Scent of Scotland Page 17

"To a safer part of the city, I assure you," he promised as he stood. "That is, unless you wish to remain here with nothing to do but to listen to Cael's prattle all day."

  A sly grin slipped onto his lips. "What if I prefer his prattle?"

  "Then you would make me very jealous, but you are a very poor actress, even when you are teasing," he countered. "Now dress. I will meet you downstairs."

  My eyes narrowed and I stuck my tongue at his retreating figure. I jumped from the bed and removed a dress from the dresser. The many buttons and laces vexed me, particularly since the task was meant to be done by two—

  There came a knock on the door. I swung around and raised an eyebrow at the closed entrance.

  "Yes?" I called.

  "Good morning, ma'am. I was wanting to know if you would like some help with your fineries," a female voice answered through the door.

  Another attempt at a stubborn button defined the futility of my efforts. I sighed and dropped my arms to my side. "I would be very grateful for any help."

  The door opened and a woman of twenty slipped inside. She was a small thing with a thin figure and large brown eyes. The front of her dress was covered by a clean white apron. The young woman smiled and curtsied to me.

  "Good morning, ma'am. My name is Irvette," she greeted me.

  I returned her smile and curtsy. "My name is Abby."

  She walked over to stand behind me. "You've got quite a mess here, ma'am," she commented, and I could feel her swift fingers work at the terrible knots I had created.

  "Please, call me Abby," I requested.

  She paused in her work and her eyes twinkled at me. "It would be my pleasure, Abby. Now let me get you dressed fine and send you down to the gentlemen. They're waiting on you in the dining room."

  Irvette's magical fingers worked against my evil knots and in a few minutes I was properly dressed. She led me through the unfamiliar house and to the dining room that lay across the entrance hall from the parlor. Cael and Moray stood beside the large dining table, and atop the table was breakfast. They turned at my coming and perused my figure with kind eyes.

  "I don't know how women come to be so devilishly handsome, even at this hour," Cael commented. He looked past me and at Irvette. "What magic do you work, Irvette?"

  Her smile widened and she shook her head. "No magic, sir. There's only a touch of love and cloth there." She curtsied to us and left.

  Moray glanced at Cael as we took our seats. "Where did you happen upon her?"

  "By some coincidence just off Chambers Street," Cael replied as he draped his napkin over his lap. "The poor thing was half-starved and hardly knowing what she was to do with her new life."

  "'New life?'" I repeated.

  "She is a werewolf," Moray informed me.

  I blinked at him and looked to where she had gone. "She? A werewolf? She hardly looks-well-"

  "Like a man-eater?" Cael teased. "I hardly believed my nose, as well, but she had the undeniable scent of a werewolf about her, and she has changed. I've seen it."

  "And she does not know her maker?" Moray asked him.

  Cael shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. The loss is his, however, for she is as strong as any female werewolf, and I have rarely seen someone as loyal as she."

  "But how could she not know her maker? Is it not a voluntary change?" I spoke up.

  "It is, but the man who made her thought she was too weak to be a good mate, so he abandoned her," Cael explained.

  I gasped and my hand flew to my mouth. "What a horrible thing to do!"

  Cael pursed his lips and nodded. "Aye, it is, but some good has come of it. She has a comfortable home here, and I have a servant I would not do without."

  We ate breakfast and stood from the table. Outside the windows the world was still wrapped in a blanket of fog.

  "Some days the fog doesn't lift at all. I expect this to be one of those days," Cael commented as he followed us into the entry hall. "Whatever secret rendezvous you plan I hope it isn't far."

  "It is neither far, nor much of a secret. We go to see a blacksmith," Moray told him.

  Cael raised an eyebrow. "Are you in need of a new sword?"

  "No, I wish to have one appraised," Moray explained. "I hope something will come of it, and will tell you if something does."

  "When that time comes I will be all ears," Cael promised.

  Moray assisted me with my cloak and he with his coat, and in a few minutes we were carried through the streets of Edinburgh in the carriage. The lord pulled a small package from his coat and lay it across his lap.

  "Isn't that the package McKenna gave to you?" I guessed.

