Chapter 9

" C ome quick, we must leave at once." Kate grabbed Gavin's arm. "Deirdre's in the scullery inspecting the pots and pans. If we hurry, we can—"

"I thought perhaps you'd locked her in the stable. You seemed a trifle annoyed when she wouldn't let you leave yesterday morning."

"It's been three days, and I've seen nothing but stone walls and stables and sculleries and—" She cast an anxious glance over her shoulder. "Come on!"

Gavin started to chuckle as he allowed himself to be propelled toward the door. "What if she catches us? Will we be set to scouring the pots?"

"Worse. She'll find something else it's my duty to do. I spent the entire afternoon yesterday going over last month's accounts. She had poor Timothy MacDougal explain every sum he spent down to the last pence."

"It all sounds very laudable."

"Oh, yes, very laudable," Kate said with exasperation. "Everything she does is laudable. She's firm but kind to the servants. She's canny and works harder than anyone I've ever seen. She clearly wishes only the best for Robert and Craighdhu and labors from dawn to dark to see that all is well." She threw open the door with barely contained violence. "She's about to drive me mad ."

"Robert had a similar response when she first came here."

"It could not be as bad. She's like a river that sweeps everything in its path to the sea. She keeps me moving from task to task until I'm too weary to think."

"You're not so meek you could not refuse. Why have you let her rule you in this?"

She scowled. "I don't know. It's something about her that—She's always so sure she's right that she makes me believe I'm foolish to—Stop laughing."

He tried to keep a straight face. "You said you wanted to know everything about Craighdhu. It's sometimes dangerous to be granted your wishes. I know exactly what you mean about Deirdre. It's a terrible bane to be around a person who is always right. Why do you think I have lodgings in the village?"

"I'll not be so cowardly, but I—"

"Where are you going?"

Gavin and Kate turned to see Deirdre striding toward them across the hall.

"You know where we're going," Gavin said lightly. "The same place we've been trying to go for the last three days. I thought I'd take her to the village to see—"

"We have no time for that," Deirdre said. "Today we must go to the stable and—"

"I've already seen the stable," Kate interrupted. She did not care if it was cowardly or not, she had to escape. She took Gavin's hand and ran down the steps. "Come on, Gavin."

They hurried across the courtyard like two children fleeing punishment.

Kate cast a glance over her shoulder and saw Deirdre on the top step, a frown wrinkling her smooth forehead. "Do you think she'll come after us?" she whispered

Gavin shook his head. "She doesn't get along with the village women. They find her too…"

He hesitated, and Kate supplied him with a word. "Annoying."

"Well, she did try to tell them how to best run their concerns. Of course, in most cases she was right, but that didn't make her observations more welcome. They bristle every time they see her coming toward them."

"It doesn't surprise me." Her pace quickened as she started over the drawbridge. "I grew very weary of her telling me what I must and must not do. I wish to learn everything, but not all at once. I'd like to go more slowly and savor. And there must be more ways of doing a task than Deirdre's way."

"It's a very good way, judging by the result."

"But it's not my way." She shifted her shoulders as if shrugging off a burden. "I don't wish to think about her anymore." They had crossed the moat and were approaching the village, and her pace eagerly quickened.

It was early, and the village only beginning to come alive, and yet there was already much to see. Young apprentices were busily taking down shutters, opening the shops, setting up small stalls, readying wares.

A young woman carrying a huge basket moved through the crowds crying, "Cherry ripe, apples fine!"

As they passed through the streets, Kate was assaulted by other merchants calling their wares. "Fine cobweb lawn, pins, points, and garters!"

"Do you not need a fine cabinet, my lady?"

"Will you not buy Spanish gloves? The finest leather!"

"Hot oat cakes!"

As they passed a bookseller's shop with the unlikely sign naming it the Brazen Sheep, Kate paused at a trestle stall to look at a heap of volumes. "I've never seen so many books," she said with wonder.

"Didn't you have a bookseller in your village?" Gavin asked.

She shook her head. "Sebastian thought reading anything but Scriptures was corrupt and condemned it from the pulpit."

"Well, if Sebastian didn't like it, we must certainly buy you one." He scanned the tides and chose a thick red leather volume. "Ah, here's one that's quite satisfactorily corrupt and yet suitable for a lady." He paid the shopkeeper and handed the book to Kate with a bow. "With every sentence you read, think of Sebastian. It will give you added pleasure."

She chuckled as she accepted the book. "Thank you. I will certainly do that." She lovingly cradled the book as they walked on. "Everyone looks so busy and prosperous."

"Aye, there's no hunger on Craighdhu. Robert wouldn't permit it. He takes care of his own."

"You said Craighdhu was too land poor to support its people. How does the clan make its living?"

"We trade with the Irish."

"I know, but is that all?"

"It's more than enough. All the world wants fine woolen goods. We buy from the Irish and sell to the English and half the countries in Europe. Since Robert's great-grandfather's time it's given us a very generous living."

She stopped by a shop window where the MacDarren plaid was displayed. "That's fine cloth. I've never seen such fine weaving or truer colors."

"Irish. All the cloth you'll see in the shops on Craighdhu will be Irish."

That answer seemed odd to her. "No cloth is made here?"

"Sometimes the women do a little weaving for their families' use, but there's really no need for it. Robert makes sure there's plenty of cloth available for their needs at cheap prices, and they can't produce anything like this. The Irish weavers are magnificent, and the quality of the work is superb."

