Chapter 15

15

Laird Jamieson had to summon the clan elders from their homes, which were all some distance away, so they could have no meeting that afternoon. Lunch was an awkward affair, since the question of Gavin’s mission to Ardneuk Castle was on everyone’s minds, although no one wanted to speak of it. Instead, they made pointless small talk about unimportant subjects in which Gavin had no interest at all.

When Elspeth told him regretfully that she had already arranged to meet with friends that afternoon, Gavin gave a huge inward sigh of relief. Now he had time to think again, and he knew exactly who would be on his mind.

“Your day will not be wasted, though, Gavin,” she assured him. “I have found you a bedroom and some clothes, there are books in the library and every single servant in the castle is at your command. Is there anything else you need?”

Gavin looked down at Elspeth’s eager face and smiled. “No, thank you, Elspeth,” he said. “You and your father have both been very kind to me.”

“Let me show you to your room,” she offered, taking his hand.

Unsurprisingly, it was only a few yards away from her own, but when they entered it, Gavin was relieved to see that it was nothing like the chamber he had just left. This one was much more masculine, and there was not a hint of pink anywhere.

It was decorated in shades of deep maroon and silver grey, with plain brown rugs on the floor and dark ebony furniture. The pictures around the walls were hunting scenes, and there was not a flowery still life anywhere. Gavin smiled as he looked around. This was definitely his kind of chamber!

“I can see that you like it,” Elspeth observed, laughing.

“I do,” he replied eagerly. “It is more, masculine.”

Elspeth laughed. “Yes, when we decorate our bedroom, perhaps we should do it together? I don’t want my husband to be unhappy with me.”

She gazed up at him adoringly, and Gavin pasted a smile on his face and put an arm around her shoulders. She was like a puppy, he thought, so happy and eager to please. It was not a trait he admired, but he reminded himself that most women of his class were brought up to be submissive.

“I agree,” he replied. “But remember, nothing is settled yet, Elspeth.”

“I know, but it is only a matter of time. I have faith in my father and in you, Gavin. Now I must go.” Elspeth looked sad. “If I had known you would be here, I would have arranged to meet my friends another time, but I suppose it doesn’t matter now. I will see you at dinner.”

“That is true.”

Gavin summoned up a smile and once again concurred. The thought of waking up in the same bed with Elspeth every day did not exactly displease him, but she had one flaw. She was not Maura.

Elspeth gave him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, then left. When the door closed behind her, Gavin gave a great sigh of relief.

Later, when he sat down to dinner with Elspeth and her father, she looked absolutely delighted to see him, and a beaming smile did not leave her face all through the meal. She was eager to hear all about Gavin’s adventure, and she was looking at him with undying interest during his narration. He told them about his escape, the cunning stable head, and the tavern owners that threw him out in his filthy state. They laughed when he described his first week working with Maura, and dealing with all the drunk men.

Gavin did his best to eat and make pleasant conversation, remembering that he had to keep the Laird on his side. Knowing that he was a horse lover, Gavin tried to engage him in conversation about something in which he was interested.

“My Laird, I have been told that you have a fine stable,” he said. “Would you mind showing me your horses when you have a moment?”

He realised he had said the right thing when Alan Jamieson smiled. “Of course!” he replied. “I have just acquired two very fine carriage horses—matching bays—and I am expecting the delivery of a stallion with an excellent bloodline any day now. I hope he will sire many foals for my mares. You may walk around with me tomorrow after our meeting.”

Gavin was pleased that he seemed to be winning the Laird’s favour, although he warned himself not to be complacent; there were still many matters to settle.

Gavin was relieved to find that the manservant who had been assigned to him had managed to find him some clean clothes. They were not new, of course, but he was content with them; they were not rags, anyway.

When he stepped into the big room where Laird Jamieson held council, he saw that all the other men there were smartly dressed in Jamieson clan plaids. He did not have one of his own in Forsyth tartan, since he had been obliged to leave it behind when he fled his home.

However, living with Maura in the Goose and Gander had taught him that how he dressed on the outside had nothing to do with the person inside. If these disdainful people around him had a problem with his appearance, they did not have to look at him. But that was the least of his worries; glancing at the faces around him, he realised he had a battle to fight.

Gavin bowed to the assorted men in the room and smiled as he was introduced to each of them in turn. One or two returned his smile, but the rest merely nodded politely and avoided his eyes or stared at him blankly. He felt belittled and inadequate, then reminded himself that although he wanted them to help him, he was making the biggest sacrifice of all. He had nothing to be ashamed of.

When all the introductions had been made, Gavin sat down and accepted a cup of ale, and Laird Jamieson began to speak.

“We are here today to speak about a possible alliance between the Jamiesons and the Forsyths,” he began. “Ever since Ewan and Aileen Forsyth lost their lives some time ago, their son Gavin, the new Laird, has been running the estate. As any one of you will have noticed if you have ridden past it, it is in a pitiable condition.”