  He nodded. "Aye, and I hope to find a use for something which very nearly ended mine."

  I tilted my head to one side and furrowed my brow. "Pardon?"

  "You'll know soon enough," he replied.

  The carriage rumbled down the cobblestone streets filled with various odors and did not stop until we reached one of the narrower thoroughfares. The street was lined on both sides by open shops, and people walked to and fro in various attire as they bought what they needed and desired. There was even a blacksmith shop at the corner of a block, and it was this establishment at which we stopped.

  Moray stepped down from the carriage and assisted me onto the elevated sidewalk. "Wait here," he ordered the driver.

  "Yes, my laird," the driver replied.

  Moray led me inside the warm, single-floor shop. Two sides were open to the streets and supported by a beam centered between the two missing walls. Beneath the roof was a bellowing furnace, and nearby the anvil and tongues of the trade. A burly man without a shirt greeted us with a bow of his head. His flesh was red from the heat and all the hair was singed off long ago. Sweat covered him from forehead to waist, and on his hands were thick leather gloves.

  "Good morning," he greeted us.

  "Good morning," Moray returned. "Might I inquire if you craft daggers?"

  The man nodded. "I do. What were you wanting for yourself, my laird? A rapier? A broadsword? Name it and I can make it."

  Moray held out the bundle and pulled aside the cloth. "What about this one?"

  My eyes widened as I recognized the same silver dagger as the one carried by the attempted murder of Moray. The smooth metal shimmered by the light of the forge and its sharp edges were not dulled by their wicked use.

  The blacksmith's eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips. "It's not one of mine, and I can't make it," he snapped.

  "I was informed otherwise," Moray argued.

  "Then you was told wrong, now if all you came to do here was bother me then leave!" he growled. He turned away from us and back to his forging.

  Moray took out leather pouch and shook it. The sound of jingling coins made the blacksmith give pause. "Actually, I had thought to buy one of these finely crafted weapons."

  The blacksmith flinched and didn't turn to face us. "Then you've come to the wrong place, now leave."

  Moray frowned, but pocketed both the money and the dagger. He grasped my arm and led me from the shop and into our waiting carriage. His face was pensive as he looked out the window, but for myself I could not stand the quiet after such a reveal.

  "What was your intention in showing him the dagger?" I asked him.

  "I had hoped to find out if he had indeed created the dagger, and who commissioned the work. His reaction answered the former, but not the latter," he replied.

  "But is not the owner dead?" I reminded him.

  Moray shook his head. "Though the owner is dead I do not believe the danger is past. The man was not recognized by either McKenna or myself, so one must conclude he was in the employ of another. McKenna thought to find the source of the dagger's make in order to track the killer, and so was found the address for the blacksmith."

  I leaned back in my seat and frowned. "Then we are still no closer to finding who tried to kill you."

  "We confirmed the source, now it is a matter of securing the information from the cre
ator," Moray commented. A sly smile slipped onto his lips as he perused my person. "That is, we shall continue the interrogation after today. There is an appointment we must keep."

  I raised an eyebrow. "With McKenna?"

  He shook his head. "No, with a tailor. I commissioned a dress some time ago that may be of some use tonight."

  My eyes widened and a smile graced my mouth as I recalled the promised assembly that night. I would meet royalty and dance the night away among an elegant company. I could hardly wait for the appointed hour.

  CHAPTER 34

  The remainder of the day was occupied by the preparations for that evening. I was given the new dress, a beautiful gown of emerald-green silk, and we gathered the parts from many shops in the city. The shoes, cloak, and gloves matched the wonderful clothing, and I felt quite regal when I attired myself, with Irvette's assistance, in the dress.

  I walked down the stairs and met the young men at the bottom. They were clothed in fine, shimmering formal suits, the colors of which appeared dull beside my own. Moray studied me with appreciative eyes and offered me his arm.

  "We shame you," he commented.

  "I would have no other arm," I argued.

  He smiled and bowed his head as we strode down the hall to the stables. "And I would have no other lady."

  "You two make me very jealous," Cael teased. He walked in front of us without an escort.

