169. A Cheiftain finds Love (The Eternal Collection) Read online

  “That they would dispose of you?”

  There was a cynical note in the Duke’s voice that told her he thought that she was hysterical.

  She therefore turned again to the door, but Harry was standing in front of it.

  “Of course you were frightened,” he said. “If they had found out you were listening to their scheming, it is doubtful if they would have allowed you to escape to tell the Duke what was being planned.”

  “I-I was very frightened,” Isa admitted, “and, when I reached home, I wanted to tell my father.”

  “Surely he was the first person you should have consulted,” the Duke remarked as if he wished to find fault.

  “I thought of it, but because the men sounded so determined that they would not be interfered with by you, Your Grace, I realised that my father and mother, who are both getting old, are also very vulnerable.”

  “I find it hard to credit,” the Duke said, “that these men can intend to go about the countryside killing people indiscriminately, simply because they believe that they are on the track of some mythical treasure, which I personally have never believed in.”

  “I cannot see why not,” Isa replied. “After all, it is a tale that has been handed down for generation after generation.”

  She drew in her breath and went on,

  “I have always understood that your great-grandfather who rebuilt The Castle as it is now on the old site, often spoke longingly of the treasure which was never found and for which so many people have searched only to be disappointed.”

  “Disappointed because it is not there!” the Duke said sharply.

  “That is your opinion,” Isa said, and now there was an angry note in her voice. “But it is a story that is part of our history and I do not believe that there is a McNaver alive who would not be shocked if they knew that Your Grace thought it merely a figment of the imagination!”

  Her voice seemed to ring out.

  The Duke was aware that Harry’s eyes were twinkling because this slim girl with her strange red hair was brave enough to confront him.

  “If I am prepared to believe both in the treasure and also in these peculiar and unscrupulous men,” the Duke said, “what do you suggest, Miss McNaver, I should do about it?”

  “I have no idea, Your Grace,” Isa said coldly. “At least if you die unexpectedly your blood will not be on my hands.”

  “On the contrary,” the Duke pointed out. “You are the only person aware of my enemies, so if I die because you have not been able to identify them, I imagine that it will be on your conscience for the rest of your life.”

  Isa was still.

  “What does Your Grace – mean?” she enquired.

  “What I mean,” he said, “is quite simple. You have heard these men speak, you realised that one of them, though you don’t know his name, is a Scotsman and you have heard another voice you are ready to say was English. That would be some guide to their identification.”

  “Are you suggesting, Your Grace, that I find these men for you?”

  “Of course,” the Duke replied. “What else can you do, unless you are prepared, like Pontius Pilate, to wash your hands of me?”

  Isa’s eyes seemed to sparkle with anger.

  “As Your Grace is making a joke of the – whole thing,” she retorted, “I can only repeat that I have done my duty and I now hope to forget the whole episode.”

  “That is something you will be unable to do,” Harry said quietly. “However much you may try to forget, you will wonder every day and every night from now onwards whether the three men have found the treasure and if they have disposed of the Duke.”

  “It is not my business,” Isa insisted.

  “As a member of the McNaver Clan,” the Duke replied, “you know as well as I do that we are indissolubly linked together by blood, by tradition and by the obedience that every Clansman owes to his Chieftain!”

  Now he was speaking quite sincerely and Isa stared at him as if she could hardly believe what he was saying.

  Then because the very quietness of the way he spoke was somehow more intimidating that his cynicism, she asked helplessly,

  “What – can I – do?”

  “Leave that to us to decide,” Harry interposed, “but please, come back and sit down. You know perfectly well that we cannot allow the Duke to be killed in cold blood just because he is too stupid or too brave to admit that he is in danger.”

  “Really, Harry!” the Duke expostulated.

  “It’s true, Bruce! Do you not see that it is true and that you are being extremely stupid? Of course Miss McNaver was absolutely right to come and tell you what she overheard.”

  The Duke made a murmur, but he did not interrupt as Harry went on,

  “If these criminals really believe that they can get their hands on a treasure of such value, they would certainly kill you if you tried to interfere.”

  “You really believe that?” the Duke asked incredulously.

  “Of course I believe it,” Harry said. “Good Heavens, I have not read the history of this barbarous land or listened to you making my flesh creep with stories of your battles without realising how primitive the Scots still are in many ways.”

  “Thank you,” the Duke said sarcastically.

  “The person you should be thanking is Miss McNaver,” Harry declared. “I personally think that it was very brave of her to come here and tell you a tale, which it would be easy for you to dismiss as fiction. And yet, if you are murdered, we could never forgive ourselves.”

  It flashed through Isa’s mind that it would serve the Duke right.

  Then she knew that Harry Vernon was talking sense.

  It would be a disaster for the Clan if the Duke was killed when he had no direct heir to inherit.

  She vaguely remembered that the Heir Presumptive to the Dukedom was a cousin who spent most of his time in London.

