The Gathering Storm (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 3)(30)

There was great applause, after which Beth firmly handed the whistle back to the fiddler and walked away before she could be persuaded to play any more.                       
       
           



       

"I thought ye said ye couldna play an instrument," Alex said, his arm round her waist.

"I can't as far as the English are concerned. Can you imagine Clarissa's face if I asked her to accompany me in ‘Geld him, lasses, geld him' on the harpsichord?" She giggled. "Maybe I should do a turn at the next Handel concert. That'd liven things up at Geordie's Court a bit. With a bit of luck he'd have an apoplexy on the spot."

"I doubt it, but it's worth a try. How many tunes d'ye ken?"

"Quite a few, though I'm out of practice. The ironic thing is that I didn't play the one I remember best, because I know the title and am sure that one's a bit rude. I had no idea about the others."

"What's the title, then?" Alex asked.

"'Piss on the grass'," said Beth.

He hugged her to him.

"I wish I'd kent your mother," he said sincerely. "She must have been one hell of a woman."

"She was," said Beth. "And so is my granny." Ealasaid, in spite of her age, had stood and was demonstrating the steps to a complicated ancient dance no one else could remember, a short line of youngsters watching her feet and attempting to copy her. Joan and Meg were amongst them, as was Angus and Allan. Robert was not. Nor was Morag.

"And so are you," murmured Alex in her ear, managing a brief kiss before he was swept away by a group of his clansmen to officiate in a good-natured dispute.



Duncan came up behind Ealasaid, and whispered a few words in her ear. She faltered momentarily in the steps, nodded her head at whatever he'd said, and continued. From there he went to another woman, one of the MacDonald visitors, a black-haired buxom girl with laughing brown eyes. Then he moved to Kenneth, still sitting by the hay, although the claret was long consumed.

Finally he came to Beth, taking her arm as she was just about to accept a cup of whisky.

"Are ye drunk?" he said.

"No not at all," she replied, following as he led her across the room. "I've been dancing, not drinking. Although I intend to remedy that as soon as possible."

"Good," he said. "They've gone."

She did not ask who had gone. Ten seconds later they were out of the barn, standing in the starry darkness, the wind grabbing at their clothes and causing Beth's hair to snake around her head Medusa-like. Duncan removed his bonnet before it could blow away, registered the decimated feather with a brief smile, and then started explaining.

"She left about ten minutes ago, and he followed her no more than a minute since," he said as he hurried her across the clearing in the direction of the stables.

"How do you know they'll be in the stable?" she said.

"It's warm and dry, and there's plenty of soft hay. Small noises'll no' be heard among the horses snuffling. It's where I went to do my illicit courting. It's where everyone goes. They'll be there."

As they got near to the building, he slowed.

"Beth, d'ye think ye can handle this on your own?" he asked.

She stopped, surprised. She knew why he didn't want Alex to handle it. As the chieftain, he would have to deal with it on an official basis and it would become an inter-clan matter. But she thought Duncan intended to sort things out himself and had asked her to accompany him only because there was another woman involved.

He saw the uncertainty in her face, and the puzzlement.

"Robert's your kinsman, Beth, and you're the MacGregor chieftain's wife. And a woman. He's a stupid wee loon wi' no morals and no respect for the rules of hospitality. If I go in there, I've nae doubt his pride'll make him challenge me and force me to fight him. I've nae wish to become involved in another blood feud between the clans. He canna challenge you, and Morag'll no' be so embarrassed at ye finding them as she would be if I did. Can ye do it? I'll be outside in case he does get nasty, though I canna believe even he'd be that stupid."

She gathered herself, trying to think of the right words to say at a moment's notice, then abandoned the effort. She would deal with events as they unfolded.

"Yes," she said, because he was right and she really had no choice. "I can do it." She hesitated for a moment, then slipped silently in through the door of the stable, which the lovers had left ajar.



In the barn Angus had given up trying to learn the new dance, and had noted the absence of Morag and Robert. He was just turning towards the door when he was accosted by a young black-haired woman.                       
       
