Amanda Scott (35 page)

“Do you think so, sir?” Mary asked, taking care to avoid Serena’s gaze.

Balcardane considered the question, then said with surprise, “Now that you ask, lass, it occurs to me that since you came to live with us, he has not been so easily thistle-pricked. He’s always been short-tempered, of course, even as a lad, and more than ever since Ian’s death. He blamed himself, you see, though no one else did.”

“Ian would not have blamed him,” Mary said. Hearing herself, she felt guilty, remembering how often in the past she had blamed Duncan for Ian’s death.

Balcardane said heavily, “Duncan said he was not stern enough, that he should have made certain Ian feared him too much to defy him. I know he blamed me, as well, thinking I ought to have controlled the lad.”

“No one controlled Ian, sir,” Mary said gently. “He did as he pleased. I own that for a time I blamed Duncan, although for a different reason than he blames himself. Ian enjoyed going among the people of Appin. He did not see them as his enemies, or as enemies of his clan, sir, only as friends and comrades. I thought that if Duncan had not been so bent upon protecting him, and not drawn the bonds so tight, perhaps Ian would not have felt so strongly the need to break free.”

Serena looked from Mary to the earl in evident confusion. “But how can any man control another,” she demanded, “unless, of course, he imprisons him?”

“You are right, of course,” Mary said. “In any event, Ian died simply because he chanced to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I don’t know if anyone ever told you, my lord, but Allan Breck told us afterward that Ian’s death was an accident. He never meant to kill him.”

“Aye, Rory told us as much, for your cousin Diana told him,” Balcardane said, “but it makes no difference, lass. Allan Breck is guilty of murder. I know how passionate you can become in defense of those you care for, but I hope you won’t try to defend him just because he’s kin to you.”

“I won’t, sir. He was already wanted by the law, and he fought Ian because he feared Ian would hand him over to the authorities. That alone makes Allan guilty, and I don’t hold with murder. I think he killed Colin Glenure, too. I think—”

“I know you still think we hanged an innocent man when we hanged James Stewart,” Balcardane said irascibly, reading her thoughts with apparent ease. “You’re dead wrong about that lass, and I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

“Very well, sir,” Mary said, turning her attention to her dinner.

“Carve me some more of that ham,” Balcardane said to a hovering lackey.

Serena said a moment later, “Now I understand why Duncan carried you in over his shoulder, Mary. I thought it was a very odd thing indeed at the time.”

Feeling an urge to strangle her, Mary said, “He was funning, that’s all.”

“Lud, that seems prodigiously unlike him, I must say.”

When Mary pressed her lips together, Balcardane said evenly, “Duncan’s temper is a hot flame that burns quickly. We’ll say no more about it now, lass.”

“As you say, sir, of course, but I thought he looked mad as fire,” Serena said. “I’ll wager he did more than just carry her upstairs.”

Mary looked directly at her. “You are mistaken,” she said firmly.

“Oh, I—”

“I said that’s enough, Serena,” Balcardane said curtly. “Eat your dinner. We don’t let food go to waste in this household.”

Serena obeyed at last, but Mary was aware of her oblique glances throughout the meal and looked forward to its end, hoping she could go straight upstairs. The earl foiled that hope, however, by saying that in the absence of everyone else, he would accompany them to the saloon. They soon adjourned to that room, and Mary felt no surprise when Duncan’s name came up again almost at once.

“I wonder when the men will be home,” Serena said with an innocent air.

“Bless me, lass,” Balcardane replied, “they’ll be here when they’re here.”

“Well, I was just thinking, you know, that Mary might want to retire early,” Serena said. “Just in case Duncan returns sooner than she expects, that is.”

“I don’t know why she’d want to leave us,” Balcardane said. “Duncan will find her here as easily as anywhere else.”

“In that case, sir, perhaps you would care to play a few hands of Piquet.” The mischievous look she shot Mary said as clearly as words that Serena thought she was trapping her into staying. She certainly still believed that Mary had disobeyed Duncan’s order to forfeit her dinner, but she reckoned without the earl.

Mary could scarcely conceal her delight when he said he was in no mood for cards but would play a game of draughts if one of them would accommodate him. “I know Serena will be delighted to play, sir,” she said, getting up at once to fetch the board and pieces. She had no wish to spend the next hour or more as the target of Serena’s barbs, and although she had not yet decided whether she would obey Duncan’s command to await him in his bed, she had a perfect excuse to go upstairs.

