The Highland Secret Agent Page 3

  “Amice?”

  “Oh!” Amice put the needle aside cautiously. “Aunt Alina! What is it?”

  “I need to ask for your help, dear,” Alina said, coming in hesitantly. Her smooth oval face, only a little lined, was grave and troubled.

  “My help, aunt? Of course. What is it?”

  “It's your mother, niece,” she sighed. Her face was pinched with worry. “She's not well. She says there's nothing ailing her, but I can see there is. She's not fully recovered from that fever she had earlier.”

  Amice nodded. “I'm sure you're right, aunt.” Aunt Alina was a skilled healer. If she said that, Amice believed her. “But what can we do?” Her heart thumped in her chest. Her mother, though robust, was prone to sudden attacks of fever. She had survived them all thus far – but would she continue to do so?

  “I'm treating her chest with mallow root,” Alina explained. “And the aches with willow-bark...but that's an aside. What I need you to do is to keep an eye on things. You know how your mother always runs herself ragged with taking charge of everything.”

  Amice nodded. “I do know.”

  “Well, I want her kept at rest for the next two weeks. So no charging down to the kitchen, no heading out to the gatehouse or the stables. We're going to take on her duties for a while. If we can.”

  “Of course,” Amice said, nodding vigorously. That she could do easily! She felt relieved. “I had thought you might need me to do something hard, aunt.”

  Alina gave her a strange smile. It was a little sad, almost wistful. “I hope it proves easy, niece.”

  Amice felt herself shake, a momentary tremor that was soon past. “Why do you say that, aunt? What might happen?” If Alina said things like that, one took notice of them.

  Alina only shook her head. “Likely nothing. Now we should get into action straight away. We have plans for a dinner on Monday. We should check the stocks in the storehouse. And I should see to it that Leona's chamber is aired and made up.”

  “I'll go to the storehouse now, aunt,” Amice said quickly. “Since we've already had the banquet for Brodgar, we'll have a good idea of what's left for the rest of the week right now.”

  “Of course, niece. Off you go. I'll go upstairs.”

  Amice set aside her embroidery and hurried down the hallway. She climbed quickly down the wide, stone steps that led to the courtyard and the outer colonnade, turning right to go down the servant's hallway to the kitchens.

  The heat from the kitchen hit her like a blast as she headed down. In the depths of winter, the place was still warm, lit with a ruddy light from the stoves and the fire under the spit, reduced to ashes now as the pot-boys moved from tending to cleaning up.

  “Mrs. Brewer?” she called the cook.

  “Aye!” the woman appeared, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, arms covered in flour. “Why, mistress Amice! Fancy seeing you here, and all fancy dressed. What's the matter?”

  Amice cleared her throat, feeling quite pleased with her new responsibilities. “My mother asked me to oversee the dinner next week,” she said. “I want to go over the supplies and find out what's in the storehouse. Then we need to plan the menu.”

  “Oh, of course!” Mrs. Brewer nodded. “Well. We have twelve sacks of flour and eight of meal, we have five rounds of cheese and eight of butter, twelve pounds of oats and a sack of barley, and those onions that came in last week are still here...”

  As she rattled off the list, Amice did her best to pay attention. The kitchen was a distracting place, filled with servants stirring brass pots or polishing cookware, and the smells were myriad and delicious. One of the hunting hounds came in from the courtyard and settled by the fire, looking up at Amice with friendly eyes.

  “Well,” Amice said as the woman before her finished her inventory. “In that case, we could mayhap...” she paused, “have a stew of leeks and mushrooms, and we need to take down six hams – we're expecting all the guards and their families as well – and if you could use the barley in a broth, and make eight lots of bannocks...”

  As she planned the banquet, Amice surprised herself with her own capacity for planning. She had only rarely done things like this before, but it seemed to come naturally. It was a pleasant surprise, since, with such a capable hostess for a mother, she'd always thought she had no gift for it.

  It's nice to see I'm not that bad.

  She felt a prickle of pride as she headed back up into the castle. She met Brodgar coming up.

  “Brother! You look tired.”

