Amanda Scott (12 page)

“Then, if you like, we can take the hill pass into Glen Creran as far as Glen Ure, and follow Glen Duror back to the shore of Loch Linnhe near Cuil Bay.”

Deciding it would behoove him to attend to business before setting out in search of Mab MacKissock, Rory said, “I have messages for Colin of Glen Ure. Have you time to ride that far with me?”

“Nay, but I can put you on the track, and you will easily find his house.”

Thomas MacKellar had two horses ready, and a third was quickly saddled for Ian. The mist had vanished completely, leaving the day sunny and clear, and they rode uphill to the rocky pass in silence, with Thomas following a short distance behind. On the far side, twenty minutes after entering the wooded confines of Glen Creran, when they met a couple walking briskly toward them along the shady path, they drew aside and reined in, waiting for the pedestrians to pass.

“Good day to you, John Maccoll,” Ian said in the Gaelic when the man doffed his cap politely. “This is my cousin, Calder. He is a Baron of the Scottish Exchequer Court and—”

“He is glad to meet you,” Rory cut in, dredging the correct phrase from his memory, motivated by a certainty that his young relative was about to recite a litany of his titles and connections. The last thing he wanted was for word of his authority to fly around the area before he had had a chance to learn what he could in a more casual way. From what he had heard since coming into the Highlands, he knew that people would speak more openly if they were not nervous about his power.

He smiled and nodded at the plump middle-aged woman, who regarded him with open curiosity as she curtsied deeply. Upright again, she continued to stare.

The man, as burly as she was plump, nodded respectfully and said in careful English, “This be my wife, Sarah, my lord. It be right tae say
my lord,
is it not?”

“Aye,” Ian said, switching to English, too. “He is Lord Calder, cousin to—”

“Thank you, Ian, but I’d as lief you did not burden each new acquaintance with your notion of my character,” Rory said, smiling easily at the woman. “How do you do, madam? It is a most pleasant day, is it not?”

She chuckled but did not reply, and John Maccoll said, “Sarah understands English well enough, my lord, but she don’t speak much, only the Gaelic.”

“And I don’t speak much of the Gaelic, as you clearly deduced for yourself,” Rory said ruefully. “I shall have to learn to speak it more fluently if I mean to spend time here, or I shall find myself saying things I don’t at all mean to say.”

The man chuckled, nodded again, then said to Ian, “We’ve started our new thatch, lad. Tell your father, will you? ’Twill spare me a trip to Balcardane.”

“Aye, I’ll tell him,” Ian promised. Some minutes after they had ridden on, he said to Rory, “John is one of the few my father will permit to rethatch this year. In truth, I think he’d be afraid not to permit it, for although John seems a pleasant sort, you should see him when his temper erupts. Duncan is mild by comparison.”

“Does John’s temper erupt frequently?” Rory asked, amused.

“Well, he has a beautiful daughter, Katherine, a dairymaid, and most of the lads take great care when they speak to her. She and John serve James of the Glen, who was Crown factor in these parts before Colin Glenure took the post.”

“I recall James Stewart,” Rory said. “We replaced him because he refused to collect rents from Ardsheal’s tenants and those of other exiled lairds.”

“Aye, they’d all been sending their rents to France,” Ian said with a sigh. “Can’t blame folks for not wanting to pay twice.”

“Sending rent money to an exiled Jacobite leader is not an excuse deemed acceptable for nonpayment to the lawful authorities,” Rory said wryly.

Ian shrugged. “Do you not want me to tell people who you are, cousin?”

“Don’t tell any lies on my account,” Rory said, “but I’d as lief you don’t make a gift of information either. I know I can count on you and your father to tell me much of what goes on in Appin country, and I must speak to the Crown factors and bailies, of course. But I don’t want folks worrying that I mean to stick my oar into unknown waters before I know exactly what I’m stirring up.”

Ian frowned thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’d best not explain that to Duncan. He won’t go about puffing off your consequence, but if he knows you don’t
want
it puffed off, he will do what he can to annoy you. I’ve never understood exactly what it is you do, anyway, so I don’t mind saying no more than that you’re my grand cousin come to visit from Perthshire. Will that suit you?”

“Down to the ground,” Rory told him. “Where are we now? I haven’t a notion how far we are from where Glen Ure meets Glen Creran.”

