A short time later the hall began to empty, the fighters still animated at the story Ambrose had told. Several groups of the clan council entered the hall, and as tables were being cleared, Celia and the others stood in clusters in the open space between the tables.
“Colin,” Celia said quietly, taking him aside. “Would you mind if I worked out in your garden this morning?”
“It's our garden, now, Celia,” Colin answered in a low voice.
“Will you be able to join me there for a few moments?” Celia still wanted to talk to Colin. She still needed to share her last secret with him.
“Join you? What did you have in mind for me, Lady Muir?” Colin asked suggestively.
“Stop it,” she responded, blushing. “Really, you do have a one-track mind.”
“And it hasn't crossed your mind this morning?” Colin asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Aye, Colin, it has,” Celia replied, gazing steadily into his eyes.
Colin felt a pang of desire for this woman stir in his loins. He knew in his heart that he could get lost in the crystalline blackness of Celia's eyes. He wanted her, now and forever.
“If you're not in too big a hurry to get outside,” Colin began mischievously. “I think we have a few moments to...to discuss gardening plans...in my room.”
Before Celia could answer, Ambrose and Alec came up beside her.
“Lady Celia,” the younger Macpherson said. “You do not know how delighted I am finally to have gotten the opportunity to meet you. Along with the rest of your admirers, I was heartily saddened when I heard that you left court for Engl—”
“Ahem!” Alec interrupted, in an attempt to save his brother's good standing with the Campbells. “Not to slight your good opinion of Lady Muir, Ambrose, but I'm sure I've heard you proclaim your admiration for other—”
“But none like Lady Celia, Alec,” Ambrose protested. “I've always...”
Ambrose stopped short as Colin moved closer to Celia and took her hand in his. The fierce scowl that he saw in the giant warrior's face spoke volumes, and the younger Macpherson realized that he was treading on very dangerous ground.
“...I've always...thought Lady Muir the finest sailor I've ever lost to.”
Celia glanced up at Colin's face and nearly laughed aloud.
“She's not only a great sailor, Ambrose,” Alec continued, trying to steer the conversation. “She's also incredibly knowledgeable about healing. She could probably cure leprosy. She’s cured my motion sickness!”
“You aren't serious, Alec?” Ambrose asked uncertainly.
“Aye,” Colin confirmed. “Since Celia gave him the remedy, Alec's been out on my boats more than he's been on land.”
“If you gentlemen will excuse me, I've heard enough about my good deeds for one day, thank you.”
Colin walked toward the doorway with her.
“I'll join you after I meet with the clan council and Ambrose,” he promised. “I clearly cannot leave you alone too long with all these new rivals appearing.”
“In the whole world, Colin,” Celia answered softly, “you have no rival.”
Colin squeezed her hand gently, and she turned toward the door.
The dew on the plants sparkled like jewels in the brilliant sunlight. As Celia explored the garden, looking more carefully at the overgrown plants and general neglect, she thought that a great deal could be accomplished with a sharp pruning knife and some hard work. It was just what she needed.
Ellen and Kit stayed with her for a short while, and Runt even joined them there, moving back and forth between helping Celia with the brush she was clearing and chatting affectionately with Ellen.
As Celia worked in one quadrant, she noticed that Runt was piling the brush by a hedge-like growth about halfway down the garden wall. Pulling back the hedge, she saw a small oaken door, heavily barred and moss-covered from disuse.
“I thought we could take the brush out into the training grounds through there, m'lady,” Runt said, coming up behind Celia.
“That's a good idea, Runt. I should have figured there'd be another entrance. Why don't we just clear this away and take it all out now?”
“We need to ask Lord Hugh before unbarring the door, m'lady.”
“Why, Runt? What's beyond the door?” Celia asked.
“The small garden around the family crypt, m'lady,” he responded. “That's where Lord Colin's mother is buried.”
