"Neil McTavish cares nothing for the isle," McCall said steadily. "He has done nothing to help us whilst the crops fail and the ships no longer call to trade with us. He has failed to protect us from Wilfred Cardross."

There was a hiss of indrawn breath around the room as Cardross's name hung on the air. McCall looked up and looked Robert directly in the eye.

"You are the laird. It is your duty to help us."

There was another rumble of debate around the room, quickly hushed as Robert looked around, his expression fierce.

"Are you accusing me of failing in my duty as laird?" he said, very softly.

This time the silence was deadly. Lucy, watching, feeling the tension in every cell of her body, could see the way that no man would meet his fellow's eyes. Oh, they respected Robert as laird well enough here in Findon. She had learned that in only a few short days. They trusted him, believed in him and knew him to be a strong man who would protect them. But it seemed Golden Isle was his weakness. It seemed he had washed his hands of the place.

McCall straightened up. His words echoed Lucy's thoughts. "I hear you are a just and fair laird," he said. "But you have cut Golden Isle loose from your protection. You have failed in your duty."

Robert was on his feet, eyes blazing, his hand going to the hilt of his sword.

Jack Rutherford put out a quick hand to him. "Let's step aside and talk about this, Rob," he said quietly.

"Not on my wedding day," Robert growled. He sat down and gestured for his cup to be filled. There was an ugly set to his mouth. The atmosphere in the room simmered on the edge of violence. Lucy could sense all the complicated emotions in Robert; there was anger, but it was shaded by shame and, she was certain, pain.

She could feel Jack's gaze on her. He was pleading with her silently to intervene. Either he overestimated her influence or he was desperate, probably the latter. Lucy could feel the tension in the air, feel everyone looking at her now.

She put her hand gently on Robert's wrist. "My lord," she said. "I know better than most the danger posed by my cousin of Cardross and know as well that you would never let a single one of your clansmen come to hurt. I am ready to retire. Why do you not speak with these gentlemen and then come and join me?"

She saw the tension in Robert's eyes ease slightly. She could still feel the reluctance in him. After a moment he took her hand in his, kissed her fingers and gave her a faint smile.

"As you wish, my lady."

It felt as though the entire room released the breath it had been holding. Everyone stood as Lucy and Mairi left the room. There were a few smiles, a few nods to her and there was respect in every man's eyes.

Isobel McLain led them up to the chamber Lucy had left only that morning on the way to the wedding. It had been tidied, and rose petals and herbs sprinkled over the bed, scenting the air with the sweetest of fragrances.

"What was wrong with Lord Methven tonight?" Mairi said as she helped Lucy into the nightgown that Isobel had left warming by the fire.

"I don't know," Lucy said shortly. She was tired and apprehensive, aching from the tension and strain of the day. "I don't know him well enough to know what was wrong." She wished she had asked Isobel what was going on, but at the same time she did not want the landlady to realize how little she knew. It felt humiliating.

"It was the mention of Golden Isle that changed him," Mairi was saying. She appeared not to have heard Lucy or noticed the note of apprehension in her voice. "He was perfectly at ease before that, but it was clear that he did not wish to go there-"

"Why do you not ask Mr. Rutherford?" Lucy interrupted. "He will know."

That got Mairi's attention. "I'd not give Jack Rutherford the time of day," she said sharply.

"What on earth can he have done to upset you?" Lucy said, eyeing her sister's face. "He seems very charming and he is as handsome as sin-"

"He's too handsome for his own good," Mairi said. She was folding Lucy's gown with such sharp jerky gestures that Lucy was afraid the delicate muslin might tear. "He certainly knows it. Arrogant pig!"

"Oh dear," Lucy said, trying to stifle a smile. "You really do not like him."

"I loathe him," Mairi snapped. "I'll be glad to see the back of him tomorrow. I'm going back to Edinburgh. I assume you'll be going to Methven?"

"I don't know," Lucy said. Her stomach felt suddenly hollow with longing for her old life. "I don't know where we are going," she said slowly, "or even if we will have a wedding tour. It has all happened so quickly."

Mairi sat down on the end of the bed. "I suppose this is the moment when I should give you some maternal advice," she said.

"Maternal- Oh!" Lucy could feel herself blushing. "Please don't feel you have to advise me," she said awkwardly.

Mairi's expression cleared. "Oh, well, if you have already done it-"

"We haven't," Lucy said shortly. "That is I... We... It's a marriage in name only."

Mairi's eyebrows shot up into her hair. "You are teasing me."

Lucy frowned. "Why would I do that?"

"Because..." Mairi stopped, took a deep breath. "Because Methven looks at you as though he cannot wait to bed you," she said bluntly. "That's why."

Lucy's blush spread downward. She felt very hot. She did not want to have to explain the details to Mairi.

"We don't know each other well," she said instead.

Mairi covered her hand with her own. "I understand," she said, although clearly she did not. "But in time... Well, he will want an heir...."

Lucy nodded. "In time." Now, though, with the vast expanse of the empty bed beckoning to her, she could not imagine a time when she would feel ready for that.

"If he's gentle with you it will not be so bad the first time," Mairi said. "It may hurt a little and you might not like it much, but if it gets too bad try to think about something else-Scottish country dancing, or the bagpipes, or what color wall hangings you would like when you refurnish Methven Castle-"

"You're not helping," Lucy said, interrupting her.

Mairi frowned. "I'm trying to help. I was going to say that it is certain to get better and by then you will be pregnant anyway...."

Lucy shivered, crossing her arms over her chest. Mairi went over to the window and pulled it closed.

"There is a chill in the air tonight," she said. "Get into bed. Everything will be fine."

Mairi tucked her in, kissed her cheek and then stood back, looking suddenly uncertain. "Would you like me to wait with you?"

"No, thank you," Lucy said hastily. Then as she saw Mairi's face fall she realized that she had been a bit abrupt and caught her sister's hand. "I am so grateful you came to the wedding," she said softly, hoping her sincerity could bridge the gap with her sister. "It made all the difference to me."

Mairi's expression lit with a smile. She squeezed Lucy's hand. "I expect you were missing Alice today," she said. "I know I'm not the same, that we have never been as close-"

Lucy shook her head quickly, silencing her. "I'm lucky to have you," she said.

Mairi gave her a quick hug and went out and Lucy sat there in the sudden quiet. The party had resumed down in the hall. She could hear the music and the roar of voices. She had no idea how long Robert would be. She supposed he would have to visit her room for appearances' sake even if he had no intention of staying with her tonight.

Suddenly she felt restless and lonely and so unsure.

She went across to the Armada chest and rummaged among the petticoats and bodices, her fingers closing around the hard cold shape of the pot of pennyroyal tincture. She should take it, just to be sure, just to be safe.

Yet Robert had said that she had nothing to fear and some instinct, deeper and more stubborn than the fear, made her want to trust him.

She knelt there until her legs were cold and aching and then slowly she put the pot back in its hiding place in the chest and straightening up, closed the lid.

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."