“Another two miles,” Ian told him. “I’ll leave you when we reach the opening of Glen Ure. You’ll see the house from there, about halfway up the glen, and Colin and Janet will put you right when you want to leave. That track yonder leads over the hill pass into Glen Duror, so that’s the one you and Thomas will take if you want to go home by Cuil Bay.”

“We’ll have traveled in a circle then,” Rory said, smiling.

“More like a square. Glen Creran divides Appin country up the middle, and Cuil Bay marks the midway point, so you’ll have made what amounts to a circuit of the northwestern quadrant. Do you want to call on anyone else in particular?”

Rory considered telling him exactly what he wanted, and asking him if he knew anyone answering Mab MacKissock’s description, but he did not know the boy well enough yet to trust him. Ian seemed honest but something of a rattlepate despite his assurances.

No more than Rory wanted word of his authority in Appin noised around did he want people speculating about his connection to a young Jacobite female, or to a woman as well known as Lady Maclean must be. Thus, it took no longer than the blink of an eye to decide to keep his true purpose from Ian. He said only, “Not at present, but I shall look to you soon to teach me more about Appin country.”

Ian grinned. “No one’s better suited.” They chatted in a desultory way until they reached the entrance to Glen Ure, a shallow, wide-bottomed glen with grassy, heather clad slopes. Ian said, “Here we are. It’s the big white house yonder. Give my best regards to Colin. He is a cousin, too, you know.”

“I expect you are related to a good part of the local citizenry,” Rory said.

“Aye, that’s a fact.”

They parted, and Thomas drew alongside Rory. The distance to the house proved deceptive, for it was at least a half hour before they reached it, and at first the place seemed deserted. But when they drew rein, a boy ran from a stable behind the low built house, calling to them.

“Say he’ll look after the horses,” Thomas said, translating.

“I must certainly look to my Gaelic,” Rory muttered.

“Aye, ye should. Do the master speak English, or do ye want me tae come?”

“Glenure is an educated man, Thomas, so just look after the horses and learn what you can from the minions. I want to know the general disposition of the local folks toward each other, as well as toward the government.”

“Aye, sure. We looking for more damned Jacobites then, are we?”

“Just inquiring into local sentiment, Thomas. That will do for the present.”

“Aye, then here’s your man a-coming the noo.”

An auburn-haired man in his twenties had emerged from the house and was striding toward them. He looked curious at first, but as his gaze swept over them and came to rest upon Rosinante, his demeanor became more formal.

“He’s too young,” Rory said. “Glenure’s son, perhaps.”

“How may I be of service to you, sir?” the young man asked.

“I am looking for Colin Campbell of Glen Ure,” Rory said.

“My uncle is away upon Crown business, sir. I am Mungo Campbell.”

“Do you expect him back today?”

“Och, aye, he’s only out and about near Loch Linnhe.”

“Then you may tell him that Lord Calder would like a word with him at his convenience,” Rory said. “The Earl of Balcardane is my uncle, and I am fixed at Balcardane Castle for several weeks. Will you do that?”

“Aye.” The young man looked searchingly at him. “Should I know of you?”

“Your uncle does. Tell him I have come only to confirm my belief that he is doing his duty as it should be done, to bring him news, and for no other purpose.”

“Och, well, he’ll be pleased about that,” Mungo said, pushing a hand through his unruly curls. “Given him all manner of grief, the Barons have, saying he’s like to be soft on the rebels on account of Gran’s family being Camerons, and all.”

Though he suspected that he might learn much from Mungo Campbell, Rory was loath to take advantage of him, so he made his farewell without further ado.

“Another rattle,” Thomas muttered disapprovingly. “Do all the lads hereabouts think wi’ their tongues?”

“I begin to think it may be something of a deceit,” Rory said. “An insouciant manner may cover much stealth, Thomas.”

“Oh, aye,” Thomas said with a wry look. “Yon curly-top looks a rare conspirator, he does. Or were ye thinking mayhap on our gentle Ian?”

“Enough, Thomas. We have done our duty. Now I mean to look for a lady with a face like a benediction and a mind of truly Machiavellian scope.”

“I take it ye mean tae find the lass who twisted our tails at Castle Stalker,” Thomas said wisely. “That one wants hanging, and no mistake.”

“Oh, not hanging, Thomas. Although by the time I finish with her, she may think hanging a better proposition.”

