Chapter 16
Aware that she had neglected Katy while she chatted with Catriona, Fiona turned to the girl with a smile and said, “Forgive me if I seemed to ignore you. Are you sure you cannot finish your chores soon enough to walk with us after we eat?”
Katy grimaced but quickly altered the expression to a rueful smile. “I ought not to have extra chores at all. But ’tis mine own fault, and ’twas kind of Mam not to tell you the whole. I am to forgo your companionship this afternoon because I spoke thoughtlessly earlier and must mind my tongue more carefully hereafter.”
Fiona said sympathetically, “I do understand. My older sister brings out the worst in me, and I often found myself in just such a coil as a result. My father also takes umbrage at”—she searched for the right words—“speaking without due forethought. So do my brothers,” she added with a sigh.
“You are cursed with brothers, too?”
“I am,” Fiona said. “I have three of them, all years older than I am. Each one thinks he has every right to order my life even when Father is at hand.”
“Sakes, we have just two elder brothers. We see them only three or four times a year, though, so they do not plague us as much as when we were small.”
“When you were twin nuisances plaguing them dreadfully,” Catriona said, speaking across Fiona. “Finish your meal now, dearling, and let Fiona eat hers.”
“Aye, sure, Mam.” With a wink for Fiona, she returned to her trencher.
Clearly, Fiona thought, although Katy fit Davy’s notion of “saucy,” her manners were as refined as Fiona’s. Several noblewomen she had known with the Queen’s court displayed less assurance and far less poise than Katy did.
Katy’s father, Fin of the Battles, was likewise different from what Fiona had expected. He was stern, but he was no barbarian. She was sure that she would like them all. She just wished she could feel as confident about what lay beyond Finlagh’s walls.
An hour later, the lush green woods on the southwest slope below Castle Finlagh were alive with birdsong, and leaves whispered as Fiona, Catriona, and Clydia passed by. Ahead, the two wolf dogs ranged back and forth, sniffing the air and ground but ignoring squirrels and other beasts, moving silently through the shrubbery.
“They’re so big,” Fiona said quietly, loving the serenity of the woods but unable to resist satisfying her curiosity. “How did you learn to control them, madam?”
“Just Catriona or Cat, love,” Catriona reminded her.
“Yes, ma— Faith, I am so accustomed to calling women older than myself ‘madam’ that it falls off my tongue despite your wishes!”
“We Highlanders are less formal,” Catriona replied. “Lowland women, like English and French ones, are more submissive, I believe.”
Fiona chuckled. “Some Lowland women may be, but ’tis rare to hear of such. My home is across a river from the true ‘Borders.’ But our roots there lie deep, and few would ever call Border women submissive. We have minds of our own.”
Clydia’s lips twitched. “But whilst serving in her grace’s court, certes . . .”
“Aye, sure,” Fiona said, “maids of honor must oft behave submissively. But about the dogs, Catriona . . .”
Smiling, Catriona said, “I’ll teach you signs that Eos and Argus obey, and you’ll learn more by spending time with them. Today, we’ll visit some of our people nearby, to introduce you and to invite them to Finlagh for a cèilidh.”
“What is a kaylee?” Fiona asked, hoping she was saying it correctly.
“It is a grand social gathering to help celebrate your wedding. And we must do it before Àdham has to leave again. But, as we go, watch how the dogs behave.”
“We have sleuth hounds at home to hunt reivers who steal livestock,” Fiona said moments later. “Our dogs sniff only the ground, but yours sniff everything.”
“Aye, they do, but Eos and Argus can sense lurking danger, too, and warn you of it,” Catriona told her. “When they do, you must heed them.” With a laugh, she added, “My first wolf dog introduced me so to Fin.”
“Mercy, how could a dog do that?” Fiona asked.
“I dinna ken how, but he did,” Catriona said. “’Tis a tale for another time, though. For the nonce, can you whistle?”
“Aye, sure,” Fiona said, remembering how she had boasted of her ability to Àdham the night they met.
“Try doing it like this,” Catriona said. She gave two sharp whistles, one high, the other lower pitched, similar to a bird’s chirps.
