The Knight's Temptress (Lairds of the Loch) (13 page)

The rain penetrated the forest canopy, giving Ian good reason to ride bent over his mount and let the hood of his oiled leather cloak conceal his face. Colquhoun’s men and Rob’s carried weapons but would leave them with the horses.

The MacAulay man riding beside Ian had recognized him but would say naught of his presence. Six of Ian’s own men rode with Alex Buchanan.

The first mutterings of thunder had been distant enough for the horses to take them in stride. Now, louder growls of thunder made their withers tremble, and some ponies tossed their heads. But they all were well-trained.

Ian knew his suggestion that they take extra horses might well have stirred his father to suspect he was up to something. If so, when he had to face Colquhoun afterward, just having had that suspicion would likely increase his anger.

Ian had kept most of his thoughts to himself, telling Rob and Alex only what each needed to know. He wanted to spare them from as much of Colquhoun’s wrath as he
could. But while the Dunglass men were mounting, Rob had asked him why Dougal was so determined to have the lady Lachina MacFarlan.

Ian had shared his own belief that Dougal hoped to use Lina in some way to force Andrew Dubh to surrender Tùr Meiloach to Pharlain, the man who had seized the rest of the lands of Arrochar. Originally, those estates had included Tùr Meiloach, but for two decades, Andrew had managed to keep that one for himself and his family. He should not have to relinquish it now through more villainy.

Ian was still sorting his thoughts, trying to imagine how he could get inside Dumbarton Castle from the courtyard, when the forest darkness lightened. Looking through the dense trees ahead, he could just make out, through the heavy downpour beyond the forest, the looming gray shape of Dumbarton Rock and the forbidding stronghold on top of it.

The short hairs on his nape tingled as forks of lightning split the roiling dark clouds and haloed the castle. Deafening cracks of thunder accompanied them, putting to shame all the mumbling, muttering, and growling that had preceded them.

Horses skittered, reared, and otherwise expressed their unease, and Ian briefly had his hands full, calming his own. When Colquhoun signaled for them to dismount, Ian did so, taking care to keep his head down as he did and while he stroked and tethered his horse.

The cracks of thunder startled Lina and Lizzie while they were trying to position an extra blanket to block icy drafts slithering in between the slats of their shutters.
Standing on a tottering stool, Liz held one end of the blanket in place atop both half-open shutters while Lina tried to close them on it. When the thunder clapped, Lizzie abruptly let go of the blanket, and only Lina’s swift hand to the younger girl’s hip kept her from falling.

The last rolling reverberations had scarcely faded when the door opened, startling them again as Gorry MacCowan hurried in with his ubiquitous minion.

“Here, here, m’lady,” MacCowan said to Lizzie as he slammed the door shut behind them and strode toward her. “Get ye doon from that stool afore ye break your wee neck. Begging your pardon for the liberty,” he added with a wary glance at Lina. “But that lass doesna belong on sich a rickety stool. Nor do ye. Lad, stir up yon puny fire. Then run doonstairs and fetch more candles for their ladyships.”

As the boy hurried to obey, MacCowan helped Lizzie down, took the blanket corner that Lina now held, reached up, folded a few inches of it over the top of one shutter, and pressed that one closed. Then he repeated the process on the other side.

Lina thanked him with a smile, adding, “You came just in time, Gorry MacCowan. Neither of us can reach so high. In another few minutes, both of us would have been soaked.”

“We came tae clear away the leavings o’ your meal, m’lady,” he said, glancing toward the door where his lad was just leaving.

“You have news, Gorry,” Lina said, when the door had shut behind the boy.

“Only tae tell ye that James Mòr and some o’ his lairds be a-meeting wi’ the Laird o’ Colquhoun later today. Seems Colquhoun requested the meeting tae—”

“Oh, Lina,” Lizzie exclaimed, “he is going to make James Mòr release us!”

“As tae that, I canna say, m’lady,” Gorry told her sternly. “But I ha’ me doots ye should be settin’ up sich a screech about it.”

“He is right, Liz,” Lina said. “What if Dougal had heard you or should see you looking as if you eagerly expect release?”

“ ’Tis true,” Gorry said, nodding. To Lina, he added, “I tell ye, though, me lady, I never seen that stairway below as busy as it be the noo. See you, it all be a show for yon meeting wi’ Colquhoun. I ha’ me doots that any man could get up or doon now without someone demanding tae ken his business.” Pointedly, he added, “Even were a man used tae visiting ye on any whim what struck ’im.”

Lina knew without question that MacCowan meant Dougal MacPharlain.