  "You will have your day yet, my friend," Moray promised.

  Cael smiled. "Perhaps."

  We slipped into Cael's carriage and were carried to the Abbey of Holyrood, a rough stone-brick structure that stabbed the sky with its towering, pointed roof. The front wall was covered in arched, ornate glass windows that glistened in the torches that ringed the grounds. The building was flanked on either side by small entrances that led into the wings.

  Behind the majestic abbey was a large building built from reddish stone bricks. The tall, pane windows were few and wedged between each of the four domed towers that stood at the corners. Grass surrounded the elegant building, and along the grass sat many empty, driver-less carriages. The drivers stood beside their carriages in small groups, and talked and laughed together.

  Our carriage drove up to the elegant double-doors where the guests were received. A throng of people flowed into the building, and after Moray assisted me out of the carriage he glanced at Cael with pursed lips.

  "A small assembly?" he questioned him.

  Cael smiled and shrugged. "What can I say? Our king is a most gracious host."

  Cael led us through the doors where our cloaks were given to the servants. The rooms were small but lavishly furnished with thick wooden furniture and so many tapestries that the subjects in the portraits appeared to crowd together for fear of being covered. The majority of the guests mingled in the dining hall where a long table groaned with food and drink. Clumps of people talked and laughed in a mirror image of their drivers, and there was many a loud guffaw from the company.

  I caught a glimpse of their majesties, the king and queen, as they were dressed in royal purple, but my short stature meant it was only a fleeting glimpse. Moray kept close beside me, but the hot, stifling air was too much for me. He was commandeered by several young woman while I, plain as I was, was summarily ignored by the men. I fled the thickest of the crowds and wandered down the hall to the rear of the building.

  A large group of people came from the opposite direction, and I could not make enough way for their tastes. Their elbows jabbed me, and I found myself jostled into the ajar door of a side room. The space was empty save for a man seated on the window bench beneath the tall windows.

  His age was about fifty, and he was graced with graying brown hair and bushy eyebrows that shaded his dark eyes. He wore a clean coat cut in an old-fashioned style and on one hand was a bright red ring. He had a drink in one hand and a scowl on his face as he looked out the window. The view beyond was a mess of fog and shadows as others who had been forced out from the crowds walked around the abbey.

  He turned sharply to me and his scowl deepened. "Who are you? What brings you here?" he snapped.

  I frowned at his hostile tone, but curtsied. "I apologize for the interruption. I hadn't meant to intrude on your reverie."

  "Then you had better shut your mouth and quit the room," he ordered me.

  My blood boiled at such a haughty manner when no reason called for such harsh words. I stood tall and clasped my hands together in front of me.

  "Perhaps my apology was not worded quite right. If I had known such a person occupied the room I would never have dreamed to enter the house," I retorted.

  He jumped to his feet and clenched the glass in his hand so tightly that he shattered the neck. Wine spilled over his hands and mixed with his blood, but he paid his wounds no heed.

  "Do you know to whom you dare speak?" he snapped.

  I scoffed. "No, nor do I care. If you will excuse me."

  I spun around and started back when I found myself staring into a suited chest. I looked up and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw it was only Cael. He smiled at me.

  "Have I intruded on something?" he teased.

  "If this woman is your wife, sir, then I would suggest you take her outside to your carriage and use your whip on her shoulders," the man behind me growled.

  Cael frowned. "I don't have the pleasure of calling her my wife, but what has she done?"

  "Merely intruded on my privacy and allowed her forked tongue free rein," he explained.

  I spun around and glared at him. "I apologized for my intrusion, though seeing as this is hardly your residence I hardly needed to do that."

  He straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. "That does not mean I do not have claim on the favoritism of the king, and I would recommend you treat me accordingly."

  Cael raised an eyebrow. "Are you not Laird Camron Robertson?" I started at the name. It was the same given by McKenna.

  The man frowned. "And what if I am? Who are you to ask me such a question?"

  Cael smiled and bowed to him. "Forgive me. My name is Caelan MacLain."

