Amanda Scott (39 page)

Seeing Patrick Campbell astride a fine chestnut, the two rode to meet him.

“Have you found anything?” Rory asked after they had exchanged greetings.

“We think we found where he lay in wait,” Patrick said. “I’ll show you.”

Following as he negotiated his way over tree roots that sprawled across the track, Rory soon saw that a soldier stood by an area where shrubbery was flattened.

Dismounting, the three men moved to examine the place more carefully.

“Look there,” Patrick said, pointing.

Kneeling, Rory saw several bits of horn or bone. Picking one up, he saw something red along one edge. Carefully, he scraped a bit off with his thumbnail, examined it closely, then looked up at Patrick, raising his eyebrows in silent query.

“Red sealing wax is my guess,” the captain said. “He must have dropped his powder horn, and by the look of that wax, it was not the first time.”

Rory nodded. Men commonly repaired cracked powder horns by melting soft sealing wax inside. “You must gather this all up as evidence, Patrick.”

“Aye, we will.”

“That’s right,” Balcardane said. “The lord advocate will need such details to build his indictment, but first we must find the villains, and quickly. And though we may not know the shooter, I can tell you who most likely is behind this plot.”

“Take care, uncle,” Rory warned. “You begin to sound like my cousin. Do you assume that Allan Breck is the villain merely because he has eluded capture for his other misdeeds?”

“I don’t say that,” Balcardane said. “What I do say is if he did it, he was put up to it by James Stewart. And don’t look so surprised. Those two are as thick as inkle weavers and have been since Breck was a lad.”

“James of the Glen has an excellent reputation, sir. The people of Appin look up to him and depend upon him. He does not seem a likely party to murder.”

“Then you have not learned much in your service to the Exchequer, my lad. James lost the factor’s portion of the rents when Colin took the factorship from him. You’ll not convince me he gave that much money up willingly.”

About to point out that James clearly had enough for his own needs and those of the people he chose to help, Rory held his tongue. Balcardane would never believe anyone could accept a loss of income without protest.

Exchanging a look with Patrick, he said to his uncle, “You still have no evidence, sir. Suspicions, even strong ones, will do you no good in a court of law. If you want justice—”

“Bah,” said Balcardane. “Who said anything about justice? If we don’t nip this in the bud, my lad, you will have that damned Young Pretender back here in a pig’s whisper. I want Allan Breck and the rest of them laid by the heels before they can do more mischief. We’re going to hang every man involved in this tragedy.”

“But, sir, we still have no indication that more than one person took part.”

Pointing to an area some distance up the hillside, Patrick said, “Mungo saw a man running there. Kennedy saw a woman in a red dress near the ridge. Neither one of them could have been the person who hid here. That’s three, Rory.”

“He’s right,” Balcardane said, adding for Patrick’s benefit, “Diana Maclean wore a red dress last night. Duncan believes she was on the ridge.”

A chill shot up Rory’s spine, and he had to clench his teeth to keep from telling them they would be fools to suspect Diana. Forcing calm into his voice, he said, “Kennedy did not recognize that woman, and I daresay many hereabouts wear shades of red. It is a Stewart color, after all.”

“Aye, it is,” Balcardane snapped, “and her mother’s a Stewart.”

“My dear sir, you cannot arrest people simply because you don’t approve of their politics, their antecedents, or their clothing,” Rory said. “You need a proper warrant, and to get that, you need evidence you can present against them.”

“Oh, I’ll have the evidence. I’m making a list for Stonefield of all those hereabouts from whom he’ll want to record precognitions.” He looked hard at Rory. “I hope you don’t intend to interfere with the sheriff in the pursuit of his duty.”

“I have no intention of interfering.”

He meant what he said, but he was not much surprised to find himself making excuses a short time later to leave his uncle and Patrick to their tasks, nor to find himself riding along the shore road to Maclean House. Two of Duncan’s men were still keeping watch, but he paid them no heed. Dismounting near the barn, he tossed the reins to a boy in the yard and strode purposefully toward the front door.

Diana saw him coming. She had been keeping watch for Neil and had heard Rory ride into the yard.

