Amanda Scott (37 page)

“Aye, there will be,” Pinkie said, looking around the damp courtyard. Seeing one of the cook’s two children watching them curiously from a doorway, she called him over to her.

He was about the same age, she realized, that Chuff had been when he and she had lived briefly at Shian Towers. The boy looked her up and down before he said, “Miss Pinkie, be that you?”

Bridget said sternly, “You must call her—”

“Hush,” Pinkie said. “There is no need to stand on ceremony now. Yes, Tam, it’s me, and this is Lady Bridget. Tell your mam that we shall want breakfast—porridge, at least, and some toast. Come along, Bridget,” she added as the boy ran off. “Let us find a place to change our clothes before we scandalize all these men.”

“I don’t want to put that horrid dress on again,” Bridget said.

“Then I will, and you can wear the other one,” Pinkie said. “I do not have any clothes here. When we come, we generally stay across the loch at Dunraven.”

“Then why did we come to Shian?”

Not wanting to admit that she felt safer at Shian because of her ghost, Pinkie said only, “Because if Sir Renfrew should chance to follow us to Loch Creran, he is more likely to go to Dunraven than to come to Shian, that’s why. The point of this exercise, you will recall, is to keep you out of his hands until your brother can find us and take you under his protection. If he can obtain an annulment, it will be as if you never married Sir Renfrew.”

“Then I wish Michael would find us,” Bridget said. “Are you sure that Sir Renfrew will not find us first?”

“He should not do so before we can get word of our whereabouts to Balcardane Castle and Dunraven. Our men will not tell Sir Renfrew where we are, of course, but their knowing will help Kintyre find us before he does.”

She was soon to learn how mistaken she was. She and Bridget were still sitting at the dining table, and the cook’s little daughter had just brought more hot water for their tea when one of the men ran in, yelling, “There be boats coming to the dock, Miss Pinkie, three of them!”

Jumping to her feet, she said, “Is it Himself or Lord MacCrichton?”

“Neither, miss. Two of the boats be filled with armed men, and we dinna ken their leader. He’s a big man, and squinty-eyed, with his wig abristle in the wind.”

T
HANKS TO THE GATHERING
storm and gusting winds, it was late morning before Michael and Chuff landed at Oban, several hours behind schedule. Cailean had grown stronger and seemed more his usual self, but Michael knew the dog would not be fully recovered for some time.

When they disembarked, before Michael had even begun looking for a boat to take them to Mingary, he heard a familiar voice shouting his name.

“That’s Connal,” he exclaimed. “What can have brought him to Oban this morning from Mingary?”

“He’s your man?”

“Aye, and he’s no business to be here unless…” He left the rest of the sentence unspoken as he hurried to meet his henchman. “What is it, Connal?” he demanded. “Have you had word from Lady Bridget?”

“Nay, laird,” Connal said. “Not to say word
from
her, but dawn visitors brought us word, as ye might say,
of
her ladyship.” He looked curiously at Chuff.

“That’s Lord MacCrichton,” Michael said curtly, adding in an even harsher tone, “What visitors, man? Come, speak up.”

Chuff said calmly, “Stop snarling at the poor man, Michael. You’ll scare the liver and lights out of him.”

Connal grinned, “Nay, then, he willna do that, m’lord. I’ll no deny he’s looking gey fierce, but I’ve known his lordship since we were lads together, and I’ve known Lady Bridget from her cradle.”

“Where is she, Connal? Sir Renfrew Campbell abducted her from London.”

“So I thought, laird, since it were Sir Renfrew himself that banged on the gate at dawn this morning, looking for his wife, he said.”

“The devil you say!”

“Aye, and there’s another thing.” Connal shot a quizzical look at his master. “He were looking for Lady Kintyre, as well. Said she were with Lady Campbell, as he called our Lady Bridget.”

“Did he happen to explain when his marriage took place, or how he happened to misplace his bride and Lady Kintyre?” Michael asked grimly.

“Said he married her at sundown yesterday. He didna say how he chanced to lose the pair o’ them. Is it true then, that the other lass is Lady Kintyre, laird?”

“It is. She is my wife, Connal, and if you have any notion where she is bound, I want to know. We’ve got to find them before Campbell does.”

“They’ll make for Balcardane if Pinkie has her way,” Chuff said, “and knowing them both, I’d guess she will make the decisions.”