“Oh, don’t go, Mary,” Serena said when she began to excuse herself. “I’m sure his lordship did not mean to chase you away.”

Seeing indignant protest on the earl’s face, Mary said with a smile, “No one is chasing me, but if you don’t mind, sir, I’d like to look in on her ladyship.”

“Aye, lass, you run along,” Balcardane said. “Serena plays a good game of draughts, so we’ll not miss you. When you come back, you and I can have a game.”

Mary had no intention of returning. She just hoped Serena would not come looking for her when the earl grew bored with the game and retired to his library, as she knew he soon would. It occurred to her then that Duncan had not considered the difficulties she would face if she tried to slip unnoticed to his bedchamber, but the thought brought a smile to her face. She did not think he would consider such difficulties of much importance even if she pointed them out to him.

Her visit to Lady Balcardane was brief, for she found her sleeping peacefully. Sarah, sitting quietly by the fire, got up, holding a finger to her lips as she moved swiftly to meet Mary. “Like magic, it was, ma’am,” she said. “She drank up her soup, and it wasn’t but ten minutes later, she declared she would go to bed.”

“I am glad of that,” Mary said. “If she should waken, Sarah, don’t hesitate to give her more. I will nip down to the kitchen now and warn Martha Loudoun.”

Finding Jessie overseeing the kitchen clean-up, with Pinkie flitting here and there to help, Mary conveyed her instructions and then went up to her bedchamber.

When Ailis came in response to her ring, she ordered a bath set before the fire, hoping that if Serena did come to her room, and found her bathing, she would go away again. It occurred to her that Duncan might arrive and come looking for her, but she doubted that he was likely to return so quickly.

Nearly half an hour passed before the servants brought and filled the tub for her, but at last she was able to relax in warm water and let Ailis scrub her back. No one disturbed her, but the maidservant made no secret of her belief that Mary was crazy to bathe at night in wintertime.

Mary laughed at her. “I’ll be careful not to take a chill, Ailis, I promise.”

“Aye, well, it’s your lookout, mistress. Just dinna be telling Master Duncan that this bathin’ was any o’ my notion, that’s all.”

Ready for bed at last, still sitting at her dressing table, Mary sent Ailis away. It was possible, she realized, that Duncan might not return that night, but she knew, too, that he would do so if he could. He had not wanted to leave her.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, as if it could help her decide what to do. If he did return and she was not in his bed as he had commanded, he would come looking for her. Or he might not. She told herself that would be just fine, but then, with a sigh, she shook her head and looked her reflection straight in the eye.

“Mary Maclaine Campbell, you are a fraud,” she said. “The plain and simple truth is that you don’t want to take a chance that he won’t come running if he doesn’t find you where he expects to find you.”

Getting up, drawing her dressing gown close, she peeped into the corridor. Finding it empty, she hurried to Duncan’s bedchamber.

As she had expected, Hardwick had been there and gone. The fire burned cheerfully on the hearth, and the bed had been tidied again and turned down.

Taking off her dressing gown, clad only in her long, lace-edged, lawn night shift, she climbed into the bed, drawing the bed curtains in the event that the manservant returned before Duncan did. Though she was certain that she would not sleep a wink, before she finished saying her prayers, her eyelids drooped, and within minutes after her head touched the pillow, she fell fast asleep.

It was late when the riders returned. Dismissing his men, Duncan went with Neil into the library, half expecting to find his father there, waiting for their report. Balcardane had retired, however, and the fireplace was cold.

“If you want claret or whisky to warm you, get some from one of the decanters on the table yonder,” he told Neil as he cast his heavy greatcoat, gloves, and sheepskin hat onto a chair for a servant to put away. “I’m for bed, myself.”

“I think I’ll go up, too,” Neil said. “My man will have a fire burning in my bedchamber, and he’ll have whisky at hand, too. Good night, Duncan. I’m sorry we didn’t catch them.”

“We will,” Duncan said.

They parted on the stair landing, and Duncan hesitated only a moment before heading toward his bedchamber. He had made himself a silent wager that Mary would not be in his bed. It wouldn’t matter, of course, because he would simply go to hers, but he hoped he would find her in his.