Both dogs stopped where they were and looked over their shoulders at her.
Fiona watched in wonder as Catriona showed her other things the dogs could do simply by obeying short whistles, clicks, and silent hand and arm gestures.
“Why do you not speak your commands?” Fiona asked.
Clydia gave a gentle shake of her head.
Catriona said, “Our woods are safe enough if we stay west of our hills. But strangers going to Nairn or Inverness do sometimes pass through. So a woman walking alone is wise to avoid drawing attention to herself. The dogs will alert you when they sense others approaching. They’ll also let you know if those who approach be friendly or not.”
“Sakes, how can they tell the difference?”
Clydia said, “They know a person or they don’t and they distrust strangers, just as we do. Katy and I usually walk together, but Mam said that you’d often want to walk alone, as she does. So you must heed what the dogs tell you, and never fear that you might fail to recognize such a warning. They will see that you do not.”
“Look yonder, Fiona,” Catriona said, pointing. “My Ailvie’s mam’s cottage sits in that clearing, so we’ll visit her first. As auld Rosel is also Bridgett’s granny, you may meet Bridgett there, so you can decide if she’ll suit you as a maidservant.”
Clydia said, “Granny Rosel kens much about herbs, and people say that she has experienced the Second Sight.”
“I have heard of the Sight,” Fiona said. “But to see something happening elsewhere or in the future sounds most unlikely to me.”
“Granny Rosel will explain it to you,” Clydia said.
Fiona could see the cottage now, framed by a thatched roof, the edges of which nearly touched the ground. Its upper front wall was wattle and turf, much like Border cottages, with a base of dry stonework. The wood door stood ajar. As they drew nearer, she saw that the cottage front boasted one narrow window.
Catriona called out a few words in Gaelic, heard a reply, and they went in.
The light came mostly from the open door and the glow of embers in a central fire ring. The sole occupant, a little gray-haired woman, greeted them in the Gaelic with visible and voluble delight. Although Fiona could not understand a word she said, Catriona and Clydia translated their exchange of greetings.
They stayed with Granny Rosel only long enough for Fiona to learn that, unlike rumors she had heard of the mysterious Sight, the rare incidents of it in the Highlands had occurred only while extreme violence such as a great battle was taking place a good distance away. Some women, Granny said, had been able to describe, at the time, exactly how and when a loved one died. But none had ever claimed to see into the future.
“How does she know that no one has?” Fiona asked as they were walking away.
Catriona said gently, “Granny Rosel saw her husband die at Harlaw, so it is a subject in which she has taken much interest.”
By the time they returned to the castle, Fiona had met curvaceous, dark-haired Bridgett, welcomed as her maidservant, and had met at least a dozen other such friendly tenants. She had also grown accustomed to the giant wolf dogs.
Surely, she thought, Argus and Eos would intimidate any straying enemy.
Àdham and Fin had likewise taken their conversation outside.
As they headed uphill along one of the streams providing water for the castle, Fin said, “What did you think of his grace the King?”
“I think he creates problems for himself by pitting clergymen and nobles against each other, and ignores their ire in pursuit of his own goals.”
“Kings behave so by nature,” Fin said. “Sakes, most men of power will seek more of it. They ignore all who are powerless to stop them and act as they please whenever they can. You saw as much for yourself before you met James, aye?”
“Aye, but the men against whom his grace pits himself are not powerless.”
“Art thinking of anyone in particular?”
“Atholl,” Àdham replied flatly. “He would not be the first of his grace’s uncles to think he should rule Scotland, and he does have supporters.”
“So does Jamie,” Fin pointed out. “And Jamie, whatever else he may have grown to be, is stout of heart and not a conniving snake like Atholl.”
They fell silent then, and Àdham began to relax, feeling a surge of pleasure when the woods began to come alive again. He was home. He hoped he might stay long enough to help Fiona feel as much at home at Finlagh as he did.
When the castle hove into view again and Fin turned toward it, Àdham said, “I mean to walk farther, sir. ’Tis a fine day, and—” He stopped, because Fin was grinning. “What?”