“I don’t know,” Michael said. “Bridget is…”

“We all know what she is,” Chuff said when he hesitated, “but you and I also know Pinkie. Since they did not go straight to Mingary, she is calling the tune.”

Michael nodded and turned back to Connal. “You have a boat, do you not? We’ll take it and make for Balcardane at once.”

Connal shook his head. “The wind be fierce, laird, and blowing straight from the north. There’s a storm brewing, too,” he added, gesturing toward a sky growing darker by the minute. “I’m thinking we’d better borrow horses, or hire them.”

“How far is it to Balcardane from here?” Michael asked Chuff.

“Twenty-five miles or so, but it is a fair enough road.”

“It won’t remain fair for long in a driving rain,” Michael said when raindrops spattered his face. Feeling increasing urgency, he made up his mind and said, “Hire or borrow them, Connal, but find good horses. I want to be off within the hour.”

“Aye, laird,” Connal said. “I ken just who will lend them. Mayhap they’ll lend us a hand, too, in case we hear word o’ the lasses before we reach Balcardane.”

Michael agreed, and his man soon returned with three stout-looking geldings, several men who had agreed to ride with them, and packets of food one of their wives had sent along. Transferring what baggage they had brought to saddlebags, Michael, Chuff, and their henchmen were soon off, heading right into the storm.

The urgency Michael felt increased more as they rode until Chuff said, “We can take the track up Glen Creran through the hill pass. Not only is it shorter, but on the way we can collect men from Dunraven to ride with us.”

Michael’s thoughts had shifted to another track, and mention of Dunraven stirred them anew. “What is Dunraven like?” he asked. “Does it have high walls with round towers at each end, and a sort of tower-house keep?”

“Dunraven’s more like a manor house,” Chuff said. “It had a curtain wall long ago, but the side facing the loch has come down and most of the wall is in ruins. The place hasn’t been attacked in nearly fifteen years, after all.”

“Balcardane was not the one, either,” Michael muttered. When Chuff glanced at him curiously, he said self-consciously, “Is there a castle hereabouts like the one I just described?”

“It sounded more like Shian Towers than any other I know,” Chuff said.

“Your place?”

“Aye.”

“You will think me mad, but does Shian by chance possess a bottle dungeon beneath the great-hall floor?”

Clearly astonished, Chuff said, “Aye, it does. Have you been to Shian?”

“No. Are there thick woods on a hillside behind the castle, standing off away from it in a sort of a semicircle?”

“There are. What the devil is this, Michael? How can you know so much?”

“Very thick woods, and there is a burn flowing through them that comes down a nearby glen, with a pass at its head?”

“Exactly so. That is the River Creran, but how can you know all this if you have never visited the place?”

“I dreamed it,” Michael said. “There are three entrances to the courtyard—the main entrance, a postern gate, and a water gate. Prom the postern, one crosses diagonally to the keep, which forms the southwest corner of the curtain wall.”

“Aye, that ’s it, for a fact. What else do you know?”

Closing his eyes, Michael said, “Wood steps lead to the entry, with an iron yett behind an ironbound, wooden door that opens onto a spiral stone stairway. At the first level lies the hall, where a trapdoor opens into the dungeon. At least one man died there some years ago.”

Chuff’s eyes were wide. “Faith, do you know how he died?”

“I believe that a child was there, perhaps two. One of them—”

“Faith, sir, say no more! You are raising the hairs on the back of my neck.”

“My own, too, but I think we head for Shian now, not Balcardane.”

“I know that Pinkie would head for Balcardane,” Chuff insisted. “There are few men-at-arms at Shian, and they would provide her small protection.”

“To get to Balcardane, she would have had to take a boat, would she not?”

“Aye, but we’ve kinsmen in Moidart and Morar who might have helped her.”

“I’m thinking, even if they did, unless she headed north from Dunbeither, through Glen Finnan to Fort William—a great distance—she would have had to sail into the wind. Under the circumstances, she would be more likely, I think, to make for Loch Creran, especially with two havens on the loch from which to choose.”

“Then she would make for Dunraven. Duncan keeps a full contingent there.”

“If we go to Dunraven and she is at Shian, how long will it take us to get to her? Are there boats? Can we sail across the loch quickly? How long to ride round the loch if need be?”

