Chapter 19

A ndrew looked from Dougal to Mag with a twinkle in his eyes. “ ’Tis true,” he said to Mag. “As son of the Laird of Galbraith, ye do wield power here.”

Lina held her breath—and her tongue—looking from one man to another.

Dougal said, “Galbraith won’t want trouble any more than ye do, Andrew.”

“That be true, too,” Andrew said, nodding. “Ye ken fine that Arthur wouldna like it, Magnus. Still and all, mayhap ye could just make the man disappear.”

Ian said firmly, “With respect, sir, I’d liefer have both Mag and Rob see our prisoners safely to Dumbarton.”

Andrew sighed. “I thought ye might,” he said. “But Jamie won’t want to hang this villain either, not whilst he’s trying to persuade the Highland chiefs to meet with him, and whilst Pharlain can block Arrochar’s pass to the Highlands.”

“Then what do you suggest we do with him,” Ian asked.

“I’ll have some of me own lads deal with him,” Andrew said, signing to two men hovering nearby. “Get him out of me sight and see him well on his way, with my compliments,” he said to them, emphasizing the last three words. “We’ll keep his weapons, his plaid, and his boots here, so when ye turn him loose in nobbut his tunic, he’ll be harmless to others. Then, if the Fates allow him to get home, mayhap his father will return the boon someday when he catches one of our lot.”

Ian nodded but said, “Then I’ll leave Mag and Rob to see to our prisoners, sir. They’ll have enough men to get them to Dumbarton without trouble. His grace will have his own men there by now, as well as those of the Douglas, Buccleuch, and Sir Alex Buchanan. The castle, harbor, and burgh should all be secure.”

“Art sure, lad?” When Ian nodded, he added, “Then your da and Galbraith must have settled their minds about that venture since last I saw ye.”

“They both played their parts, aye,” Ian said with a smile.

Andrew’s eyebrows shot upward. “Did they now? Ye did fine then, and I’m proud to have ye for me good-son. Sithee, I’d suspected that the armed force I followed up the glen might belong to James Mòr. But he wasna with them.”

“I saw him,” Lina said then, avoiding Ian’s eye. “When I was on the glen path earlier, I heard riders behind me and hid. They were in such haste that they did not see me. Nor did they see Mam hurrying up the other side of Fruin Wat—”

She broke off, eyeing her father warily, knowing that she had said too much.

Andrew looked at his lady. “I’m a wee bit curious about that stroll, m’self.”

Lina held her breath, but Lady Aubrey met Andrew’s stern look easily.

He shifted his gaze to Lina. “I didna ken ye’d ever seen James Mòr, lass.”

“I had not seen him before,” she admitted. Deciding to get it all over at once, she looked at Mag and added, “But it must have been James Mòr and some of his closest followers, sir, because your brother Patrick rode with them.”

Ian said, “Then those boats of Pharlain’s that you saw this morning heading south, sir, were most likely headed for a meeting place on our south shore.”

“On Colquhoun land?”

“Aye, or MacAulay’s.”

Andrew’s eyes glinted but with humor or anger even Lina could not tell.

Ian said, “Will you be returning at once to Tùr Meiloach, sir?”

“We will,” Andrew said, shifting his gaze back to meet Lady Aubrey’s.

Ian said, “Then, with Mag’s agreement and that of the lady Margaret, I mean to stay here tonight with my lady. We have matters to discuss.”

Mag said, “You are welcome to stay, Ian. You don’t need Aunt Margaret’s permission. If she thinks you do, just leave her to Lina to bring round.”

“Lina is going to be busy explaining a few things to her husband,” Ian said, giving her a stern look.

Emotion surged through her then, a mixture of delight that he would stay, wonder at how he expected her to get home if her parents both left, and a touch of trepidation. She could sense his anger again. But even that filled her with delight one moment and made her wonder the next if she was mad to welcome it.

Ian wanted to get his hands on Lina, on all of her. His cock stirred at just the thought of touching her and teaching her more of what it meant to be married.