"I see that," she said, remembering the beauty of the quilt Deirdre had tucked around her that first day. "And the wool is from Irish sheep, no doubt."

"Aye, Craighdhu is too rocky to provide much pastureland for sheep."

"So we reap the benefit of both fertile Irish land and skillful labor."

Gavin nodded. "All the world wants fine wool, and we provide it."

"It's the Irish who seem to provide. We merely buy and sell."

Gavin raised his brows. "That seems to upset you."

"I don't know why it should." She made a face. "I suppose I want Craighdhu to be all things."

"That's not practical. You must realize—" He broke off as he caught sight of a man coming up the street toward them. "There's Ian Mactavish. Come, I'll introduce you." He led her toward a young man coming down the street. "He's Jock's lieutenant, and if you need anything, he's the one to ask."

"Deirdre would give you argument there," she said dryly. "She seems to think she's the only one with answers." The dark-haired man approaching appeared only a little older than Gavin, but his air was far from youthful. He moved with a heavy, purposeful stride, and his earnest expression was just as weighty. She had a vague memory of seeing Ian Mactavish among the men who had met them at the dock. "I thought you'd be in charge when Robert wasn't on the island."

He shook his head. "I've no talent for giving orders. I have a tendency to wander off when I should be applying myself to serious things."

"And Ian Mactavish does not?"

"Never, he's a very serious lad. Of course, trailing in Jock's shadow would tend to make a man sober." He halted before Mactavish. "Ian, I have the honor to present you to the countess."

Ian Mactavish bowed. "My lady, an honor indeed. Naturally, I was going to pay a visit to the castle to express my willingness to serve. If there's aught I can do for you, you've only to send for me."

"Thank you." She smiled. "You're very kind, but I'm sure I won't need your help. Craighdhu seems a very safe and pleasant place."

"It's when all seems safe that the danger is greatest." He bowed gravely again and started up the hill.

"Good heavens, you're right," Kate whispered. "I can see why Jock Candaron chose him. He's terribly sober."

"And depressing. That's what comes of being weighed down by responsibility." Gavin grinned. "While I'm light as a feather." He half skipped as he pulled her toward a stall a few yards away. "Taffy. Kenneth Cameron makes the best candy in all of Scotland. Come, I'll get you a piece."

By the time they returned to the castle, it was almost dark, and Kate was so weary, she could hardly walk. Perhaps it wasn't weariness but happiness, she thought. She was giddy, drunk with sights and scents and sounds. She felt as if she had met every woman, man, and child in the village and strolled down every twisting street.

"Careful, you'll fall into the moat," Gavin said as he watched her weave across the drawbridge. "And you don't have the excuse I did. You've had no heather ale."

"I feel as if I had. Or, perhaps not—I've never had too much liquor before. I've never had too much of anything." She whirled in a circle. "Does it feel as if your head is filled with air and the colors are brighter and—"

"Yes, all of that." He grabbed her as she wandered too close to the side of the bridge and pulled her back. "And it makes you venture a little too close to danger. Which is why I got thrown into the moat."

"Then I am drunk. Drunk on Craighdhu." She ran forward across the courtyard, almost colliding with a stable boy who was exercising a gray mare. What was his name? Colin. "Good evening, Colin. Isn't it a splendid night?"

"Aye." He grinned indulgently as he saw her glowing face. "But you'd best get inside now, my lady. Deirdre has been out here twice looking for you."

A little of her exhilaration faded as she thought of the housekeeper. She had successfully dismissed Deirdre from her thoughts all day, and she wouldn't let her destroy her mood now. "Presently. How are Caird and Rachel?"

"In fine fettle," Colin said. "I'll exercise them tomorrow, but I thought they could use a bit of rest. The piebald looked a wee bit tired."

"More than a bit," Gavin said as he joined them. "He could use a month's rest, perhaps a year."

"You can be sure I'll take good care of him." Colin nodded politely and turned away. The horse's hooves echoed on the flagstones as he led the gray across the courtyard toward the stable.

Kate watched him. "Perhaps I should go see Caird."

Gavin smiled knowingly. "You can't avoid facing Deirdre much longer unless you'd care to sleep in the stable."

"It would do no good. She'd come and get me, brush me off and scour me like she does everything in the castle." She turned and started toward the steps leading to the front door. "I'll guess it's time I went in to face her."

"And it's time I bid you good evening," Gavin said.

"Coward."

He looked hurt. "I merely remembered having pressing business with Ian."

"And you're also a liar." She opened the door. "I expect you here tomorrow morning to rescue me."

"Two mornings in a row?" he asked dubiously. "She won't be pleased."

"And I won't be pleased if you desert me. I haven't visited the docks yet." She gave him a stern glance. "Be here."

She didn't wait for an answer but swung the heavy door shut.

"Oh, you've come back." Deirdre came brusquely forward. "You're a bit tousled. Run up to your chamber and put yourself in order while I tell them you're ready to be served supper."

Kate's hand instinctively went to tidy her hair.

"No, that won't do. Go up to your chamber. I'll send a maid to help you." She started to turn away.

"No," Kate said suddenly.

Deirdre turned back to look at her. "My lady?"

Kate had not known the rejection was coming until she had spoken. Yet now she knew she could not retreat from the confrontation. "I said no. I don't wish to go tidy myself. I'm going to bathe and go to bed. You may send up a tub and water."

"After your supper."

"I don't wish to have any supper. I'm not hungry." She started up the stairs. "I ate while I was in the village."

