Mad for the Plaid (35 page)

An hour later Nik was on D'yoval, ready to ride, Rurik nearby. The day was turning gray, a low mist swirling between the purple hillocks, the scent of snow high on the wind.

Ailsa stood in the courtyard, St. George's reins in her hand as she spoke in a low voice to Mackenzie. They were arguing, for her cousin kept shaking his head, his mouth set in a mulish line.

Finally, she said something that made him grimace and then nod. After a few more words, he left her and crossed the courtyard to where his horse waited.

What was that all about?
Nik wished he knew.

Seeing Ailsa was ready to mount up, Stewart went to help her into the saddle. Then he brought his own horse over from where it waited by the inn door.

Ailsa looked around. “Are we ready?”

“Aye,” Greer said.

Mackenzie gave a short laugh. “I'm as ready as I can be.”

Greer turned his mount and headed out of the
innyard, the others following. They were to ride within two miles of Ardvreck Castle and then dismount and encircle the castle on foot. Nik couldn't help but remember Ailsa's husky voice as she cautioned everyone to aim true as they, themselves, could easily shoot the hostages. He would be a fool not to worry, but he knew his grandmother. Natasha was not the sort to sit and let things happen. Once she realized someone had come to rescue her, she'd make certain she was in a safe position and would assist them if possible.

They rode into the woods, Greer following a path only he seemed able to see. Everyone was unusually quiet.

Nik found himself watching Ailsa's trim form as she rode ahead. Memories of her sweetness filled his mind, the recollection of her surprising passion even now made him shift uncomfortably in his saddle. He remembered their argument, too. No one had ever dared rail at him the way she had.

But then again, most people didn't know him well enough to do so. This adventure he and Ailsa had shared had brought them closer than he'd realized. In fact, now that he thought about it, he'd shared things with her he'd never shared with anyone else.

Why was that? Why had he told her so much?

She beguiled in ways that irritated the hell out of him. And he found it impossible to fight his own devilish impulses when she smiled at him. Long gone was his first impression of her as a plain, dragon-like termagant. Now he couldn't look at her without thinking
of those plump lips against his, her lush curves fitted against him, her lavender scent teasing his every breath.

It was that first kiss, he realized. He'd cursed himself with that kiss. Cursed himself with the taste of what he could never have. His life was not his to share with someone whose heart was so open, whose every thought was clearly expressed on her face. He'd been a fool a hundred times over and had allowed his distrust to overcome his good sense. He wouldn't blame her if she never forgave him.

He clenched his jaw and hoped they'd soon be done with this journey. It had cost him more than he could say.

After an hour's ride, Greer finally put up his hand and they slowed to a halt. The small, wizened man swung down from his horse and tied it to a bush. “We must walk from here.”

Ailsa added, “According to the map Greer drew for us, the castle sits on the western shore of the loch. Stewart and Greer, you two will join MacKean at that northern point. Be sure you are well hidden, as you'll be the closest to the castle.”

The two huntsman nodded.

She turned to her cousin. “Gregor, you and Rurik will go to the south and slip oop the shore, while the rest of us will make our way to the west side of the castle to provide cover.”

The rest of us
. She wouldn't even say his name. Nik's soul burned at her omission. He would be glad when this event was finally over and he could clear the air between them.
If I can
.

“Greer, once you've given everyone time to get in place, and you have located the duchess and Lord Hamilton, give the signal to begin our attack—three pheasant's trills in a row.” She smiled. “I've heard you trill like a pheasant on many a hunt, and 'tis indistinguishable from a live one.”

Greer flushed. “Och, 'tis verrah kind of you to say so, my lady.”

Ailsa's gaze turned to Nik. “Everyone else will charge but us. We're to stay in place and provide cover as the others take the captives to safety.”

“What?” Rurik shook his head. “I do not like this.”

“Then do nae like it,” Ailsa said sharply, surprising Nik. “But it is what we will do.”

“Nyet.”
Rurik turned to Nik. “Come, we'll—”

“Wait.”

Everyone looked at Mackenzie.

