Chapter 8

S upper in the inner chamber passed fast enough to suit even Ian’s impatience. Since Rob and Alex knew about the afternoon’s activities, Colquhoun had invited the two men to join them but had asked them to enter from the privy stair.

“I don’t want to stir dissension amongst our other guests,” he had explained to Ian. “I’ll tell them I wanted to talk with ye, lad, because ye’ll be away for a time on another matter. Sithee, Adam will sit in for me at the high table, and I’ve agreed to meet them all after supper to discuss my meeting with James Mòr and how we might proceed with him. I ken fine that ye dinna trust the man, and with good reason. But if we can settle the matter peaceably…”

“That would suit us all, aye,” Ian said when he paused. He had no faith in such negotiating because he knew they could not trust James Mòr’s word. But since the last word would be Ian’s, he was content to let his father test his well-honed skills and let James Mòr think that Colquhoun alone was handling the matter.

At the table, the three ladies sat at one end with the four men at the other. They chatted casually while the gillies were there, trusted or not.

When the gillies left, the ladies continued talking to each other, so Ian said quietly to his father, “Do you mean to tell anyone else here about their ladyships, sir? A few may learn that they were captives, if only because men at Dumbarton will talk.”

“My hope is that folks will learn only that one of James Mòr’s men stupidly seized two female hostages and that he released them without a stir,” Colquhoun said. His gaze moved from Ian across the table to Rob and then to Alex. “I trust that all three of ye have given orders that your men are not to talk about today’s events.”

“My lads know little about them,” Alex said. “Only that you met with someone at Dumbarton, sir, and that we were to guard your back.”

Colquhoun’s gaze shifted to Rob.

“ ’Tis much the same with mine, sir. Some recognized Ian and wondered why he rode in our tail. I made it plain to them that I’d take a dim view of loose talk.”

“Good enough,” Colquhoun said, and Ian agreed. Rob was not a man to cross, and anyone who served under him knew it.

“I would like Rob and Alex to ride with me tonight, sir,” Ian said quietly. “If James Mòr has men out searching, I’d liefer—”

“Aye, sure,” Colquhoun said. “But take care that your party is not so large that its size alone causes talk. Fifteen or so should be enough, although you must take young Peter Wylie with you, as he is still here.”

“I’ll take my men,” Alex said. “Then Rob need take none. We’ll likely return tomorrow, and it might raise questions if we both go and take all of our men with us. Most of the lads here know that I take mine wherever I go.”

Ian agreed, and they soon finished their meal. Less than a half-hour later, they were on their way. The rain had eased in strength but remained steady.

Ian eyed his charges, wondering how they’d weather another journey. He had sent Dobb Colquhoun, captain of his fighting tail, and three others on with orders to see that the hilltop path east of the vale was safe. Two others rode just ahead with oil torches that even in the rain should burn long enough to see them safely to the path.

Lina rode beside Ian, and Lizzie rode next to Rob, behind them. Alex, the captain of his tail, and the rest of the men, including Peter Wylie, followed.

The wind had died, and Ian prayed that it would not revive, since any wind would lower the temperature and help the rain soak them all through again.

In the flickering torchlight, he thought that Lina looked as calm, wide awake, and dignified as usual. Lizzie looked tired and unhappily thoughtful. Recalling his earlier suspicion that she had been at fault in their capture, he signed to Rob to slow down, giving himself more room to speak privately with Lina.

Keeping his voice down, he said, “I haven’t had a chance yet to learn how you were captured, my lady. I’m wondering if perhaps Lizzie…”

She frowned, so he paused and waited, wondering if she actually distrusted him and might therefore refuse to talk to him.

Then she glanced back at the two behind them. Evidently reassured that Lizzie could not hear them, she said, “No good can come of casting blame, sir.”

“So it was her fault,” he said. “What did she do? Nay, do not frown at me. She looks worried, which is leading me to think she is not as eager to get home as one would expect her to be.”

“That is possible, aye,” she said with a sigh.