"Sausage, fruit tarts, and candy, I'd wager," Deirdre said with a frown. "You'll probably be ill. You'd have done better to have waited to eat properly."

Kate realized she was already feeling a bit queasy. Merciful heavens, why must the woman always be right? She continued up the stairs. "I enjoyed it. I intend to have exactly the same food tomorrow when I go back."

"Not tomorrow. Tomorrow is our day for making candles. You must be there to learn how to supervise the—"

Kate stopped and turned around. "No."

"The candles are needed. We use a good many here," Deirdre persisted. "It's necessary we—"

"I don't care." She drew a deep breath and said with clear precision, "I'm going back to the village tomorrow with Gavin. You will not tell me what I will or will not do. I will make the decisions. Do you understand?"

Deirdre gazed at her impassively. "I'm not stupid. Of course I understand." She turned and walked away.

Kate stared after her in a muddle of frustration, exasperation, and guilt. She wished the woman had stayed, so she could have argued, vindicated herself. It was maddening to fight against a woman who was doing only what was best for her and Craighdhu.

She turned and ran up the steps. She had been right. She had done the only thing possible to establish her independence and position in the castle. If she had not acted to prevent it, she might be as much a prisoner here as she had been with Sebastian.

Yet, if that was true, why did she keep remembering that moment of softness on Deirdre's face that first day as she had tucked the coverlet around her? It must be that Deirdre was not an enemy as Sebastian had been, and Kate was not accustomed to challenging opponents who were not enemies.

No, that was not true. Robert was not an enemy, and there had been conflict between them from their first meeting.

She must not think of Robert. She had done very well. She had been aware of thinking of him only a few times today, and tomorrow would be better.

She was lying to herself. She had not been aware of thinking about him because he had been there before her all day. Everything she had seen had been Robert's world, and every step, every word, every person she had met, had led her deeper into the intimate byways of his life. He had been as much a living presence as if he had led her through those streets instead of Gavin.

Fierce rejection surged through her. She didn't want to remember that this was Robert's Craighdhu. For this short time she wanted it to be hers alone. She wanted to make it hers.

She frowned at the sheer selfishness of the thought. Was it this meanness of spirit that had driven her to be so resentful and impatient with Deirdre? It was possible, and she did not like the petty vision of herself it reflected.

She knocked firmly on the door of Deirdre's chamber.

No answer.

Surely she must be in her chamber at this hour. Everyone in the castle had retired for the night, and even Deirdre did not work this late. Kate didn't think she could have the wrong room. The housekeeper's room had been omitted from the inspection of the servants' quarters, but Deirdre had carelessly indicated it in passing.

She knocked again. "Deirdre, may I come in? I need to speak to you."

"Come."

Kate opened the door and was immediately struck by a brilliant blast of light. Besides the fire burning in the stone fireplace across the chamber, dozens of candles in tall candlesticks gave the room an almost daylight brightness.

"Is something wrong?"

Kate's gaze shifted to the opposite side of the room. Deirdre sat at a bench before the largest loom Kate had ever seen, enclosed in the structure of beams and thread like a spider caught in a web. The massive structure made her appear smaller, more vulnerable, in comparison. Her dark hair hung loose on her shoulders, and she was clothed in a white linen nightshift and dark blue wool robe, the informal attire lending her a less formidable air.

"No, nothing is wrong," Kate said as she came into the room. "Why didn't you answer me?"

"I didn't hear you. This pattern is difficult, and I have to give it my full attention." Deirdre gave her a quick glance over her shoulder, her appraisal taking in Kate's nightgown and robe. "Have you changed your mind about supper? Are you hungry?"

"No, I couldn't sleep. I wish to speak to you."

"Shut the door. I'll be with you in a moment." Her gaze flew back to the shuttle of the loom. "You might as well sit down."

Kate moved to the stool beside the fire, sat down and wrapped her arms around her knees, all the time watching the quick, facile movements of Deirdre's skilled fingers. She had never seen anyone so adept at the art of weaving. The cloth on the loom was large and white and must be a blanket. The design was a beautiful barbed purple flower of some kind, and it was growing, coming alive beneath Kate's gaze.

She looked curiously around the chamber. The furniture was sparse, without embellishment, but there were touches of beauty in the purple coverlet lying on the bed, the sparkling white linen curtains at the window.

"What do you wish of me?"

Kate's glance moved back to Deirdre. The housekeeper's fingers were still moving on the loom as she stared levelly at Kate.

"I felt we should talk."

Deirdre smiled grimly. "You felt guilty for speaking sharply to me. The soft ones always do."

"I didn't feel…Well, perhaps I did, but I shouldn't have."

"But the soft ones always do. They bite and then try to lick it better."

Kate suddenly chuckled. "That sounds disgusting."

"I believe in truth, not sweetness." She looked down at the pattern. "You didn't have to come here. I'm used to being snapped at."

"Perhaps it wouldn't happen if you wouldn't provoke it. People don't like to be constantly told what to do."

"It's my nature," Deirdre said. "I've always done things better than others, and I cannot bear to see them struggle when they'd improve so much if they'd only do as I tell them."

"It could be they want to do it their own way even though it's not as good."

"Do you think that thought has not occurred to me? But it makes no sense, so I ignore it." She looked back at the work on the loom and asked in a low voice, "Do you wish me to leave Craighdhu?"

Kate was silent a moment, hesitating. Her life might be easier if Deirdre weren't here, but she was not sure she wanted life easier if it meant robbing this woman of her place at Craighdhu. "Why should I send you away? It's unreasonable to dismiss someone because they're too clever and work too hard."