He offered an uncertain smile. “Rurik, you and I should join forces as planned.”

“Nyet,”
Rurik answered, more loudly this time. “I'll go with His Highness. You will go with Lady Ailsa.”

The young man's face turned red, but his jaw had set in a way that made Nik realize that the lad was indeed Ailsa's cousin. “The prince would be better protection for her ladyship.”

Nik had to admit Mackenzie had a point. “I will go with Lady Ailsa.”

Rurik's scowl deepened. “I am your guard; I should be with you.”

Ailsa chimed in, “The prince does nae need guarding now. Nae one even knows he's here.”

“It is still my duty.”

Nik noted how Ailsa's lips thinned, and said in a sharp tone, “Rurik, stay with Mackenzie. Lady Ailsa and I will go this way.” He stood back and inclined his head toward her. “After you.”

Rurik flashed an irritated look at Mackenzie. “Fine. Keep up as best you can.” With that, he turned and strode into the woods, Ailsa's cousin following.

Greer and Stewart checked their weapons and then left, while Nik followed Ailsa into the woods.

They'd only gone a short distance when she paused and then stood to one side. “You should go first.”

“Afraid?” he teased.

She shot him a flat look. “Only for the safety of the duchess and Lord Hamilton.”

He wasn't sure why she wished him to go first, but he could see her temper was still high after Rurik's challenge. Nik obligingly led the way. They walked in silence for some time, the dense woods keeping them in single file. When they could see the edge of the loch, he turned north, making certain they were hidden within the woods and thick shrubs.

Nik glanced back at Ailsa. “Why did you wish your cousin to go with Rurik?”

“It will be safer.”

“For whom?”

“For all of us.” She turned away as she spoke, her profile in bold relief. “Gregor is nae the best of shots.”

God, but he loved her proud nose. He couldn't see it without wanting to trail a kiss down the bridge of it. As bold and brazen as its owner, he—

A movement caught his attention. He held up his hand and crouched down. Ailsa followed, close behind.

A man walked down the rocky shore of the loch. He carried a brace of hares, his rifle casually held in one hand.

They waited, motionless, as the guard continued on his way, the low mist swirling around his boots. As soon as he was out of sight, Nik rose and gestured for Ailsa to follow. “We must be close to the castle,” he whispered, stepping carefully through heavy shrubs and around large white rocks.

He was right. Mere moments later, the castle arose from the mist. Ardvreck Castle was a stately ruin. Several stories tall, a round stone tower lifted high over a set of broken one-story walls that must have once been part of a guardhouse. The tower was still complete, though the roof was no more and the narrow windows were black and empty.

Through a large crack in a broken wall, he caught a glimpse of a tent panel, and he waved for Ailsa to follow him. As they passed the remains of a crumbling wall, the tent came into view, and there sat Tata Natasha.

She was perched on a chair under the canopy and was wrapped in an assortment of furs and shawls, a wine goblet in one hand, a small plate in the other, a thick carpet had been placed at her feet—all signs someone had readied this prison for their noble guests. An armed guard sat not ten feet away, but judging by the way she ordered him to fetch her
more wine—and the hurried manner in which he complied—she seemed more like a queen surveying a most unsatisfactory tournament than a woman in dire danger.

A wave of relief hit Nik when he heard her cackle with laughter over something the guard said. He'd been so worried about her, and seeing her sitting like the royalty she was, waving an imperious hand at one of her captors as if she were the one in charge and not he, filled his heart with joy.

“Let's move over there,” he whispered, gesturing to a low outcropping of boulders. He led the way, settling in place as Ailsa moved in beside him.

The man who'd brought the brace of hares appeared around one of the far walls. He hung the game over the empty window and then glanced up at the top window in the tower.

Nik followed the man's gaze. “Get down,” he hissed. “There's a lookout in the tower window.”

Ailsa scrambled closer to him, her shoulder against his. “Just one?”

“I think so. There are two others— Wait. Three more. There's someone in the bottom of the tower, as well.“

She peered over the shrubs. “Her Grace looks well. Have you seen Lord Hamilton?”

