastily, “We can walk a bit farther as we talk. But I’ll wager that your mother is simply returning to Bannachra.”

“Walk swiftly, then,” she said, relieved but more fearful than ever for Lady Aubrey. “The place she seeks lies this way. I was too busy trying to follow her without letting her see me to think about the distance, so I am not sure how far.”

“Aye, I can imagine that she might have been peeved to catch her daughter spying on her. By my troth, Lina—”

“If you saw your mother behaving as you had never known her to behave before,” she said, “would you not want to know why she did so? If she suddenly became furtive, watchful, and nervous, would you not be concerned for her?”

“I would,” he agreed, trying but failing to imagine his amiable, ever-sedate mother in such a role. “To tell the truth, lass, my mind flatly rejects such an image.”

“Just so,” she said. “My mother is also unlikely to behave in such a way. But for days now, perhaps a sennight, she has behaved oddly. And then, suddenly, Lady Margaret declared that she wanted to return to Bannachra.”

“What demon possessed the woman?”

“She said it was because Father doubled the guard at Tùr Meiloach. Strife unsettles her, she said. In troth, she is a woman who likes solitude. But she is also indolent and hates traveling. I suspect she declared her intent to leave because Mam wanted to come back here and could offer no other good reason to do so.”

“Sakes, did she have a good reason to come with Lady Margaret?”

“Aye, sure, a plausible one, too. She said it was unseemly for Lady Margaret to travel so far with only men as companions. Since she had not brought her woman with her to Tùr Meiloach, even my father saw naught amiss in Mam’s coming here with her. The flaw in their plan, if it was a plan between them, was that Mam did not suggest that her own woman should travel with her . So when I said that I would come with them, she could hardly forbid it.”

“I don’t understand. If she was scheming, why did she let you come?”

“How could she not? She had just said that Lady Margaret needed female company. Then I said I should go, too, so Mam would not find herself in that same predicament when she wanted to return home. Good sakes, sir, even Father would have wondered if she had refused to let me come with them after that.”

“But she is the Seer in the family, is she not? If it was dangerous for her to come here, would she not know it?”

“Her foresight almost never predicts aught that will personally affect her,” Lina explained. “It did warn her to leave Arrochar all those years ago when it was under Pharlain’s attack, but it has never let her know if my father’s charters will protect Tùr Meiloach or if he will win back his chiefdom.”

“He will win it back,” Ian said, putting a welcome arm around her shoulders. “We’ll see to that, betwixt the lot of us.”

The woods ahead of them seemed to darken then, and Lina held up a hand. “Listen,” she murmured. “Do you hear voices?”

Ian did hear them and recognized Lady Aubrey’s voice by its calm firmness.

“I expect that you are gey pleased with yourself,” she said. “I came to meet you here only to tell you that you have wasted your time and will continue to waste it if you threaten me or my family again.”

“Lest ye’ve failed to notice, madam, ye’re nae longer on Tùr Meiloach’s soil. Moreover, we are alone here, and ye’ve nae defense against me. So ye’d do better to keep your word.” The voice, unmistakably Dougal’s, was harsh, his tone confident.

Ian reached back for the sword in his baldric but stopped with his hand still raised when her ladyship spoke again.

“It matters not if we are on Tùr Meiloach’s ground or in some other place,” she said. “ You named me Seer, Dougal MacPharlain, so you should believe me when I tell you, you won’t harm me. Nor would your father thank you if you did.”

“Ye do not control me, nor can ye ken what my father would do or not do. Where are the charters I commanded ye to bring me?”

Hearing Lina gasp beside him, Ian put a finger to her lips. Then, motioning for her to stay where she was, he drew his gloves from his belt and pulled them on as he stepped silently toward the voices.

“The charters are safe,” Lady Aubrey said.

“Believe me, madam, before I release ye, ye’ll tell me where they lie.”

“Nay, Dougal. They belong neither to you nor to me, so I will not.”

Ian moved closer. He could see the two of them through the trees ahead.

“Then Andrew Dubh will bring them,” Dougal said. “If I take ye hostage, I’ll wager it will not take him long, either, not with your life at stake.”

“As I said, you will not harm me,” she said. “Not only would your father recoil at such a thing, but my Campbell kinsmen would cease to receive you or anyone else for whom you declare support. They would also seek vengeance.”

“D’ye think so? I do not. Ye fail to understand the importance of one man whom your Campbells do support most strongly. But that matters not to either of us now. I have nae cause yet to harm ye. But ye’ll come with me, madam. Now.”

“I won’t.”

“Ye will. Ye’ll come either willingly or by force. Choose how.”

Leaving his sword where it was, Ian silently slipped his dirk from its sheath.

Moving as silently as Ian, Lina followed him and felt as if her heart were trying to thump its way out of her chest. She had all she could do not to shout at Dougal that he was not alone with her mother. When Ian drew his dirk, she wanted to stop him, to tell him to put it back, lest Lady Aubrey be hurt.

That Dougal would dare to threaten Lady Aubrey was bad enough. That he had expected her to bring him the charters for the Arrochar estates horrified Lina.

Had her mother agreed to such a betrayal?