But first, he had a duty to see his prisoners on their way to Dumbarton in Mag’s charge and Rob’s.

“I suppose you remember that I, too, have a bonnie wife, my lad,” Mag said dryly. “Forbye, she is with child and awaits me at Tùr Meiloach.”

“I do know that, but Dree will wait. I would remind you that I am but newly wed. Even so, I will grant you a choice. How many prisoners did you take?”

“Fifteen, mayhap two or three more. Andrew’s men slew several, coming round from Glen Finlas and trapping them between our two forces, as he did.”

Ian nodded. “If you start at once, you should reach Dumbarton before dark. Even if you don’t start immediately, it will take you only three or four hours, and there will be a moon tonight. It will take Andrew longer to reach his tower from here. But, since he takes his lady with him, he won’t mind the journey.”

“What is my other choice?” Mag asked.

“Camp here in the yard with them overnight and leave in the morning. You have Rob and his men to aid you. I’ll lend you mine, as well, to keep watch.”

“And thus hand my head to my aunt for washing,” Mag said with a chuckle. “I thank you for letting me make the choice, but I’m in as much of a hurry to return to my lady as you are to be with yours. I’ll get this lot moving as soon as we eat.”

“The hunters planned to roast venison,” Ian reminded him.

“I know they do. But since I do not mean to inflict our prisoners on them, I’ll raid the larder here. I ken fine that we’ll find ale and bread enough for all. I expect we’ll have enough cheese and dried meat to dole out, as well. If I see Jamie or Colquhoun, when should I tell them to expect you?”

“Sometime tomorrow,” Ian said. “I don’t mean to linger here.”

“What about Lina?”

Ian glanced toward his beautiful wife, still standing with her parents.

“That is my choice to make,” he said with a wry smile. “It will depend on the explanation she offers for her actions today.”

Mag’s eyes twinkled. “Whatever you do, don’t treat any explanation lightly. I had a similar experience with Andrena, and I cannot say that I behaved wisely.”

“Aye, well, we’ll see,” Ian said. “I can’t have Lina taking her own road as she has been doing of late. Only see where it led her this time and the last.”

“In troth, I’m gey thankful that she was with Lizzie,” Mag said, sobering.

“And I’m glad that Lina was not alone. Even so…”

“Their capture was Lizzie’s fault, you know.”

“I do. But Lina should never have agreed to ride down the glen with her.”

“Do as you will then, my lad, but if you would be wiser than I was, tread with great care.”

Ian noted then that the twinkle had returned to the big man’s eyes.

Lina listened to her father with half an ear while keeping track of Ian and Mag in her peripheral vision. Andrew chatted casually, inquiring about their journey to Bannachra and Lady Margaret’s well-being. But Lina knew he wanted an explanation of her mother’s meeting with Dougal, and one for her own presence there, as much as Ian did. And Andrew’s temper was even more volatile than Ian’s was.

Nevertheless, Lady Aubrey’s tone remained calmly conversational.

Although Andrew fairly radiated determination, neither he nor his lady seemed distressed or angry, so Lina’s own earlier torrent of emotions began to settle into a semblance of her usual calm… until peripheral movement diverted her.

Ian had parted with Mag and was striding toward her through the crowd.

Tentacles of tension slid around and through her, stirred by a mixture of emotions. Her body reacted strongly, sensually, to the look of purpose on his face. Too-delightful images and feelings from their wedding night and afterward filled her mind and body until she could scarcely think of anything else.

As he strode nearer, the expression on his face was enough to make the men between them stand aside to make way for him. She recalled then his saying that her decision to follow her mother was more reckless than anything he had ever done.

Her calm shattered. Her tension grew. She could not claim that following her own mother ought to have been safe, not without lying to him. Nor could she honestly claim ignorance of any danger in what she had done. The danger threatening her mother had been the very thing that had forced her to act, and she had already declared as much to him.

