After talking through what information and supplies they would need to free Ciarán, they settled into their sleeping arrangements. As they had been all along, the two men were perfect, if awkward, gentlemen. At this point, Mac was simply too tired to care where she slept. Drained by her first day of work as a kitchen maid, Mac made her bed with her two pieces of plaid and settled down for a welcome night’s sleep.
As she lay there, a thought worried her. “How will I know it is time to get up?”
Fergus mumbled, “I’ll wake you, lass.”
“But how will you know?” It seemed a fair question to Mac.
“Och, he’ll know,” Hamish said. “Go to sleep.”
“Okay.” She lay still, unable to sleep, and breathed in the close air of the byre. It smelled just as a byre should. Mac accepted this without complaint, but doing so did not make breathing any easier. To distract herself, she turned her thoughts to the next day. “Guys—uh, lads?”
“Aye?” Hamish grumbled.
“The castle is haunted.”
“Aye?” Fergus said, with a yawn.
“He touched me.”
“Black Andrew?” asked Hamish.
“Wait. You knew about Black Andrew, but you sent me in anyway?”
Ignoring her question, Hamish asked, “How did he touch you?”
“With a lot of enthusiasm.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant.”
Mac could hear the smile in Hamish’s voice as he said, “So he’s friendly, then?”
“Not exactly.”
“Are you sure it was a ghost? Maybe one of the guards—”
“I think I would know if a guard snuck up behind me.” Her biting tone silenced both men. “And if he were a man, I’d have felt something when I kicked him in the crotch, but I didn’t, because no one was there.”
Hamish spoke slowly, with reluctance. “So the stories are true.”
“Yeah, next time maybe you could share them with me.”
“I didnae think they were real.”
Mac’s glare was lost in the darkness. “What stories? You owe me that much.”
Fergus chimed in. “Oh, there once was a laird who forced himself on the women until one day the people attacked him and hanged him outside the room at the top of the tower.”
“You mean the room where Ciarán is.” Mac exhaled. “Thanks. Good to know.”
Fergus’s breathing grew measured and loud. After long moments of quiet, Mac thought Hamish had fallen asleep as well, but he said, “Are you going to be all right? ’Tis not too late to change your mind.”
“No, I came here to help you free Ciarán, and that’s what I’ll do.”
“There’s a good lass. Now get some sleep.”
10
A Simple Plan
In the morning, Mac arrived at the castle with the sole objective of finding the key to Ciarán’s room. Once she did, Hamish and Fergus would find fresh clothing and a razor for Mac to slip under the door to Ciarán. His full, untrimmed growth of beard would make him easy to spot if Clan Ross discovered him missing, so he would trim his beard to blend in with the visiting merchants on market day, when he would make his escape. The plan was a simple one. Mac would unlock the door and lead Ciarán out of the castle to meet with Hamish and Fergus. From there, Mac and Hamish would create a diversion so Fergus and Ciarán could slip past the guards at the gate. As long as Ciarán’s escape went undiscovered, the guards would be more concerned about who came into the castle than who came out. But all of it hinged upon finding the key to get Ciarán out of the locked room.
At work in the kitchen, Mac was instructed to help Ailis, another kitchen maid, prepare a breakfast tray. Mac set down some fresh milk she had just brought in from the byre. “For a prisoner, he’s fed very well.”
With barely a glance, Ailis said, “Aye, well, he’s highborn, so I suppose they’re only keeping him until they can get a ransom. ’Tis not like he’s a common thief, is it?”
“For ransom? So if someone from his clan paid his ransom, they would simply set him free?”
“Oh, aye.” Ailis smiled as though anyone should have known this.
Mac was troubled. If all Hamish had to do was pay a ransom to set Ciarán free, then he either did not have the money or did not wish to part with the money for the sake of his brother. She forced herself to set aside thoughts of Hamish. There was nothing she could do about that now. Ciarán needed her now, so she would focus on how she could best help Ciarán, which was to find that key. With the tray now nearly ready, she said, “What does he look like? Has anyone seen him?”
Ailis lifted her eyes to meet Mac’s, and a smile bloomed on her face. She leaned closer. “Och, he’s a braw lad.”
“So you saw him?”
“Aye.”
“Did you go to his room all by yourself?” Mac asked, returning a conspiratorial smile. The razor for him to shave was definitely essential to the plan now. At least Ailis had seen him, and no doubt there were others.