"Are you having trouble finding excuses? I'm annoying. Everyone knows that to be true." The shuttle flew faster. "And I'm very disrespectful."

"I've not been a countess long enough to be offended by disrespect." Kate said. "But I can't argue that I find you annoying," she added bluntly. "Just listen to you. You're even telling me the proper manner to dismiss you. Do you wish to go away?"

"Why should I wish to leave? I'm very comfortable here."

"Then I see no reason why we cannot work together," Kate replied. "I do wish to learn from you, but in my own way and time. If you can accept that, we can try again."

"I cannot promise to stop guiding you in the direction you should go," Deirdre said crisply.

"And I will not promise I won't tell you to go about your tasks and leave me alone."

"Fair enough." Deirdre looked up and met her gaze. "Is that all?"

It was all Kate had come to say, but she had a curious reluctance to leave Deirdre yet. "Do you mind if I stay and watch you?"

A flicker of surprise crossed her face. "If you like. But don't expect me to converse with you. As I said, this pattern demands attention."

"And light." Kate's gaze went to the dozens of candles that had startled her when she had first entered the room. "You said we use a good many candles."

Deirdre stiffened. "I have Robert's permission to use as many as I wish. I have no time for weaving during the day, and I make many fine things to bring comfort to this great barn of a castle."

"I don't doubt it. I've seen many of them. I was not accusing you of waste."

Deirdre relaxed and turned back to her loom.

"But I would think you'd be too weary to weave so late at night."

"I need only a few hours sleep a night to rest me. I've always had a great deal of energy."

That was a huge understatement, Kate thought ruefully. "That's a beautiful design. I've never seen a barbed flower like that before."

"It's not a flower, it's a snowflake."

"Oh." She had clearly made a big mistake. She was silent a moment before cautiously venturing, "A purple snowflake?"

Deirdre did not answer.

Kate tried again. "It's a lovely shade of purple anyway. What plant did you get the dye from?"

"The root of the bell heather."

Heather again. "Robert told me there was no end to heather's uses."

"He's right. Depending upon its age, it also gives me yellow, orange, and gray-green dyes."

"Where did you learn to weave so well?"

"From my mother, and she learned it from her mother," Deirdre said. "By the time I could scarce walk, they started to teach me the way of it."

"I was taught spinning and weaving, too, as a child, but I never dreamed of creating anything this fine."

"Because you did it for necessity. I did it for the trade."

"And that makes a difference?"

She nodded. "The trade was everything in my village. If the work was fine enough, then a house was paid a shilling bonus for every bolt of material. Naturally, every household strove to earn that bit of extra."

"And I'm sure you always made that extra shilling."

"Of course. I was the best weaver in the village," she said matter-of-factly.

"How many families in your village worked in the trade?"

"Nearly all of them. The women wove the fabric, and the men raised sheep."

"And they all sold to Craighdhu?"

She nodded. "The MacDarrens have always been fair to us. We trust them."

"Even Jock Candaron?"

She glanced at Kate. "They told you he killed my husband?"

"It surprised me that you came to Craighdhu."

"I bore him no ill will. My husband was a bully and a drunkard. He was always brawling. One day he picked on the wrong man." She shrugged. "I had just lost a child and was too ill to work. Jock Candaron brought me here and had me nursed until I was well again. After that, he offered to send me back to Ireland, but I chose to stay here."

"Why? You don't appear to have a fondness for it."

"One place is much like another."

"I don't agree."

She smiled faintly. "No, you're like the rest here. You think there's no place on earth as fair as this storm-tossed rock."

"Why did you choose to stay on this storm-tossed rock?"

Deirdre ignored the question and said sternly, "I told you I could not talk to you, and yet you plague me with questions. If you stay, you must be silent and not bother me."

Deirdre had not considered it a bother until the questions had become more personal in nature, Kate noted as her gaze went to the snowflake pattern on the quilt. Deirdre was a little like that snowflake, serene and yet barbed, substance one moment and melting out of reach the next.

Kate rose to her feet. "I'll leave you to your work. May I come again tomorrow night and watch you?"

Deirdre met her gaze. "Why would you want to?"

She was not sure herself, but there was something vaguely pleasant sitting here by the fire with the scent of burning wood and candles drifting to her while she unraveled the guarded puzzle of Deirdre O'Connell. It could be that she had never had a woman friend except Carolyn and was lonely for that companionship. Good God, she could not have chosen a woman less likely to assuage that need. "Sometimes I cannot sleep. It would be pleasant to have company. May I come?"

Deirdre looked away from her. "You're mistress here. You may do anything you wish."

"May I come?" she asked again.

Deirdre started moving the shuttle. "Very well, come. It makes no difference to me."

"Did you like being a weaver?" Kate asked.

"A woman always likes doing something she can do better than anyone else."

"But if you did nothing but weave all day…"

"It was only monotonous when I had to repeat the pattern over and over. I grew very bored with the MacDarren tartan." She added quickly, "Though no one turned out a finer plaid than I."

"I'm sure of that."

"And even when I was a child, I liked the waulking."

"Waulking?"

"After the wool is dyed and woven, it has to be stretched, and all the children would gather to do it, and there would be singing and joking.…" Her smile faded. "But that changed when I grew older and they saw what an excellent weaver I'd become. I was allowed to do nothing else. My father wanted both the shillings and the honor of turning out the finest goods in the village. He was no different from the other men. The trade was everything, and the men of the family ruled the trade." She shrugged. "I was never a handsome lass, but all the lads in the village were after my hand. They knew what a fine provider I'd be."

