The Beltane Fires by Janet MacLeod Trotter

Author:Janet MacLeod Trotter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MacLeod Trotter Books
Published: 2011-03-14T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Mairi joined Lucy and Alexander, her heart still thumping at the shock of her encounter with Douglas, and Boswell’s startling appearance.

‘You look flustered sister,’ Alexander saw her flaming cheeks with concern. ‘Are you unwell?’

Mairi braved a smile, ‘No Sandy, it is just oppressively hot in here.’

Lucy was not taken in by the excuse. She had been watching her friend’s moves and had seen both Roskill and Boswell follow in her direction. She hoped nothing untoward had happened.

‘Perhaps we could take a stroll?’ Lucy suggested. ‘I’m sure your brother would like to see the grounds, Mairi.’ Alexander’s fair face blushed with pleasure and his youngest sister wondered fleetingly if there was anyone at home who kept his heart or whether Lucy Seton was special in his eyes? He had not married, being too busy seeing to the affairs of his family to look after his own interests.

‘I would welcome the night air away from the formality of a Lowland supper,’ he replied with a smile.

‘Oh, you must tell us about your wild Highland feasts then,’ Lucy put a hand on his arm and giggled. Mairi glanced anxiously at the entrance to the Hall and saw Boswell reappear. She accepted Lucy’s plan hurriedly.

With increasing alarm she noticed the brazen courtier scanning the room. Mairi dropped her gaze so that he could not single her out. They made their way towards the door as he moved away and with relief, Mairi saw him go to Isabel’s side. Long may it continue, she thought fervently. He had delighted in provoking Douglas and played shamelessly with her. What was it Douglas had been about to say to her in the Gallery? She might never know, for she had rebuffed him and then Boswell had destroyed their meeting.

As they reached the entrance, the curtain moved and Douglas stood before them. For a moment Mairi stopped breathing as he looked from her to Alexander with his jet-black eyes. He looked in no mood for light conversation.

‘Miss Seton, Lismore,’ Douglas nodded at them curtly, ignoring his stepsister. It galled him to see her so at ease in the company of her relation, as if emphasising the Roskills were of no importance to her now she had found her own again.

‘Roskill,’ Alexander bristled, ‘enjoying yourself with your Danish drinking companions?’ Mairi looked at him in surprise; she had never before heard this sarcastic side of Alexander.

‘And what brings you out of the Highlands?’ Douglas kept his voice level, but Mairi could see a muscle working in his cheek.

‘I’m on no business of yours,’ the fair Chief answered tight-lipped.

‘Come to grovel to the King for your lands, no doubt,’ Douglas could not resist the jibe, ‘like all the other Gaelic chieftains scrabbling to find their so-called charters. Though why they worry over their entitlement to some barren bit of waste, I fail to understand.’

Livid spots of pink spread into Lismore’s cheeks. ‘There is no doubt about my claim to the lands of Lismore,’ he raised his lilting voice angrily.

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