Celia hadn't even thought up to now about the final resting place of Lady Campbell. Thinking about her now, Celia wished that she knew more about the woman. She was clearly venerated even now, twenty-five years after her death. And why shouldn't she be? Celia thought; she'd produced a family that was both strong and loving. In Colin, Celia saw Hugh’s strength and courage, but there was also compassion, understanding, trust, and love.
The sun was getting high overhead, and Celia could hear Kit beginning to fuss. Returning to Ellen, she asked Runt if he wouldn't mind accompanying them up to Ellen's room. Runt brightened visibly at the prospect.
“I'll be along shortly,” Celia teased benignly.
More than an hour later Celia was still hard at work. The sun and the effort had warmed her considerably, and she had rolled up her sleeves in a futile attempt to keep her dress clean. Her hands were scratched and filthy from the briers and the cold, wet soil. And her face and dress were mere reflections of her hands.
But the garden was a different place. Straightening up and stretching her back, Celia looked proudly at the huge pile of brush that she had pruned from the rosebushes and the hedges. The flower beds in the quadrant where Ellen and Kit had played were also considerably neater. Even the small section of herbs that had once formed an intricate knot garden was beginning to take shape. But there was still so much more to do, and Celia was excited about doing it.
Celia was looking at the cherry tree by the terrace, still brilliant in its vernal raiment of pink and white, when she saw Colin step out onto the terrace. She smiled brightly, taking a step toward him, but her smile froze on her lips when she saw the anger that clouded his features.
She just stood there watching as he approached her. All the fears, all the insecurities that she had overcome since arriving here at Kildalton, all were revived in an instant. The look in Colin's eyes brought back the bleak, empty feeling that she'd lived with for so long.
“You didn't tell me,” he growled accusingly. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“Colin, I...” she began helplessly.
Chapter 12
He only told us because of the discontent. This is planting time, and still we are moving north. The grumbling is getting louder, and there are even whispers of mutiny. So the devil tells us. Get the baby, he tells us. Or get the woman. She will bring us the baby in exchange. And then we will go home. By the king's order, we will go home.
But he will say anything, the devil.
Ambrose had brought them news. Not only news of Danvers's and Argyll's combined efforts in the Highlands, but also news of a missing bairn. Ambrose had told them how the queen had been unable to produce the Crown Prince, a concern since no one outside of her household had even seen the bairn for over two months. Ambrose related that there were even rumors that the Queen had sent the prince to her brother in England. But there was no news from England that intimated in any way that the prince was there.
All anyone knew for certain was that Huntly and the other nobles were negotiating a peace with the English king that would assure the Stewart prince's safety and sovereignty. But still, the actual whereabouts of the little prince was uncertain.
But as soon as Colin heard Ambrose speak, he'd known where the bairn was. It hadn't been too difficult to piece together the events.
“He's the Crown Prince,” Colin rasped through clenched teeth. “Isn't he?”
His face was black with the fury raging just below the surface. Celia felt a squeezing pain in her heart as she watched the muscles in his jaw contracting over and over.
“Aye, Colin,” Celia said steadily. “He is.”
“Why didn't you tell me?” he shouted, taking her by the wrists.
“I tried to tell you,” she pleaded. His grip was hurting her, but she was determined not to fight him. She had intended to tell him. He had every right to be angry.
“Obviously, not hard enough,” Colin spat out, releasing her and turning from her. “Why did you bring him here, anyway?”
“That wasn't what we planned...originally. Colin, let me—”
“Then how did I become part of your scheme?” Colin interrupted, turning back to her, his anger only barely covering the pain in his eyes.
“There was never any ‘scheme’ when it came to you, Colin,” she said in a quiet voice. His look hurt her.
“You expect me to believe that after all the lies?” he responded with scorn in his voice. “From the moment you arrived here, you've been hiding things. Everything about you has been a mystery or a lie.”
“You must believe what your heart tells you to believe,” she said, knowing her pain and disbelief were evident in her face.
“You talk about my heart,” Colin shot back furiously. “You used me. You used my family and my people for your own mercenary ends.”
So, this is what it comes down to, Celia thought. Mercenary. Like father, like daughter. This is what he thinks of her. Of her father.