"Did your father arrange your marriage?"

She snorted. "Why should he marry me off when I had such value for him? No, I chose Sean myself. He was a big, handsome man, with a pleasing way about him. I paid no heed to the stories about his drunkenness." She suddenly bent over the loom. "Be silent now until I finish this bit."

Kate knew very well by now that Deirdre could master any difficulty in the pattern with her eyes closed, and this was only a signal she wished to drop a subject. Kate had learned much about the woman in the hours she'd spent in this candlelit room during the last week, and she was sure Deirdre had learned an equal amount about her. She was still sometimes tentative in the housekeeper's company, but those times were becoming less frequent. "You never told me why you chose to stay here at Craighdhu."

"It's as good as any other place. I could be busy here."

"You were the finest weaver in your village. Surely you were busy there also."

"Yes, but I know the loom so well, it takes no thought." She looked down at the coverlet. "If your mind is empty, the memories come. It's a foolish woman who lets the past come knocking, if she doesn't want to let it in."

"The child?" Kate asked softly.

For a moment Kate didn't think she would answer, but then Deirdre nodded jerkily. "I wanted a babe. I was barren for fourteen years. When I found myself with child, I thought it was a miracle" The shuttle moved faster. "Sean was happy about the babe. A man is always proud when he can get a woman with child. Then he got drunk one night, and his pride didn't matter as much as his lack of money. I was ill most of the time while carrying the babe and wasn't producing as much as I had before. He beat me, and I lost the child." Her hands halted in their movement, and she gazed unseeingly down at the shuttle. "I've been clumsy. I'll have to start this section again."

Kate got to her feet. "I'm distracting you. Perhaps I'd better leave you and go to bed."

"You're being kind," Deirdre said. "You needn't go because you think I may weep. I don't weep anymore. I work." The shuttle moved again. "There's great satisfaction in work. It gives you purpose."

For the first time Kate was beginning to understand that almost frantic energy that drove Deirdre.

"And fulfillment," Deirdre continued. "A woman needs nothing else, if she knows her own worth."

Deirdre was clinging to work as Kate had clung to her dream of a home. But Deirdre had closed herself off from the truth Kate had discovered.

"You're wrong," Kate said quietly. "I once thought as you did, but there are other needs as important. We can't hide away and live alone. It's hollow without others to share it."

"A husband?" Deirdre smiled bitterly. "I rejoiced when I was released from that bondage. Do you think that was the first time he beat me? I was a woman, and so could be used and punished when I did not fulfill expectations. No one in my village thought of punishing him because he killed my child. Just because you have a fine man is no reason to believe it is—" She stopped as she saw Kate's closed expression. "I know you fought with Robert before he left, but you must not let that poison you. He's a good man. I've watched him these many years and have never found him cruel or greedy. Believe me, I have no liking for most men, so my words have value." She grimaced. "Of course, he's impatient on occasion, but I tend to arouse that response."

Kate stood up and started for the door. "I think it's time I retired. I'll see you in the morning, Deirdre."

Deirdre gave her a dry smile. "By all means, you must not get overweary. Good night, Kate."

A few minutes later Kate stood at her chamber window looking out over the sea. She had not fooled Deirdre; the housekeeper had known Kate had left to avoid discussing Robert. She must rid herself of this impulse to run away every time Robert was mentioned. She had no right to lesson Deirdre on hiding when she was doing the same thing herself. In truth, she had no real quarrel with the meat of Deirdre's solution. Work did bring forgetfulness, and God knows, she desperately wished to forget both Robert and their time together.

But she had no wish to close out the people of Craighdhu. With every passing day she was drawing closer to the clan. They were beginning to accept her, to draw her into their circle. She wished Deirdre could have the benefit of that warmth. In these last days Kate had learned to admire and like Deirdre. The woman would not admit it, but at times she must feel terribly alone. If only the villagers could ignore her arrogant self-assurance and accept her for her virtues. No one was more clever or fair or hardworking than Deirdre. She had so much to give them, and they her. It was a pity that—

Kate inhaled sharply, her hands tightening on the oak windowsill as a sudden thought occurred to her.

Was it possible?

"Can we do it?" Kate eagerly asked Gavin.

"I believe you've already made up your mind on that subject," Gavin said. "Affirmation on my part is hardly necessary."

She grinned. "But it would be pleasant to have your support."

"You know you'll have it." Gavin smiled. "But I'll need Ian's help to deal with the carpenters. I suppose you've already chosen the women?"

"Meg Kildare, Sarah and Mary Cameron, Catherine Mactavish, Elspeth MacDonald. I've already spoken to them and they're agreeable," she added, "but I want you to go visit their husbands and explain what a fine thing this will be for them."

Gavin sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

"You'll do very well." Kate moved toward the door. "You can be very persuasive when you try."

"No more than you. When do you speak to Deirdre?"

"Tonight." She would need more than persuasiveness to convince Deirdre, and the woman seemed to be most approachable during those hours they spent together in her chamber.

"Don't you think you should have spoken to her first?"

Kate shook her head. "I wanted to get everything in place."

Gavin nodded. "I can see why. She's going to be the most difficult obstacle you'll overcome. I don't envy you."

"You're very quiet tonight," Deirdre said as she sent her shuttle flying. "Did Gavin bring you disturbing news?"