“I’m thinking you heard that your beautiful wife meant to walk out with Cat and Clydia and hope to meet her or you mean to climb to the crag above Raitt to see what you can see. I’m hoping it is Fiona, lad. She is a good match for you.”
Àdham smiled but decided not to admit that he had thought of climbing to the northern crag in the upthrust of hills between Finlagh and Raitt to see if there was activity at Raitt. But Fin’s mentioning Fiona had stirred his body’s interest, so he reminded himself that he had barely spoken to Cat or Clydia since his return.
“Remember to tell your lass about Robert Graham,” Fin added gently.
Drawing a deep breath to cool his body’s other notions, Àdham nodded.
The woodland music soon soothed him again, and he quickened his pace. His uncle was right, and since he had to talk to Fiona, it would be wise to do so at once.
When the women came into view at last, his gaze caught hers.
She smiled, warming him through again. He was reluctant to initiate such a conversation with others listening, but having heard her ask Cat earlier if Finlagh offered a place to swim, he knew exactly how they could find some privacy.
“Where are we going?” Fiona asked when Àdham, having informed Catriona and Clydia that he wanted time alone with her, turned back toward the castle.
“I have something that I must tell you,” he said. “But, first, I want to show you the pool that Fin created.”
“So, you heard us talking about swimming. But if you have something to say to me, sir, say it now and be done. Faith, if I have done aught to displease you—”
“Nae, lass, nae,” he interjected swiftly. Then he hesitated, and had he not been so tall and broad, he would have looked like a bairn caught in mischief. The thought nearly made her smile, but she said, “What is it, Àdham? Just tell me.”
“I have not been as forthright as I should have been,” he replied bluntly.
“About what?” she asked, thinking instantly of Caithness and Atholl.
Instead, he said, “I fear that your ‘eloquent scoundrel’ is mine uncle.”
Frowning, certain that she had misunderstood, she said, “Sir Robert Graham?” When he nodded, she put two fingers to her lips to avoid declaring her loathing for the man, and said instead, “So that is why you were talking to him on the Inch that day. Why did you not say so at once when I asked if you knew him?”
“I scarcely know him. He is my late mother’s brother,” Àdham said, guiding her up the steep incline with a hand to her waist. “He visited us at Tor Castle once or twice when I was small and again after Mam died. He took no interest in me then. But, learning that I was in St. John’s Town, he sent for me and tried to persuade me to support Alexander and others who oppose his grace—and to convince my father to do likewise. I refused.”
“Is that all you wanted to tell me?”
“Aye, sure. What else would there be? I have no liking for the man.”
“Perhaps not, but that night at Blair, I heard Atholl call Caithness your cousin. I’ve been trying since then to think how to ask you about that. It never seemed the right time until now.”
When he did not reply at once, she added softly, “I doubt that you would betray James, Àdham. But might not others who learn of such connections think such a thing? Come to that, why did you not admit your kinship to Caithness at once when you introduced him to me?”
Resisting an urge to grind his teeth but aware that, under the circumstances, her concern was reasonable, Àdham said with forced calm, “Because the connection is too slight for me to claim Alan as a cousin. Do not forget who his father is, lass. I am not a member of the royal family.”
“But the lady Elizabeth Graham of your mother’s family is the Earl of Atholl’s wife. Does that not make you cousin to Caithness?”
“Lass, she is Atholl’s second wife. His first was Alan’s mother, so Alan and I have no blood kinship. He did laughingly name me ‘cousin’ when first we met, so if Atholl called me so that night, he was being derisive. Lady Elizabeth is my grandaunt, but she has no blood kinship to Caithness, so neither do I.”
She regarded him silently for a long minute. Then, with a sigh, she said, “You should have told me about Robert Graham when I asked you.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “I should have.” He waited, wondering if she had more surprises in store for him or expected a full apology.
Then they topped the slight rise beside Fin’s weir, and he saw her smile as she gazed at the expanse of water beyond. “Is that Fin’s pool?” she asked.
“It is,” he said, relieved. “Would you like to swim?”
She hunkered down to test the water. “It may be colder than the Tay, but I think it is warm enough. Is it safe to do so without my shift?”