Lina knew it would be futile to refuse to tell Sir Ian how Dougal had captured them. He would be angry if she refused, and she did not want that. Her inexplicable feelings about him befuddled her enough as it was.

Accordingly, she described what had happened, omitting her feelings from the tale and trying to make Lizzie’s actions sound ordinary. But the moment she said that Lizzie had urged her pony on ahead while the three of them were riding down the Glen Fruin trail, he said grimly, “That lass wants a good skelping.”

“Well, prithee, do not tell her so,” Lina said, trying to read his expression. “Rescuing us does not give you license to scold Lizzie or me.”

Ignoring the stricture, he said, “What the devil were you thinking to be riding away from the safety of Bannachra at all? And with just one unarmed gillie?”

She opened her mouth to tell him that Peter had worn his dirk. But it felt decidedly rash to make such a statement to an armed knight who had provided an escort of seventeen other men-at-arms as protection against enemies who would also have to be daft enough to travel on such a dark, rainy night.

“Did you want to say something?” Ian asked softly. When she shook her head, he added, “I must say, I’d never have expected you to be so reckless. Not as quick as you are to condemn others for what you merely perceive as recklessness.”

Raising her chin, she wished she had not when rain ran down her neck. She wiped it off as well as she could with one gloved hand before she said, “We meant to ride only as far as the loch, sir. I told you that before.”

He did not answer. So she looked at him again and could tell that he was trying not to laugh. Doubtless he had seen her wipe the rain from her neck.

Overcoming his amusement, he said, “You also told me that there could be naught amiss in such a ride. Your capture belies that statement, does it not?”

“You are the last one who should condemn anyone else’s error, sir. Especially when it comes to recklessness. To sneak into that tower dressed in rags and carrying peat, as you did, has to be the most reckless thing anyone has done in a long while. To do it again was just daft. Had James Mòr caught you, he’d have hanged you.”

“In troth, I don’t think so,” Ian said. “He’d more likely have viewed capturing me as just such a stroke of luck for him as capturing you and Lizzie was.”

She sighed. “Mayhap you are right. But did you think about that before you acted?” Taking his silence for his answer, she nodded. “So you were reckless then. And you were even more reckless today. I don’t blame your father for being furious with you. I’d wager he was just wishing you were a mite smaller.”

“You would lose that wager,” he said. “I will admit that he said many of the same things to me that you have. But do you honestly believe that if he had thought a beating would teach me a needed lesson or change me for the better, he would not have ordered me to submit to one? If you think that, you are wrong.”

She knew she was. Even if she were right, she had overstepped civility by daring to suggest that she knew what Colquhoun had been thinking.

Just as the laird would order a man-at-arms flogged for disobeying his orders, he would punish his sons in like fashion if he believed they deserved it. Any man who understood fairness would, and Colquhoun’s principles were strong.

She knew, too, that had Colquhoun ordered punishment, Ian would have submitted. But the laird would not have punished him for so daring a rescue.

For years, she had rarely seen father and son together, because Ian had often been away training or fighting. But she had seen enough to know the love Colquhoun felt for his sons and the deep respect they had for him.

“He seemed almost angry enough, though,” she said.

“Do you wish I’d left you and Lizzie in that tower? Do you think he does?”

“You know I don’t,” Lina said, giving him a reproachful look. “I could not think such things. I am too grateful to be free again. Faith, I know I should not chide you, even if I had the right to do so. But you are reckless, sir, and it frightens me. Forbye, you have ignored good advice since childhood and seem to assume that you are always right and anyone who disagrees with you is wrong. Moreover, I heard enough today to guess that your father went to Dumbarton to speak for us. Why did you not trust him to treat with James Mòr?”

Ian distrusted James Mòr, not Colquhoun. Still, in the diminishing torchlight, the look Lina gave him stirred a sense of guilt, although he could not regret what he had done. Even his father was glad that he had succeeded in freeing them.

Nevertheless, she was eyeing him as if he had behaved badly.

Thanks to the six-year difference in their ages, they had never had much in common. When the MacFarlan ladies had stayed with his family, he had been more interested in Andrena than in her little sisters, because Andrena’s love of woodlands and adventure had matched his own. Also, coming from so much younger a child, Lina’s disapproval of his behavior had annoyed him even when he’d deserved it.