"No." Kate's hands, which were clasping her knees, nervously clenched as again the reed thwacked on the loom, forcing the thread in place. Ordinarily, she found the heavy, rhythmic sound soothing. Tonight it only increased her edginess as she tried to find a way to broach the subject. "I suppose you could say I brought disturbing news to him."

Deirdre smiled and said nothing.

"You're not going to ask what news?"

"You'll tell me when it suits you. You're not one to keep your silence when something is bothering you. Everything has to come blurting out."

"It's really not bothering me. It's just something I—Yes, it is." She drew a deep breath. "I wish you to teach the women of Craighdhu your skill in weaving."

Deirdre did not change expression. "Indeed."

"I thought we would start with five women, and when you feel they're competent, then you could teach five more."

"This is nonsense. I have no time for it."

"It's true you'd need to spend at least four hours a day with the women, and you'd have to work harder than you ever did in your life," Kate agreed. "But I don't believe you'd mind the work. Perhaps we could get more help from the village, and I'll do all I can. I have learned a great deal about managing things here at the castle."

At last the shuttle stopped, and Deirdre turned to look at her. "Why? What is your purpose in doing this?"

"I see no reason why you Irish should reap all the profits. Surely, Scottish women are not so stupid they cannot learn to do as well."

"So I'm supposed to take the shillings away from my own people?"

"They're not your people anymore. You belong here with us. In spite of what you say, you know that as well as I do. Besides, there will be plenty of work for everyone. Gavin says the wool trade is like a thirsty giant. The whole world wants woolen goods."

"That is true."

"Then you will do it?"

"No."

Kate frowned as hope plummeted. "Why not?"

"No village woman would listen to me. They don't like me."

"I thought of that possibility."

"It's more than a possibility," Deirdre insisted.

"They don't have to like you. They only have to respect you and not be antagonized by your manner. I chose women who seemed confident enough to speak their own minds to you. I believe that may help. If I'm wrong, we'll choose five other women." She added, "And I'll be there at first to smooth any feathers you might ruffle. You're a fine woman. They need only to know you as I do."

Deirdre was silent for a time, thinking. "It won't work," she finally said flatly.

"It will work. I want this for Craighdhu."

"And so it must come to pass." She shook her head. "It would drive me mad to teach those fumble-fingered fools."

"They won't be fumble-fingered forever. You'll demand that they get better, and they'll do it."

"They'll walk out after the first lesson."

"If they do, they'll come back."

"Why should they?"

"For the same reason you would. It's a chance to be of value, to be respected for their own talents, to be sought for their skills. It's not often a woman is given the opportunity to earn, instead of being given, her place in the world."

"Not every woman wants that."

"Then we'll teach them to want it."

"So that their men can take it away from them?"

"That won't happen on Craighdhu."

"Man's nature is the same the world over."

"Do you think Robert would permit their husbands to treat them as your husband treated you?"

Deirdre was silent again. "Perhaps not."

"Then will you do it?"

"What about the looms?"

Hope flared bright. "Ian Mactavish is talking to the carpenters tomorrow."

Deirdre snorted. "What does he know about building looms? I'll have to go and choose the wood and tell them how to do it properly."

Oh dear, Deirdre was starting already, but Kate had won so much, she didn't wish to jeopardize success by arguing. "I'm sure he'll appreciate your help."

"He won't, but he'll have it anyway. I can't have those helpless ninnies working on bad looms." She turned back to her loom. "And four hours a day will not be enough. They'll have to work at least six. Even so, it will take at least three years to make them even adequate, five for them to compete with the trade."

Kate would not be here in four years. She would not see this seed she was planting grow, she realized with a pang. Well, Craighdhu would be here, and wherever she was, she would know she had enriched it. "I want to have them ready in four. Is it possible?"

Deirdre turned back to her, and a faint smile lit her face. "Oh, yes, give me real women and not ninnies, and it's entirely possible."

Edinburgh Castle

"Of course, it could all be a ruse. This Sebastian Landfield seems none too stable." James frowned. "But I could not let the matter go unquestioned."

"No, you were right to send for me." Alec Malcolm lifted his goblet to his lips. "And at least some of what Landfield said is true. I encountered MacDarren on my way here and met this Kathryn."

"You did?" James's frown deepened. "Is she as winning as Landfield said?"

Malcolm thought back to that meeting. Comeliness in a man or woman meant nothing to him, but he had realized as a child that others found a pleasant exterior important. He had always found it odd, but had soon learned to mold their weakness to his advantage. When he had met Kathryn MacDarren, he had assessed her as he did everyone else, weighing her for threat or pliability. He had been more aware of the intelligence and directness of her regard than her beauty. "I suppose she's comely enough. And I would say she is no fool."

James swore beneath his breath. "That's not good news."

"It's neither bad nor good until we find out the truth. You've brought this wet nurse, Clara Merkert, here?"

James nodded. "The troop I sent to fetch her arrived two days ago. She's in the dungeon."

"Has she been questioned?"

"She claims she knows nothing of any child born to my mother. She says the girl is the offspring of a minor nobleman and a strumpet of the town. However, it seems suspicious that the woman comes from a village near where my mother was permitted to go to take the waters."

Malcolm chuckled. "And where she was persuaded to take Shrewsbury as well."

"As you say, we do not know if that is true," James said. "Everything was going so well. I detest all this trouble."

"That's why you sent for me." Malcolm's tone was light. "To take all your troubles away,"

James's frown vanished. "I truly missed you, Alec," he said softly. "I was very angry at you when you left me."

