Susana and the Scot

by Sabrina York

  His gut tightened, but he forced the hint of unease away and set his hand on her shoulder. “Have you checked the garden? It’s where we usually meet before breakfast.”

  She reared back and glared at him. “Why do you meet with my daughter before breakfast?”

  Shite. He should have mentioned it earlier. He swallowed. “We, ah … I’m teaching her to use a sword.”

  “Oh. That.” She brushed his confession aside. “No, she’s not there. Or in the morning room.” She leaned in and hissed, “No one has touched the cakes.”

  Something slightly acidic tickled the back of his throat. His pulse stuttered. Isobel would never miss the opportunity to have a cake. “Let’s go find Marcus.”

  They found Marcus in the billet that had been set up for the men in the east wing. He was asleep in his bed. He appeared quite surprised when someone smacked him awake and he opened his eyes to find a fuming virago looming over him.

  “Where is she?” Susana snapped.

  “What?” He scrubbed his face. “Who?”

  “Where is my daughter? You were supposed to be guarding her.”

  Marcus paled. His Adam’s apple worked. He glanced at Andrew as he sat up in his bed. “I was relieved at dawn.”

  Tension sizzled around her in a dark cloud. “By whom?”

  “By Hamish.”

  Susana’s mouth snapped shut. Her cheeks paled. Her lips worked. She shot a reproving frown at Andrew. “Hamish?”

  “Aye, my lady.”

  “Has anyone seen Hamish this morning?” Andrew asked. All the men shook their heads.

  Susana teetered to the side.

  He put his arm around her to steady her and, if he was being honest, to steady himself. “Doona worry, Susana. We’ll find him. And we’ll find Isobel.” Andrew turned to his men and roared, “Come on, you lot, let’s get moving.”

  * * *

  They searched all day. High and low. In every nook and cranny. But they found neither hide nor hair of Isobel or Hamish. When his friend couldn’t be found, Andrew found himself racked by the sinking suspicion that he might never see him again.

  He knew Hamish had had nothing to do with Isobel’s disappearance, and if he was on watch when she was taken, there was no telling what could have happened to him. That Keir was also nowhere to be found was concerning, especially given the fact that Andrew didn’t trust the man as far as he could throw him.

  Andrew sent men out on extended patrols, focusing on the roads to the west and east; he charged Hamish’s men with searching for clues—they were excellent and well trained at investigations like this, though Hamish was better. Andrew found himself sorely missing his friend, and his expertise.

  They found little in Isobel’s room, except for the disquieting fact that she’d left her bow behind. She would never have willingly left it behind. In her sitting room, where Hamish had been stationed, they found signs of a struggle, including a trickle of blood. His sword still lay on the table. A search of Keir’s quarters turned up nothing untoward at all.

  Tracks in the stable yard were impossible to follow, because there were so many, but he sent men out to search for any signs of recent passage in the woods. It was a gamble and a folly to expect they would find anything. Dounreay was a busy castle, and many souls wandered along those roads and rode through the woods.

  There was a flicker of excitement when the men reported they’d found a trail of what looked like shreds of fabric on the road heading east, but then the trail disappeared.

  That evening, as they gathered in the parlor to hear the dismal reports, he was beginning to fear they might not find Isobel.

  Ever.

  The thought sent a cold desolation blowing through him.

  Susana was beside herself. Magnus was in a dither. Although Andrew was worried beyond belief—for Susana and Marcus, but mostly for Isobel and Hamish—he forced himself to remain focused. When his men issued their reports and left to continue searching, the three of them sat in silence in a suddenly dismal room.

  Susana was twining her fingers and murmuring to herself and sharing desolate glances with Magnus. She was wan and pale. Her shoulders shook. Magnus didn’t look any better. In fact, he seemed a shadow of his former self. A wraith.

  Andrew frowned. “How long has it been since the two of you have had something to eat?”

  They both glared at him.

  “How long?”

  Susana blew out a breath. “I doona know.”

  “Have you eaten at all today?” Her color was concerning. As were the dark shadows beneath her eyes.

  “Nae. How could I eat?”

  He turned his attention on Magnus. “How about you?”

  In response, he lifted his tumbler, half filled with whisky. Hardly substantial sustenance.

  Andrew motioned to Tamhas. “Have Cook bring a tray at once.”

  “I’m not hungry,” Susana said.

  Magnus curled his nose. “Neither am I.”

  Andrew sent a speaking look at Tamhas, who nodded and hustled away.

  Susana stood and began to pace. “Why did he do it? Why would Hamish take her?”

