Amanda Scott (24 page)

Having thereby settled her mind, she went back to bed cloaked in depression, and after an hour or two spent thinking about
everything that had happened since she had met him, she managed at last to fall into a restless sleep.

N
ow then,” Maggie said, flicking a finger at the parlor fireplace, where a cheerful fire instantly sprang to life, “the three
o’ us ha’ tae talk.”

“What’s amiss?” Catriona asked, making herself comfortable in a chair by the hearth.

Producing matching chairs for Fergus and herself with another flick of her finger, Maggie said, “I told ye afore that all
plans develop a hitch or two.”

“Aye,” Fergus said, “but we did like ye said, and I’ll admit things look tae be marching more smoothly now.”

Catriona frowned but did not argue the point. Instead, she said, “I think Maggie means plans other than just what happened
tonight, Fergus.”

“I do,” Maggie said, grimacing. “Ye’ll both fly into a pelter when I tell ye, but it willna aid matters, so if ye dinna want
tae stir me wrath, ye’ll maintain your civility until we ha’ talked it through.”

Catriona looked alarmed. “Has something more happened to Claud?”

He could see them and hear them clearly. It was as if he had abruptly shifted from gray space to a chair of his own near theirs.
He could almost feel the heat of Maggie’s fire, could almost reach out and touch Catriona— almost, but not quite.

Maggie glanced at Fergus, who had nearly faded to empty air. “Show yourself properly, lad,” she said, but her tone was oddly
gentle as she said it.

Fergus obeyed her, turning red, as he said, “I forget about that when I get scared. Moreover, I can sense Jonah’s presence
the way ye sense Claud’s, and he seems tae be near us all the time now.”

He looked around, seeking that other, evil presence, but saw nothing amiss.

“Ye’re just afraid,” Maggie said. “D’ye no think I’d ken if he were so near?”

Fergus shrugged, clearly not convinced.

“Still, it’s Jonah you want to discuss,” Catriona said. “What’s he done now?”

“Seems he added a wee trap tae his spell,” Maggie admitted.

“Of course he did,” Catriona said. “He always does.”

“Aye, but we didna pay that factor enough heed.” Drawing breath, she said, “There be only one way tae free Claud from his
mortal.”

The other two looked at her expectantly. Neither asked the obvious question.

He held his breath, watching Maggie.

“I ha’ tae kill the mortal,” she said.

Fergus vanished.

The dense gray cloud swirled around him, and the entire parlor disappeared.

Despite Anne’s trouble falling asleep the previous night, she awoke at her usual time when Peg Elliot entered the room. As
memory stirred of what the morning promised, all lingering sleepiness disappeared.

“Sakes, mistress,” Peg said as she closed the shutters with a snap, “what demon possessed ye tae open this window? Last night
were gey chilly.”

“I was not cold,” Anne said, remembering who opened the window. “I’ll wear the russet gown with the lace trim,” she added
quickly, so Peg would not realize she had not answered her question. “Is Mistress Fiona awake?”

“Nay, not her. The only one I ken tae be up and about be Sir Christopher, and if any o’ the other men ha’ wakened, I’ll be
astonished, for they were up nearly till dawn, making such a din that I’m surprised they didna wake the whole house.”

“Mercy.”

“Aye, and that Malcolm tried tae shush them, too, he said, but Sir Toby sent him off wi’ a kick tae his backside that nearly
overset him, the foolish man.”

“Sir Toby?”

“Aye, and when Malcolm told me, I said he should ha’ had more sense than tae scold Sir Toby, but he said ’tis Toby who should
walk soft, ’cause he heard Lady Carmichael say that if she could choose a husband, she’d choose Malcolm.”

Anne gasped, not even trying to hide her mirth. “Oh, Peg, she did say some such thing only the other day, for I heard her,
but even a fool like Malcolm could never have believed that she meant it.”

“Well, he did, but I think he knows even so that he cannot allow himself tae be insolent tae Sir Toby or his friends. He’s
worried about that fox, though.”

“The fox?”

“Aye, for it frightened one o’ the maids nearly witless by running out from under her cot just as she were walking into her
room last night, and now the other lasses say the men must get it out o’ the house.”