Thomas chuckled. “A rare drubbing then, and that’s grand if ye can find her, but where tae look? Ye ken fine that ye canna ask folks tae deliver her up tae ye.”

“I’ll find her,” Rory said grimly. “The woman she rescued in Edinburgh was one Lady Maclean, sister to the Laird of Ardsheal, and she lives at Maclean House, on the south end of Cuil Bay. If her ladyship does not know her rescuer, who will?”

“What of this Glenure, then? Do we continue tae search for him, as well?”

“We’ll let him come to us, I think,” Rory said. “I want to take his measure, but I’d as lief he not look upon me as some sort of nemesis. Argyll and my uncle approve of him, after all, and he seems utterly loyal to the present government, but he is native to Appin country and his mother is a Cameron of Morven.”

“A fierce rebel clan, the Camerons.”

“Yes. That fact nearly led to his undoing, for many in London find it hard to believe that a chap whose mother hails from a clan that has remained staunchly loyal to the Stewart line can render justice on behalf of King George.”

They soon reached the steep track over the pass to Glen Duror, and fell silent. Occasionally they met others, all afoot. Several doffed caps or curtsied, depending on their gender, and all greeted them politely, but Rory did not stop to talk. Except for the continual low roar from the snow-fed torrent tumbling down its center, Glen Duror was warm and peaceful, and an hour later, they passed through the clachan of Inshaig and emerged at Cuil Bay two miles south of Kentallen Inn.

Waves lapped rhythmically at the shore, and looking west and south, Rory saw the solid blue mountains of Morven and Mull in the distance, easily identifiable to one who had learned their names as a lad. Mull was more distant than it had been from Stalker, but Ben More was visible, for the day remained clear and sunny.

The breeze was stiffer than it had been in the glens, and the current looked rapid, although the many boats on the loch seemed to pay it little heed. The tide was going out, Rory decided. He had heard that the loch waters moved swiftly when the tide was running.

Turning on his saddle, he said to Thomas, “Perhaps you had better ride ahead. If you see anyone, ask how we can recognize Maclean House. I’d as lief not have to ride back to inquire at Inshaig or Kentallen Inn. We can do better than that.”

“Aye, we can, but have a care. His lordship did say I wasna tae let ye out of my sight, lest ye come tae grief.”

“Do you think I cannot take care of myself?” Rory demanded.

“Och, well, there was the wench and all,” his henchman said.

“The wench had help, Thomas, and no one is going to attack me here in plain sight of those fishing boats, not to mention anyone on the hillside who might be looking down at us as we speak. Too many witnesses. Moreover, no matter what anyone says to the contrary, I doubt the number of rebels in Argyll is as great as all that. More than from Perthshire, to be sure, but not the entire population.”

“Just have a care, will ye? I willna enjoy telling me Lord Balcardane or his grace that ye let yourself be ambushed whilst I were riding round yon countryside.”

“Enough of your gab, Thomas. Get on.”

Touching his cap with sour deference, Thomas obeyed, but he was soon back again. “Met a wee lass just round yonder bend,” he said. “She will have it that Maclean House sits in a meadow beyond a point of land ye can see from where I spoke tae her. I’ll show ye. The wee one did say five minutes, mayhap ten.”

“Not so wee if she can judge time and distance,” Rory said.

Thomas grinned. “In places not so wee. Just right she is, tae my thinking.”

“Don’t go bewitching all the females in Appin,” Rory warned. “That is the last sort of trouble I want to deal with here.”

“Och, but it isna myself that’s got wench trouble. I’m a discreet lad, I am.”

“Then choose discreet lassies,” Rory retorted.

When they rounded the bend, he saw at once that they must have passed near Maclean House the previous day. Ten minutes later, they came upon a track leading inland, and soon saw a broad meadow in which a large white house sat against the steeply rising green and purple hillside. Surrounded by trees, and boasting a side garden already showing colorful spring growth, the house made a pleasant picture.

Rory began to doubt that Lady Maclean would be there. The place was too conspicuous, too much a Highland gentry household. To return here with the authorities still searching for her would have been folly. Still, someone might know of Mab MacKissock, if that was truly the wench’s name. He had begun to doubt that, too, and had already worked out a good description of her to offer anyone who might help him find her. Whether they would tell him anything if they recognized her remained to be seen, but his powers of persuasion were considerable.