The men nodded in agreement and looked at Gavin accusingly. He knew that he would never be able to defend himself, so he took the only course possible.

“I must apologize,” he said, dropping his gaze to his hands to avoid the accusing stares of the others. “When my parents died, I was devastated. I let myself go to pieces. I rejected my friends, refused advice and help, neglected my duties as a Laird, and my estate and tenants have suffered as a result. I make no excuses for myself; I am to blame for this mess and I take full responsibility.

However, although I can understand why the elders wanted to evict me from the castle, I think perhaps murdering me is a step too far—even for them. They obviously wish to put someone else in my place, someone who will do their bidding and look after their interests. I have no idea who that person is, but I intend to find out. However, I can only do that with your help.”

He looked at the men seated around the table. No one looked hostile, but none of them looked eager to help him either. If there was one expression on their faces that they all shared, it was one of blank indifference, and Gavin began to fear that none of them would be willing to aid him at all.

At last, one of the men spoke up. “Laird Forsyth,” he said, “you have not given us one good reason why we should come to your assistance.”

“My clansmen incited a rebellion against me,” Gavin pointed out. “If I were a king, that would be tantamount to treason.”

“But, my Laird, you are not a king,” one of the other men pointed out. “And we owe you no loyalty. You are our neighbour—nothing more.”

He looked around the table, and Gavin saw several others nodding and murmuring in agreement.

“And I see no advantage to us in giving you our allegiance,” another said. “Would it not be better just to talk to them? Reason with them?”

“Do you think I have not considered that?” Gavin asked irritably. “Would you face a man who had tried to kill you and expect him to see sense?”

Laird Jamieson spoke up then. “Laird Forsyth.” His voice was grim and he was frowning deeply. “If you want our help, you are going the wrong way about asking for it. Have a little respect, please.”

Gavin realised that he had just made his situation ten times worse, and to change the situation he would have to humble himself somewhat—again.

“Forgive me, gentlemen,” he said regretfully. “I have been very badly affected by all this, and yes, I know I deserve it all, but I don’t think it will do anyone any good if I am dead. I have no idea what would happen then. You may end up with a tyrant for a neighbour. I want to make up for the damage I have done. Please give me some hope. Please help me.”

There was a thick silence for a moment before the clan elders began to talk amongst themselves in very low voices so that Gavin would be unable to hear them. However, by the looks on their faces and the way they were shaking their heads, he realised that his hopes were about to be dashed.

“We will have to think about this for a while longer,” Laird Jamieson said. “There are plenty of matters that we have to take into consideration before we give you an answer, my Laird.” He frowned deeply at Gavin. “I would rather talk to whoever is in charge first; I would rather not spill blood except as a very last resort.”

“I understand.” Gavin felt utterly wretched.

Up until now, he had thought the Jamiesons would be sympathetic, at least to a small degree, but it seemed he had been mistaken. Marriage to Elspeth was his only hope—or was it? Perhaps the Laird was right; perhaps they could negotiate and come to terms with the rebels amongst his ranks. He would have to think it through, but now was not the right time. Now he had to attend to Elspeth, who was currently his only hope. He sighed and shook his head as Maura began to come into his mind’s eye. Somehow, he would have to forget her.

When he went out into the garden to look for Elspeth, he found her cutting off the dead flower heads from the last of the summer blooms. She looked up and saw him, then gave him a sad smile. “I hate doing this,” she told him. “Now I know winter is really here.”

“Summer will be here soon enough,” he consoled her.

“How did your meeting go?” she asked.

“I would rather not talk about official business at the moment,” Gavin said, then began to panic, unable to think of anything else to say. He looked at Elspeth for inspiration. She was wearing a frilly pink confection of a dress, which he hated, but he complimented her on it nevertheless. One of his greatest skills was making a lady think she was the most beautiful creature since Eve.

“That is truly a lovely dress, Elspeth,” he remarked, hoping that she would not notice the insincerity of his words or his smile. “Pink is obviously your favourite colour, and it suits you.”

Elspeth looked delighted. “Thank you, Gavin,” she said happily. “Pink is indeed my favourite colour.”

He smiled, picked up her hands and kissed the knuckles. Elspeth’s cheeks turned pink and her eyes shone. “It has been a very long time since you were last here, so would you like to see some of your favourite places again?”

“I would,” Gavin replied with genuine enthusiasm.

He loved Ardneuk Castle, with its tiers of crenellated battlements and elaborate pointed towers at each corner. It was an elegant, beautiful building, but the rows of cannons on the lowest level of the turrets and the massive portcullis at the gate showed that it was also a mighty fortress. It had withstood a long siege by the English a hundred years before, and the garrison had sent them home with their tails between their legs.

“Could we go right to the top?” he asked.

