The Magnificent Rogue

  Robert turned and said, “I’ll send you wherever you like, if you promise to stay away from Malcolm.”

  Gavin shook his head. “You know I cannot do that.” He smiled with effort. “And you’re right, we mustn’t let Jock brood.”

  Jock Candaron was standing on the dock waiting for them when the raft reached the island.

  He was close to his fortieth year, but the only signs of age were the faint creases at the corners of his eyes. He was a giant of a man with a deep chest, arms corded with muscle, and legs as thick as tree trunks. His hair, tied back in a queue that hung halfway down his back, shone white-gold in the pale winter sunlight. His cloak was thrown open as if he did not feel the chill wind that was causing the men behind him to stamp their feet and blow on their hands. He reminded Kate of one of those wild, strong Viking raiders her tutor had told her stories about.

  “It’s about time you came home,” he said. Then he motioned to two men standing behind him and ordered, “Take the horses. We’ll walk back through the town. They’ll want to see him.” He turned back to Robert. “You could have sent word, dammit. Your ship arrived two months ago with news you’d decided to stop over in Edinburgh, and then we received word from MacGrath you’d been taken by the English.”

  “It was true.”

  Jock scowled. “You must have been careless. Have I taught you no better?”

  Robert laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “I stand chastised.”

  “It was my fault,” Gavin said. “I took a sword thrust.”

  Jock turned to him. “Not serious?”

  Gavin shook his head.

  “You’re entirely well?”

  Gavin nodded.

  “Good.” Jock’s huge fist lashed out and connected with Gavin’s stomach.

  Gavin fell to his knees, gasping for air.

  “You failed your duty,” Jock said without expression. “You should have kept him safe.”

  Gavin clutched his stomach. “Dammit, Jock, you didn’t have to hit so hard.”

  “A weak blow would not be remembered.” Jock reached out and pulled him to his feet. “You deserved it.”

  “I know,” Gavin wheezed. “But I think you broke my rib.”

  Jock smiled faintly. “You would be certain if I had. I was careful.”

  “No more, Jock,” Robert said. “He served me well.”

  “So I heard from your crew. That’s why I didn’t break all his ribs.” He shrugged. “It had to be done. Now it’s over.”

  “Thank God,” Gavin breathed. A warm smile lit his face. “How have you been, Jock?”

  “Doing my duty to Craighdhu, as you should have been.”

  Kate gazed at them in bewilderment. It was clear a strong bond of affection existed between Jock Candaron and Gavin, and yet it seemed impossible her friend would accept that punishment without even a hint of bad feeling.

  Robert turned and helped Kate onto the dock. “This is my wife, Kate, Jock.”

  Jock did not change his expression, but she could sense an almost imperceptible stiffening. He bowed formally. “Welcome to Craighdhu, my lady,” he said without taking his gaze from her face. His eyes were Nordic blue and cool as the sea lapping against the dock. “A surprise, Robert. Where did you find her?”

  “England.”

  Jock shrugged his massive shoulders. “A foreigner. I suppose England is better than Spain. I would have preferred you to choose one of our lasses, but when did you ever listen to me?”

  “When you gave me a blow as you just did Gavin.” Robert laughed. “She’s a brave honest lass. She’ll give us no trouble, and I expect you to protect her as you would me.” He kissed Kate’s palm lightly before turning away and starting down the dock. “Bring her along, Gavin. I’ll go ahead with Jock so he can tell me all the news.”

  “If I can still walk,” Gavin muttered as he took Kate’s elbow and escorted her after Jock and Robert.

  “The news isn’t good,” Jock said.

  “I didn’t expect it to be,” Robert assured him. “Alec was much too self-satisfied when we ran into him two days ago on his way to Edinburgh.”

  “He has a right to be,” Jock said. “I wasn’t sorry to hear James had sent for him. We need time to mend bridges.”

  “While he may be preparing to tear down others.” Robert frowned. “Send a messenger to Bobby MacGrath in Edinburgh right away. I want to know what Alec’s movements are while he’s there and why James sent for him.”