Lina’s imagination rejected that thought as swiftly as Ian’s had rejected the image of his own mother behaving furtively or even nervously. Lady Aubrey would do naught to jeopardize her beloved husband’s chiefdom.

How had Dougal got here ahead of them? Had he been riding with James Mòr’s lot and she somehow failed to see him? How had he known where to go?

Ian looked back then and caught her gaze. Anger, nay fury, contorted his features and he gestured unmistakably for her to back off.

Instead, she moved more quickly toward him.

Lady Aubrey cried out.

When Ian turned toward the sound, Lina dashed past him to the edge of the clearing beyond. The strangely formed tree she had recalled stood ahead of her as it had before. Beneath it, she saw that Dougal, wearing a leather jack, breeks, and boots, had grabbed her mother.

He had not seen her yet, so Lina stood where she was.

Lady Aubrey struggled to free herself until Dougal twisted her arm hard.

“Leave her be!” Lina cried.

To her shock, Dougal grinned at her and twisted Lady Aubrey’s arm harder, bringing her to her knees. To Lina, he said, “Come here to me, or I’ll break her arm. Two hostages must always be better than one.”

“I don’t think you’ll take any hostage today,” Ian said from behind Lina.

The fury in his voice, she knew, was meant as much for her as it was for Dougal. But she was glad to hear Ian’s voice. Even his heavy hand on her shoulder, holding her firmly in place while he stepped in front of her, was a comfort.

Dougal put two fingers to his lips and whistled. “To me, lads!” he shouted.

In a rush of terror, Lina expected to see a large force of men-at-arms leap from the trees and shrubbery. When two men with swords and dirks drawn stepped into view beyond Lady Aubrey, Lina tried to tell herself that two were nothing. But her knees declared otherwise, quaking so that they threatened to buckle beneath her.

Three men could surely overwhelm and kill one, knight of the realm or not.

“Run, lass,” Ian snapped without looking back at her.

But she could not. Her weakened knees would fail to support her. In any event, her feet would not move. Terror for her mother and for Ian, or some equally powerful force of which she had no ken, froze her where she stood.

Knowing as well as if he were watching her that Lina had not moved, Ian wished he could pick her up and throw her to safety. That being impossible, he watched the two swiftly approaching swordsmen and cursed himself for not having brought at least two of his own men with him.

That thought withered away at birth. Lina’s actions had angered and terrified him, but he would not have let others see his anger with her or his fear. That was not in his nature. He would never purposely expose her errors or foolhardiness to anyone else, especially to any man who served him. He would attend to her himself.

“Come to me, lads,” he murmured. Gripping his dirk with his left hand, keeping the right one poised to draw his sword, he glanced at Dougal. Would the man attack him, order his minions to do it, or would all three charge him at once?

Dougal jerked Lady Aubrey to her feet. Pulling a thin rope from his jack, he swiftly tied her wrists behind her and shoved her back down to the ground.

Then, as the other two men stepped into the clearing, Dougal said curtly, “Kill him and don’t waste time about it.”

“Coward,” Ian said loudly as the other two stalked toward him, widening the distance between them as they did. He knew they hoped he would be unable to watch them both closely enough that way. Still speaking to Dougal, he said, “I expect you always have others do your work for you, you hen-hearted coof.”

“It is what I pay them for and why I brought them,” Dougal retorted. “I own, though, I never expected to see ye here, Colquhoun. I thought ye’d be stalking deer today with your da and the others.”

“Just how do you know about that?” Ian asked, keeping his eyes on the other two. “You’ve been cowering at home ever since you let your captives escape.”

“When my lads finish with ye, if they leave aught to question, I’ll learn how ye came to marry our Lina. Not that that matters now. One day, I’ll own all of Arrochar, including Tùr Meiloach. Then I’ll leave it to mine own heirs at the end.”

From a too-short distance behind Ian, Lina said, “You will have no heirs, and Tùr Meiloach will reject you.” But Ian dared not turn. He continued to watch the two swordsmen, only one of whom had paused at Lina’s words.

“You, Dougal MacPharlain, lack proper respect for Tùr Meiloach,” she went on sternly. “You should give thanks to the Fates that you do not stand on its sacred soil now, because that very soil would betray you. But you will learn your error. By my troth, if you fail to change your wicked ways, you will rue them sorely.”

“Lass, ye’re devilish insolent,” Dougal said. “Either that, or ye’re a witch and a daft one at that. ’Tis as well I didna marry ye.”

“You will marry no MacFarlan. But you should heed my warning,” Lina went on solemnly. “As punishment for your crimes against the true chief of Clan Farlan, the Fates have decreed that one whom you deem a friend will betray you.”

Hearing those words and her eerily distant tone, Ian felt a chill slither up his spine. His left hand tightened on his dirk, and he reached back with his right hand to draw his sword. But he had no need to move quickly.

His two would-be opponents stood gaping at Lina, their swords wavering.

Dougal likewise seemed to have grown roots, and his face was ashen. But he recovered faster than the others did. “Kill him, damn ye!” he snapped.

When the two warriors moved to engage Ian, Dougal left Lady Aubrey long enough to skirt the three swordsmen, grab Lina, and drag her to join her mother.

Livid, but unable to confront Dougal without first dispatching the other two, Ian leaped to the attack.