She also knew, though, that so many watchers must affect any plan that Ian might have to save them, assuming that Colquhoun had not forbidden him to act.

The principled laird might look dimly on any scheme that Sir Ian suggested to him. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine Ian flying to her rescue. All she could summon up was his handsome face and the mischievous way his eyes danced.

It would be helpful, Ian thought, if he could devise a complete plan—or better yet, put one into successful action—before his father caught sight of him.

He and the other men were following Colquhoun on
foot across the river plain, slogging through mud as the rain pelted down on them.

The high rock and steep road up to the castle gates sheltered them from the worst of the wind. It had come from the northeast earlier but now came from almost due west. When they reached the foot of the road, the wind caught them broadside, and everyone had to fight to retain his cloak and hood. The track was slippery, too, but at last, the gates opened to admit them. The first face Ian saw as the men ahead of him passed through the gateway into the castle yard was Jed Laing’s.

“Gorry be by the door, master,” Jed murmured as Ian passed him.

Other men besides their own milled in the castle yard, so James Mòr or his captain of the guard had set Stewart men and perhaps others, as well, to watch the visitors. More horses were in the yard than he had seen on his previous visit, too.

He had no complaint, though. Thanks to the rain, the more men there were, the easier it would be for him to walk amongst them, especially dressed as he was.

While he scraped mud from his boots on the gravel and stones of the yard, an immediate obstacle presented itself. Three men stood by the door that led into the tower that housed Lina and Lizzie’s room. The service stairway inside it was the only way Ian knew to reach them quickly and get them out.

As he watched, two more men went up the steps and three others emerged.

Recalling that Jed had said that Gorry was by that door, Ian hoped he had a plan to get them inside, one they could discuss without drawing notice.

He certainly could not follow Colquhoun and Rob in at the main entrance.

At that moment, a firm hand gripped his left arm.

Concerns about Dougal MacPharlain had eased, thanks to Gorry’s assurance that the busy stairway would prevent Dougal’s mischief. So Lina had finished her cloak and had begun repairing a tear in one of the shirts.

Lizzie, having put her faith in Sir Ian, hummed a tune as she sewed. When she stopped humming, she said, “I used to think that living at Tùr Meiloach as you do, with Pharlain fain to seize your land, it must be dangerous for you to travel. But you have traveled much more than I have, and farther.”

“I expect we have, aye,” Lina said. “My mam has many kinsmen in many places, and she thought it was her duty to visit them and take us to meet them.”

“I wish my sisters would take me places,” Lizzie said wistfully.

“Perhaps they will when you are older.”

“I’m fourteen. How old were you when Lady Aubrey first took you?”

“Eight,” Lina admitted, remembering the first time she had met Ian. “It was about this time of year, too, because Dree had just turned ten. Sir Ian—he was Master Ian then—teased us mercilessly until Dree threatened to tell his father.”

Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “
Did
she tell?”

“Nay, but she wished she had when we reached Glasgow and she found a live frog amidst the clothes in her sumpter basket. But, Lizzie,” Lina added, “now that
Mag and Dree have married, they will likely take you places with them.”

“They did not invite me this time. And they went to visit
my
sister.”

“Aye, but that was by way of being a bridal visit. Forbye—and you must keep this to yourself, too, Liz—I think Andrena is expecting a child.”

Lizzie gaped. “Mag never said a word!”

“I don’t think he knew,” Lina said.

“How could he not? It is his child, too.”

“Dree may not have told him. She did not tell me or Murie, either.”

“Faith, can you read Dree’s thoughts, the way she reads others?”

Lina was about to deny that suggestion when her quick hearing again caught the approach of hasty footsteps on the stairs. Something about them differed from the sound of Gorry MacCowan coming upstairs with his lad. Her skin tingled.

The hand on Ian’s arm had gripped tightly enough to make him wonder if the next thing he heard would be the declaration of his arrest for trespassing on property belonging to the House of Albany.

Instead, when he turned his head, carefully looking down as he did, he heard Gorry’s low-pitched voice: “Come along wi’ me, master. I’ve much tae tell ye.”

“Tell me this first, and quickly,” Ian muttered back. “D’ye ken if James Mòr will agree to treat with Colquhoun for their ladyships’ release?”

“He will not, for he said so,” Gorry said. “I were
tending the fire in yon great hall when James Mòr told his lickspittles that Colquhoun were a-coming today. He said unless he drowned on the way, mayhap he meant tae declare hisself at last for Albany against the King. One o’ them so-called nobles what laps at his heels said ’twere more likely he were a-coming on account o’ the lady hostages. James Mòr laughed then and said if it were so, ’twould be a fool’s errand.”