  Jock nodded. “It never hurts to keep an eye on the devil. However, your concern should be centered here, not in Edinburgh. You’re not going to like Alec’s latest …”

  Jock’s words became inaudible to Kate as he and Robert drew farther ahead. She turned to Gavin. “Did he hurt you?”

  “Aye, but it could have been worse. If Robert had been wounded, instead of me, I wouldn’t have been able to get out of bed for a week.”

  She shivered. “He’s brutal.”

  Gavin shook his head. “Just. I failed my duty, and that’s not permitted.”

  “Who is he? Another cousin?”

  He shook his head. “He came to Craighdhu when Robert and I were children. Robert’s father took him in, and he became one of us.”

  “An outsider?”

  “He earned his place. Even as a young boy he had the makings of a superb warrior, and he became Robert’s father’s henchman. When Robert’s father died and his mother took him to Spain, the clan appointed Jock acting head of the clan until Robert returned.”

  “And he didn’t mind giving up his power when Robert returned?”

  He shrugged. “He didn’t seem to, but who can tell what Jock is thinking? He’s not easy to read.”

  She believed him. She had not been able to detect anything beneath that impassive exterior and those icy blue eyes.

  “Anyway, he immediately stepped down and began to train Robert in what he should know.” He made a face. “He wasn’t always an easy taskmaster, but Robert learned.”

  “And did you?”

  “I had no talent for weapons, but he taught me to defend myself.”

  “Does he still live at the castle?” she asked, her eyes on that stronghold in the distance.

  “No, both he and I have our own lodgings here in town. Jock prefers to stay in his unless Robert is gone for an extended period.”

  Relief surged through her. She could not imagine living harmoniously with Jock Candaron. “Who is this Bobby MacGrath in Edinburgh Robert was talking about?”

  “When Robert and James had words three years ago, Robert sent one of our lads to Edinburgh to live so that he would have a man in the enemy camp and know what James was about.” His gaze shifted to the pair walking ahead of them, and he gave a low whistle. “Evidently, Jock wasn’t exaggerating the trouble Malcolm’s been concocting.”

  She looked at Robert and saw that he was frowning. He was obviously displeased at something Jock was telling him. “The town appears very peaceful. What trouble could there be?”

  “Plenty. There’s always trouble with Malcolm about. It’s just a question of where and on what scale.”

  She didn’t want to think of Malcolm or this brutal Jock or anything but Craighdhu itself. She wanted to see it, smell it, touch it. She hungrily absorbed it all as if she had been starved all her life for the sight of it.

  Warehouses, taverns, and small shops had formed a neat crescent around the harbor, but once they turned the corner, all sense of orderliness vanished. The town was built on three low hills, and thatched sod houses and shops clung precariously to the steep slopes. Yet, even though the impression was of an erratic, rambling landscape, she did not find it displeasing. The shop- and stall-bordered cobblestone street on which they were walking appeared to be the main thoroughfare and led to the castle.

  “It’s very clean.” She sniffed. Not even the foul stench that usually pervaded a village. It was as if the blustery sea winds had scoured and buffed Craighdhu to pristine cleanliness. “It ev
en smells pleasant.”

  “Jock has a sensitive nose and a profound dislike for disorder. When he was acting in Robert’s stead, he passed a law that no chamber pots were to be emptied in the street. Twice a week a wagon is sent around to collect foul matter, and there are penalties for anyone who doesn’t keep his property immaculate.”

  She wondered why no one had thought to do the same in Sheffield. Heaven knows, it smelled far sweeter here than the village where she had lived all her life.

  The street was crowded with men, women, and children, all of whom were laughing, talking. Jock had said the people would want to see Robert, but they wanted more. They reached out and touched him in affection and greeting. It was not the return of a feudal lord, but the homecoming of a family head.

  Kate felt alone, the outsider, as she watched. “They love him.”

  “Aye, as much as he’ll let them.”

  She turned to look at him.

  “He gives them everything, food, riches, safety.…”

  “But not himself?”

  He nodded. “Sometimes I think he’s lonely, that he wishes he were different, but he cannot be. They changed him.”