Lady Maclean and Mary, hoping to draw the watchers away, had both gone out walking. Mary intended to visit Bardie and get some herbs she wanted, and Lady Maclean to visit some of the Ardsheal tenants. They had succeeded in drawing off only two of Duncan’s watchers, however. Morag was in the kitchen, baking, and the odor of fresh bread filled the house.

Diana had tried to attend to her normal household chores, but she had found herself running to the window at every sound from the yard. Now, seeing the way Rory strode to the house, she felt a surge of panic for Neil, and ran to open the door.

“What is it?” she demanded. “What’s happened now? Is it Neil? Tell me!”

He seemed taken aback for a moment, but then he collected himself and said grimly, “For all I know, your brother is fine. I want to talk to you.”

“Have they arrested someone?”

“No. May I come in?”

She stepped aside, and he entered the parlor, filling it as always with his presence. “Where are the others?” he asked.

“Mam and Mary are out. I don’t know where Neil is.”

“You haven’t seen him at all? For how long?”

She hesitated, wondering if she dared be frank with him, or if in telling him anything she would somehow be condemning Neil.

His expression hardened. “I have warned you too many times, lass. Don’t play your games with me today. My patience won’t stand for it.”

“I was just wondering if I could safely say anything at all to you.”

“Lord save us,” he muttered. Before she realized his intent he grasped one arm and pulled her near, looking stern and dangerous. “You listen to me,” he said.

“Let go,” she snapped, trying to pull away. “You have no right to—”

He caught her other arm and gave her a shake. “Be silent, Diana, and listen to me, or by heaven, I’ll—”

Morag cleared her throat nosily in the doorway, making him bite off the sentence unfinished. She stood there, hands on ample hips, looking steadily at them.

Diana drew a long breath, but her relief was short-lived.

“Get out,” Rory said sharply.

“Nay, then,” Morag retorted bluntly. “Ye take yer hands from Mistress Diana, or I’ll call in the lads tae put ye out.”

“If you don’t want to see your Mistress Diana carted off to prison, you leave me to deal with her. If I go, and she takes her own road, she’s bound to be arrested.”

Morag hesitated, looking from him to Diana and back.

“They wouldn’t dare,” Diana snapped. “I have done nothing wrong. Morag, you know I haven’t.”

Morag was looking straight at Rory. Her eyes narrowed, her hands remained on her hips, but he met her scrutiny with a steady look.

“I’ve got eggs tae collect,” she said at last.

“Morag!”

But the woman had gone, and Diana was alone with Rory.

He still held her upper arms. His grasp was firm, and although he would leave no bruises, she knew he would not let her go.

“Say what you came to say then, and go,” she said, wishing her voice sounded firmer, more confident.

Grimly, and still with that icy look she hated, he said, “I came to say that you’d better make up your mind to answer any questions they put to you—”

“Who would dare to question me? I’ve done nothing wrong, I tell you!”

“Look at me then and deny that you were in Lettermore Woods yesterday.”

She hesitated, and his gripped tightened convulsively.

“Don’t you see, Diana, that I cannot protect you if you act like this? Your silence is as good as a confession.”

“Why should you protect me? You wouldn’t help us when we needed help before, and now that the Campbells mean to crucify us, you are bound by clan loyalty to aid them. Why should I listen to anything you say?”

He did not reply at once and in place of the anger she had expected to see, she saw frustration instead. His grip relaxed, but she did not try to move away.

As always, he seemed bigger than life, as if there were an aura around him that enveloped her as well. And, as always, she felt drawn to trust him, but she no longer believed she could trust those feelings. Murder had been done, and with a Campbell victim, she dared trust no other Campbell.

At last, quietly, he said, “I cannot order you to trust me. We have discussed your belief that I deceived you before, and I think we both came to realize that we assumed things we ought not to have assumed. We resolved that. If you could just bring yourself to set aside your prejudice against all things Campbell for a short time, I believe that we can resolve this, too, and that I can help you.”

His voice was low, even gentle. The anger was gone, replaced by powerful compassion, and a tenderness that she could not doubt. Her breathing felt forced, and her body filled with tension. Her heart was beating very fast.

