Amanda Scott (35 page)

Without answering, Allan Breck brushed past her into the parlor and said to Lady Maclean, “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m disturbing you. I’m afraid I’ve stirred up a nest of Campbell hornets, and it’s quite likely they’ll follow me here.”

“What have you done, Allan?” Mary demanded.

“I’ve done nothing,” he said, glaring at her, “but someone shot Glenure, in case you haven’t heard, and there are irate Campbells under every rock and behind every tree. I came out of the Inshaig alehouse, and walked straight into a brace of them. It being clearly unwise to take to the hills without knowing what I could expect to find there, I thought I’d go to ground. This was the closest bolthole.”

“So you put us all in danger,” Mary said. “Do you think only of yourself?”

“I’ve had precious little else to think about for six years,” he retorted.

“That’s enough,” Lady Maclean said sharply. “Diana, help Allan find a place to conceal himself till the danger is past. Mary, go attend to your decoction. If they do come, and everything here seems normal, they will simply go away again.”

“But I think Mary is right,” Diana said, exchanging a look with that young woman. “Allan should have had better sense than to lead them here.”

“This isna the time for argle-bargle,” Bardie said. He had moved to a window and now drew the curtain aside just far enough to peek out. “Like his nibs said, they’re coming, lass. Ye’d best get him stowed under a bed or somewhere safe.”

As Diana grabbed Allan by the sleeve of his black great coat, he said smoothly to Mary, “I know you’d like them to shoot me, sweetheart, but I don’t mean to let that happen yet a while. Just keep that sharp little tongue behind your teeth, because if they learn that I’m here, I won’t have to think hard about who told them. You won’t like what will happen next.”

“Don’t talk to Mary like that,” Diana told him. “If she does not like you, you have only yourself to blame. Moreover, if they learn you are here, you will be in no case to do anything to her.”

“Aye, lad,” Bardie said over his shoulder. “If they find ye, ye’ll soon be hanging from the nearest tree. Get on now. They’re halfway across the yard.”

Quickly Diana took Allan up the narrow stairs to her mother’s bedchamber. “Hide in the wardrobe,” she said, “and try not to destroy any more of Mam’s clothes than you must.”

“I’ll try not to destroy any, but it’s going to be a tight fit.”

“I can’t help that,” she said, listening for sounds from below. “I don’t think they’ll demand to search the house unless someone saw you come here, but if you hear them on the stairs, that window next to the wardrobe opens onto the scullery roof. You can drop to the ground from there.”

“They’ll most likely leave a guard outside. I would if the circumstances were reversed. Just don’t let them come up, lass. I rather fancy this skin of mine.”

Hearing men’s voices downstairs, she snatched up a coverlet from the bed and hurried back to the parlor. “Here, Mam, I’ve brought you the one from—” Breaking off when she saw Black Duncan, Lord Balcardane, and two other men in the parlor, she added in a puzzled tone. “Faith, sirs, what’s amiss?”

“We’re searching for villains, lass,” Balcardane said.

“How dreadful, but won’t you take a seat, sir? All of you standing like this makes the room seem too small to hold you. Morag, fetch our guests some whisky from the bottle Mary is using for her decoction. I’ll warrant they must be thirsty.”

“Aye, lass,” Balcardane said, rubbing his hands together. “I won’t turn down a dram, now that you mention it.”

“Where’s your brother?” Duncan demanded harshly.

“Mind your manners, lad,” Balcardane said testily. “There’s time enough for that. I want a drink, and it won’t hurt you to have one as well. Sit down, sit down.”

Paying him no heed, Duncan looked directly at Diana. “Have you been wearing that red dress all day?”

Realizing belatedly that she had not given a thought to changing her gown, she raised her chin and said, “What business is it of yours if I have?”

“No time for whisky, has Black Duncan,” Bardie murmured provocatively, “but the man always has time tae note what a lovely lass be wearing.”

Duncan turned on him with a near snarl. “You keep your mouth shut, or I’ll make you sorry you did not.”

“Always a fierce one, from the cradle,” Bardie said to no one in particular as he drew his stool nearer to the wall and sat down. “Expects tae wield the same influence here as he does on his own great dunghill.”

Duncan took a menacing step toward him, “Now, look here, you misbegotten, short-legged nuisance, you button up your impudence or I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll not soon forget.”

