Free Amanda Scott by Highland Spirits Page B

night at Kilmory Inn, and he craves only a few moments of your time.”
    “Very well,” Michael replied, realizing that Campbell must have sailed from Loch Moidart to Kilmory on Ardnamurchan’s north coast, and hired horses there. The journey from Loch Moidart to Mingary by road—if the meandering rough dirt track could be called a road—was nearly twenty-five miles and could take as much as two days. By sea it was only eleven miles and, with a favorable wind, could be accomplished in about an hour.
    “Give Lady Bridget five minutes to disappear, then bring him up,” Michael said, adding when the servant had gone, “I wonder what the devil he wants.”
    “You know what he wants,” Bridget exclaimed. “He wants me!”
    “Aye, well, I’ve already said he cannot have you. Now, if you do not want to see him, take yourself off to your bedchamber until he’s gone.”
    For once she did not argue but hurried away. A few minutes later the servant showed Sir Renfrew Campbell into the room.
    Gesturing toward a chair, Michael said, “Will you take a mug of ale, sir?”
    “I will,” Campbell said, drawing the chair up near Michael’s desk and sitting down. “’Tis a dry day and all, it is.”
    When the servant went to fetch ale, Michael said, “How may I serve you?”
    “I’ll tell ye, lad. The plain fact is that I canna understand your reluctance to pay your debt off without all this dallying about over the matter.”
    “I mean to pay the debt in full,” Michael said. “There is still time, I believe.”
    “Aye, sure, perhaps. Still, ’tis a fact and all that your father would have accepted the arrangement I’ve so generously offered to ye.”
    “I cannot speak for my father, sir. Thank you, Connal,” he added when the servant returned with their ale in mugs on a tray. Setting his on the desk, Michael waited only until the servant had gone again before he said, “You’ve made a long journey for naught, sir. I will give you neither my sister nor my timber.”
    Campbell drank deeply from his mug. Then, setting it down, he said bluntly, “Ye’re making a mistake, lad, but I’m a generous man. I said I would tak’ the lass and your timberlands in lieu o’ half the debt. What if I were to tak’ the same and write off three-quarters instead? No man can say that is not a fair offer.”
    Since he would have to forfeit all but the castle if he could not pay the debt by the first of June, Michael knew the offer was fair. Nonetheless, he said, “I cannot do it, sir. Even if my sister were old enough, she does not want to marry you. Nor do I want my forests cut down and burned to provide the English with more iron.”
    “Ye’d let a wee lass flout your wishes? Ye’re a fool then, Kintyre.” Sir Renfrew got to his feet, his expression grim. “I willna heat cold cabbage, lad, so ye’ll rue the day ye didna tak’ such a fine and charitable offer.”
    “I might,” Michael admitted.
    “Aye, well, dinna think that when ye canna raise the gelt, ye can come to me wi’ your hat in your hand. Until the first day o’ June, I’ll tak’ the lass and forests for half what ye owe, but after that I’ll tak’ it all. Not only will I never offer again what I’ve offered today, but forbye, ye’ll find it doesna pay to thwart me, laddie.”
    Michael would have liked to point out that his superior rank demanded more respect, but with little substance to back the demand, he decided to overlook the man’s manners. In truth, Campbell gave him the shivers, and the sooner he saw the back of him the better he would like it. Consequently, he replied as politely as he could and rang for Connal to show his guest out again. He did not accompany him to the stables, or urge him to linger long enough to dine.
    Sir Renfrew had not expected an invitation. Indeed, not trusting his host any more than he knew his host could trust him, he had left his own man to mind the horses, with orders not to let them out of his sight.
    When