  “I am,” Brodgar said with a grin. “I've just spent half an hour with Blaine, telling him about the use of battle-axes – these long ones the Burgundians are making so wildly popular. Maybe Conn knows more.”

  “Yes,” Amice nodded. He was on the continent, after all, a good deal closer to Burgundy than they were here. In fact, Annecy was not too far from that dukedom's borders, as far as she knew.

  “I'm so pleased he's visiting.”

  “Me, too.”

  They talked a little as he headed up the stairs, turning right toward the solar at the top of the flight.

  “I'm pleased Henriette's mother is back at our home in the North,” he added, nodding. “When the baby comes Henriette will be glad to have her mother close.”

  “The baby?” Amice stared at him. “You daft man! You forgot to tell me!”

  Brodgar went red. “I shouldn't have mentioned it, sister,” he said shyly. “Henriette'll skelp me sorely. She didn't wish for anyone to know. Not for the next month. Says she's not sure yet.”

  Amice nodded. “I understand. Well, I won't tell anyone. I promise.”

  Brodgar fluffed her hair. “Thank you, sister. What a relief!”

  Amice grinned. “Of course, I'll keep it secret, brother. Though you shall have to tell someone soon. Think how Mama...” she trailed off. Her mother would be delighted. The thought made her heart clench with concern. Would her mother be well by the time the baby came? Her cough had worsened in the last month. She'd noticed it but pretended not to, so her mother wouldn't be offended.

  “I know,” Brodgar nodded. “She'll be glad to be a grandmother again. I'm so glad to be here now. Henriette needs a rest, and I want to spend time with mother.”

  Amice nodded. She knew Brodgar was concerned for their mother too. They had both noticed the pallor of her skin and, likely, Aunt Alina had passed a word to Brodgar too.

  “Good. She'll be glad.”

  Brodgar nodded, swallowing hard. They walked back to the warmth of the solar together.

  As Amice greeted Henriette and sat down beside her at the hearth-side, she couldn't help glancing at her carefully. Was it obvious that she was expecting a babe? Amice knew little of the matter herself – her sister Joanna had a little daughter, but she'd given birth at Lochlann castle with Alina to tend her. Most of her child-carrying had been done apart from Amice, who didn't know how to tell.

  “I'm so glad we're here,” Henriette murmured as Amice showed her the tapestry she worked on.

  “I'm glad too,” Amice said, squeezing her friend's hand. Close up, she could see a glow to Henriette's skin, a shine to her eye that suggested she was full of health and happiness. She guessed at least part of that was due to the child, part to Brodgar, who shared a special love with her.

  As she thought it, she glanced across the room to where Hal sat with Brodgar, drawing some diagram on a piece of leather. She watched him, considering. Was what she felt for Hal anything like the love of her brother and his new wife? She wondered.

  When I'm with Hal I feel comfortable. Nice. I trust him. I feel safe with him. We joke and laugh and tease together. But is there...that extra thing? That thing that Brodgar and Henriette share?

  As she thought it, she saw Henriette also glance to the table where Brodgar was. Her eyes filled with a softness that made Amice gulp.

  No, she thought. It is different to how I feel for Hal. To how I feel for anyone.

  At that moment, Alina came in. She looked
tense, though one had to know her quite well to read the subtle currents of it in the stiffness of her movement, the one line across her smooth forehead. Amice went to her.

  “Aunt. What is it?”

  “It's...no matter, niece. Don't fret yourself.” She let Amice fetch her a drink, which showed how distracted she was – Alina was someone who couldn't bear fussing of any kind.

  “I organized the dinner,” Amice said helpfully, sitting down on the chest of cloth beside her.

  “Good, good.” Alina blew her cheeks out wearily. This close, Amice could see silver in the dense, dark curtain of her hair. “I'm glad my daughter's coming.”

  Amice nodded. It would be a relief and a support for Alina to have Leona close. Though Joanna and she were far more alike, Alina had a fondness for her willful and impulsive daughter that surpassed anything she felt for anyone.

  “I'm glad too, aunt.”

  Alina nodded, and then gave her a weary smile. “You're a dear girl, niece. It's a pleasure having you about too.”