“I was in the woods yesterday,” she said abruptly. “I had been in Glen Duror, visiting Granny Jameson and some others, drumming up support for the meeting we were to have today with Red Colin—”

“Wait,” he said, releasing her. “Don’t tell me any more.”

“But you—”

“I am glad you have decided you can trust me, sweetheart, but I don’t want you to tell me the details. Sheriff Stonefield will be here from Inverness by Monday. My uncle or Duncan will demand that he take a precognition from you, so—”

“To see if they can charge me with the murder?” She was shocked and for the first time, felt a tremor of fear for herself.

“That is what I have been trying to explain,” he said with a rueful smile. “They are looking for more than one person, because they think Glenure’s murder is part of a grand conspiracy. That is why you must tell Stonefield the truth without hesitation,” he added firmly. “Tell him nothing more and nothing less.”

“I don’t want to tell him anything,” she said stubbornly. “Men have ways of twisting words to suit their own purpose.”

“Stonefield is an honest man,” Rory said. “He has a good reputation as a man of law. It is his duty to help the lord advocate build an indictment, but he will not twist the facts to do it.”

“Still—” She stopped when his hand gently cupped her chin.

“Diana, if you refuse to speak frankly, if you hesitate and seem to choose your words with undue care, they will believe you are hiding the truth to protect yourself or someone close to you. Either course is illegal, so there will be nothing I can do to prevent your arrest.”

“Why can’t I just tell you then? Won’t they believe you if you say you believe me? Or don’t you believe me?”

“It is not that simple. I stopped you from telling me the details because they may ask if you have discussed what you will say with anyone else. I don’t want you having to say you discussed them with me. Duncan would be certain I had helped you choose the right words to protect yourself. He and my uncle know I am not objective where you are concerned, and I don’t want to make it easy for them to prejudice Stonefield against you.” He paused, stroking her cheek in a way that made her want to touch him back. Gently, he said, “Please, will you do as I bid?”

“I’ll try.”

“He smiled. “That’s all I’ll ask of you, lass, for now.”

She licked suddenly dry lips, and while she was trying to think of something intelligent to say, the scullery door banged shut. “Morag’s back with the eggs.”

“Aye, she is. Now, tell me, where is young Neil?”

“I told you the truth,” she said. “I wish I knew. I left him near Inshaig on my way up Glen Duror. He said he was going to meet someone, but I don’t know who.”

“That’s not good. Your cousin Allan was hereabouts yesterday.”

She did not want him to ask her about Allan, so she said hastily, “I’m more afraid for Neil. You don’t think they’ve arrested him, do you?”

“I’d have heard if they had.”

“He had nothing to do with the murder,” she said fiercely.

“I hope not.”

He left soon after that, and as she watched him ride away, she wished she could think that he had believed her about Neil. She wished she could be certain she believed it herself. When her brother still had not shown his face at Maclean House by late the following day, she was nearly frantic with worry.

Rory, too, spent much of the intervening time thinking about Neil Maclean, knowing that the lad’s disappearance would weigh heavily against him. Already the name of Allan Breck leapt from gossiping lips all over Appin country, and many folks hinted or declared outright that James of the Glen had been in the plot with him. It would not be long before some suggested Neil as an accomplice.

Expecting word from Argyll, Rory purposely stayed at the castle Saturday morning, and his messenger returned shortly after noon with a letter. As expected, Argyll ordered him to remain in Appin to hold a watching brief. His grace recognized that court duties would recall Rory to Edinburgh in mid-June, but hoped that until then he would keep him informed as events in Appin unfolded.

Knowing he could not expect a reply from the Lord Chief Baron before Monday or Tuesday, Rory wrote a brief note to reassure Argyll of his willingness to remain—albeit not merely because the duke wanted him to do so—and sent it off to Inveraray by the same messenger. Then, ordering Rosinante saddled, he set out to see what more he could learn.

Knowing that young Neil had a ready eye for the lasses, and having heard from more than one source that the lad was enjoying a flirtation with Katherine Maccoll, the dairymaid at James Stewart’s farm, he decided to ride up Glen Duror. He reached Aucharn farm in the late afternoon, only to have James’s wife tell him that her husband was away at the inn in Inshaig.