The Knight's Temptress (Lairds of the Loch) (12 page)

“Am I to know what this is about?” Sir Alex asked.

“I’ve told him nowt,” Rob said.

“Aye, sure,” Ian said. “I trust you as much as I trust Rob, Alex. But he and Mag Galbraith arrived first, and I’ve said nowt to any others who’ve arrived since. Sithee, I wanted to avoid arousing suspicion that some of us might keep secrets from others. But this is gey important and I’ll need you both.”

“Then you have a plan,” Rob said. “I thought it was time.”

“Just a wee one,” Ian admitted with a half-smile.

Alex chuckled. “What that means, you madman, is that you have a vague but crazy notion in your brain box and mean to share only part of it with us. Correct?”

“It may be daft,” Ian agreed. “But James Mòr is holding two noblewomen as hostages in Dumbarton Castle. My father is trying tactfully to arrange their release. He did succeed in gaining this meeting today. And since he can take one man in with him, I persuaded him that Rob should be the man.”

“Meantime, you’ll do something of which Colquhoun will disapprove,” Alex said. When Ian shrugged, he exclaimed, “Sakes, you mean to get them out yourself!”

“If, as I expect, James Mòr refuses to release them, I do, aye.”

“Who are they?” Alex asked.

“Lina MacFarlan and Lizzie Galbraith.”

“Devil take the man!” Alex glanced at Rob, then back at Ian. “That castle is unassailable,” he said. “But you… Heaven save us! I expect some ass told you that such a rescue is impossible.” Shutting his eyes, he drew breath and then glared at Ian. “At least, we’re all too big now for Colquhoun to take leather to us.”

“If I tell you that I’ve been inside, seen Lina and Lizzie for myself, and got out with a whole skin, will you have more faith?” Ian asked him.

“I have faith only because you rarely do fail, my lad. But one day, you will.”

Rob said firmly, “I want to know how you mean to proceed.”

“I’ll get inside the gates with my father’s tail,” Ian said, thinking as he talked. “With all this rain, I’ll be able to ride near the end of it, staring down at my pony’s mane with the hood of my oiled cloak well over my head. I should draw little if any notice so. After we reach the forest edge, the rest will be easy afoot.”

“It might be better if Alex rode with your father,” Rob said. “As a knight, he can legally take eight men of his own. Altogether, they’d have a score.”

“You can take six as a gentleman,” Ian reminded him. “I’ll make one more unless the guard at the gate exerts himself to count us and stops me. In any event, I’ll be near
the end, so if I must, I’ll just tell whoever is nearest me to stay outside.”

“Get back to my part in this,” Alex said.

“You and your men, and some of mine, will follow us through the woods. Keep far enough back so that my father does not see or hear you. And watch for watchers in the forest. If you see any, render them unable to report to James Mòr. Then conceal yourselves where you can watch for any trouble when we leave.”

“If all goes well,” Alex said dryly, “do we just sit and wait for Colquhoun to find us and demand to know what the devil we mean by following him?”

With a mocking smile, Ian said, “Afraid of him, Alex?”

When Alex shook his head, his tightened lips making it clear that he was in no mood for teasing, Ian said, “From the forest, you will easily see us coming. If the gates shut behind us and you see no sign of a threat, turn back to Dunglass. But leave someone with a horn to alert you if
he
sees armed men coming after us later.”

Rob said, “Won’t you want one of us with you to help get them out?”

“Nay, I’ll have all the help I’ll need in getting to them. Getting them out will be easier by myself. I’ll need oiled cloaks for them, though, to disguise them and keep them from drowning when they step outside.”

An hour later, in the Dunglass stable, Ian, Alex, and Alex’s equerry saddled the last few ponies that Colquhoun, Rob, Ian, and the others in their tail would ride.

“Ye shouldna be doing this, Sir Alex,” his equerry, a
wiry man at least ten years his senior, said testily. “It be beneath your dignity tae tend ponies for others.”

“Whisst now,” Alex said. “Saddle one for me and another for yourself. Tell our other lads to saddle their mounts and wear their oiled cloaks. We’ll be riding out as soon as these others are away. Ready, Ian?”

“Aye, sure,” Ian said. He was wearing one of the oiled leather cloaks that the Colquhoun men wore in inclement weather over an old gray cloak of his own that had seen better days. Under both he wore the noisome peat man’s rags he had worn to Dumbarton before. “Do you not think this costume will serve?” he asked Alex.

“It will until Colquhoun catches you in it,” Alex said, wrinkling his nose. “But those black clouds and the irksome drizzle suggest that rain should conceal most of your sins.”

“As long as they are my sins and not Dougal MacPharlain’s or James Mòr’s,” Ian said grimly as he mounted one of the horses. It was not one of his own, so he was thankful that his father kept only well-mannered beasts in his stable.

The clouds promised not only rain ahead but also thunder and lightning.

Bidding Alex farewell, Ian sent a prayer aloft and hoped that the increasingly dismal weather meant the Fates were in a mood to let his plan succeed.

Chapter 6
 

H
aving put away their stitching to eat their midday meal, Lina and Lizzie had no sooner sat down at the little table than Lizzie said, “We must talk, Lina. I know you said you won’t let Dougal take you away. But how can we stop him?”