  Amice thanked her, then, as the words left her mouth, found herself wondering why Alina had said that. She was always about; the last of her cousins here. Why would Alina say such a thing? Unless she had some sense that I'll go elsewhere?

  She cleared her throat, wondering if she could be selfish enough to ask her worried aunt what she had meant, when someone burst in.

  “My lady!” the messenger said, his face tense with worry. “We have bad news.”

  Alina stood up. With Amabel in her chamber, she was the lady of Dunkeld, wife of the thane's brother. She cleared her throat.

  “What is amiss? Tell me your message.”

  She looked regal and aloof, and Amice felt a stab of pride in her lovely aunt. The messenger cleared his throat.

  “The boat bearing Lady Leona and Lord Conn has been detained. If none come to negotiate their passage, they will be turned back to France.”

  Alina reached out and Amice took her hand. She had gone white, and Amice felt a sudden shiver pass through her. Aunt Alina doesn't need any more bad surprises.

  “What mean you, fellow?” Brodgar asked, standing. He came over and Amice seized the opportunity to help Alina to her seat. She shook her off, though, standing beside Brodgar as the two of them stared the messenger down.

  “Sir, I, uh...” he stammered. “Because of the current...impasse...with certain smugglers, the ship was detained at Queensferry. Some papers weren't in order and the young lord...objected. They are being barred from the place until such papers are produced, or word can be brought to the court, proof of their identity.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Brodgar murmured to Alina, who nodded. “Of course Conn is no smuggler. I must...” he trailed off, turning to Amice and, behind her, to Henriette.

  Amice saw the look that passed between her brother and his wife, the tenderness, the care. The regret.

  Brodgar cannot go now, and leave her! She needs him. Amice found herself clearing her throat. “I will go to Queensferry. I'm father's daughter and there's no call for me to stay here. I'll go.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  FAREWELL AND A JOURNEY

  FAREWELL AND A JOURNEY

  Amice dressed carefully in a cream linen gown, pairing it with a kirtle worked with dusky roses. With her red hair brushed and a small jeweled band adorning it, she looked demurely pretty. She walked up the stairs to the turret room where Hal was lodged. She felt surprisingly nervous.

  I need to say my farewell to him.

  She tiptoed up and knocked at the door. There was no answer. She waited.

  “Hal?”

  No answer. She turned and walked away. She heard footsteps coming up the hallway, and then, suddenly, there he was, all wheat-colored hair and high cheekbones and that earnest smile.

  “Hal,” she said softly. “There you are. I wanted to say farewell.”

  “Oh.” Hall smiled. “Well, mayhap we can walk on the ramparts together? I'm in desperate need of fresh air.”

  Amice nodded. “I'll fetch a mantel. It's cold out there.”

  They met on the turret. Amice bundled into a rose velvet cloak, Hal beside her, handsome in green-and-blue plaid.

  They walked along the ramparts and Amice looked down, unsure how to start.

  “I should...”

  “When you...”

  They both spoke and laughed.

  “Please,” Hal invited gallantly.

  Amice cleared her throat.

  “I am leaving tomorrow. You know that.”

  “Yes.”

  “I wanted to, um, say a proper goodbye,” she said cautiously. Heavens, but this was awkward! What must she say? “We should, um, have seen each other longer.”

  “Yes,” Hal nodded kindly. “Indeed, Amice.”

  “Well,” she knotted the sleeves of her gown, her fingers plucking nervously at the cloth. Why was this so hard? “I suppose all I can say is, fare well while I am gone. Take care. And I look forward to my return. Mayhap we shall visit each other further.”

  “Yes, Amice,” Hal nodded. “I think we shall do that.”

  Amice looked out over the hills, wishing she could end this awkward conversation. Why did it feel so difficult, so confusing? Maybe if he was more animated, less stiff, it would be easier. However, there was no indication of what he thought. Only that quiet gallantry, those impeccable good manners. I wonder if he likes me. Hal was mannerly and affable to everyone.

  Hal paused. “I wanted to say that I look forward to your return,” Hal said courteously. “I understand my father plans festivities for the season ahead. If you like, mayhap you could stay with us at the estate?”