  She would not feel sorry for Robert. He had everything she wanted, and if he was foolish enough not to be satisfied, then he deserved this loneliness. She changed the subject. “Why do some of the men wear those short skirts?”

  Gavin looked outraged. “Not skirts, kilts. And they’re short because we Highlanders are not afraid of a little weather or rough country, as Sassenachs are.”

  “Angus didn’t wear them.”

  “He’s a Lowlander and has been corrupted by the easiness of the life.”

  She had evidently struck a sensitive subject, and his defensiveness amused her. “Neither do you and Robert.” She smiled teasingly. “Have you also been corrupted?”

  “Robert says it’s better to blend into the crowd when you’re in enemy territory.”

  She took another look at the short green, purple, and dark blue plaid kilts that a good portion of the men wore. “Well, you certainly would not go unnoticed in that garment.” Seeing him start to frown, she gestured to the small, beautiful church they were passing. It was like a finely polished gem set in the busy square. “Robert said his mother was very devout. Was that her church?”

  “No, she had her own chapel at the castle. She would have nothing to do with our religion or the dominie.”

  “When will I meet this dominie?”

  He caught the wary note in her voice and understood immediately. “All men of the cloth are not like your vicar, Kate. This dominie is a kind, gentle man who does much good in the parish. You’ll seldom find him in that fine church. He travels from place to place both here and on the mainland comforting the sick, performing marriages, and baptizing the children of the clan.”

  A few minutes later they were starting across the castle moat when Kate suddenly chuckled. “Was this where Robert threw you into the water because you played the bagpipes?” she asked, remembering Robert and Gavin’s badinage.

  “He was most unfair. I wasn’t that bad. Well, maybe I was, but it was the ale that made me so.”

  They shared so many memories, she thought wistfully, experiences that wove their lives together in a common tapestry. Even wild, brutal Jock Candaron had his own place in Robert’s life.

  They had entered the courtyard of the castle, which was as clean and neat as the village. The flagstones were damp and gleaming and looked as if they had been scrubbed only minutes before.

  “Jock Candaron again?” she asked.

  Gavin shook his head. “This is Deirdre’s domain. Jock wouldn’t interfere.”

  She couldn’t imagine Candaron not interfering with anyone or anything that suited him. “Deirdre?”

  “Robert’s housekeeper.” He opened the tall brass-studded front door. “Deirdre O’Connell. Jock brought her to Craighdhu six years ago from Ireland after he killed her husband.”

  “What?” she asked, shocked.

  “Oh, it’s all right. She didn’t mind.”

  “How fortunate,” she said dryly. “I thought it was only acceptable to kill English or Spanish.”

  “Well, Deirdre’s husband was an exception.” He closed the door, and his shout echoed off the high-arched ceilings of the hall. “Deirdre!”

  “I’m coming. You don’t have to bellow like a bull.” Kate looked at the direction the voice had come from and saw, at the curve of the stairwell, a tall, strongly built woman in a gray gown. “I have enough to do without running when you raise your voice, Gavin Gordon.”

  “Sorry,” Gavin said meekly as he took Kate’s arm and pulled her forward. “I just wanted to introduce you to Robert’s bride.”

  “I’m not so lacking in courtesy I wasn’t coming to greet her,” Deirdre O’Connell said as she marched down the steps. She was not a woman in her first youth, but she exuded a vitality that was almost overwhelming. A few threads of gray already streaked the shiny black hair drawn back in a bun, but she had firm, glowing skin and sparkling hazel eyes.

  She reached the bottom of the stairs and sketched a quick courtesy to Kate. “Welcome to Craighdhu, my lady. We weren’t expecting you.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to be here,” Kate said.

  “Robert and Jock are in the library with Tim MacDougal. I’ll show you to your chamber.” She turned to Gavin and commanded, “Come with us.”

  “I had every intention of doing so.” Gavin followed them up the stairs. “You take a bit of getting used to, and I didn’t want Kate running through the town screaming for help.”

  “I’m not as bad as you would have her believe,” Deirdre said as she led them down a long hall. “I have no use for fools, but I don’t devour children like her without cause.”