  Laird Robertson started and his eyes widened. "Laird MacLain?" he guessed.

  "That is one of my titles," Cael agreed.

  The man's heavy eyebrows crashed down and he pursed his lips tightly together. He strode towards us, and I thought he meant to do us harm but he merely pushed past us and out the door. The man turned the corner and hurried out of sight.

  Cael turned to me with his smile. "For a moment I thought he meant for a fight."

  I breathed out and nodded. "As did I. But was that gentleman truly Laird Robertson?"

  Cael chuckled. "You do us gentlemen a disservice when you address him as such, but as for question I must unfortunately answer in the positive. He is Laird Robertson, a man of means hardly more than my own and as great a temper as his means are limited." I looked past him to the open doorway and pursed my lips. Cael tilted his head to one side and studied me. "My Lady Abby, I do believe you have a secret hidden in your eyes."

  I started and shook my head. "N-no, it is nothing."

  It was at that moment that Moray appeared in the doorway. His dark eyes were narrowed and I could see his nostrils were flared. He strode up to us and glanced between us. "What is the matter?"

  "Your lovely lady had the unfortunate luck to meet with one of the more disagreeable occupants of the city," Cael replied.

  Moray raised an eyebrow. "Who was it?"

  "Laird Camron Robertson," he revealed. Moray's eyes narrowed. Cael leaned on his cane and turned from Moray to me and back again. "That is the second strange reaction to my saying that name. What is it about that laird that shocks you both so?"

  Moray gathered himself and shook his head. "It is nothing. I thought perhaps I had heard the name before."

  "You have," Cael argued. He limped towards Moray and studied his face. "You're as poor a liar as you ever were, Kenneth Moray, and as forfeit I demand to know what is the matter. W
hat business do you have with the laird?"

  "No business at the present, but we may soon meet," Moray answered.

  "That is a poor response to a friend," Cael scolded him.

  Moray frowned. "It will have to suffice until certain matters are settled."

  "You mean your reason for coming to Edinburgh?" Cael guessed.

  "Aye, but I would rather not speak of such matters in public quarters," Moray insisted.

  Cael sighed and set a hand on one of Moray's shoulders. "You cause your friends to suffer greatly from curiosity, but I won't pry any further, and I must agree this assembly has turned into rather a ball, and everyone has been invited. Let us be off, and not regret your mate's not being formally introduced to our king."

  "You forget I am English," I reminded him.

  Cael turned to me and winked. "Nobody is perfect, my lady, and I will gladly overlook that deficiency on account of your being a wonderful woman in spite of your heritage."

  "Lesser words have started wars, even ones made in jest," Moray warned him. "Now let's away."

  We escaped the confines of the crowded abbey and into the street. Dozens of carriages lay in wait for the elegant lords and ladies, but the drivers were all crowded around one of the large horse troughs near the abbey entrance. Many of them held mugs in their hand, and by their staggering manner and off-key singing I guessed they were drunk. Among the men was our driver. In his hand was a mug, but he held himself in a dignified manner and did not join in the loud revelry.

  Hearn noticed our coming and bowed to his master. "Were you wanting to leave, my laird?" he asked Cael.

  Cael glanced between the mug and the man, and raised an eyebrow. "Aye, Hearn, but where did you acquire the drink?"

  "All the servants were given a draught of mead by our king, my laird," he explained. "But you needn't worry about me, my laird. I have hardly had a sip."

  "Good, for we were wanting to leave this moment," Cael told him.

  Hearn bowed. "Very good, my laird."

  Our driver set the mug aside and fetched the carriage from the long lines. He drove the vehicle up to us and stopped. Cael limped forward and reached our for the door.

  The horses whinnied and leapt forward. Cael jumped back and barely escaped his legs being caught beneath the wheel. Moray caught him before he stumbled backwards into the mud, and righted him.

  "Are you unhurt?" Moray asked him.

  Cael shrugged off his friend's hands and nodded. His lips were pursed tightly together and his eyes were a shade closer to yellow. "Aye, but what in the blazes could be wrong. Here now, Hearn! What's the matter!" He limped over to the box where the man held the reins.