  “Yes. I'd like that,” Amice nodded. She bit her lip, looking out over the distant hills. Somewhere inside, she wished that she was miles away. That she didn't have to do any of this. Why was she the dutiful one, the one the family relied on to do the right thing?

  “Well, then,” Hal said politely. “We must make arrangements. I trust you will not be away long? Your family would not expect you to make a long journey with no adequate chaperone.”

  “I'll go with Bronn,” Amice said stubbornly. Heavens! Why must he be so stiff, so proper?

  “Bronn?” Hal's pale brows shot up inquiringly. “Who is he?”

  “He's the stable-hand,” Amice explained doggedly. “He's a trustworthy sort. I've known him all my life.”

  “That's quite unsuitable,” Hal said mildly. “Your father must be distracted by his worries. If I could...”

  “Hal,” Amice said gently, not wishing to take offense at his proprietary air, “I will be safe. Bronn cares about me and knows the way like the back of his hand. I'll be gone for a fortnight only. I'll be fine.”

  He sighed. “If you insist, my lady.”

  “I do.”

  He smiled at her. “Oh, Amice,” he said. “You are so innocent, and I sometimes worry...”

  “Hal,” Amice protested. “I am twenty years of age. I am no more innocent than anyone else.”

  “Oh, but you are,” he said gently. “An innocent flower, raised here in the fortress. You need safekeeping.”

  Amice felt her polite fondness thin, replaced by a sudden impatience. “Hal. I'm not a little girl.”

  He smiled at her in that mannered, fond way he had. “Well, mayhap not,” he agreed.

  Amice sighed. Why was she being so unfair? All he was doing was showing concern for her. She shook her head wearily. “Forgive me, Hal. I don't know what's wrong with me.”

  “You're just worried,” Hal said kindly. “And no wonder! Your cousins detained, your mother recovering from an illness...be fair to yourself, Amice.”

  Amice nodded. “Thank you, Hal. You're very kind.” She felt abruptly as if she wanted to cry. Hal was the only person who had really thought about the burden she carried. She sniffed fiercely, trying not to let tears fall now. “We should go in before we catch a chill as well.”

  “Yes,” Hal nodded. “Yes, we should. Please, my lady
.” He held open the turret door and she entered.

  Inside, he bowed. “Thank you for your words of farewell. I look forward to our meeting later this year.”

  “I, too,” Amice said, inclining her head gravely.

  He kissed her hand. When he did so, Amice felt a slight flutter in her stomach, but it was nothing like the passion her sister had spoken of, or the enduring love she sensed between her parents. What was wrong with her?

  “Farewell.”

  “Farewell.”

  Amice curtsied and hurried down the hallway to her bedchamber. Inside, she closed the door and sat on the bed, lost in thought.

  Was this truly her destiny, marriage to Hal, a quiet, dutiful life? She remembered the prophecy. A long journey. Someone with something different about them. She sighed. Mayhap Aunt Alina was speaking figuratively. At twenty, she was older than many girls when they wed, so mayhap that was the journey. The something different, though? Well, Hal was so courteous, so mannerly...perhaps that was all Aunt Alina had meant.

  A knock sounded on the door. Amice stood and went to open it. “Hello?”

  It was Alina. “My dear. I came to fetch you. Your mother is a little better. She wished to speak with you.”

  “Oh.” Amice stood at once. “Of course. Where is she?”

  “In the west turret.”

  Amice followed her aunt up to the small, cozy room at the top of the tower. Her mother was sitting at the window. She turned to face her.

  “Hello, dear.”

  “Mother!”

  Her mother was pallid, her eyes dark rimmed. She looked exhausted. “Thank you, Alina,” she said to her sister. Alina went out, closing the door behind her. “Daughter,” Amabel said softly. “I wanted to speak to you, to say goodbye.”

  “Mother, don't,” Amice said, voice wobbling dangerously.

  “I'll see you when you return,” her mother assured her. “Never fear.”

  “I won't,” Amice said. She looked at her hands, wanting to hold back her tears.

  “I also wanted to say that you look sad lately. What troubles you?”

  “Um...nothing, Mother.” Amice muttered. She didn't want her mother to be concerned by her own silly troubles. The family wished her to wed a McTae. What else really mattered? Duty was all.