Looking into her eyes, finding them deeper and darker in the torchlight than they had seemed before and solemnly fixed on him… He looked away but only, he assured himself, to judge how much longer the torches would last in the rain.

The afterimage of those dusky, perceptive eyes lingered. Sakes, it burned through to his core as if to bare all he’d liefer keep hidden. She was still watching him. He could feel her gaze as if it had fingers touching him. When he could not resist looking at her again, she said, “Tell me what you are thinking.”

Feeling as if an unknown force prevented him from refusing, he said, “I do trust my father. But I knew he could not persuade James Mòr to release you before Dougal abducted you. Or did you imagine that you could prevent that?”

“Shhh,” she warned. “You cannot want the others to hear you.”

“Don’t quibble,” he said, lowering his voice. “Answer my question.’

“Dougal suggested marrying me,” she said bluntly.

“Blethers,” he said. “Even Dougal could not be as daft as that.”

“Well, he did say it, so he must be that daft,” she replied with careful dignity. “But I doubt that he wants to marry me. He said the notion was Pharlain’s.”

“Even more outrageous,” Ian muttered.

“My father would say that the notion is contemptible. Apparently, Pharlain suggested it as a way to reunite Clan Farlan.”

Ian snorted. “If Pharlain suggested it, I’ll wager he did so before Andrena married Mag. I’d also wager that he wanted Dougal to marry Andrena, not you.”

She was silent for so long that he wondered if she had mistaken his derisive snort for something other than his disbelief that Pharlain would seriously expect Andrew to accept such reasoning. Had he somehow offended her instead?

“You may be right,” she admitted soberly. “But Dougal said only that Pharlain suggested marrying one of the MacFarlan sisters. I am one of them, sir.”

“Aye, sure, you are. But, if I am not mistaken, as the eldest one, Dree will inherit most of whatever Andrew leaves. Moreover, Andrew means to win back his other lands, which is why he wants good-sons who are warriors, like Mag. Recall that to marry Andrena, Mag had to agree to adopt the MacFarlan name, because your father wants to ensure that MacFarlans from the true line inherit Arrochar and Tùr Meiloach when he wins back his chiefdom. Dougal must know that.”

She wrinkled her nose thoughtfully, nearly making him smile.

Usually, every inch of her was smoothly, even elegantly, groomed and garbed. One simply did not think of the lady Lachina having wrinkles anywhere. Thinking of how smooth the rest of her body might be briefly distracted him.

“I doubt that Dougal concerns you much now,” she said at last, rather distantly. Then, in a sharper tone, she said, “What are you thinking, sir?”

Abruptly meeting her gaze again, he felt guilt he had not felt since boyhood surge through him at the notion that, like her older sister, she might somehow know his thoughts.

The woman was clearly dangerous. She was also, Ian decided in the same breath, too intriguing for a man to dismiss easily from his thoughts.

Lina had been trying to sort her own thoughts when she noticed that Ian was staring at her. Her simple question then had made him look guiltier than he had when she had accused him of not trusting Colquhoun to treat with James Mòr.

In truth, she knew that he must trust his father in such matters, because the laird was renowned for his skill at mediation. Moreover, she believed that Ian had rescued them not only because he thought Dougal might abduct her but because he feared leaving Lizzie alone with James Mòr and his men.

Doubtless, Ian would have had to answer to Mag had he let that happen.

Despite all of that, Ian’s reaction to learning that Dougal—or Pharlain—had suggested marriage to her required clarification. “Do you think it is impossible that Dougal might simply want to marry me and doesn’t care a whit about our land?”

Ian blinked, as if he had snapped out of some sort of reverie. “Nay, of course, I don’t mean that,” he said rather curtly. “Doubtless any man seeking a wife would want you. I meant only—”

“Horses coming, sir, a pair o’ them, we think,” one of the two riders carrying the torches said just then.