She tried to think of something to say, anything that might disarm his temper. But her imagination failed her.

Striding up to them, Ian nodded to Andrew, then to Lady Aubrey, saying crisply, “I would ask you both to excuse us now. Lina will stay here with me tonight, and I must return to Dumbarton tomorrow.”

His tone tightened the tentacles gripping her and sent heat and apprehension through her in equal, if wholly disparate, measures. The heat she welcomed. She yearned for him to make her feel it strongly again all over. The apprehension.…

Without looking at her, Andrew said lightly, “What will ye do with our Lina, lad, if I may ask ye?”

Lina swallowed hard at her father’s choice of words.

“You may ask me any questions you like, sir,” Ian said. “In troth, I do not know the answer to that one yet. I would like to take her with me to Dumbarton—nay, to Dunglass and from there to Craggan. But you will agree that I’d be leaving her in good hands if I decided to leave her here for a time with Lady Margaret.”

To Lina’s shock, Andrew nodded. Her mother kept silent.

Then Andrew said, “I’d ask only that ye visit us soon at Tùr Meiloach, lad. I ken fine that ye’ll likely take ship from Dunglass tae Craggan when ye go there. But we’ll want to see ye as soon as the pair of ye settle in at Craggan.”

Lina opened her mouth to remind them that most of her belongings were at Tùr Meiloach, which would make settling in anywhere else difficult, to say the least. But a glance at Ian’s harsh countenance stopped the words on her tongue.

He nodded as if her silence pleased him. Then, to Andrew, he said, “We will see you anon, sir, I promise.”

“Then take yourselves off, although ye might want a bite of supper first.”

“Perhaps,” Ian said. Offering his arm to Lina, he added, “We’ll see.”

Without hesitation, she accepted his arm. Her own temper had begun to spark.

Having noted the set of her delicate jaw and the thinning of her so-kissable lips, Ian urged her across the yard. Again, men saw them coming and made way.

“I must speak with Lady Margaret,” Lina said. “She will need help if she is to provide supper for this crowd.”

“We won’t trouble her,” Ian said. “Where is your bedchamber?”

“Good sakes, sir, would you send me to bed without supper? I’m not a bairn.”

“Mag and Rob will see to the men’s supper with the aid of the Galbraith people here. Lady Margaret’s own people will look after her and will perhaps provide us with supper, too, later. Meantime, I want to talk to you, and I do not want anyone to interrupt us. Now, where is your bedchamber?”

“This way,” she said, moving away from him toward the main entrance. Following her inside, to an entry that was no more than a broad landing on a spiral stone stairway, he saw a smaller landing and an archway into the great hall a few steps above them. Steps to his left led downward. Despite apparently being the tower’s main stairway, it was as narrow as the service stairs at Tùr Meiloach.

“Defending this place would be nigh as difficult as attacking it,” he said. “I wonder if James Mòr knew aught but that this tower stands in Glen Fruin.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder as she crossed the great hall landing to the next flight.

“Because your lad Pluff said that one of those six men pointed to Lady Margaret’s banner on the ramparts and said they would ride on. They had got well ahead of their other men by then, so I’m thinking that James Mòr expected those following them to delay pursuit if any presented itself. Or mayhap, he planned to bide here for a time to take a meal or even to seize the tower.”

Looking thoughtful, she led him to the next landing and one more after that before she gestured to one of two doors off the second landing.

“That is where I slept before Dougal captured us,” she said. “Lizzie and Murie shared that room yonder. I think this must be the one where Mag usually sleeps when he stays here, though. The bed is longer than any other one here.”

“If the bed suits Mag, it will suit me,” Ian said. “And he won’t sleep here tonight. He and Rob will take the prisoners to Dumbarton as soon as they’ve eaten.”

Leaning past her, he opened the bedchamber door and urged her inside. Following, he shut the door and bolted it.

The room was small, the bed against the wall to his left as long if not as wide as the one they had shared at Tùr Meiloach. The only other furniture was a washstand with the usual basin and ewer, a pair of wooden kists, and two stools flanking a small square table near the only window, across from the door.

