The Knight's Temptress (Lairds of the Loch) (6 page)

Ian moved his right hand enough to be sure he could reach his dirk and then called himself a fool for doing so merely because Patrick had looked back. He relaxed, knowing he could not kill Mag’s brother, whatever risk lay in letting him live. Still aware of Patrick’s gaze, he pictured the woods beyond the castle and exhaled deeply, imagining peace and quiet beneath the trees there as he kept perfectly still and imagined a fawn drinking water from a rill.

Distantly, he heard Gorry’s voice like a murmur of wind in the treetops.

Then silence, as if all the world save that woodland had vanished. The fawn kept drinking. In time, he could hear its wee tongue lap-lapping the…

“Master, wake up!” Gorry’s urgent whisper brought Ian abruptly out of his reverie to full alertness.

“Have they gone?”

“Aye, back inside. But ye must be away.”

“How did you persuade them to stop looking for me?”

“Coo, I kent fine that Jed Laing be on the gate t’night,”
Gorry muttered. “So I walked bang up to ’im and said, ‘Did ye no see Jocko leave a wee while ago? He looks at me, and I looks straight back at him, and he claps a hand tae his pate and says, ‘Jocko!’ Then he looks at Patrick Galbraith’s man and says, ‘Be
that
who ye were a-looking for? Jocko does all manner o’ things, so I dinna think o’ him as a peat man. He left a half-hour ago.’ ”

“Clever,” Ian said approvingly. “But you’re right, I must be away. Will not everyone be searching for the peat man, though? Should I alter the way I look?”

“Nay, just come wi’ me, sir. If we dinna make a song aboot it, Jed will let us out now afore the moon rises.”

“Aye, then,” Ian said. “But you must come back, Gorry. I need you inside.”

“I ken that fine, sir. I’ll tell them me sister’s ailing in the burgh. Nae one will think nowt o’ me goin’ along tae cheer her. We canna go doon the track t’gether, though. We might meet some o’ them comin’ back up.”

“How will I get down, then?” Ian said. “I cannot fly.”

“That be why I spoke o’ the moon, sir. I’ve a rope tae let ye doon far enough tae get on away without it. I hid it when ye sent word ye’d be coming here.”

“Good man,” Ian said. He hated heights. The thought of descending two hundred feet on a rope…

However, he never turned down a challenge.

“This way, sir,” Gorry said, handing him a cloak to put over his rags and leading him along the east wall, where shadows were thickest, to the gatekeeper. “Jed, we’ll be a-going tae me sister’s the noo. I’ll be back afore dawn.”

“I’ll be here,” the burly Jed said, giving Ian an appraising look as he pulled the nearer gate open just enough to let them slip through the opening.

It closed silently behind them.

“Keep close tae this wall, sir. And step doucely,” Gorry added, leading the way. “They ha’ two men above. But they dinna expect trouble from doon here.”

Ian could see why. The only torches in sight flanked the gates. The rest of the castle wall and the area beyond it were pitch dark. After they turned the northeast corner, he could at last see where he was going but only because the firth lay below the next corner many yards ahead. Its water reflected the starlight gleaming between clouds that drifted overhead.

The two men moved quietly away from the wall toward the drop-off.

Ian soon felt prickling at his nape and an unsettling sense of open space right in front of him. He stopped gratefully when Gorry put an arm out.

“Can ye see your way, sir?”

“Aye, well enough. But are you sure you can lower me? I’m no lightweight.”

“I’ve done it afore to help one or two lads escape after we knew trouble had come. I’d pledged tae serve James Mòr, and me cousin did, too, but his lass be expecting their first, and, after these louts murdered Captain Gregor, we knew that nae one were safe. So I got him away that night whilst the rebels slept off their long, treacherous day. Nae doot they mean tae kill the rest o’ us when what’s left o’ James Mòr’s troops arrive, as he says they will. If they do, I hope they bring supplies. We’ve none so much food for so many.”

“You’ve done well, Gorry, for your cousin and for me,” Ian said. “Keep yourself safe, but if you hear aught concerning their ladyships that I should know, get word to me at Dunglass as fast as you can.”

“Aye, sir, I’ll do that.”

“Good.” Looking down into the black abyss, Ian swallowed. It was a shadowland, its only light eerily reflected from the river Clyde, for they were beyond the wider firth now. He drew a breath and said, “Let’s do this thing.”

Gorry found his rope in a crevice, uncoiled it, and moved with catlike silence across the pebbly surface of the great rock with Ian close behind him.

Tying one end of the rope around a two-foot-thick upthrust of solid granite and then looping it around another upthrust five or six feet from the edge, Gorry handed the free end to Ian, braced himself behind the second upthrust, and murmured, “I’ve over a hundred fifty feet of rope here, sir. When I’m comin’ up short, I’ll give it two twangs. Ye’ll ken then that ye’ve got nobbut a few feet more. I’d like tae be away afore moonrise, so dinna tarry.”

Agreeing, trying not to think but merely to do what was necessary, Ian helped fashion a harness that cradled his hips and thighs and tied it off with a knot at his waist, in the front. Then, sending a fervent prayer aloft, he gripped the rope, and waited until firm resistance told him Gorry was ready.

Then, setting himself, Ian took a cautious step backward over the edge and felt with one rawhide-shod foot to find purchase for it against the granite.

When he had, he breathed easier, set himself again, and tried the other foot.

The rope slipped and stopped. His left foot found a foothold.

Refusing to think about where he might end up or that at least one other man, mayhap two, had already used the rope, now rubbing dangerously against granite posts that were likely knife-sharp in places…

Ordering himself to stop thinking, he focused on feeling his way and, for a time, made faster progress than expected. A glance to his left revealed the river and the ground below him. He was nearly a third of the way.