Immediately reining in, Ian said, “Ride up and meet them, you two. Keep your torches to throw at them if you have to draw steel.” Twisting in his saddle to look back, he said, “Alex, get those men off the trail. In this rain, ten or fifteen feet should be far enough if they can keep their beasts quiet and if those approaching us lack torches. I want our lads near enough to surprise anyone who threatens us.”

“Aye, sure,” Sir Alex replied.

“This lassie is asleep, Ian,” Rob said quietly.

Looking back, Lina saw that Lizzie not only slept but that Rob MacAulay had somehow shifted her from her horse to his own without waking her.

Sir Ian could see as much, too.

Rob added, “Do you want me off the track, too? Or shall I wake her?”

“Stay as you are,” Ian said. “We’ll count on our own lads to fend off trouble. If a larger group is following these two, we’d have heard as much by now. So the two approaching us are either mine or a pair that slipped by Dobb and the others.”

Lina doubted that any of Ian’s men would let that happen.

The darkness that had enveloped them when the torches moved on made it possible to see only his shape now. But Lina had heard confidence in his voice.

She wondered if he would view an oncoming enemy army as merely another challenge to overcome. He was clearly a man whose duties came first, so the presence of two young women would doubtless just enhance that challenge.

Nevertheless, she felt calm. As that realization struck her, she said impulsively, “All three of those approaching riders are yours, sir.”

Ian resisted pointing out that he had just said as much or that he doubted that two had become three. He eased his mount forward so that it blocked hers.

A low whistle sounded then above the whispering rain, and he knew the approaching riders posed no threat. Although the riders lacked torches, he was sure that his two torchbearers must have met the others and were returning with them.

When three shadowy figures of horsemen grew visible in the murk ahead, he glanced at Lina’s dark slender figure beside him and wondered how she had known three riders were coming.

The first of them reached him a minute later, the others close behind. “More riders ahead, sir, a score or more,” the first man, one of his erstwhile torchbearers, said. “But Tobias here says they be a-heading down in tae the vale.”

“Art sure, Tobias?” Ian asked the youngest of the three.

“Aye, sir. Dobb says he reckons they come from Drymen or somewhere else near the southeast shore o’ Loch Lomond and be heading back tae Dumbarton.”

Ian trusted Dobb’s judgment. However, if James Mòr had sent Dumbarton men east, he had sent others to Loch Lomond’s southwest shore. They would have to approach Loch Lomond with increased care.

He said quietly, “Did Dobb say aught else, Tobias?”

“He did, aye, sir. He did say ye should dispense wi’ torches as ye ride along the hilltop. It does seem clear o’ strangers ahead, though.”

“We’ll ride on then,” Ian said. “Art freezing yet, my lady?”

“No, sir. Your lady mother gave us breeks to wear under our skirts. I suspect, too, that I am wearing her favorite and warmest cloak. The one thing I regret about leaving Dumbarton is that I had to leave my own new cloak behind.”

He grinned. “We could send a message asking James Mòr to return it.”

Over the susurrous rain, her soft chuckle floated to his ears, and his body startled him with its strong, sensual reaction to the sound.

Despite the chilly air, he felt hot. And riding was less comfortable for the next mile or so. But they reached Balloch in less time than Colquhoun had predicted and passed through the dark village in near silence, despite the necessary splashing.

Approaching the ford across the river Leven, which flowed out of Loch Lomond, Ian gave thanks that it was midsummer and not spring. When the snows were melting, any ford within a mile or two of the loch became unusable.

As it was, he felt vulnerable while crossing, and more so when Rob crossed with Lizzie still sleeping contentedly, her head resting against his shoulder. He held her in place with one powerful arm while he guided his horse with his other hand.

When they reached the opposite bank, Ian said to him, “Perhaps you should wake her now and let her ride her own horse the rest of the way.”

“We’ll let her sleep,” Rob said, his deep voice barely audible above the rain. “She’d have fallen off her horse earlier had I not noticed in time to prevent it. She’s exhausted, as much from fear of what lies ahead as from what lies behind.”

“Likely, you’re right. Galbraith will be relieved to see her but will have much to say about what happened that she won’t want to hear.”