“Now, lass,” he said, leaning against the door, “let’s have it.”

“What do you want me to say?

“I want you to tell me again about seeing your mother in the woods before you decided to follow her to her meeting with Dougal.”

“Faith, I didn’t know then that she went there to meet Dougal.”

“Don’t quibble. She did. He said he told her to bring the charters.”

“But she did not bring them. She had promised only to meet him.”

“So you asked her about that, did you?”

“Not exactly, but she said he threatened harm to us if she did not promise to meet him and that meeting him was all that she had promised to do.”

“Then she should have told Andrew, and plainly she did not. That, however, is his business and none of yours or mine. What you did today is my business, and I mean to get to the bottom of it. So, tell me everything that happened. What did you see? Describe it all to me. How did you feel?”

She hesitated, and he could not tell if she did so because she was sorting her thoughts or because she was trying to think how she might avoid the discussion.

“Don’t try me too far, lass. My temper is unreliable at the best of times, let alone on a day like this one has been. So sit on that stool and begin with what happened on our wedding night.”

Knowing that she had little choice, Lina gathered her dignity, called on her ability to compose herself, and obeyed him. When he drew up the second stool and sat facing her across the table, she described all that she could recall of the events.

For a time, as she talked, she expected him to interrupt her at any moment, as her father often did, to demand more detail. But Ian kept silent.

If, at times, he frowned or showed other indications of doubt, he controlled any urge to cross-question her, and she was grateful for his reticence. It allowed her to search her mind for details that she might not otherwise have thought to include.

After describing the scroll-like objects that Lady Aubrey had carried in her arms during the second episode, she hesitated until Ian frowned before she said hastily, “Mam was not carrying anything today. I did think at first that she might have such things under her shawl. But she had naught when we saw her with Dougal, so what came to pass today was not exactly as I had seen it before.”

“Did you think the scrolls were the Arrochar charters?”

“Not at the time,” she said. “Only after Dougal mentioned them today.”

“Had you seen such visions as you’ve described before our wedding night?”

“Never before that one,” she said. “I have experienced some strange things in the past, though. Things to which I paid little heed when they happened.”

“Such as what?”

“For one, when Peter and I rode after Lizzie that day. The sun was shining, but the woods ahead seemed to darken, as if day were turning to night.”

He looked darker himself, hearing that. “What did you think that meant?”

“I didn’t think about it then at all. I thought only of stopping Lizzie.”

“What do you think now?”

“That it meant danger lay ahead. That I should have heeded the warning and found some way to stop Lizzie sooner.” She was opening herself up to him. That felt dangerous, too, because he had revealed little to indicate what he was thinking.

“Did anything like that happen today?”

She froze, remembering. Then, warily, she met his gaze.

“I see,” he said grimly. “What else?”

She wondered if she ought to tell him about her ability to calm Lizzie or if, in truth, that ability had ever existed. She did not want to lie to him, nor, she decided then, did she want to tell him anything that she doubted herself.

“Well, lass? Art going to spit out whatever it is that’s hopping up and down on your tongue? Or must I—?”

“I don’t know if I believe it myself,” she admitted. “But if you must know, I’ll tell you. I think that, whilst we were captives, I was able at times to spread my calm to Lizzie. It even felt once as if, when I willed her to compose herself, she did.”

“Sakes, you do that to me all the time.”

Lina stared at him. “I don’t!”

“Aye, sure, you do. You did it just a few minutes ago.”

Ian wished he could take back his last few words, because he had not meant to challenge or interrupt her. That first sentence had slipped out. Then, when she contradicted him, he reacted as he always did when anyone challenged him.

Frowning, she shook her head. “By my troth, sir, I don’t know what you mean. I have not tried to do any such thing… not successfully, at all events.”

He allowed himself a wry smile at the rider and could see that his smile gave her no comfort. Nor should it have.