There were seventy steps up to the highest battlements, and Elspeth looked down doubtfully at her elaborate dress. Then she smiled at Gavin brightly.

“Of course,” she replied. “But you will have to make allowances for my slowness. This dress?—”

“If you are really struggling, I will carry you,” Gavin promised.

Elspeth raised her eyebrows. “Hm, I may struggle deliberately,” she said coyly.

Gavin laughed and flexed the muscles of his arms. “I will be ready, Milady,” he assured her.

In the end, Elspeth managed the climb with no help from him, and as they stood on the top of the turrets, Gavin looked over the bare winter landscape below them. It resembled a drawing done in charcoal as opposed to the brightly coloured paintings of summer, but it was no less beautiful for that. Snow had begun to fall, and the countryside was slowly being buried in a blanket of white.

Elspeth started to shiver, and Gavin took off his jacket to drape it over her shoulders, then she leaned into him with a grateful sigh.

“Should we not go down again?” Gavin suggested. “It’s too cold for you.”

“We can keep each other warm,” Elspeth answered. “Do you remember the time you stood on top of this wall and nearly fell off?”

Gavin shuddered. “Indeed I do,” he replied. “I think I was trying to impress you, but I nearly killed myself,” he laughed.

“Good thing that guard was there to pull you down,” Maura said thankfully. “I was sure you were going to fall.”

“What about the time your wee puppy fell in the loch?” Gavin asked, laughing.

“How was I to know that puppies were able to swim from birth?” Elspeth asked indignantly, then she began to giggle. She had waded in after the little creature, only to find it swimming back to the shore. They were both fine, but her dress was ruined.

They spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon chatting and laughing about times gone by, and Gavin began to think that marriage to Elspeth might not be so bad after all. Perhaps he could make the best of it.

“You said that you met some interesting people while you were away,” Elspeth said, smiling as she ran a hand over his. “In the tavern you lived in. what was its name again?”

“The Goose and Gander ,” he replied. “Yes. The landlord, Brian Hislop, is an interesting character. I have never met anyone who spent almost every hour of every day drunk—I never had a sensible conversation with him the whole time I was there.”

“You mentioned his niece, Maura,” Elspeth went on. “What is she like?”

“She is really the one who runs the place,” Gavin replied, visualising Maura’s face before him. He was not aware that he was smiling. “She is clever with numbers, so she is never cheated, and good at handling people. No one ever gets the better of her, and she feeds and looks after some village orphans.”

“She sounds like an angel,” Elspeth remarked. “Is she pretty?”

“Very pretty,” Gavin replied, then immediately realised that he had said the wrong thing and quickly corrected himself. “In fact, she is the second-prettiest lady I know.”

“Who is the first?” Elspeth asked, smirking and pretending not to know the answer.

“Elspeth Jamieson, of course,” Gavin replied. “Who else?”

Elspeth giggled, blushed and gave him a pretend slap on his chest. “You certainly know how to flatter a lady!”

They had just enjoyed a delicious dinner, and were now seated in one of the smaller parlours. A bright fire was burning, and Gavin and Elspeth were sitting in front of it, soaking up the warmth. The Laird had gone to see a friend and was not expected back until the morning, and Elspeth had taken the opportunity to cuddle up beside Gavin on the sofa without any of his disapproving glares. He was not averse to having a warm woman next to him, but he would have preferred it to be Maura.

Elspeth poured him another glass of wine. Gavin had already had a few glasses already and was beginning to lose track of what Elspeth was saying. His eyelids were heavy and all he wanted to do was sleep. He tried not to yawn, but he could not stop himself.

“My goodness, Gavin, you look exhausted,” Elspeth exclaimed.

“I have had a little too much wine,” he confessed. “I am not used to it any more.”

Elspeth stood up and held out her hand. “Your bed is soft and comfortable and will give you the best night’s sleep you have had for a long time—you look as though you need it.”

Gavin smiled at her. “I knew you would look after me,” he said warmly. His hand was practically imprisoned in Elspeth’s as they made their way to his chamber.

When they reached his door, Elspeth seemed reluctant to leave. She looked up at him, then tentatively wrapped her arms around his waist and very gently laid her head against his shoulder. “I wish I could stay with you,” she said sadly. “Just for a little while.”

“And what would the servants say? Your father would find out in no time,” Gavin answered. “But hopefully, we will be together soon. Goodnight, Elspeth.”

He bent to kiss her cheek, but she cupped his face in her hands and gave him a kiss on the lips. She was clumsy—obviously she had never kissed a man before—but Gavin did not push her away.

“Goodnight, Gavin,” she said, her eyes shining. “Sleep well.”

Gavin entered his room and closed the door behind him. He must go straight to sleep, he told himself; thinking about Maura was doing him no good at all. Trying to picture a future with her was as futile as trying to stop the tide coming in.