Rob grunted. “She said your father was so angry that she hates to imagine how angry hers will be. Said she’d always heard that Colquhoun was a man of peace.”

Ian said dryly, “He is, aye, unless one of his sons crosses his will. I was lucky to get off with a whole skin.”

“So far, anyway,” Rob murmured.

Biting back a laugh, Ian said, “Just don’t lose her, Rob. I don’t want to face Galbraith or Mag if we do.”

They had not gone far beyond the ford when another horseman approached. “There be three men afoot waiting near this track a quarter-mile on, sir. They dinna look tae be armed, so Dobb talked wi’ them. Their spokesman be an auld codger wha’ says his name be Lippin Geordie and that he be a-waiting for ye.”

Ian was about to ask if Hak was with them when Lina said, “Lippin Geordie is Galbraith’s man, sir. He lives in the clachan on shore across from Inch Galbraith and has a son named Dolf. They row boats to the islet and back.”

“Then Geordie is a friend, lad,” Ian said. “Did he say whether he had seen Hak or any men from Dumbarton?”

“He talked wi’ some riders earlier and told them there were nary a sign o’ life at Inch Galbraith, that likely the laird be a-visiting at Culcreuch.”

“If that is so—”

“When Dobb said the laird would be expecting us, because our master had sent word ahead, Geordie admitted that the laird be at home, sir. He has his sister the lady Margaret and her guests wi’ him, and Geordie said he had set watchers, too. So it be safe tae come ahead.”

“Aye, then we will,” Ian said, signaling to his men that they would ride on.

Lina could see little in the darkness but had realized soon after the departing torches had plunged them into blackness that Ian’s night vision was excellent. None of the men seemed concerned about the darkness—or the rain.

Lizzie slept contentedly through it all.

Never one to bemoan a situation she could not control, Lina tried to ignore the unsettling fact that, despite the oilskin she wore, the front of the cloak that Lady Colquhoun had lent her had soaked through to her bodice.

In fact, the stiff oilskin had creased just above her right shoulder, providing a channel for rain to stream down the front of her. She had soon learned to judge when it was about to happen and to ease the skin up with a finger to make the water stream away from her. Nevertheless, she was overjoyed to see Lippin Geordie and his two companions when they finally reached them.

“God bethankit, ye’ve brung our wee lassie home,” Geordie exclaimed when he saw Lizzie. If he gave Rob a speculative look, it vanished when Lizzie awoke and said, “Geordie! Are we home then?”

“Soon enow, lassie,” he said soothingly. “Soon enow.”

After that, things moved quickly. Geordie told Ian that he, Sir Alex, and Rob were welcome at Galbraith’s tower. “Himself did say that them others, along o’ your ponies, should find room in our clachan,” he added. “We’ll be a mite crowded, sir. But your men and beasts be welcome, and we’ll get them all out o’ the wet.”

“They’ll be grateful for shelter,” Ian said. “I did send my man ahead to let Galbraith know we were coming.”

“Aye, sure, sir. He’s a-waiting for ye at the tower. Himself did say that Hak could look after your friends, too.”

“He will, aye. You have my thanks, Geordie.”

“Good then. We ha’ boats for ye yonder.”

A half-hour later, after crossing from the shore to the islet’s landing in two small longboats with four oarsmen each, they disembarked onto the wharf.

Lina noted that Lizzie’s mood had shifted from delight at seeing Lippin Geordie to a more somber, silent one. When she stood on the wharf, gazing at the path to the tower but making no move toward it, Lina put a gentle hand on her arm.

“He will not murder you, Liz. Nor will he be as horrid as Dougal or James Mòr would. He loves you, and he has been gey frightened for you. Remember that.”

“Aye, sure,” Lizzie muttered. “If you will recall, though, in that horrid tower room, you told me that you’d have no sympathy when I came by my just deserts.”

“I said, too, that I did not look forward to facing Galbraith any more than you did,” Lina reminded her. “Now, it appears that I must also face my mother.”

“Lady Aubrey will just be glad you are safe,” Lizzie said.