He knew the minute he opened the door that she was there. He could smell the herbal scent she used, and his loins stirred at once. He heard her move, restlessly, and he wondered then if she was awake, waiting for him.

She did not speak, however, and the fire had died down, so he went to stir it to life. As flames leapt high, he heard a whimper that stilled him where he knelt.

She sobbed, then cried out; bringing him upright and swiftly to the bed, where he swept the curtains open. The fire cast barely enough light to see her, but he saw at once that she was writhing, tangled in the bedclothes. Dampness glistened on her cheeks, making him fear that she had caught his mother’s fever.

She cried out again and seemed to fight the blankets.

“Mary, what is it? Mary, wake up!” He caught hold of her shoulders, hoping a firm touch would still her, but she tried to fight him, twisting more, and crying out again. Sitting on the bed, he pulled her upright, hugging her tightly against him. He could think of nothing to say but, “You’re safe, love. I’m here now. Hush.”

She clutched at him wildly, then opened her eyes, cried out, and tried to wrench herself away again.

He let her pull back but held her so that she had to look at him, then forced himself to speak calmly, saying, “It’s me, Mary. It’s Duncan. You’re safe, sweetheart. You had a bad dream, that’s all.”

He saw awareness dawn briefly in her eyes before she flung herself, sobbing, into his arms.

He could not remember anyone, least of all a woman, ever doing such a thing before, and he was not certain what to do about it, but he seemed to have no choice. He held her, letting her sob, while he pushed the bedclothes aside and eased onto the bed beside her. Then, gathering her close, he drew the covers back over them both and let her cry until she could cry no more.

She was silent at last, but he held his tongue. Though he felt tempted to ask what had upset her, he thought he would do better to wait until she spoke.

Instead, she grew quite still and a little stiff in his arms.

He waited.

“I-I’m sorry,” she murmured at last against his chest.

“You had a nightmare,” he said quietly, stroking her hair. “That is nothing for which to apologize.”

“I’ve got your bed all in a tangle,” she muttered.

“I’m wearing my boots in the bed. Which is worse?”

He felt her relax.

“Tell me about your dream.”

She shook her head.

“Don’t be foolish, lass. Tell me. It will make it seem less frightening.”

“You’ll laugh at me.”

He did not dignify that statement with a reply.

After a moment, she tilted her head to look up at him, her eyes searching his. “You look grim. Are you vexed with me again?”

“I don’t like things that disturb your serenity, lass. Today I have seen you angry, and now well nigh hysterical. Tell me about your dream.”

She relaxed again, laying her head against his chest, and for a moment he thought she meant to remain silent. Then she said, “I was in a deep, dark cavern.”

He felt her shudder. Her whole body quaked with it, and he remembered the way she had looked the day he had suggested she slip down into the dark, narrow crevice to help Pinkie when the child had got stuck.

“You’re afraid of dark holes.” He made it a statement, not a question.

“Aye. It’s foolish, I know, but I cannot seem to help it.”

“Have you always been afraid of them?”

She shook her head. “Only since Butcher Cumberland came to Lochfuaran.”

“What happened then?”

“I-I hid in the barn, under the hay in the loft, but I could see them.”

“You saw everything they did?”

She nodded, and he heard her sob. “I was afraid. I couldn’t help them!”

He stroked her gently. “You would have been foolish to try, lass, but that’s past now. You accused me of being allied with Cumberland, but I hope you know it’s not true. It was Argyll and the Campbells who got that malicious brute recalled to London. No one with a claim to human feelings could stomach what he did.”

“Aye, I do know, but I still see them. The images just come!”

“Is that what you saw in your dream tonight?”

“No, it’s different and quite horrid, Duncan. I’ve dreamed it before, you see, more than once, and each time something is added. Tonight I was at the bottom of the cavern, and it was as dark as could be and smaller than before. I could touch walls all around me but no ceiling. The sides are slimy and horrible to touch, but I’m terrified to move, because I don’t know what I’ll find. I can hear a child crying. I think it’s Pinkie, but I am not certain. Once before, and again tonight, there was someone dead on the floor, someone I know, a … a man. I was terrified. At first, when I awoke and saw you, I did not know where I was and … and I thought—” She sobbed again, catching her breath with a rasping sound.