They continued to chat as Anne finished dressing, and then she went down to the hall. Finding Kit ahead of her, she felt her
body hum in response to his presence but greeted him calmly before she turned to tell a servant what she wanted.

“Just cold beef and bread,” she said, taking her place on her usual stool. “And if there is apple juice in that jug, I’ll
have a mug of that, too.”

Although she and Kit were alone at the high table, a number of persons were breaking their fast in the lower hall. Two lads
attended them all, but one or the other hovered constantly near Anne and Kit, so their conversation was perforce desultory.

After a polite reply to his equally polite hope that she had slept well, and a few observations about the weather, she said
with a smile, “You may recall that I told you… um, once before, that a pack of hounds chased a fox into this house.”

“I remember,” he said, shooting her the twinkling look she always received when something she said reminded him of their first
meeting. “Do you mean to tell me the poor beast is still somewhere inside?” he added.

“It is, because my woman, Peg, said it frightened one of the maidservants just this morning,” Anne said. “It dashed right
out from under her bed.”

He chuckled, saying. “I’d call that an omen if it had happened to me.”

“What sort of omen?”

“A good one, I hope. You see, when I was in the Highlands, there was a chap riding about, trying to right certain wrongs.
They called him
Sionnach Dubh,
which in Gaelic means ‘the Black Fox.’ ”

“But who is he?” she asked.

“Oh, some fellow who believes ordinary folks sometimes need a strong arm to help them. Inverness was suffering under the rule
of a bad sheriff.”

“I thought you said your cousin’s father was the sheriff.”

“He is now, but one of Cardinal Beaton’s toadies held the post then. He and his son, who was worse, wreaked havoc amongst
the common folk there, and no one seemed willing or able to do anything about it.”

“I am surprised that one of the more powerful Highland chiefs did not take a hand,” Anne said.

“Most of them had already come south to support Jamie in his attempt to keep Henry on his own side of the line. The King of
Scots and I have that much in common,” he added with another twinkle. “We’re both beset by wicked uncles.”

“Tell me more about this… this Black Fox,” she said, intrigued.

He shrugged. “There’s not much more to tell. He made a great figure of himself in a long black cloak and a hood that covered
his face, with eyeholes cut so he could see. He carried a sword and pistols, and made great play out of waving them about.
Still, he bested the wicked sheriff and his son, so Inverness is calm again now, and I warrant we’ll hear no more from
Sionnach Dubh.”

“But he sounds wonderful,” she said.

“Folks up there liked him. Are you ready for your lesson?”

“Yes, please,” she said, instantly pushing back her stool and getting up.

He stood as well, and picked up a satchel that lay near his feet, saying as he straightened, “Where is your woman?”

“I don’t need her,” Anne said glibly, having decided that she did not want to hear Peg’s opinion of the shooting lesson or
of Kit Chisholm. “Any number of stable lads and other servants will be wandering about, after all.”

“Aye, but you should have a woman with you, lass. It will look better so.”

She eyed him speculatively, but his jaw was set. “Very well,” she said, and asked one of the lads to tell Peg to meet her
in the stableyard.

They walked outside together, but when they found the stableyard teeming with servants and men-at-arms, Kit spoke briefly
with one of the latter while Anne went to wait for Peg at the door near the kitchen.

When the two women joined Kit, he said, “The men have an area outside the gates where they practice their marksmanship with
longbows and pistols. I suggest we walk out there, so you don’t shoot anything you ought not to shoot.”

Peg shook her head at her mistress. “I dinna ken what ye’ll think of next. A woman shooting a pistol! Think what a scandal
it would be did ye shoot anyone.”

“She won’t shoot anyone,” Kit said confidently. “She does not have a pistol of her own, for one thing, and even if she did,
it’s harder than you might think to hit anything with one shot, and although I’ve heard of pistols that can discharge more
than once before reloading, I’ve never seen one. I prefer to defend myself with either a sword or a longbow.”

“I want to learn to shoot,” Anne said. “One never knows when knowledge of any sort may prove useful.”

“That’s true enough,” he said, waving to the man he had spoken to earlier. “He will show us where their practice area lies.”

They walked outside the wall and a short way downhill through woodland to a clearing where archery butts stood at increasing
distances. Their guide indicated a man-high pile of river sand that stood some way to the left of the butts.

“Ye can put anything ye like in front o’ that sand for a target, sir.”

