of himself for his own good or anyone else’s and too quick to seek offense where none is meant. Moreover, the proposed alliance would benefit only Clan Comyn, because they want Castle Raitt added to Catriona’s tocher, which is a thing I will not do.”
“So Raitt sits on the land that the Comyns claim.”
“It does, but we drift from the main subject, lad, so tell me more about Davy Stewart. I’ll admit that Scotland has seemed more peaceful since he took on the Governorship.” With a chuckle reminiscent of his granddaughter’s, he added dryly, “I doubt that the King’s life is more peaceful, though.”
“There have been ructions,” Fin admitted. Knowing that it would be unwise to add that the ructions had occurred most often with men whose pretty wives had caught Rothesay’s eye, he said, “Doubtless that is one reason he seeks allies who will at least give an appearance of supporting him against Albany.”
“Aye, well, I want to think a bit more on the matter,” Mackintosh said. “Sithee, the lad does be one to reck nowt, and he is headstrong. But drink up now, Fin of the Battles. They’ll be serving supper after they ring yon bell for vespers.”
“Do you keep a chaplain here, sir, or do you lead a service in the hall?”
“Neither. I leave Kirk matters to parsons, bishops, and the like. But I do want to ken the time of day. They’ll be ringing that bell soon, though, and I warrant ye’ll want to have a wash afore our ladies see ye again.”
“I would, aye,” Fin said, feeling a rush of relief at the respite.
“Ye’ll not have time to go upstairs, so just use the ewer and basin in yonder corner,” Mackintosh added, pointing. “The jib door beside the washstand opens on the service stair. If ye want the garderobe, it lies three steps up on your right.”
Realizing that he would be putting off the inevitable if he delayed further, Fin said, “You did say that you wanted to know more about me, sir.”
“I did, aye, but I want to think now. Forbye, the women will ask ye all that at supper, and I’m thinking I have nae need to hear ye spit out the details twice.”
Having returned to the hall with her grandmother and mother while Morag ran up to get a shawl, Catriona had just begun to think that her grandfather might have ordered supper put back when the inner chamber door opened and he stepped through the doorway. Fin followed him, looking freshly scrubbed but tired.
Immediately feeling guilty again about trying to slap him, Catriona smiled and felt a rush of pleasure when he smiled back. The smile was not the small one she had seen on the hillside earlier but wider and more natural, lighting his eyes and revealing his even white teeth.
The Mackintosh strode to the central chair at the long high table, facing the lower hall, and gestured Fin to the seat at his right. Morag hurried in as the other three women took their places. Lady Annis sat at her husband’s left with Ealga next to her, Morag next to Ealga, and Catriona at the end.
For some time, everyone’s attention fixed on servers who proffered platters of food and jugs of whisky and claret. But when Lady Annis had accepted all that she wanted, she leaned forward and said across her husband to their guest, “One trusts that ye’ve found all ye need, sir. Did they show ye to your chamber?”
“Not yet, my lady,” he said. “We talked too long.”
Catriona had leaned forward when her grandmother did, and his gaze caught hers long enough for her to smile before he shifted it politely back to Lady Annis.
“What did ye talk about?” her ladyship demanded of him.
If the question disconcerted Fin, he did not show it. But the Mackintosh said curtly, “What we discussed concerns others, my lady, and will remain between us.”
The emphasis on that single word made Catriona look to her mother, hoping that Ealga might understand what he meant. But Ealga watched her own mother.
Lady Annis kept a gimlet gaze on her husband but turned it at last to Fin and said, “Do such concerns include where ye hail from, Fin of the Battles?”
“At present, my lady, I come from the Scottish Borders,” he said.
“Ye’re not a Borderer by birth, I trow,” she said. “Ye lack the sound and manner of such. Ye sound like ye hail from a place nearer to Glen Mòr.”