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MacKays, for example. They have no appreciation for subtlety. They would see this plan as the act of a weak man. Anyway, I do not want them to know that you are my cousin.”
    That was probably true; this plan was rather weak.It was also true that they would probably act immediately if they thought the MacLeod was preparing to take the castle by stealth, so for his own safety it was best that Colin’s identity remain hidden.
    “Why, my own stepbrother dared taunt me for not besieging Noltland immediately,” Alasdair complained aggrievedly. “And he threatened to go to the MacDonnells and tell them I was ready to beak my troth with the Glengarry’s daughter.”
    Colin turned and stared. “Torquil did this? And did you banish him?”
    “Aye. Banished him straight to Hell with an axe in his head. I had to, ” Alasdair added pettishly. “I can’t have people carrying tales to the MacDonnells and questioning my judgment. Anyway, it wasn’t as if he was my true blood kin. Mother’s dead now, so there was no one to be bothered by his loss. Anyhow, I did the decent thing and cut out his heart to put in her grave before I gave him up to the sea.”
    “I see.” So it was Torquil’s ghost he’d met on the stairs. Colin tried to feel bad for him, but failed.
    “Four and twenty years is plenty long enough to have learned some sense,” Alasdair continued. “He should have been less stupid if he wanted to live.”
    “One would think so,” Colin agreed, both fascinated and horrified by this person who shared his blood. He wisely did not ask about how Alasdair intended to break his betrothal with Glengarry’s daughter. It would have to be something violent and beyond the usual degree of horribleness, he was sure, for Glengarry very much wanted this match.
    “So you’ll do it, cousin? You’ll go to Noltland and get the heiress for me?”
    Colin looked down at the ugly wool and foundhimself smiling. A master of the golf —forsooth! He had counterfeited many roles in his career, but never this one. It was a vastly amusing notion, given his rather poor style of play. Falconry and archery had received more diligent attention in recent years, and always there was the sword, but golf had been avoided like the Dutch plague. He would be lucky to recall which end of the club was used to hit the ball.
    Of course, the whole situation was farcical madness, and his cousin the most insane one of them all. Any reasonable man would refuse the task and return to his hearth in York before the winter set in.
    “Cousin, you’ll do it?” Alasdair asked again.
    “Aye,” Colin heard himself say. “At least I shall go to Noltland and meet this heiress and see what may reasonably be done to keep the castle from falling to your enemies.”
    He picked up the plaid and draped it about himself, fastening it with his brooch. Then he selected one of the newly made clubs and, after addressing an imaginary ball, affected a brisk swing.
    The MacLeod made an effort to look solemn but ended up hiding his face in his sark’s broad sleeve and pretending to cough. Colin doubted that Alasdair would be so amused when he discovered the alternative plans for the heiress of Noltland that were taking shape in his sassun cousin’s sneaky mind, but Colin saw no need to inform him of them just yet.

C HAPTER T HREE
    O forty miles off Aberdour
‘Tis fifty fathoms deep,
And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
Wi’ the Scots lords at his feet.
    — “The Ballad of Sir Patrick Spens”
    Colin took in the ragged coastline as he was rowed toward the shore in a tiny boat crowded with golf clubs, a large number of traps, four people, and two unhappy sheep. His nose was wrinkled clear to his forehead and he wished for a handkerchief so that he might cover his offended nostrils. The unpleasant briny smell of sea-damp ovine combined with the up-and-down motion of the boat was upsetting his liver.
    Noltland’s gray zed-plan tower looked right at home among the other