“Aye,
and
answer tae Parson for it,” Bardie reminded him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “Ye mind your manners, ye great mallagrugous malcontent, or I’ll tell him ye’ve been mocking me again,
and
I’ll add that ye’ve been tearing the wings off butterflies again, too, for good measure.”

Balcardane said, “I doubt that Duncan has ever torn wings off butterflies.”

“Nae matter,” Bardie said, eyeing Duncan warily. “In such a good cause, I dinna mind telling a wee falsehood or two.”

Lady Maclean said calmly, “Have you gentlemen got business here, or did you merely seek to assure yourselves of our safety? We heard that someone shot Colin Glenure in Lettermore Woods.”

Balcardane grimaced. “Now that’s a pity, that you’ve heard already, for we had hoped to get here ahead of the news.” He glared at Bardie. “I expect we’ve no need to ask who told you. I heard that Bardie here was seen near Glen Duror.”

“He’s not the only one they saw,” Duncan said, his gaze fixed on Diana. “There was a woman in a red dress, as well. What if I were to tell you that when they searched the nearby area, they found evidence that could hang the murderer?”

Diana felt faint. “What evidence? What could they possibly have found?”

“I don’t think I’ll tell you that. Where are your brother and your cousin, lass, and James of the Glen?”

“M-my cousin is—”

“I’m here,” Mary said from the doorway. “I have been standing here these past two minutes, unable to believe my ears. What possessed the pair of you, Duncan Campbell and Bardie Gillonie, to exchange insults in a lady’s parlor? And both of you pretending to be civilized men!” She turned to Balcardane, adding, “I have instructed our maid to bring you a mug of whisky, sir, so won’t you draw that other chair near the fire and sit down now? It’s getting chilly, I believe.”

“It is that, lass,” Balcardane agreed.

“Never mind all that,” Duncan snapped. “Where the devil is young Neil and that scoundrel, Allan Breck? By God, I’ve a good mind to search this house.”

“Neil is not here,” Lady Maclean said tartly. “We do not know where he is. As to searching my house, do you dare to doubt my word, young man?”

“What about Allan Breck?”

“I do not know where he is either,” Lady Maclean said, looking him in the eye. Then, just as he was about to speak again, she fell into a fit of coughing.

Diana turned on him angrily. “There, see what you’ve done! We just got her settled down, and she was breathing more easily. Now you’ve upset her again. Go away, Duncan Campbell.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Duncan said. “Donald Kennedy saw a lass in a red dress running from the murder scene. I think we’ll send for him to see if he recognizes you as that lass.”

“And what if he should say that he does?”

“Diana,” Mary exclaimed, “how can you suggest such a thing?”

“Easily. I believe that this Kennedy person will say whatever Duncan commands him to say.” Avoiding Mary’s eye, she draped the coverlet she had brought downstairs atop the one that already lay across Lady Maclean’s knees.

“Here now,” Balcardane protested. “I don’t think Kennedy would lie, you know. He is an honorable man.”

Wanting to end the dangerous discussion, Diana straightened and said impulsively, “If you send for Kennedy, then pray, sir, send for Lord Calder as well. At least he seems to have some small notion of fairness, which makes him unique amongst Campbells. Moreover, I won’t answer any questions unless he is here.”

“Now, that’s fair enough,” Balcardane said. “As it happens, he was with us earlier in Kentallen, Miss Diana. He and another chap rode into Glen Duror to have a word with James of the Glen.”

“Lud, sir,” Mary said, “what do they want with James?”

Duncan said, “We want to ask him a few questions, too.” To Diana, he said, “I don’t mind waiting while one of the lads fetches Rory, but if you think he’ll help you tonight like he did at Spean Bridge, you’d best think again.” Then, turning to one of the men with him, he said, “Fetch his lordship here at once.”

Watching the man leave, Diana garnered her dignity and said, “I don’t expect him to help. Most likely he will side with his own Campbells as usual, just as I will side with the Macleans and Stewarts. But he has shown he is capable of hearing both sides before he acts, which is more than one can say of most Campbells.”

“He has a duty to listen to both sides of a dispute,” Duncan said. “That does not mean he’s a fool.”

“What do you mean?”

“He knows which clan he belongs to, lass.”