“I’d like to hope so,” Lina said. “But, she expected me to look after you, so I fear she is disappointed in me. And that will be harder to bear than her anger.”

“We must go in, though,” Lizzie said with a sigh. “I see Hector coming.”

Lina had met Hector, Galbraith’s elderly steward, on her first visit. As he hurried down the path toward them, his lantern swaying, she recognized him easily.

“Sir Ian?” the old man said, raising the lantern to peer at their group.

“I am here,” Ian said from behind Lina just as she sensed his approach. He touched her shoulder lightly, urging her on.

“How angry is he?” Lizzie asked the steward as soon as they met.

“Your da be eager tae see ye wi’ his own eyes, lassie. Ye, too, Lady Lina,” he added. “Your mam and the lady Muriella be here, as is our own lady Margaret.”

“Thank you, Hector,” Lina said. “Have you met Sir Ian before?”

“Aye, sure,” the old man said. “I ken Sir Alex, too, but not t’other ’un.”

Ian introduced Rob. Then Hector urged them inside, leaving their baggage for the oarsmen to carry up to the tower.

Lina and Lizzie no sooner stepped into the entryway than they heard Galbraith shout, “Hector, are ye back, then? Hie them along in, man!”

Abruptly, Lizzie stopped.

Ian, Rob, and Alex were right behind Lizzie and Lina, so they all came perforce to a halt as suddenly as Lizzie did. To Ian’s astonishment, Rob reached forward, put one large palm to her shoulder, and urged her gently forward.

Glancing at him, she made a face, then drew a breath and followed Hector.

The steward led them toward the archway into the great hall and paused squarely in the middle of it to announce in stentorian accents, “The ladies Lachina and Elizabeth, my lord. Also, their escort: Sir Ian Colquhoun of Dunglass, Sir Alexander Buchanan of Clarinch, and Master Robert MacAulay of Ardincaple.”

When Hector stepped aside, Ian saw Lina smile reassuringly at Lizzie and make a barely perceptible gesture for her to go first. Without hesitation, the younger lass led the way with Lina a step behind her.

Ian followed with Rob and Alex in his wake.

Galbraith stood by the huge fireplace. On the nearby dais, two noblewomen sat at the high table. Ian had met Aubrey, Lady MacFarlan before. He surmised that the woman next to her was the lady Margaret Galbraith of Bannachra.

“Come to the fire, all of ye,” Galbraith said. “ ’Tis a wicked night, withal.”

Lizzie sank to a deep curtsy, still some distance away.

Stepping forward and extending a hand, Galbraith drew her up, saying, “ ’Tis grand to see ye safe, lassie. Make your curtsy to your aunt and Lady Aubrey, then warm yourself. Hector has ordered supper, so we’ll eat when ye’ve dried off and donned warm clothing. Lady Lina, ye’ll share Lizzie’s bedchamber tonight. Your clothes and your maidservant await ye, so ye can both go as soon as ye’re warm.”

“Arthur, do you not mean to permit me one moment with my daughter?” Lady Aubrey asked him with a smile. “You were not alone, you know, in fretting yourself to flinders over our daughters’ capture and imprisonment.”

“Aye, sure,” he said with a rueful smile. “Ye should have gone to your mam straightaway, Lina, but I did want to thank ye for looking after our Liz.”

“She did, my lord, and gey well, too,” Lizzie said.

“Ye can tell me all about it after we sup, lassie. We’ll have a wee talk then.”

Ian paid little heed to their exchange. He was watching Lina. It struck him only then that when she had said earlier that she, too, worried about facing Galbraith, she had not just been trying to cheer Lizzie. Lina was apprehensive.

“I’ll also want to hear from ye, Sir Ian,” Galbraith said. “Your man said only that Colquhoun tried a tactful approach but that ye’d got them out and away.”

“That tale will take a while, sir,” Ian said. “We’ll have more time tomorrow.”

“Dinna act the dafty, lad. Ye’ll tell us all whilst we take our supper. Forbye, ye’ll all be leaving at dawn. Ye canna stay any longer than that.”