Chuff frowned. “There are boats aplenty, but again we would be fighting the wind. There are boats at Shian, too, and we could get to Dunraven quickly. To ride from one to the other around the loch would take about half an hour.”

“Then it’s settled. We’ll send some of these men to Dunraven, in case they are needed there, but we’ll make for Shian ourselves. I know she is there, Chuff.”

“You are not talking about Bridget now, are you?”

“Nay, lad, I mean my wife, and she’s in danger, mortal danger. Let’s ride!”

Spurring after him, Chuff said, “Did Pinkie tell you about her ghost?”

“Aye, she did.”

“Did you tell her about these dreams of yours?”

“I did not.”

“Well, I think perhaps you should.”

Michael grimaced at the understatement. “First I must find her,” he said. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and his stomach tightened at the thought that they might be too late. He would not let that happen.

The men at Shian put up no fight against the visitors, who came heavily armed. Chuff’s men, having had little cause over the years to maintain full preparation for war, were ill-prepared to deal with them. Rather than see anyone killed, Pinkie had ordered them to admit the intruders.

Sir Renfrew entered the hall with an arrogant stride. “I dare swear you two lassies didna expect to see me so soon.”

“We hoped not to see you at all,” Bridget snapped.

Seeing him glower, and the cook’s little daughter, Flora, backing out of his way in fright, Pinkie said quickly, “How did you find us so fast, sir?”

“Met your helmsman when he returned to the mouth of Glen Tarbert,” Sir Renfrew said. “My men persuaded him to tell us exactly where he had taken you.”

“You didn’t murder the poor lad, I hope,” Pinkie exclaimed. “He is scarcely more than a child and was only doing us a kindness.”

“I do not harm bairns,” Sir Renfrew said with a sniff. “It took no more than a wee hint that we would burn down his family’s cottage if he did not tell us what we wanted to know. And now, madam, I must ask you to leave us. I have unfinished business with my wife that will wait no longer.”

“What business?” Bridget demanded suspiciously.

He leered. “Ye ken well what business, lass. I’d meant our first coupling to be private, as such times between man and wife should be, but given present circumstances, and the fact that ye might dare to demand annulment on grounds that we never consummated our marriage, I mean to ha’ witnesses now when we do.”

Bridget gave a shriek of dismay. “How dare you even think such a thing!”

“I am your rightful husband, lass. That is how I dare. You will recall that I promised you a whipping, too,” he added, grabbing her by an arm when she tried to step away. “Take that wee bairn with you,” he said to Pinkie, pointing to the cook’s little Flora, who stared wide-eyed at him from where she stood by the fireplace, still holding her kettle. “This be no sight for the likes of her.”

“Put the kettle on the hob, Flora,” Pinkie said. “Then come with me.”

“You go along, too,” Sir Renfrew ordered one of his men. “See that her ladyship is locked up in a room upstairs, where she canna get free. I dinna want her creeping up behind me again. Thanks to her, I’ve a knot on my head the size of an apple. Set men on guard throughout the castle, too,” he added. “I dinna want anyone leaving till I say they can go.”

Pinkie pushed the little girl ahead of her into the stairwell. Then, hurrying up the steps so the henchman would not be near enough to hear, she murmured, “Flora, you must tell your mam we need help. Tell her to send someone to Dunraven as quickly as they can go, and tell them to send as many men to us as they can.”

“That man said no one can leave,” the child whispered back.

“I know, but your mam must find someone willing to take the risk. Our very lives may depend on it Now, hurry ahead, lassie; then go down the service stair from the next level. Sir Renfrew gave no orders about you, and I do not think that man behind us will bother to look for you.”

Obediently, the child ran on, and since the spiral stairway had hidden her from the man behind them from the start, Pinkie hoped he would not remember that the child had been with her. At the first landing, she paused.

He said gruffly, “Be this the top level?”

“No, there is another.”

“Go up, then, lass. We must be sure ye canna jump out a window.” He chuckled at what he clearly thought was a joke—and, indeed, since any window at that level was thirty feet above the ground, it was a joke to think she might jump.

Pretending a meekness that she did not feel, Pinkie went to the tower bedchamber at the top of the stairs and pushed open the door, pulling the key from the lock as she did so and hoping he would think it was kept elsewhere.