“Art sure that you do not try to impose your will on me?” he asked softly.

He could almost feel her temper rise at the suggestion that he might now take it into his head to doubt her. She said flatly, “I do not lie to you.”

“Forgive me if I begin to wonder whether you can will such things,” he said, matching her tone. “It was bad enough to learn that Dree can nearly hear my thoughts as I think them. To discover that I may have married a—”

“A what?” she demanded “I ken fine that some people have called Dree a witch. I also know that Mag has asked you not to call her Dree. But I will refrain from comment on that.”

A good thing that is, too , he thought.

“What I will say,” she went on tersely, “is that if you want to discuss what happened today in a civil—”

“I am always civil,” he snapped. “I was just reminding you that having one woman in the family who thinks she knows what I am thinking or feeling is bad enough. To be married to one who can toy with my emotions would be worse.”

Knowing that her temper was about to slip its leash, Lina fought to maintain her dignity if not her composure. As she did, she glanced at Ian and saw that he was fighting a battle of his own, either to calm himself or to avoid eruption.

Mercy , she thought. Still watching him, she drew a deep breath, let it out, and focused on relaxing and dissipating her anger. Next, eyeing him more warily than ever, she tried to imagine him as Lizzie or anyone more easily soothed than she had believed Ian could be. Then, as she had with Lizzie, she willed Ian to be calm.

To her wonder, she saw the sparks in his eyes dim as he, too, inhaled deeply and exhaled. His gaze slid upward when he did that, to a point above her head.

Then his gaze met hers again. “What just happened?” he asked her.

“I don’t know exactly,” she admitted.

“You did something.”

“I did, aye. But I swear to you, I have never tried to do that before.”

“So you can control me.” He did not sound astonished, just resigned.

“By my troth, sir, I did naught to control you , only to control myself. Sithee, then I saw—Faith, I do not know how to explain this properly, for I have never—”

Deciding to start again and just tell him what had happened, she said, “The fact is that you stirred my temper when you ordered me to sit down and explain myself. Then you stirred it nearly to exploding when you snapped at me. I realized that my anger was inflaming yours, so I fought to control myself, not you.”

“But you did control me.”

“With respect, sir, I doubt that,” she said. “I may have some ability to aid you, but you influence me, too. You have only to look at me as you did earlier when you came toward me to make my knees quake. Good sakes, you scared all of those men out of your way. Grown men, warriors all, leaped to clear a path for you.”

“My temper does evidently have its own reputation,” he admitted.

She wanted to smile at that understatement but judged it wiser to say, “I have heard that, aye. But I swear I had never before tried to control you. Mayhap our tempers simply sway one another, and we are both making more of what just happened than it deserves. If I am calm, you are calm. If I get angry…” She spread her hands.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I felt something then, something unusual.”

She sighed. “So did I. Mayhap it is all part of having foresight, if that is what I have been experiencing. As I said, I had never had episodes like those before. Nor did I ever have cause before Lizzie and I were captured to try to calm any—”

Her sisters’ images loomed before her, bickering with each other.

“What is it now?” he asked. “What are you thinking?”

She smiled ruefully. “I’m thinking that I have a reputation, too, not for temperament but for family peacemaking. Sithee, Andrena and Murie often quarrel or begin to quarrel. I can calm them, but by my troth, I never thought of it before as willing them to behave. Nor do I think I ever did such a thing. But I did do that with Lizzie at Dumbarton at least once, I’ll admit. I was terrified that she would speak rashly or act so and make matters worse for both of us. She thought Dougal was handsome and that he liked her. I knew he just wanted to use her as a pawn.”

“You were right.”

“Have I satisfied you, then?”

“Not completely.” He stood and held out his hand. “I want satisfying now in another, more stimulating way.”

Desire swept through her, and she let him draw her to her feet and to the bed.

“Will you take off your clothes, or shall I?” he asked softly.

Since his fingers were already at her laces, loosening them, she murmured, “I think it must be your turn.”