  “But she might give you cause. Kate has teeth, and she’s not above using them.”

  Deirdre glanced over her shoulder and gave Kate an appraising glance. “I would not have guessed it.” She opened the door. “This is your chamber. Robert’s is next door.”

  Kate stood still in the doorway. This chamber was to be hers. It did not seem possible. It was the finest chamber she had ever seen, much finer even than the rooms at Tabord’s inn. A fine ivory, rose, and green carpet covered the stone floor, and real velvet curtains of the same dark green enclosed the four-poster bed. The huge fireplace on the south wall was crafted of gleaming gray limestone that contrasted with the muted rose, green, and brown colors of the ancient tapestry that was mounted on the wall above it. The tapestry depicted lions and unicorns and a bare-chested man in a MacDarren kilt slaying a man in full armor.

  “If someone had been kind enough to let me know, you would not find me so unprepared.” Deirdre swept across the room to the windows and threw them wide open. “I had no chance to air it, but there’s a fine breeze today, and it will smell fresh in an hour or so.”

  Gavin shivered as a gust blew into the chamber. “If she doesn’t freeze to death first.”

  “Which won’t happen if you’d stop complaining and build her a fire.” Deirdre turned to Kate. “There’s a fine view from here.”

  Kate slowly walked to the deeply recessed windows. The panes, made of stained glass which she’d never seen except in a church, were exquisite. Depicted on one window was a kilted warrior kneeling before a unicorn; on the other was a woman in a red gown weaving at a loom. The sun sparkling on the multihued glass made the figures seem to shimmer with life.

  “Well?” Deirdre demanded.

  Kate hurriedly glanced at the view Deirdre had summoned her to see.

  Far below she could see a swath of green that stretched alongside the castle. To the north was the rocky coastline she had seen from the mainland. Rough waves crashed against dark rocks that looked as stark and dangerous as the waves themselves.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

  “You find it so?” Deirdre asked curiously. “I was wondering if you’d like it. It’s not a sight to everyo
ne’s taste.”

  “Not everyone has a fondness for all that tame greenery you Irish call home,” Gavin said as he struggled to light the fire in the hearth. “Some us have a liking for more interesting scenery.”

  Deirdre snorted. “Rocks are all the same, and Craighdhu is but one rock after the other.” Another blast of wind shook the curtains around the bed. “Perhaps it is a little chill.” She took Kate’s arm and led her toward a cushioned chair by the hearth. “Sit here and rest, and I’ll bring you up a cup of hot cider.” She pushed her down onto the chair and then frowned as she tucked Kate’s brown wool cloak more closely about her. “Where did you get this garment? It’s so poorly made and the wool so porous, I wonder it keeps out the cold at all.” She didn’t give Kate a chance to answer. “Gavin, go fetch that coverlet on the bed.”

  “Fetch and carry, fetch and carry,” Gavin grumbled as he rose from the hearth, crossed the room, and brought back a cream-colored wool coverlet that had been tossed on the bottom of the bed. “Anything else?”

  “I’ll tell you if there is.” Deirdre tucked the cover around Kate’s shoulders.

  The soft coverlet was so finely woven, it instantly blocked the sharp breeze blowing through the room. Kate’s fingers caressed the cloud-soft texture. “It’s wonderful. I’ve never seen anything so fine.”

  For an instant Deirdre’s expression turned mild, and a flush of pleasure colored her cheeks. “No?” Then she straightened, turned away, and moved toward the door. “Of course you haven’t. I made it myself.”

  She was gone before Kate could reply.

  “She’s not as hard as she seems,” Gavin said. “Well, that’s not true. She’s every bit as hard as she seems, but she’s still a good woman. You’re fortunate to have her.”

  “Am I?” Kate asked faintly.

  Gavin nodded. “She keeps all the servants jumping, you won’t see a speck of dust in any chamber of the castle, and the meals are excellent.”

  “She’s very”—she hesitated, trying to describe that sense of explosive energy that Deirdre exuded—“vigorous.”

  Gavin nodded ruefully. “She has so much energy, she has to be busy every minute and keeps everyone busy with her.”