Chapter Fifteen
ROBERT WAS IN a vile mood. Once he had agreed to speak with Stuart McCall, no fewer than five more men from Golden Isle had appeared to join the meeting.
Robert was surprised he had not seen it coming.
McCall could scarcely have rowed himself over from the island on his own.
The others must have been waiting outside for the opportunity to come in and petition their laird.
Simply seeing them made Robert feel guilty for the years of neglect.
He did not like being in the wrong, but ever since the previous night he had been plague to guilt and doubt. It was a new sensation for him.
The islanders packed Iain McLain’s little office, a motley crowd, fair and weather-beaten, their blond hair and vivid blue eyes speaking of their Norse ancestors.
They had refused the offer to sit, all except the oldest man present, one of the island elders so ancient Robert thought he could barely stand.
The men looked uncomfortable and hemmed in, as though their natural place was in the open air or on the high seas and enclosed spaces constrained them.
Robert had introduced Jack as his cousin and right-hand man and the islanders had all nodded politely, but it was clear from their reserve and the watchful gaze of their blue eyes that Robert had a long way to go if he was to regain—and keep—their respect. He could scarcely blame them for that.
The men waited silently while McCall told Robert of the desperate plight of his people on Golden Isle.
The war against France had evidently taken a heavy toll on the islanders in terms of lost trade.
Harvests had been poor and now the population was on the verge of starvation.
The press-gang had taken almost all the young men for the navy with no compensation or consideration of how their families would manage when they were gone.
McCall said that boys as young as twelve had been taken.
Robert felt furious and even more guilty.
He had left Golden Isle in the hands of his factor; he had not wanted to know.
McCall blamed the factor. He leveled serious allegations against McTavish, not only that he had neglected the welfare of the islanders, that he had failed to import the food that was needed and failed to sell their produce at a fair price, but also that he was in the pay of Wilfred Cardross.
As soon as Cardross’s name was mentioned, the atmosphere in the room chilled and hardened.
The men shifted, muttering among themselves.
There was a pause. Robert could feel something in the air, a moment of hesitation.
The men were looking sideways at McCall, waiting. McCall took a deep breath.
“Cardross is a traitor,” he said. “He has been using Golden Isle secretly as a rendezvous with enemy French ships.”
Robert saw Jack straighten and come alive, his gaze narrowing with sharp interest. Up until that point he had been listening politely, but Robert had known his cousin’s attention was elsewhere. Now, though, his interest was acute. There was nothing Jack liked more than a challenge.
“You are accusing Wilfred Cardross of treason,” Robert said. “You need to be very sure of your facts.”
All the men looked back at him, certainty in their eyes.
“No mistaking it,” one of them said. He looked as though he wanted to spit on the floor at the mention of Cardross’s name but thought better of it in the laird’s presence.
“I’ve seen with my own eyes that totie wee craft he calls a ship.
All scarlet and gold and sails as poorly as a tin tub, out there in the bay meeting with the French privateers. ”
“He takes their brandy and lace,” another man said, “and gives them information in return.”
“What sort of information?” Robert questioned sharply.
“Defenses, troop numbers, maneuvers,” McCall said quietly. “Details of the garrison on Zetland.” The others nodded.
“One of Cardross’s crew was Frazer’s wee boy from Orkney,” one of the elders said. “He gave the game away when Cardross betrayed his brother to the press-gang.”
“Double-dealing traitor.”
“Turncoat.”
“He stole our free trading rights,” someone said, sounding outraged that the islanders’ own illegal smuggling trade had been curtailed by Wilfred Cardross’s actions.
“Bastard.” The word was hissed with a great deal of venom. Robert felt the ripple of violence and hatred around the room, growing now like a living thing.
“The problem was that no one believed Frazer’s wee lad.” The eldest of the elders, whom Robert had believed to be asleep, now spoke up from the depths of his chair. “But they would trust you, laird. They would believe you.”
“Aye.” Again the word rumbled around the room, this time accompanied by a number of fervent nods. All eyes were on Robert.
Robert took time to reply. He knew that if he accused Wilfred Cardross of treason without proof, no one would believe him either.
The earl would merely claim that he was using wild claims to undermine his case in the lawsuit.
He would argue it was spite that motivated Robert’s accusations, not fact.
