The Knight's Temptress (Lairds of the Loch) (15 page)

N
ot a word,” Ian muttered to Lina and Lizzie. He was nearly certain that the men nearest them were all Colquhoun’s men or Rob’s. Even so, he hoped to avoid his father’s attention at least until they were away from Dumbarton.

The two lasses were obediently silent, although Lady Lachina had glanced toward Colquhoun and Rob.

Ian had turned his head away as soon as he had seen them, so he doubted they had noticed him, let alone recognized him. Lady Lina had not let her gaze dwell on them, either, but had looked immediately away.

She was submissive enough, but he could not help wondering what she was thinking now, about him. She had nearly jumped out of her skin earlier when he had touched her arm. Then, when he had put a light hand to her back to urge her along, she had stiffened up like a poker.

“Who is that?” Lizzie murmured, diverting his attention to her.

“Dinna stare,” he murmured back. “We’ll talk anon.”

Colquhoun walked to the gate with equal disregard for the pelting rain and the men making way for him. He also set a pace fast enough to inform the gate guards that he would not take kindly to delay.

Noting with relief that Jed Laing was one of the guards, Ian watched closely. But neither Jed nor Colquhoun as much as glanced at one another. Jed knew his danger. And Colquhoun, despite his notions of courtesy and enduring belief that every nobleman was open to civil discourse, was
not
a fool.

As Ian passed Jed, their gazes met. Ian allowed himself a wink.

He kept a close eye on Lina and Lizzie as they walked down the steep path. It was dangerously slippery and rutted, with rainwater turning every rut into a rill.

Neither lass complained. Each moved as if she were used to such terrain.

Looking up, he saw a man approaching the bottom of the path, wrapped in a heavy-looking, well-oiled leather cape.

Head down to give his cape’s hood a chance to block the heavy rain, Dougal was thinking about his plan. Originally, he had thought he might take further advantage of Colquhoun’s visit to slip Lina out while Colquhoun met with James Mòr. But her flat refusal to go with him had rendered that option unfeasible.

He could hardly force a reluctant woman all the way down from the southeast tower chamber and through the courtyard full of Colquhoun men and James Mòr’s watchers without someone attempting to interfere.

However, he might be able to persuade her to be more cooperative later, when things were back to normal. Once she was in his power, of course, she would quickly learn to obey without question and abandon her damned insolence.

He would enjoy teaching her to mind him.

Hearing muffled footsteps above him on the muddy track, he glanced up and saw a score of oilskin-wrapped men coming down.

“Sakes, Colquhoun is already leaving,” he murmured with relief.

Watching more closely, unmindful now of the rain, he thought it might amuse him to see the laird’s defeated expression, and those of his men.

Keeping an eye on the man approaching them, Ian moved up a little to screen Lina and Lizzie from his view. He had a good idea who the man would be.

Lina glanced at him, her quizzical look telling him that she had also seen the man, now on the path and walking more quickly. His head was up, his face visible.

It was, as he had expected, Dougal MacPharlain. Looking back at Lina, Ian saw that she had shifted her position as well, as if to shield Lizzie.

Returning his attention to Dougal, he saw the man smile. He had just passed the head of their line, so he was amused to see Colquhoun leaving as he was, and doubtless thinking it was sooner than the laird liked and gloating about that.

Lina had indeed seen and recognized Dougal. She had also seen that he was looking closely at the men ahead of them. Fearing that Lizzie might see him and inadvertently draw his attention, Lina eased closer but saw then that Liz was watching where she was putting her feet and following the men ahead of them.

Glad they were not alone and even glad that their feet were as muddy as anyone else’s and therefore unlikely to draw notice despite their smaller size, she followed Lizzie’s example and kept her head down until they had passed Dougal.

Pleasant though it would have been to teach Dougal better manners, Ian just hoped he was not counting Colquhoun’s tail. The rain was still heavy, though, and the next time he looked, Dougal had pulled his hood farther forward and was looking down.

No one else paid them any heed then or as they trekked back across the rain-drenched river plain to the forest and the lads waiting with the horses.

Having ridden near the rear of the tail without being last when they had come, Ian led his charges to take the same position again, expecting at any moment to hear someone comment on the two additional cloaked figures.

When no one did, Ian realized that the men were all tension-tired. Their time in the yard had been mercifully short. But the reason for its brevity was only too obvious. Colquhoun’s mission had failed. The grim way he had marched from the keep to the gates had announced his mood loudly to them all, as well as to Dougal.

Hurrying past the last of Colquhoun’s tail, Dougal shifted his hood back long enough for the sodden guard on the wall to recognize him and shout down to let him in. Then he hurried through the gateway.

Crossing the yard, he saw that although men were still doing chores there, including the chap who looked after
the women and the lad who always went with him, there were fewer now. As he headed for the door into the southeast tower, he hoped that his luck had changed and he’d be able to get Lina away sooner than the evening. Smiling, he took the stairs quickly and used his key to open the door.

He stood in the doorway and stared, stunned, at the empty room.

When his gaze alit on the scrap of vellum on the floor, he moved quickly to pick it up. Reading its message, seeing his own initial scrawled—as if he would ever sign anything so—he knew he could not linger. Shoving the scrap under his jack, he closed and relocked the door.

Fury threatened to overcome him. They had escaped. But worse, Lady Lina had dared to try to make it look as if he had taken both of them, for surely it was she and not the much friendlier Lizzie who had scrawled the note. Thinking swiftly, noting that the upper stairs were clear, he descended again to the yard.

He had taken what little he would need to the galley on his first trip. If he went down again at once, he would have witnesses to the fact that he had come in alone for just a short time and gone out again alone. Meantime, wherever Lady Lina might be, she would certainly head for home as soon as she could.

The wretched lass might unwittingly have made everything easier for him.

The heavy rain continued. The mood was somber, the riders quiet.

Ian kept a close eye on his charges, but they kept silent and remembered to keep their heads down.

If one or another of Rob’s lads gave Ian a quizzical look as they rode, he ignored it, his thoughts speeding ahead to Dunglass and his father’s likely reaction.

The rest of the journey passed quickly… too quickly.

Men on the walkway overlooking the landward approach to the castle had seen and recognized their party. The gate was open. The riders passed through the gateway to find gillies splashing across the yard to take their horses.

The darkest clouds had passed. The rain had begun to ease its pelting.

Dismounting and handing his reins to a gillie, Ian moved to help the lady Lina only to see her cast one breeks-clad leg adroitly over her pony’s rump and slide to the ground with a light splash. Lizzie, too, dismounted without aid.

“I wish I could wear breeks all the time,” she confided in a low tone to Ian. “They are
much
better for riding.”

Colquhoun’s voice sounded behind Ian, saying sternly, “Ian, bring those two lads and come with me. I want a word with ye inside.”

Meeting his father’s gaze, Ian said only, “Aye, my lord.”

A glance at Lina and Lizzie assured him that they knew Colquhoun referred to them. When they fell into step with Ian, he noted with relief that each continued to keep her head down as they followed in the laird’s wake.

No one else looked at them, but Ian knew that any number of the Colquhoun men had at least an inkling of what he had done. And many of them, if not most, had faced Colquhoun’s wrath before, just as he had.