“Och, no. A guard came with me.”
“If he’s as braw as you say, I’d like to see him. Perhaps I could go next time.”
Ailis’s brow wrinkled. “Oh, I dinnae ken about that. Besides, they only unlock the door every sennight to empty his chamber pot.”
Mac thought of a chamber pot being left in the room for a week, and her nose wrinkled reflexively. Ailis laughed.
Mac’s eyes brightened. “I could come with you!”
“Oh, I dinnae think you could do that.”
“It’s your fault, Ailis. After hearing you describe him, who could blame me for wanting to see him?”
Ailis grinned. “No one who’s seen him would blame you.”
“What if,” Mac said slowly, as though forming the thought for the first time, “you took me along as part of my training?”
“Your what?”
“To teach me how to do it, just in case you’re needed elsewhere—for something more important—or if you were ill.”
“Well, Cook promised me she would let me help out cooking. I dinnae want to be fetching milk and delivering trays for the rest of my life. I want to better myself.”
Mac nodded. “So do I. So you understand.”
“Aye, but it’s not me you’ll have to convince.”
Four days and a good deal of convincing, later, Mac was thanking her college psychology instructor and five years of managing classroom behavior for giving her the skills to convince the cook that she needed more help. That, alone, was not hard to accomplish. But Mac sang Ailis’s praises so well that the cook soon saw Ailis as the ideal assistant. Of course, someone would need to be trained to attend to the prisoner’s room when Ailis was busy with more important duties in the kitchen.
By the time they made their next trip up the stairs, the cook thought it had all been her idea. Carrying a tray of food once more, Mac followed Ailis and one of the guards to the room at the top of the tower. While they waited for the guard to find the right key, Ailis rattled off chores they would do once inside. Bedding would be shaken out the window and the bed remade. The chamber pot would be carried to the garderobe to be emptied and returned to the room. Mac did her best to look attentive even as her mind raced through what was to come. Once inside, the guard left them to their work while he waited outside the door.
“Oh! I’ve forgotten the milk!” Mac said, looking at Ailis with pleading eyes. “Would you mind? My back has been hurting terribly today. I must have hurt it carrying that last cask of ale.” That was not altogether a lie.
Ailis did not look pleased, but, as she opened her mouth to protest, she glanced at Ciarán and suppressed her true reaction. “Oh, I suppose I could get it.” When she got to the doorway where Ciarán could not see her, she scowled at Mac.
Mac smiled sweetly as she pulled the door closed—well, almost closed. She exchanged looks with Ciarán and proceeded to fluff up the straw-filled mattress. In a stage voice, she said, “I’ll just be a moment, and then you can sit down.”
By the time she had finished her sentence, Ciarán had yanked open the door, pulled the guard into the room by the neck, and landed a blow that knocked the flailing man out cold. Ciarán then traded clothes with him, and they left the guard locked in the room.
Ciarán flashed a winning grin and made a grand bow, and then he gestured toward the stairwell. “Shall we?”
Mac smiled and turned toward the stairs, but Ciarán swept her into his arms and kissed her. He released her with a guttural sound of frustration. “Off with you now, before I do something we’ll both regret—but enjoy.”
Mac tried to ignore the thrill that went through her as she grinned and heaved a huge sigh. “Very well, sir.”
“You sound a bit Scottish.”
Mac smiled proudly. “I’ve been working on it. People still look at me strangely, but I’m making an effort.”
Mac rounded the last curve in the stairs and nearly bumped into Ailis. “Oh, Ailis! I saw him again!”
“Who?”
Ailis shifted her weight to the side of the narrow spiral staircase, but Mac did not move. Ailis could not proceed.
Mac opened her eyes wide and gasped. “The ghost! Black Andrew! He assaulted me!”
“No!” Ailis took no convincing. She thrust the milk into Mac’s hands. “Here. Take it up to him later. I’ve work in the kitchen!” She turned and could not scurry down the stairs fast enough.
Mac led the way down and waited until everyone was distracted enough to lead Ciarán to the outside door, ditching the milk along the way. Ciarán squinted in the bright sunlight, but Mac hooked her arm into his and led him away, leaving behind the rest of the castle in a flurry of midmorning activity. When they passed a large tree, Mac paused and leaned against it, trying to steady her trembling hands.