  He was reputed to be extremely raffish and not in the least interested in his Scottish ancestry.

  Suddenly because she loved Scotland and because it meant so much to her, she said in a very different tone from the one she had used before,

  “Please – Your Grace – for the sake of the Clan, you must take care of – yourself!”

  “That is exactly what I am trying to say,” Harry agreed.

  “You know as well as I do,” Isa said, “that many Clans have lost their Chieftains who have gone South and forgotten their obligations and also that, owing to the Clearances, thousands of Scots were scattered and forgotten.”

  She drew in her breath as she added,

  “If you die – everything might be – very different for the McNavers.”

  As she finished speaking there was silence.

  She had no idea that because she spoke so beautifully and her voice was almost magnetic both men had been listening spellbound.

  The Duke then capitulated.

  “You are right, Miss McNaver,” he said quietly, “and apologise for what I realise now was a very rude reception of what you had to tell me. Now, as my friend Harry has said, you must help me.”

  “I do not see how I can do that,” Isa said quickly.

  “It is quite simple,” the Duke replied. “Somehow, in some way, you have to identify the three men you overheard talking in the cave.”

  “How can I – possibly do – that?” Isa asked with a helpless little note in her voice.

  “I think the first thing for you to do,” the Duke suggested, “is to come and stay here in The Castle. You will then be able to ascertain if the Scotsman is somebody close to me or someone perhaps actually living here.”

  Isa was astonished and her eyes seemed to fill her whole face as she stared at the Duke.

  Then she asked hesitatingly,

  “Are you – really asking me to – stay?”

  “I have a number of guests arriving today,” the Duke said with a smile. “If you are one of them, no one will be surprised, especially as I am giving a ball on Thursday.”

>   “A – ball?” Isa exclaimed. “There has never been a ball at The Castle!”

  “Well, now there will be,” the Duke said, “and what could give you a better opportunity to observe my guests and perhaps identify the ones who intend to murder me?”

  Chapter Three

  Isa stared out of the bedroom window at the lights that illuminated the garden and thought it looked like Fairyland.

  Never had she imagined that she would ever be a guest at Strathnaver Castle.

  It was a thrill to know that The Castle was looking more majestic and more impressive than she had ever seen it.

  It was not only the pipers who greeted the guests when they arrived or the Duke’s standard flying from the highest tower.

  It was, she learnt, that the whole of the garden surrounding the building itself was to be illuminated with fairy lights and Chinese lanterns were to be hung from the trees.

  She had been to a ball in Edinburgh and also several in London.

  This, however, was particularly exciting because it was given by the Chieftain of her own Clan and she knew that a great number of his guests would be McNavers.

  She had been disappointed that the Duke had not suggested inviting her father and mother.

  Her father had at first considered it an insult that she was asked alone.

  But when she explained that the Duke’s grandmother was to play hostess for him, he and her mother could only relent and say that she was very fortunate to be included.

  At the same time there was a little ache in her heart because her father had been ignored.

  She thought that the Duke was proud, overbearing and too autocratic.

  She had the feeling, although he said nothing to substantiate it, that he still did not believe her story.

  She would in fact have been very perturbed if she had heard the conversation he had with Harry after she left.

  They had both seen her off at The Castle door.

  They had then been slightly amused, although they had not said so, that she had ridden over without wearing a riding habit.

  She had thought that it would be somewhat embarrassing to walk about the house in a habit and hers was very old and threadbare as she had not been riding while she was in London.

  When she was at home, if she wished to go somewhere on the moors or along the seashore, she would jump on the back of a horse just as she was without changing.

  As her pleated skirt was very full, once she was in the saddle it would have been difficult for anybody who was not specially discerning to realise that she was actually not wearing a conventional habit.

  She certainly looked exceedingly pretty in her green jacket, the sun glinting on her red hair as it showed under her small hat.

  When she had ridden away out of earshot, Harry said,

  “Well, that was a surprise! I did not expect to find anything so lovely as far North as this.”

  “You insult the Highlands,” the Duke retorted and then added, “As a matter of fact I am as surprised as you are. I cannot think why I have not seen her before.”

  “You must have lost your eyesight,” Harry laughed, “if you let that beauty pass by without your noticing it!”

  They walked back into The Castle and the Duke said,

  “I cannot help being amused at her ingenious way of getting asked to the ball.”

  Harry looked at him in surprise.

  “Are you suggesting – ?”

  “Of course I am!” the Duke replied. “She heard about the ball and was determined, one way or another, to procure an invitation.”

  “I must admit that it never crossed my mind,” Harry said, “but I suppose it’s a possibility.”

  “You are not usually so naïve,” the Duke said mockingly, “but we shall soon see if she finds the ‘villain of the piece’ or what explanations she makes when there is no criminal and no treasure!”

  “I think you are very cynical,” Harry riposted accusingly. “I am quite prepared to believe her story from start to finish.”