His right foot slipped. In trying to catch his balance, he jerked the rope, which slipped farther, unbalancing him so that he swung outward before slamming against the wall. There he found a slight, vertical indentation. Clinging to it with his fingertips, he found a firmer foothold.

Drawing a breath, and hoping to keep other thoughts at bay, he thought about the two young women in the tower chamber and wondered how long Lady Lachina’s composure would last. Smiling a little, he decided she would cope.

Lizzie, on the other hand, should think herself fortunate that she was not his sister. Not that any of his three sisters would be so daft as to defy their father’s orders and gallop into danger. Doubtless, Mag or Galbraith would attend to Lizzie if Ian could just decide how the devil to rescue her and Lina.

He could do no one any good by staying where he was.

Finding purchase with his right foot, he turned to face the wall of rock again and sought a place to put his left foot. Finding one, he shifted his weight and began to feel about with the right one.

The narrow shelf of rock under his left foot, evidently thinner than other such footholds, suddenly and treacherously broke away.

Chapter 3
 

R
ecalling her earlier comparison of Dougal MacPharlain to her cat, Ansuz, Lina watched Dougal closely. But she was unable to summon the calm that thinking of Ansuz had provided her before.

Now Dougal was the one holding
her
gaze. His expression was disturbingly speculative, too, making her wish she had the power to disappear.

Lizzie, for once, kept her mouth shut.

Lina tried to feel grateful for that silence but could not seem to summon up gratitude, either.

At last, when Dougal had not spoken for what seemed an age, she collected herself enough to say, “Have you lost the power of speech, sir?

He blinked. Then he said in a cool, strangely distant tone, “My father once suggested that I should marry one of the MacFarlan sisters. If ye be Andrew Dubh’s daughter, ye must be one of them, aye?”

“I am,” she said. “But I doubt that my father would approve such a marriage.”

“Andrew Dubh did disapprove when my father suggested a union betwixt your sister Andrena and me,” Dougal said, his attitude still distant as if a veil had dropped.
“But ye’re in nae position to request your father’s approval. Nor would he be likely
now
to refuse it.”

Chilled, Lina drew a breath before saying, “I knew of no such suggested union, sir.” Choosing her words with care to avoid provoking him further, she added, “I fear I would fail to be the sort of wife you desire.”

Despite her caution, his jaw set, and his lips thinned. One dark eyebrow twitched. “How would
you
know the sort of wife I’d want?” he demanded.

Racking her brain, she tried to imagine what sort of wife he
would
want and wished again that she possessed her older sister’s insight into others.

Impulse stirred. Lina swallowed it. Even so, the words spilled from her lips: “I think you would want a gey beautiful wife who thinks just as you do, sir. To satisfy your needs, she would also have to be obedient to your will in every way.”

“Any wife should be obedient to her husband’s will,” he retorted, eyeing her more closely. “If she is not, he should teach her that she
must
obey.”

“Aye, sure. But, you see,” she added gently, “I could never be happy with a man who thought only of his wishes and never of mine. I doubt that you would deal kindly with an unhappy wife, sir. You would just order her to
be
happy.”

“Ye’re gey insolent.”

“I expect I am, or that I sound so to you,” she agreed, remembering with a shiver what he had said he would do to punish insolence. “But you see, I have always been allowed to speak my mind. I would find it hard to stop.”

“Ye’d do better to think of how much more unpleasant your captivity could be, lass. Ye’ll do as I say, or I’ll see to it that neither of ye marries any man.”

Lizzie spoke at last, her eyes wide, “Faith, do you mean to murder us?”

“Ye might wish I had,” he said curtly. Returning his gaze to Lina, he said, “I could just spread word that I’ve enjoyed favors as intimate and varied as I’d wished, from both of ye. Sakes, I could
demand
those favors or offer them to my men.”

The chill that struck Lina then nearly robbed her of speech. But she managed to say, “I hope you will not.”

“Ye may hope, aye,” he said grimly.

Then, to her relief, he turned and left, snapping the door shut behind him. Not until she heard his key turn in the lock did she breathe easily again.

“What did he mean about telling others that he had enjoyed our favors?” Lizzie asked. “We have given him no favors. Faith, I’ve never even attended a tourney where I might have offered a man my favor.”

Recognizing the innocence of those words, Lina said, “He speaks of sexual favors, Liz. The sort a husband enjoys from his wife in their bedchamber.”

Lizzie frowned. “Since I have no mother, I do not know what those are. But surely it would be wrong of Dougal MacPharlain to pretend he had treated either of us as if she were his wife.”

“Yes, it would be wrong, just as it was wrong of you to flirt with him earlier. Sithee, the truth is that whilst we are here, we are wholly in his power, Liz. Unless James Mòr stops him, Dougal
can
harm us. He can thrash us or do much worse. And, as we’ve seen, your brother cannot help us.”

“I hate Patrick,” Lizzie said fiercely.

“I know you must be disappointed that he—”

“It is not disappointment, Lina. ’Tis fury. In truth, Patrick has always been my least favorite brother. He is quickest to take offense or lose his temper if one disagrees with him. Rory is bossy, too, but he will one day be our clan chief. Mag is the kindest. But I’d liefer not see him now, either,” she added with a sigh. “He will likely be more unpleasant than Father will when they learn what happened to us.”

“Well, I won’t pretend to sympathize if you come by your deserts, Lizzie. But the truth is that, much as I hope Magnus and your father can rescue us from this awful place, I do
not
look forward to facing either one of them.”

As she said the words, her thoughts shifted abruptly to Ian Colquhoun, and she hoped he was safe. If he’d got into trouble through trying to aid them, she would not want to face him either. Heaven knew
what
he would say.