"I couldn't stay in Edinburgh forever. I have my borders to guard." He met James's gaze. "If you would remove MacDarren as a threat to me, I'd feel safe to visit you more frequently here at court."

"You know I can't move against a nobleman as powerful as MacDarren without just cause. You must settle your own disputes."

Alec had known that would be James's reply. James enjoyed the dominance Alec wielded over him, but he never let it interfere with his own ambitions or well-being. "Then you must do without my company."

"Are your petty little forays more important to you than me?" James asked peevishly.

Malcolm felt a flare of impatience. He knew the answer James expected, and if necessary he would give it to him. It wasn't necessary, he decided. He could please himself and give James a glimpse of the dominance he craved. He replied, "Yes, of course, they're more important. I will fit you into my life when it is convenient to do so."

James's cheeks flushed with anger. "You go too far, Alec."

"That is precisely why you enjoy me. I will have no more of this whining." He changed the subject. "Have you put this woman to the torture?"

"Not yet. I was waiting for you." James's tone was still offended. "You have a great talent for causing hurt."

He'd like to slap the sulky brat's face, but it was time to soothe instead of punish. "Only for your ultimate benefit." He smiled warmly. "You know I care for you."

The boy snatched the bone thrown to him like a starving dog with a leg of lamb. "Truly?"

"Did I not travel over the mountains and come to you in the dead of winter?"

"It's just that you're so harsh with me at times. It's not at all kind when I have such great burdens."

"Well, I'll lift one burden from your shoulders now." He finished his wine in one swallow and set down his goblet. "How old is this Merkert woman?"

"Near her fiftieth year."

"That's not too old for the rack. I've found when subjects near their sixtieth year, their bones tend to crack more easily and the whips are more efficient."

James made a face. "I don't want to hear about it. Just do it."

"I'll want only my own people in the dungeon, and no interference."

"Whatever you like."

"Those are the words I want to hear." He rose to his feet. "See that you remember them…later."

James's face lit with eagerness. "You will come to me tonight?"

"How could I resist you?" He immediately balanced the sensual softness with a hard edge. "But I must attend to more important things first." He moved toward the door. "I'll attend to your personal needs when I have the time."

As he walked down the corridor, he analyzed his meeting with James. On the whole he thought it had gone very well. He had reasserted his dominance over the boy and would reinforce it on a physical level later. Now, he must determine whether bringing this Merkert woman here was only a ploy to get him back to Edinburgh, or if there was a valid threat to James. The entire tale sounded preposterous, but if there was a particle of truth in it, the situation had definite possibilities.

It was only a question of how he would bring those possibilities to fruition.

"I want at least six sheep." Kate's brow wrinkled in thought as she finished the mutton on her trencher.

Gavin's lips quirked. "By the Saints, you must be hungry tonight."

She waved the comment aside. "I'm serious. I think we should purchase six fine sheep from the Irish and start our own herd."

"May I remind you that the island can't support these herds of sheep?"

"But if they get rid of their cattle, the crofts on the mainland can. I'm sure the reason they haven't run sheep before is that all of Craighdhu is accustomed to thinking of sheep in connection with the trade."

Gavin chuckled. "It's not enough that you've turned the village upside down with your weavers, you must turn us all into shepherds."

"Not at all," she corrected. "We'll start out slowly, but by the time my weavers are ready, I'd like to be able to supply them with our own wool."

"Tell me, aren't the weavers enough to keep you busy?"

"Deirdre has them well in hand now. I only have to be there in case of disputes." In truth, the weaving lessons had gone better than she had dreamed possible. The women of the clan had shown an astonishing determination and patience, and Deirdre's enthusiasm had begun to sweep them along in her wake. Six hours of lessons had become eight, and the housekeeper often stayed late at the weaving cottage with one or the other of the women. Kate had great hopes the enforced intimacy would reap benefits for Deirdre as well as Craighdhu. "It's time I turned my attention to something else. There's no reason why we can't convince the members of the clans on the mainland that they don't have to go to Ireland to enrich themselves."

Gavin threw back his head and laughed. "No reason at all."

He was laughing, but she had only stated her firm belief. She could not understand this male way of thinking that it was necessary to search the world for what could be found at home with a little effort. She supposed it was men's nature to seize and women's to nurture and build. But, by God, given the chance, she could build. She could show them all what could be done with Craighdhu.

Craighdhu had taught her much in these last weeks. She had learned to subdue her temper, to listen, to think before she spoke. She found the people of Craighdhu to be honest and blunt, with a dry wit and a belief that no one on earth was better than a Highlander. At first they had treated her only with the respect they would give the wife of a brother, and she'd been forced to earn all else given to her. She found that challenge as exciting as Craighdhu itself, but to continue to meet that challenge she must work harder, learn more, do more. That hunger was growing more intense with every passing day, and her time here was growing shorter. "Then will you get me my sheep?"

"You'll have to wait a bit or else ask Ian." Gavin looked down into the depths of the wine in his goblet. "I'm going away tonight."

"What? Where are you—" She stopped as she realized his purpose. She had been so involved in her own new life, she had almost forgotten Gavin's determination regarding Malcolm's daughter. "No, Gavin, please."

"Jeanie needs me." He looked up and smiled. "And I need her."

"It's clear Robert thinks it's too hazardous."

"Less so now that Alec is in Edinburgh. I'll never have a better chance." He lifted his glass in a mock toast. "Wish me good fortune, Kate."