His eyes now accustomed to the light, Ciarán gave Mac’s arm a light squeeze. “Steady, lass.” He clasped her hand, kissed her forehead, and led her through the bailey. It was market day, and the bailey was filled with pushcarts, merchants, and folk ready to haggle and shop. Few would recognize Ciarán because he had been locked away since his arrival. Even so, Mac was nervous. She led him to the outskirts of the market, where Hamish was waiting with a horse and a cart.
As the brothers embraced, Mac asked, “What’s this?”
“Ciarán would do better to hide in the cart as we pass through the gate.”
“But our plan—”
“Will proceed. All that’s new is the cart.”
“Your carriage, my lord.” Hamish gestured for Ciarán to get in. Ciarán didn’t comply right away but instead curled his body around Mac’s while Hamish filled the cart with empty baskets and covered it all with an oilcloth. Once that was done, he got in and hid himself among the baskets.
Mac walked ahead of the cart and approached the guard with an engaging smile.
“’Tis a fine day, is it not?”
The guard’s mouth curved as he lowered his eyes and took in the curves of her body.
With a languorous sigh, Mac looked back toward the merchants’ stalls. “Will you have time later to…” She lifted soft eyes to his. “Sup?” She held his gaze with round, not-quite-innocent eyes.
He shifted his weight as his smoldering eyes swept down to her breasts. Mac took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting her breasts rise and lower along with her breathing. The guard reached out and trailed a finger down her jawline then strayed to her lips as the carts and foot traffic continued around them. A strong hand gripped Mac by the arm and yanked her away from the guard.
The guard stepped back immediately and met Hamish’s anger with the calm authority that came with his job. “The lass did nothing wrong.”
“Did she not?” Hamish’s anger was mounting.
Mac turned pleading eyes to his. “I swear it. Why would I, my darlin’?” She put her hand on his chest and gave him a cajoling smile. “Och, darlin’, you ken how I feel about you.”
The guard smirked. “Are you coming or going? There’re folks behind you.”
Hamish gave Mac a mollified look and moved forward, leading the pony and cart with one hand and gripping her arm with the other. She cast a quick, petulant look at the guard and walked on through the gate and over the cobbled road that led away from the castle.
Ciarán pulled the tarp open enough to make a slit for fresh air and a view of Mac. “Are you all right?”
Still shaken by the events of the last half hour, Mac took a few halting breaths. “Better now.” She continued to gulp breaths and then took hold of the edge of the cart.
Ciarán put his hand over hers. “Easy, lass. You’ll get light-headed.”
She nodded quickly but continued to draw deep, uneven breaths.
Hamish pulled off the road and into the cover of trees. He stopped and threw off the oilcloth. Ciarán climbed out of the cart and pulled Mac into his arms. She was gasping for air.
Words came in fits and starts as she caught her breath. “I haven’t had this since I was a child. But I don’t know. I guess the fear triggered it. I don’t know.”
Ciarán held onto her shoulders with sure hands, taking care not to interfere with her breathing. As a minute passed, and then another, her breathing grew even and calm.
She shook her head. “It’s all right. I’m all right. We should go now. Where are the horses?”
Ciarán smiled helplessly. “Are you able to ride?”
“Yes.”
“Och. Come here, bonnie Mac,” he said as he pulled her into his arms. “You were very brave.”
Mac lifted doubtful eyes to meet his. “If shaking with fear makes me brave.”
Ciarán brushed a strand of Mac’s hair from her face and gazed at her with soft eyes. “No, it does not, but shaking with fear and still doing what you did does make you brave.”
Before she could respond, Ciarán kissed her.
Ciarán looked up as Hamish approached. With a sigh, Ciarán held Mac close, cradling her head in the crook of his neck.
Hamish said, “We must go. They may be after us yet.”
Ciarán gave his brother a nod and sent him away with a look. Hamish did not look pleased, but he left them alone.
With a soft kiss on Mac’s forehead, Ciarán said, “We’ll finish this later.” He slid his hand down her shoulder and arm and took hold of her hand to lead her to their horse. He helped her up onto the horse and then mounted behind her.
They rode until dusk and made camp upon a wooded brae. Hamish and Fergus hunted for supper, and Ciarán stayed behind with Mac. He set about building a fire in uncomfortable silence.