  “Then I only hope you don’t encourage her to stay for a month and have all the gardeners digging quite uselessly among the flowerbeds.”

  He walked off as he spoke and Harry looked after him with a slight frown between his eyes.

  He had known that his friend Bruce was cynical where women were concerned and that he was also suspicious that they were running after him for his title.

  But he had thought lately that the Duke was becoming even more sceptical.

  He guessed the reason, only he had been hoping that it was not true.

  Isa arriving home was excited and at the same time apprehensive.

  *

  If she went to the ball – which she knew was an irresistible attraction that she could not bear to miss – and saw nothing suspicious among the guests, she would feel exceedingly foolish!

  The Duke would then be quite certain that the whole episode was part of her imagination.

  ‘But it happened – it really happened,’ she told herself reassuringly.

  She was trying to decide whether to tell her father the whole truth or just say that she had been invited to stay at The Castle.

  She was still frightened, even if it seemed ridiculous, that he and her mother might be hurt in some way.

  She decided, although she hated lying, to invent a story.

  She would say that she had met the Duke out riding and he had invited her to his ball.

  She went over her story in her mind several times so that she would not make a mistake.

  When she told her father and mother that there was to be a ball at The Castle and she was to stay there for it, they stared at her in sheer astonishment.

  Finally they agreed that she could not refuse.

  Then there was all the excitement of deciding what she should wear for such an auspicious occasion.

  Fortunately Isa had brought with her two of the gowns that she wore when singing at the Concerts in London.

  She had wanted to show them off to her mother, knowing how interested she would be. Now she thought with relief that she would at least be suitably dressed.

  The ancient carriage that her mother used was made ready to convey her to The Castle on Thursday afternoon.

  Because her mother thought it correct, their old maid was sitting on the small seat opposite her.

  Isa thought that she had slipped back in time.

  She had always been told that The Castle had been the focus for a great many other festivities when the Duke’s great-grandfather was in residence.

  It was he who had rebuilt the Castle and he had been in attendance on King George IV when he had visited Edinburgh and had astounded all his subjects by appearing in the full regalia of Highland dress.

  The Duke had spent a fortune in modernising his Castle and had regularly invited a great number of the English as well as the Scottish Nobility to stay with him.

  In those days they had come by sea and his small private harbour was large enough to hold their ships.

  It was Bruce’s grandfather who had succeeded him and who had to make economies to pay for his extravagance.

  The present Duke was, thanks to his father’s organising ability and his prudent marriage, a very rich man.

  ‘He has everything,’ Isa thought. ‘What could be more satisfying than to own the most beautiful and certainly the most romantic Castle in the North of Scotland?’

  She wondered if he felt the same about it and then she told herself that like so many of the Scottish young men he doubtless preferred the gaieties of the South.

  Especially, she thought mockingly, the alluring women who were to be found in London.

  Isa remembered that when she first appeared at the Concerts that were arranged for her, she was astonished at how beautiful the ladies in the audience were.

  They were outstandingly elegant in their evening dresses.

  Glittering with diamonds and usually wearing tiaras, to Isa, after the wilds of the Highlands and
the Puritanical society she had met in Edinburgh, they were like something out of The Arabian Nights.

  She had only vaguely heard of the professional beauties.

  When she saw them in the audience, she understood how they had captured the imagination of the people. Postcards of them were on sale in the shops and people stood on the chairs in Hyde Park to see them drive by.

  Once, when she had been singing at a special Concert which was attended by the Prince of Wales and Princess Alexandra, she had found it hard not to look at her audience like a child in a sweet shop.

  She almost forgot that she was expected to sing.

  Now, she thought, she might perhaps have a chance of meeting some of these beautiful women who were talked of by everybody in England from the lowliest shop girl to the much-acclaimed musicians she appeared with.

  She had always been interested when she heard the Duke of Strathnaver being talked about in Scotland.

  She was not surprised therefore when his name cropped up in conversation in London.

  He was so good-looking that it was said that the Queen, who always liked handsome men, continually invited him to Buckingham Palace.

  It was reputed that he had refused a position at Court because he believed that it was his duty to spend more time with his own people.

  This was when his father was still alive.

  When he inherited, he returned to Scotland and there was no chance of Isa seeing him at any of her Concerts. Nor did his name appear any more in the Court Circular of The Times.

  Now that she was actually inside The Castle she realised that it was run to a smooth perfection.

  Somehow it was something that she had not expected, but which she was sure that the Duke had learnt in the South.

  On her arrival she stepped out of the old-fashioned carriage and left the maid who had accompanied her to go back to her home in it.

  She entered The Castle to be looked after by a kilted Major Domo who was in command of a number of footmen.

  He in turn passed her over to the housekeeper rustling in black silk with a silver chatelaine hanging from her waist.

  There were two maids to unpack her trunk and she was in a bedroom that did not look out over the sea, but over the gardens behind The Castle, beyond which lay the moors.