And if Robert could not make good the charge, then he would be the one in trouble.
He looked at Jack. His cousin knew what he was thinking; if they were going to catch Cardross, they would have to set him a trap. That suited Robert fine. Ever since he had seen the damage Cardross’s men had done to Lucy’s face, he had wanted to hunt him down and kill him.
“You had better leave the matter with me,” Robert said.
The islanders regarded him with unblinking eyes. “But you will take it up with the authorities?” the eldest elder prompted.
“I swear it,” Robert said. It was his neglect that had allowed this to happen. It was his responsibility to put the matter right.
“I’ll be sailing for Golden Isle on the afternoon tide the day after tomorrow,” he said, getting to his feet.
He saw them awaken then. Light and hope sparked in their eyes. They turned to look at each other; nodded their approval. Robert offered McCall his hand, then shook hands with all the other men in turn. “Go and join the wedding feast,” he said. “I need to talk with my cousin.”
“We wish you joy on your marriage, Laird,” the eldest elder said, tipping his cap to Robert. “Even if it is to a relative of the Cardross.”
Jack was idly tracing the outline of a sailing ship on the back of one of McLain’s account sheets. He looked up as the door closed behind the last of the islanders. His green gaze was bright.
“What are we going to do, Rob?”
“I thought that you would be traveling back south with Lady Mairi MacLeod,” Robert said.
Jack’s expression closed. “I’d rather help you out here,” he said.
He pushed back from the desk. “I like these northern isles. They remind me of when we were in the wilds of Canada, a long way from the reach of the law.” He drove his hands into his jacket pockets.
“Besides, I like a challenge. I get damnably bored otherwise.”
“I thought Lady Mairi was a challenge,” Robert said.
Jack scowled. “Mind your own damned business,” he said, “or I’ll call you out on your wedding night. We were talking about Cardross.”
Robert smiled and accepted the change of subject. “Do you believe him a traitor?”
“Without a doubt,” Jack said unhesitatingly.
“It all fits. His pockets are to let, he’s in hock to the moneylenders and in the pay of the French and then you come back and not only is he in danger of losing his claim to Golden Isle, but his treasonable activities are also going to be exposed. ” He grinned. “He’ll be terrified.”
“Good,” Robert said. “I need you to go to Methven, choose thirty of the best men and bring them back here to Findon. Do it discreetly. I don’t want Cardross to hear.”
Jack nodded. A smile still played about his lips. “You want everything already to be in place when he comes after you,” he said.
“I do,” Robert said. “I will use McTavish to draw Cardross out. I’ll plant some ideas in McTavish’s mind. If he truly is in Cardross’s pay, he will send word to him straightaway. And when Cardross comes, we will be waiting for him.”
“Do you mean to take Lady Methven with you to Golden Isle?” Jack asked.
Robert frowned. “What has our grandmother to do with this?”
“I mean your wife, you fool,” Jack said. “It would be safer to send Lady Lucy to Methven until her cousin is taken.”
“Lucy stays with me,” Robert said. He felt a blaze of pure protective possession.
He did not want Wilfred Cardross anywhere near her, and the safest way to ensure that was to keep her by his side and safe with his sword.
He remembered the way he had felt when he saw Lucy fighting Cardross’s clansmen on the shore of the loch.
Terror had flared through him in a way he had never experienced before.
He had tried to tell himself that he only felt that way because Lucy was the key to saving his clan lands, but that did neither of them justice.
What he felt for Lucy was a complex mixture of emotions.
It had been that way from the start. As a rule he did not like complexity of emotion.
It clouded the judgment and made a man weak.
He was beginning to see, however, that when it came to Lucy he had very little choice about how he felt.
He looked up to see Jack watching him speculatively and wondered if he had given away more of his feelings than he had intended.
His cousin said nothing, however, merely raising his glass of brandy in a toast. “Well, then,” he said. “Don’t waste any more time.” He nodded toward the door. “You need to get an heir before Cardross kills you.”
You need to get an heir...
Robert was not sure what expression was showing on his face, but whatever it was, Jack lowered the glass slowly, his eyes narrowing.
“Sorry,” he said. “Sensitive subject? Is Lady Lucy already—”
“No,” Robert snapped, feeling a sudden urge to punch his cousin.
“Oh,” Jack said. “Then—”