“Not yet, but perhaps— Ah. Is that him?” An older man, dapperly dressed had his clothes been less wrinkled and carrying a shawl, stepped from the door of the roundhouse.

“Aye, that's Lord Hamilton.”

The man carried the shawl to Tata Natasha and helped arrange it around her shoulders before taking the seat next to hers. As he did so, she spoke loudly to the guard, pointing to the hares dangling from the nearby window.

“They have chairs, a rug, plates—I dinnae expect that,” Ailsa murmured.

“
Da
,” Nik answered. “Whoever this is, they are taking exceptional care of her.”
Did that mean they never meant to harm the captives? Does that speak to the honor of the abductor?

Tata Natasha gave a sharp crack of laughter as she discussed with one of the guards the best way to prepare the hares for dinner.

Ailsa leaned forward, her brows drawn. “What's she saying?”

“She's telling the men to cook the rabbits on a spit, as she likes roasted meat rather than boiled. Can't you hear her?”

“I can, but she's spea—”

A single gunshot rent the air, and instantly, the guards leapt to the ready, the taller one heading straight for Tata Natasha.

“What the hell?” Nik muttered.

“Someone fired early,” Ailsa said grimly.

“And alerted the damn guards.”

From somewhere north of them, Greer gave the signal for the charge. In answer, Stewart bellowed loudly, the sound echoing off the rocks. He, Greer, and MacKean charged from the brush.

“Fire!” Ailsa ordered, pulling out her pistols and aiming toward the walls hiding the guards. “We must cover them.”

Nik half rose and pointed his rifle at the one guard he could see. The man's hand rested on the low wall, his head safely tucked behind it. Nik aimed and shot, and the man yelled as the stone where his hand rested exploded. “I got him,” Nik said grimly, noting blood on the topmost rock.

More shots rang out and Greer went down, holding his leg. He dragged himself to a low rock, though he managed to keep firing his pistol. Stewart and MacKean continued their charge, leaping over the rocks and brush.

Mayhem ensued for a moment, but then Stewart reappeared, the duchess tossed over his shoulder as he ran for the cover of the woods, Lord Hamilton scrambling to keep up with them.

Two guards pursued, but Ailsa drew her pistol and caught them as they left their protective wall, Nik doing the same.

She shot one of the thieves in the foot. Yelling, he and the other guard turned back for the safety of the castle as, stumbling wildly, they dived back behind the wall.

Greer took the opportunity to limp his way into the forest after Stewart and the others.

Tata Natasha and Lord Hamilton were now safely away, nowhere to be seen.

“Finally,” Ailsa breathed. She lowered her pistol, smoke curling from it.

Nik watched the window where he'd seen the guard. As he'd anticipated, the rifle barrel appeared in the narrow opening, and fixed on something well past them, deep in the woods.

Nik pulled the trigger, and with a pinging ring, the abductor's rifle kicked to one side. Nik chortled and turned, leaning against a tree as he opened his powder horn and prepared to reload. “We have them pinned down.”

He opened his bag of shot to pour lead into his hands . . . only it wasn't shot, but gravel.

He could only stare at it.

“Bloody hell.” Ailsa grabbed her own bag of shot and poured it out. Gravel met their gaze.

She picked up her powder horn and tipped it. Sand poured from the opening. “So that's what that bastard was doing in the middle of the night.”

Nik frowned. “Gregor?”

“Nae Gregor, but—” Her gaze focused over his shoulder, her eyes widening as she went sheet-white.

Nik started to turn.
Bang!
Something exploded against the tree directly over his head, splinters and bark raining down on him and Ailsa.

She threw herself over him, though she was so small, she barely covered him at all.
“Gregor!”
she yelled.

Nik grabbed her and pulled her beside him. “What's—”

Another gunshot rang out. This one was closer, near his ear, more bark and splinters peppering his cheek and neck.

Bozhy moj!
He swiped at his face, his fingers coming away bloody as the figure of a man walked toward them.

The barrel of a finely wrought pistol glinted in the mist and swirling smoke, and holding the weapon, a grim look on his face, was Rurik.

Chapter 23