“People do wander about,” he said. As he quickly folded his plaid and laid it atop one shrub, then tugged off his tunic and draped it over another, he added, “Also, we have men near the hilltops, watching for stray Comyns who might wander this way, so you might want to keep your smock on for now. But I’ll help you doff your kirtle,” he added, grinning as he reached to untie her laces.
Fiona welcomed his touch and marveled at his splendid body while he helped her find the easiest path into the water. As she submerged, using her hands to keep her full-skirted shift from rising to float on the surface as she sank, she looked at Àdham and was delighted to see him watching her closely.
Soon gathering knowledge of the pond’s contours, she submerged and began to swim away from him. When he grabbed an ankle and tugged her back toward him, she reached out to him and let him pull her upright and into his arms. Moments later, her shift was gone, cast to the shore.
Laughing, she said, “Fiend, you’re the one who said to keep it on!”
“I was recalling your shyness,” he said, grinning back as he began to stroke her body from her shoulders to her hips and back to linger at her breasts. “As long as any lad who sees you is not daft enough to tell the world that he has, I’ll feel only my pride and his envy at seeing what a treasure I have in you. Now, lass, kiss me.”
She did, and matters progressed from playfulness in the water to passion ashore that might well have let such a lad see more of them both than Àdham had intended.
By then, though, thoroughly sated, Fiona did not much care if he had.
Having thoroughly enjoyed himself that afternoon, Àdham expected Fiona would reject other such activity for a day or so. To his surprise and delight, though, when he suggested retiring soon after supper, her reply was just a seductive smile.
“You won’t need anyone to aid you tonight,” he murmured against her right ear. “I want to do that, myself.”
When she was naked, he swept her up and carried her to the bed. Eager for her, he undressed himself in record time and got in beside her, and she snuggled just as eagerly into his arms. Leaving the candle alight until it guttered on its stand, they explored each other’s bodies thoroughly, and she enchanted him again with her passion. Now that his conscience was clear again, he looked forward to learning as much as he could about his lady wife.
However, he had no sooner left their bed the next morning than MacNab informed him that Lady Catriona wanted to discuss the intended cèilidh with him, and he recalled that, upon their arrival, Cat had said that she planned to celebrate.
She would likely have to put it off for a time, though, since he intended to begin seeking the information James had requested as soon as possible.
But when he said as much to Cat, she said, “Blethers. I have told everyone to come for a cèilidh tomorrow night and to bring food and an instrument or a tale with which to entertain the company, just as we always do on such occasions. So, you will miss only a day’s travel, my laddie. Even the King—nae, his grace especially, since he treasures his own lady wife as he does—would not expect you to abandon your bride on our doorstep the minute you return home.”
“Nae one would accuse me of doing any such thing,” Àdham protested.
“Aye, someone would, because I will accuse you, myself,” she said flatly. “You may do all that you must do to plan your route and decide what you need to take with you and who else must go. Talk to Fin about that. But you will stay for your cèilidh if you want your handsome head to remain on your thick neck.”
“Aye, sure, my lady,” Àdham said, kissing her cheek. “But if aught delays this cèilidh or if Ivor comes for me—”
“Then my so-esteemed brother can either sing a song whilst Fiona plays her lute for him or strum one on his bowstring for someone else to sing,” she retorted.
Knowing when he had lost a battle, Àdham grinned cheekily at her and went to find Fin, who likewise had no sympathy to offer him. “You would be wise to decide what entertainment you will provide for this celebration, my lad.”
So Àdham, who secretly enjoyed singing, sought out his lady wife and explained that guests and hosts alike at a Highland cèilidh had to aid in the entertainment. “Cat said you play the lute, and I do recall that you brought one with you. So, mayhap you know a song that we can sing together. You need not fret if your singing does not match your skill on the lute,” he added hastily when she looked stunned. “Everyone who knows the song will sing with us.”
Fiona had no objection to playing her lute to aid the entertainment, and finding a song that they both knew proved easier than expected. But the following night, her jaw dropped in amazement at how large a party Catriona had managed to gather in so little time. “How can we possibly have enough food to feed them?” she asked.