He was not going to be dissuaded, she realized. "How will you do it?"

"I've been paying retainers in Malcolm's house for years to arrange meetings and to send word of Jeanie. Stop looking so frightened," he said soothingly. "I'm just going reiving. It won't even be as dangerous as stealing one of Cavendish's horses."

"What about her brother, Duncan?"

"Duncan likes me, and he has no fondness for his father. I'd wager he won't come thundering after us."

"I hope you're right," she whispered. "Where do you intend to take her?"

"I think Ireland. I know people there who will hide us." He paused. "But first I'll bring her here for a day or two and make my peace with Robert. That's one of the reasons I've waited this long. Robert should be back within a few days, and I'll be able to see him before we have to leave for Ireland."

Relief surged through her. She had feared for a moment she would never see him again. She had not realized until this moment how very dear he had become to her. "You believe he'll be terribly angry."

Gavin nodded. "He'll be afraid for Craighdhu, you see. That's why I waited until he was gone. I feared he would try to stop me…or help me. I'm putting Robert into a dreadful coil. I'm endangering Craighdhu, but I still belong to him. I'm one of his own." He grimaced as he rose to his feet. "But I can't worry about him when I have troubles of my own."

"When can I expect you back?"

"In no more than four days. All I ask is that you have a chamber and a warm welcome prepared for my Jeanie."

"I'll have the chamber in readiness, but I can't promise to take this woman to my heart." Kate's lips compressed. "She must be very selfish to endanger you in this fashion."

He shook his head. "You'll change your mind when you meet her." He took her hand and squeezed it gently. "Pray for me?"

"Of course," she said gruffly. "Though anyone who is so foolish doesn't deserve it."

"But it's the foolish who need prayers most." He turned and walked out of the hall.

···

Edinburgh

He must be careful not to reveal the excitement surging through him, Alec thought as he approached the door of James's chamber. The king must see no sign that would arouse his suspicions. He must be the dominant taskmaster and then the gentle soother of body and spirit James required. Jesus, it was going to be difficult. Who would have guessed he would have been given this chance? Of course, it was too bad the woman had died—a live witness was always better in these cases—but still he had the confession. It would be enough. He would make it enough.

He was permitted to pass unchallenged by the two guards at the door of James's apartment. A good sign.

James sat at his desk, writing. He wore a purple-and-gold velvet dressing gown that made his face look sickly pale in contrast. The boy was overfond of purple, Alec thought contemptuously. James thought the brilliant color reinforced his kingly air and made him appear more authoritative. Alec could have told him that such trappings made no difference. It was what a man had inside that gave him the power to rule those about him.

James glanced at him and then looked down at the parchment again. "I'm very angry with you. It's been two days."

So angry he had given the guards orders to let him come to him at any time. "The woman was strong. I needed to concentrate on my service to you."

"It is done?"

"It's done."

"And the result?"

He smiled. "The vicar is as mad as you suspected."

"Then the woman was telling the truth?"

"Not entirely." He had decided that his lie should be more creative than the one the woman had told James previously. "The girl is the offspring of the marquis of Frandal. He impregnated the daughter of a Catholic tradesman in the village. Our chaste Elizabeth was furious with the young libertine, but she had a fondness for the lad and wished to protect him from the calumny of associating with papists, so she involved herself in the disposition of the child."

"You're sure of this?"

"When have I ever failed you? At the last the woman was raving with agony. She could not wait to confess the truth."

James sighed. "It's a great relief to me."

"I thought it would be. Shall I tell you of the interrogation?"

"No."

"Perhaps later." He took off his short cape and threw it on the chair beside the door. "I have had my fill of dungeons and such. Sometime I will make you come with me to one of these little sessions."

"No, please, I would not like it."

He meant what he said. James had no stomach for torture itself, but the thought of Alec performing it gave him a secret excitement he would not admit even to himself. Alec had whipped a servant once in front of James, and when it was done, the king had taken his hand and looked at it, testing it for power, stroking it. "We will talk of it later." Alec sat down in the chair and stretched his legs before him. "That color becomes you. I have never seen you look so well."

"Indeed?" James flushed with pleasure. He reached up to stroke the velvet of the robe's lapel. "I'm glad it pleases you. I will wear it more often."

"See that you do." Alec leaned back in the chair. "It's good to have that pesky business out of the way. Of course, I will have to remove the vicar. We mustn't let his ravings disturb the nobles at court at this delicate time."

"What of the Merkert woman?"

"Dead. I thought that would be your wish in case Elizabeth took umbrage at your treatment of one of her subjects."

"You've thought of everything."

"Isn't that why you sent for me? My affection is such that all you need to do is call and I'm here to do your bidding." He paused. "But now you must do my bidding. Remove my boots."

As usual, James hesitated, but Alec could see the flicker of excitement in his expression. The king rose slowly to his feet and came toward him. He tried to sound offhand. "I suppose you deserve a reward." He turned his back and tugged at Alec's boot. "How long will you stay with me?"

He wanted to leave this minute, tomorrow at the latest. The excitement and anticipation within him was growing with every passing second. It was the opportunity he had waited for all these years and now he was forced to pamper the desires of this weakling.

"Alec?" James drew off the boot and started on the other one.

But he must not let his impatience cause him to make any false steps. Every move now must be planned and executed with utmost cleverness and surety. James must be petted and made to feel secure.

It should not be too onerous a task with a throne beckoning as a reward.

"I will stay a week." With a faint, cruel smile, he added, "If you're very, very good and obey my every wish."