Kit nodded. “The sand pile itself will do wey enough,” he said. “If she can hit that from ten feet, I’ll be astounded.”

The man looked surprised. “She?”

“Aye, Lady Anne wants to learn how to shoot.”

A smile split the man’s face, and Kit grinned back at him.

“Do you two find such amusement in that?” Anne asked evenly.

The man-at-arms stopped smiling, but Kit did not. “Don’t fly into a temper, Anne-lass. You’ll want your aim to be steady.
In any event, I was not laughing at you. I just don’t want you to be disappointed when you don’t hit anything. Even men skilled
in the art usually hit their targets only when they’re on top of them. Pistols, to my mind, are more useful as weapons to
throw than weapons to shoot.”

“Well, I must have a target I can see,” she said. “What is the use of shooting at a pile of sand? Even if I hit it, I won’t
know I did. Haven’t you a handkerchief or something that you could put in the middle of it?”

“Aye, but only one of fine cambric,” he said.

“Well, if you’re so sure that I can’t hit it… ”

Kit sighed. “Very well, but I should think you’d see a puff of sand, at least.” He handed his kerchief to the man-at-arms
and gestured toward the pile. As the man moved to set the white square in place, Kit said, “Now, watch me, and I’ll show you
how to load a pistol. The first part is the same as for a matchlock or even a cannon. Hand me that powder flask, if you will,
lass.”

When their hands touched, guilt stirred at the delight she felt in being so close to him, so she focused her attention firmly
on his actions.

Opening the flask with his teeth, he poured a bit of its contents into the barrel of the pistol. “Now we’ll put this paper
wad in and use the rod to tamp it down… so. Next, the ball—that leather sack beside the second wee flask.”

She took a lead ball from the sack and handed it to him, watching as he used the rod to ram it in. “Now we’ll wind the wheel,”
he said, doing so with a small spanner that fit over the tiny axle. Sprinkling more powder into the pan atop the wheel and
alongside the barrel vent, he closed the pan cover.

“That looks simple enough,” Anne said, hoping she could remember it all.

“Open that other flask and take out a piece of pyrites. That’s our flint.” He showed her where to put it, how the cock worked,
and then let her tighten the pin.

Carefully following his instructions, she said, “Now what?”

“The wheel has tiny teeth.” he explained. “When you pull the trigger, the wheel turns, striking the flint and creating a shower
of sparks to ignite the powder and discharge the ball.”

“Faith, does one have to do all that each time before one shoots?” she asked.

“Aye, but the closed pan on the wheel-lock means you can load it and put it in a saddle holster, so it’s ready to shoot when
you need it even when it rains. Just don’t need it twice, because the only good you’ll get then is if you throw it at your
enemy. Now,” he added, handing it to her, “Use both hands to hold it steady, and when you’re ready, just pull the trigger.”

Anne held the pistol in front of her, hefting it to feel its balance, then looked at the handkerchief on the sand pile, drew
a breath, and fired.

The explosion from the gun startled her, and she had all she could do to keep it from flying out of her hands. Beside her,
Peg let out a screech, echoed by a cry of astonishment from the man-at-arms.

The handkerchief had jumped and folded in upon itself.

“I hit it!” Anne exclaimed gleefully.

“My best handkerchief,” Kit wailed.

Fergus said, “I kent line the lass could do it.”

“There you are!” Catriona exclaimed. “We thought you had abandoned us.”

“Nay, I were just scared is all,” Fergus said. “I wouldna abandon me lass. Recall that we Ellyllon can make ourselves invisible
tae other members o’ the Clan, just as we can make ourselves visible though not audible tae mortals.”

Catriona frowned. “I did not realize you could do either. I thought you just accidentally faded away when you were frightened.
And in any event, if you guided that ball for her, I’ll have something to say—”

“Sakes, I never thought o’ doing that!”

“I did it,” Maggie muttered. “Those men annoyed me, acting as if a female couldna shoot straight. They needed a wee lesson.”

Catriona burst into a peal of laughter. “And you told us to be sure to follow the rules! Oh, mercy, just look at his face!”

Kit stared at Anne in awe. Not for a moment had he imagined that she would hit the kerchief. He had never known even an experienced
man-at-arms to hit anything when firing a new pistol for the first time.