“Sakes, Fiona,” her hostess replied with a laugh. “Hereabouts, a man can be at home one minute and gone for weeks, even months, the next. All Highland social gatherings include an expectation that one may entertain a few guests or a host of them. ’Tis why everyone takes part, providing both food and entertainment.”
The cèilidh proved to be a merry one, with pipers piping, fiddlers fiddling, jugglers juggling, whistlers with and without tin whistles, storytellers, poets, ring dances, and dances where men showed off their dexterity with swords or other weapons.
Although many social events that Fiona had experienced were more formal, she was beginning to believe that life in the Highlands was less different from life in the Borders or even in Lowland towns than she had feared. This was fun!
However, the next morning, when MacNab rapped on their door, she quickly learned that it was not just to wake Àdham but also to inform him in the Gaelic that Sir Ivor had arrived with a retinue of men and desired to see him straightaway.
Recognizing Ivor’s name, even in MacNab’s Gaelic accents, and guessing the gist of his message from his urgency, she barely waited for the two men to leave before scrambling out of bed. Pulling on her kirtle over her shift, she hurried after them barefoot. When MacNab went on downstairs, she followed Àdham into the great hall, where they found Sir Ivor Mackintosh impatiently awaiting him.
Pausing at the threshold, Fiona waited to see if either man would try to send her away. But Ivor smiled when he saw her and said in Scots, “I’m for Lochindorb, Àdham. I want you to go with me, so you can tell Mar’s people about that attack on you and see if they ken who it may have been. We can discuss chiefs or chieftains we think may be less willing to support his grace, too. Those are the ones with whom you’ll need to talk privily and persuasively.”
“I’ll want to ask them if they’ve heard aught from Mar about Donal Balloch’s progress, too,” Àdham said.
“How long must you be away?” Fiona asked them.
“Only a night or two for Àdham, as it’s just twenty miles,” Ivor said. Turning back to Àdham, he added, “I’ll head east from Lochindorb. I need the same information that James does from our chiefs in the Confederation.”
“Member clans east of us are all loyal to James, are they not?”
“Aye, but as war leader, I need to know who is ready to fight at once if we need them. If Balloch means to win the north for Alexander, when Jamie does need us, I’ll want everyone ready to ride as soon after our signal fires are lit as possible.”
“I’ll head west from here, then, when I return,” Àdham said. “I can learn the same things from Confederation clans between here and Inverness, and along the west side of Glen Mòr. They may also ken more about Balloch’s activities.”
“Good, then,” Ivor said. “How soon can we be away?”
“As soon as I can break my fast.”
Following Àdham’s departure, Fiona and cheerful, dark-eyed Bridgett spent some of the morning assessing the garments that Fiona had brought with her and the rest of it with the other women, doing much as Fiona had done at Ormiston or as a maid of honor. That morning, Fiona helped Bridgett and Katy take stock of supplies and check linens for damage, while Clydia tended her herbs in the kitchen garden.
That afternoon, Catriona, Fiona, and the twins visited two families who had missed the cèilidh to see if either needed aught that they could provide. After supper, until bedtime, they discussed ways that Fiona might simplify her garments.
Àdham returned two days later, as promised, but had time only to couple with his wife and sleep before he left again to talk with clansmen.
The next morning, the women attended to plain stitchery, for no household ever lacked mending to do. But they also began stripping fur, jewels, furbelows, and other such ornamentation from Fiona’s court dresses.
Catriona soon arranged for a walk into Nairn, to purchase ribbons and other necessities. Bruce Lochan, the square-built captain of Finlagh’s guard, sent an armed escort with them, because they would pass near Raitt Castle land.
“The laird is unreliable about the public road to Nairn,” Catriona explained. “He harbors his right to pit and gallows as if he had inherited rather than stolen it.”
The seamstress they visited asked if the rumors of possible war scared them.
“Not yet,” Cat replied. Other townsfolk asked similar questions.
Fiona bought a trinket or two but longed for her favorite things from home. James and Joanna would remain at Blackfriars for some time longer, though, so it could be weeks before Ormiston returned to Ormiston Mains.