“I don’t know, Liz,” Lina said mildly, drawing on the patience so often required with her sisters. “I do know that we must be ready for any opportunity that may come our way. For now, though, I think we must close the shutters. The wind has shifted again and is blowing the rain in. Forbye, those black clouds are so low and moving so fast that I fear we shall soon be in the midst of them.”

“I’ll close the shutters if you will put more peat on the fire.”

Lina agreed. She also lit candles from the fire, so they could see what they ate. Then, feeling a strong draft despite the closed shutters, she suggested moving the table nearer the hearth. Settled at last with the stew still warm enough to be edible, they ate quietly until Lina looked up to see tears trickling down Lizzie’s cheeks.

“Oh, Liz,” she said softly. Setting down her spoon, she
reached across to touch Lizzie’s hand. “Prithee, dear one, try not to fret about things that have not occurred. We are still together. So try to think as you did when we arrived, as if this were an adventure. Think about how Mag would act—or Patrick, if
he
were the prisoner and you were aiding
his
captors.”

“I’d cut off the villains’ heads and boil them,” Lizzie snapped. “Even though Patrick is my least favorite brother, I’d do what I had to, to set him free!”

“I believe you,” Lina replied, thankful to see the tears stop flowing. “I don’t understand men like Patrick. I’d do anything I could to aid either of my sisters in such a fix. Faith, I worry more now about them and what
they
might do than what even Dougal might do next.”

“But Andrena and Murie don’t even know where we are,” Lizzie said. “Mag can’t know, either. If he did, he’d be taking this castle apart to find us.”

“People do know where we are, Liz.” Wrestling with the instinct that had warned her all along not to tell Lizzie anything that she might repeat to Dougal or to MacCowan’s lad, Lina decided that keeping quiet any longer was unfair. No matter what might come of revealing the truth, Lizzie needed to know that they had hope. “Can you keep a secret, Liz?” she asked.

Lizzie cocked her head. “From whom?”

“That was the rub until now, aye,” Lina admitted. “Sithee, I feared you might reveal this secret to Dougal if you thought that telling him might help us.”

“I would not tell that villain
anything
,” Lizzie said fiercely. “If he were on fire, I would not spit on him, let alone give him water enough to save himself.”

Amused despite herself by the vision Lizzie’s angry
words produced, Lina said, “Then I’ll tell you. Do you remember the peat man who came the first night?”

“Aye, sure,” Lizzie said, frowning. “How could anyone forget him?”

“He is the proof that people know where we are.”

Glancing at the door, Lizzie leaned closer. “How can you know that?”

“Because I know him,” Lina said. She explained, omitting her usual opinion of Sir Ian’s recklessness and letting his actions speak for themselves.

When she finished, Lizzie stared at her, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Lina waited for the bitter reproaches she expected to hear.

Lizzie said in a low but vibrant tone, “How brave of him! Oh, Lina, don’t you think he must be the bravest man who ever lived to do such a thing?”

Easily controlling any desire to agree with that statement, Lina said dryly, “I fear I am too practical to see such behavior as aught but dangerous, Liz. I am sure that Sir Ian will be pleased that you think he is brave, though.”

“But he must be! Had he not done that, how could anyone else
ever
have learned where we are?”

“You forget our gillie, Peter Wylie. Peter must have had the good sense to ride to Dunglass and tell the Colquhouns what happened to us.”

“Perhaps,” Lizzie said. “But it was Sir Ian who came to see us for himself.”

“Aye, he did do that,” Lina agreed, aware that the strange sensations that often accompanied her thoughts of Ian warmed her as she spoke of him. “I suspect he
could not resist the challenge,” she added firmly. “But remember, Lizzie, you must not mention even the
name
Colquhoun whilst we are here. If Dougal or James Mòr should learn that the Colquhouns might aid us, they’ll surely stop them.”

“I won’t say a word,” Lizzie promised. She fell silent again, and her face grew so solemn that Lina nearly asked what she was thinking.

She finished her meal in silence instead and had her reward when Lizzie said reluctantly, “In troth, Lina, had you told me that before, I
might
have told Dougal.” She paused as if she expected comment, but Lina just cocked her head a little.

Grimacing, Lizzie added, “You were right about him. But I was so sure I was right that, had I known, I…” Pausing, she added in a rush, “I might have tried to scare him by telling him the Colquhouns would save us. Do you think they can?”

“I know Sir Ian well enough to know that he will try. But I also know the laird and your brother Mag, Liz. They are more practical than Ian is, and the plain truth is that this castle is the most invincible in Scotland. That Sir Ian was able to slip in and out is one thing. An army trying to do so would certainly fail.”

“I know,” Lizzie said with a sigh. “But it is nicer to hope that an army may come than to fear that only Dougal MacPharlain will.”

Lina wished she could agree that thinking about either of those options would be helpful. The trouble was that, despite her practical nature, her hopes had fixed themselves on Sir Ian. She prayed that, for once, he would put his daring to a truly useful purpose. Even so, every time
the tantalizing mental image of his rescuing them arose, she rebuked herself for her hypocrisy.

It might be different, she decided, had she dwelt on Ian’s looks alone, for he had grown to be a tantalizingly handsome man, certainly far handsomer than Dougal MacPharlain would ever be. How Lizzie could think… But Lizzie had seen Ian only as the raggedy peat man and did not know him, she reminded herself. In any event, to be making such comparisons was as hypocritical as the rest.