           



       

"Will ye dance wi' me?" she said, laying her hand on his arm.

He hesitated, searching for an excuse that would not sound rude.

"I'm a wee bit … " he began.

"Only I havena a partner, and you're an awfu' bonny dancer. I've been watching ye. I'd be honoured," she said, persisting, and taking a firm grip on his sleeve.

He could not refuse the MacDonald girl without causing offence, and Angus was at all times aware of the proprieties. He swallowed his frustration and smiled down at her.

"The honour will be mine," he said gallantly, leading her to the floor as the fiddler struck up a reel. Kenneth, who had moved forward in his seat, leaned back again, watching the dancers with lazy interest.



The stable was lit only by a single lantern, but Beth saw the couple immediately, because they were lying directly beneath it, Robert half on top of Morag, his hands busy around her bodice, his silver hair falling over his face.

"I'm no' so sure … " she was saying as Beth stepped silently towards them.

"Come on," he cajoled, slightly breathlessly. "It's fun. I love you, I've tellt ye that. And there's nae harm in it."

"You're wrong, Robert," said Beth loudly and clearly.

The couple exploded apart. Beth noted with relief that while Robert had clearly made some headway in the area of Morag's breasts, one of which she was hastily tucking back into her dress, her skirts were undisturbed.

"There's a whole lot of harm in it. I suggest you tidy yourselves up and go back to the barn now. Separately," Beth advised.

For a moment she thought it would be that easy. Then the initial shock of discovery left Robert's face and was replaced by rebellion.

"She's willing," he said. "I've done nothing wrong."

"Not yet," agreed Beth. "But you're well on the way to it. She's barely fourteen."

"I'm a woman!" said Morag indignantly, emboldened by her lover's attitude. "Have been these last two months!"

"Well, you need to act like one, then," said Beth. "Womanhood brings responsibilities, as I'm sure your mother's told you."

"We werena doing anything wrong," Robert said sullenly.

"I'm glad to hear it," said Beth. "Then you can just go and do nothing wrong back in the barn, in public."

"I dinna have tae listen to you," persisted Robert. "Ye've no authority over me."

"You're right, I haven't," said Beth, to his surprise. "Shall I go and get the chieftain, then? He does have the authority. You're on his land, abusing his hospitality and trying to ruin his clanswoman."

Morag blanched.

"Ye wouldna do that, we're kin," said Robert with the smug confidence of the spoiled youngest child whose previous indiscretions have always been covered by his family.

"We are. But you're forgetting something. The MacGregor is my husband, and I owe my first allegiance to him and his clan. And as your kinswoman, your action here is bringing disgrace on me, to say nothing of the rest of the MacDonalds. Now if you want me to, I'll call the chieftain and we'll make it official. Likely you'll be flogged, if you're lucky. Alex has a nasty temper on him, and it'll not be improved by him being dragged from his wedding celebrations to pass judgement on one who ought to know better. And after that you'll have your great-aunt to deal with. Are you willing to go through all that for a quick tumble in the hay? Unless you're serious about the girl. You said you love her. Do you intend to marry her, then?"

Morag looked at him, clearly expecting him to say he did. She had a lot to learn, Beth thought sadly, seeing her look of distress at Robert's horrified expression.

"It was just a wee bit of fun, that's all. We've no' done anything to give cause for marriage," he said sulkily.

"No you haven't. And because I'm your cousin, and I've no wish to cause my grandmother distress, or tarnish Morag's good name, if you go back now, we'll say no more about the matter. But you'd better not abuse my clan's hospitality again, Robert, for I'll give you no second chances."

He stood, reluctantly, brushing the hay from his kilt, then reached out a hand to Morag, clearly intending to escort her back and make a defiant entrance into the barn. Angus would crucify him, if Duncan's judgement was right.

"No thank you," said Morag, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes blurred with tears. "I'd as soon ye didna speak to me again."