“But that’s not what I—”

“We’ll send for him,” Duncan said, cutting her off with a gesture. “I’ll even drink a glass of whisky while we wait, but when he gets here, I believe he’ll agree that we’d be wise to search this house.”

Trying to remain calm, Diana shrugged. “If you want to search the house, of course you will do so. We can hardly stop you.”

“Perhaps we should begin with your person, mistress,” Duncan suggested. “I seem to recall that you were carrying a banned weapon the last time we met.”

Having been on his way to intercept Glenure at Kentallen, Rory learned of the murder soon after it occurred. He rode first to Lettermore Woods, but by the time he arrived at the murder site, others had the matter in hand and had already decided to remove the corpse to Kentallen Inn.

There were more Stewarts and Macleans there than Campbells, which was not odd, considering that they were in the midst of Stewart country. Nonetheless, when Rory heard a man say that someone ought to tell James what had happened, and a man named MacKenzie offered to go, Rory decided to go with him.

When he announced his intention, Mungo Campbell looked sharply at him and said, “Take heed then, sir. They are all thieves and murderers in these parts. We don’t want another corpse on our hands tonight.”

“I should think James would be glad of a Campbell witness to the fact that he is safe at home and has been there yet a while,” Rory said calmly.

“Aye, that’s so,” Mackenzie said. “Come along then, my lord, and welcome. I’ll stake my life that James o’ the Glen dirma ha’ aught tae do wi’ this.”

They did find James with his family, but when MacKenzie told him Glenure was dead, he exclaimed, “Lord bless me, was he shot?”

Rory remained silent, careful not to react, for he was aware that he would learn more by listening than by talking. Nevertheless, he thought that if James had wanted to condemn himself, he was going about it efficiently.

Mackenzie glanced sharply at Rory, but he looked back blandly. He had not needed Mungo’s warning to know the wisdom of treading lightly.

“He were shot, right enough, James,” Mackenzie said. “A single shot from behind, they say. A right cowardly thing, that was.”

“It’s a shocking outrage,” James exclaimed, wringing his hands. “We must hope innocent people are not brought to trouble for this.” He glanced at Rory, adding, “I must go to Colin. We were friends for a time, and I owe him respect.”

James’s wife spoke up anxiously in Gaelic. Rory understood her to say that she did not want James to go, that she feared the reception he would get if he met a host of Campbells at Kentallen Inn.

With a weary sigh, James replied in the same language, “Whoever is guilty, it is I who will pay the penalty.”

Now what, Rory wondered with increasing astonishment, had possessed the man to say such a thing?

Mackenzie, still with one eye on Rory, said in English, “Perhaps ye’d best stay here the nicht, James. Ye’ll no want the wee woman tae fret.” His words were matter-of-fact, but the look accompanying them was compelling.

James blinked but did not argue. “Aye, I will then.”

Departing at once, Rory and Mackenzie had reached the shore road again when Rory heard someone shouting his name. Turning, he saw one of Duncan’s men, and reined in Rosinante to wait, telling Mackenzie to ride on ahead.

“With Master Duncan’s compliments, my lord,” the henchman said. “Mistress Diana requests that you come at once to Maclean House.”

“Does she, indeed?” Rory murmured, wondering what sort of pickle Mistress Spitfire had got herself into this time, and what Duncan had to do with it. Shouting to Mackenzie that he would be along later, he urged Rosinante to a canter.

Diana looked straight at Duncan, determined not to reveal how much his threat of a personal search for a weapon angered her. “Since you recall the pistol, sir, perhaps you will recall as well that I had good cause to show it and that your cousin took it from you after you had taken it from me. Do you suggest that he then gave it back to me?” Pleased with her choice of words, particularly since she had not actually lied and said that Rory had kept it, she looked him in the eye, wondering if he would accuse his cousin of allowing her to break the law.

A little to her chagrin, Duncan only smiled.

Quickly, before her courage could fail her, she said, “You mentioned evidence earlier. Are you trying to pretend that you found my pistol at the scene?”

Lady Maclean gasped, and Mary clutched a hand to her breast.

Before Duncan could reply Balcardane said, “Naught of the sort, lass. They’ve found nothing at all helpful yet, I’m afraid, but they’ll guard the area tonight and search it much more carefully come daylight.”

Diana glared at Duncan, who smiled back serenely. She would have liked very much to think of a scathing remark to make, but she had a feeling that under the circumstances she would be wiser to keep silent.