‘I have been amiss, Mackintosh,’ he now said. ‘I do not believe ye have met Lady MacKay, Morag Munro.’ Rob stood once more as the woman approached them now.
‘My lady,’ he said with a bow of his head. ‘A pleasure to meet you.’
‘Was your journey pleasant?’ she asked, sitting on a chair across from her husband.
The journey again. Would the weather be next?
‘Longer than I expected, my lady.’ He kept his tone polite and tried not to let his suspicion enter it.
‘These storms have been unusual.’
Rob nodded, smiled and drank from his cup, unable to speak in that moment. Something was amiss here.
Granted, he spent the first week of his journey being angry and cursing his fate. Well, cursing his best friend’s high-handed method of seeing to his life and future. And cursing his own inability to simply refuse. Mayhap the storms had been the Almighty’s way of slowing him down so that his eventual acceptance of this arrangement would happen before his arrival in Tongue?
And he had accepted the inevitable of this situation.
Until now.
He had not lived this long without a healthy amount of suspicion in his blood, without knowing when to look for more or without knowing to respect the feeling in his gut when it told him of danger. Or betrayal. He’d survived and protected Brodie’s life by understanding the signs.
Something was wrong here.
Rob searched for any sign of treachery and found none. The usual tasks and chores he would expect in a keep this size went on around him. Other than several guards posted at the doorway and one closer to the laird, he saw no increase in defence around the hall. Yet...
‘Your belongings have been taken to your chamber, sir,’ the lady said now. ‘If you have need of anything before our evening meal, simply ask one of the servants.’
Rob stood as the lady did, understanding he’d been dismissed from their company, even if the laird remained in his chair watching them silently.
‘Lady,’ he said, with a bow. ‘I appreciate your hospitality and look forward to speaking more at the evening meal.’
With another bow to the MacKay, he followed the servant off as he was clearly meant to do. Rob paused as they turned the corner down a corridor and glanced back at the laird and his lady. He found them watching him.
Oh, aye, something was amiss here. Now all he had to do was discover what it was. Suddenly, his reluctance over this match seemed the sensible approach after all.
* * *
The next hours passed slowly as he waited for darkness to fall and dinner to commence. He unpacked his clothing and found the two gifts he’d brought for the MacKay daughter: a book of prayers—from Arabella’s own collection—and a silken scarf—suggested by his sister. Lady Eva MacKay was well educated, according to Arabella, so the book should be appreciated. But, as Margaret had pointed out, a lass was still a lass and a lass liked something pretty, too. Hence the pale blue scarf.
A servant knocked on his door and invited him below, so Rob followed, observing the others who preceded and followed him as much as he could. Other than a few furtive glances, ones not unusual when seeing a stranger in their midst, he noticed nothing else. His presence would have been known by now and his position as the emissary of the Mackintosh would assure polite if not deferential treatment.
The hall filled with kith and kin and Rob was led to the front table and a seat waiting next to the MacKay. Strangely, there was no other open place, and his intended was not yet present.
‘Lady Eva?’ he asked after bowing and taking his place.
‘I must beg your pardon, sir—’ Lady MacKay began.
With a curt wave of her husband’s hand, her words and nearly her breath were cut off.
‘When you did not arrive as expected, my daughter asked permission to visit her cousin until you did. I have sent word, and she should arrive back here by midday on the morrow,’ the laird explained.
It was not the news or even the fact that the woman they all meant for him to marry was not present for his arrival. It was not even the nervousness of Lady MacKay or the furtive glances she threw in her husband’s direction. Many noble husbands and wives led barely civil lives together and others lived in open warfare.
No, it was the way everyone present there who could hear this conversation paused and seemed to hold their breath that gave Rob concern. As though this delay and absence was not a simple and usual thing, but was instead something big and important. Which made his hackles rise. He cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence, and nodded.
‘I look forward to having the pleasure of meeting her on the morrow, then.’
It was as if everyone let out their breath at once and returned to the conversations that they’d paused moments ago. Servants carried platters of roasted meats and fowl to the table, holding them so the laird and lady could select the choicest bits first. They brought the food to him next, as the honoured guest, and then to the rest at the high table.
The meal progressed and no one else mentioned the missing daughter at all. They discussed the MacKays. They discussed the Mackintoshes and the Chattan Confederation. They discussed the storms another time. All in all, it was the usual conversations and the usual fare for a diplomatic meal. Rob knew he would learn nothing here from them.
And yet, something flowed under it all. Mayhap he was right in his resistance to being forced into this marriage that would bring the Mackintoshes into an alliance with this clan? An opportunity to discover more came when one of the MacKay warriors approached and greeted him. They shared a mutual cousin, but Rob had forgotten that Iain lived here now.
‘Will ye join us for a wee game, Rob? When ye are finished with yer meal?’ Iain asked after greeting the laird and lady. ‘Just a few friends, ye ken.’ Iain, Rob now remembered, liked to throw dice.
‘With your permission?’ Rob turned to his host and awaited his word. There was a slight hesitation before a quick nod of consent. ‘Aye, Iain. I will seek you out when we finish.’
* * *
The table was cleared a short time later, and the lady was granted leave to retire. Once she’d left, the laird spoke to a few of his men, giving orders for the morn and then stood to leave. ‘Break your fast with us in the morn, Mackintosh. We can ride out to the coast, if the weather clears.’
‘Aye, my lord. Until morn, then,’ he said with a bow.
Rob let out a breath he had not realised he’d been holding and turned to see where Iain and his friends were gathered. Now, now he could find out what was going on here. A few hours later and some coin lighter, Rob had discovered some interesting bits about the goings-on in the Clan MacKay.
* * *
Rob woke early the next morning and saw to his horses in the stables. Built under the keep, they had their own entrance that faced north and the Kyle of Tongue. A few men nodded in greeting as he made his way back and into the hall