  His nape prickled. “Susana, I swear on my life, that is not what happened. Hamish would never do such a thing. And like Isobel, he would never leave his weapon behind.”

  “Then where is he?” Her eyes blazed with an accusatory fire.

  “I can only assume they took him, too.”

  “Why? Who would want him, too?”

  Andrew bristled. The suspicion that had been needling him would not be silenced. “Someone who wanted to make it seem as though Alexander’s men were responsible for this. Do you have any explanation for why Keir would be missing?”

  She frowned, then shook her head. “Nae.”

  “Has it occurred to you that Keir could be responsible?” he asked as gently as he could. She didn’t respond, but from her expression he could tell the possibility had occurred to her.

  God, she was so damn fragile. So brokenhearted. It made him want to sweep her into his arms and comfort her, but he knew she wouldn’t allow it. Not right now.

  “Susana, you need to rest.”

  She stared at him as though he’d just suggested she go jump naked into the loch. “Rest? My daughter is missing.”

  “It will be dark soon. There is nothing more we can do until daylight.”

  “I canna rest.” She threaded her fingers and paced the room. “I canna. Who would take her? And why? Where is she, Andrew? Out there. Somewhere. Alone.”

  “My men will keep searching, Susana. They willna stop until they find her, do you understand? And if they turn something up, if we have a lead to follow, you will want to be rested tomorrow.” He pulled her into his arms and stroked her, ignoring Magnus’s avid attention. She allowed it, but then she pulled away, her face ashen.

  “Doona,” she said.

  “Doona?”

  “Doona touch me.”

  His heart clenched. He hated hearing those words from her. But he understood. This was the worst day of her life. She’d been betrayed by someone close to her. Her daughter was missing … But there was more to her despair. Something much darker lurking in her eyes.

  “Susana, what is it?”

  She glanced at Marcus—who was making love to his whisky—and then spun away. Andrew followed.

  “Susana?”

  Her gaze, when it met his, was tormented. It sent a lance of pain through his soul. “I shouldna have stayed with you.” A whisper.

  He stilled. Swallowed. “What?”

  “I shouldna have stayed with you. I should have been with her. This is all my fault.”

  Ah, God. Nae. He wrapped her in his arms and held her, despite the fact she wanted to wriggle free, like Isobel’s bunny. Still, he held her close. “It is not your fault, Susana,” he said into her hair. “Someone wanted her. Someone who had access to all our information. Someone who knew every detail of our defenses. It might not have happened last night, but i
t would have happened.” Especially if, as he suspected, the villain was her trusted captain of the guard.

  “I should have been with her.”

  He pulled back and stared down at her. “Has it occurred to you that if you had, they would have taken you, too?”

  Her jaw firmed. “I doona care.”

  “I do. I need you.” More than she knew. “I need you to help us find her.”

  “Me?”

  He forced a laugh. “Susana, you are the fiercest woman I have ever met. Once we have some inkling where she is, we shall rally our troops and descend. Aside from that, when we rescue her, Isobel will need her mother. For comfort.”

  She put out a lip. “I’m not a very comforting person.”

  “You are an excellent mother. Isobel will want you there.”

  “Aye. I suppose.” Her expression firmed. “And if we discover this is Hamish’s doing—”

  “It is not.”

  “I will delight in personally slicing him open from stem to stern.”

  “It wasna Hamish. I assure you.” She clearly didn’t believe him, but he had faith the truth would win out.

  Tamhas surprised them by returning much faster than Andrew had expected. And he didn’t have a tray. With a light rap, he knocked on the doorjamb.

  Susana’s head shot up. “Aye?”

  “My lady. We found a note.”

  “A note?” Susana rushed over to his side and snatched it from him. Magnus hefted himself from his chair and made his way to the doorway as well. “When did it arrive?”

  Tamhas frowned. “It dinna, my lady. Cook found it in the larder, propped against the flour she uses for cakes.”

  “Cakes!” Magnus wailed. “Isobel loves cakes.”

  Andrew frowned. “They wanted us to find this in the morning.”

  “Well, we found it now,” Susana said. She ripped open the note and read it. Her face paled. Magnus peeped over her shoulder and read the note; his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.

  “What is it?” Andrew asked.

  She handed it over.

  Susana, dearest. I told you that you would regret not accepting my offer. Now, in exchange for your daughter’s safety, you will do me the honor of becoming my bride.

  It wasn’t signed, but then, it didn’t need to be. All the clues were there. The scraps of fabric heading toward the east, this ominous threat, the cloying tone …

  “Scrabster.” The thought of Isobel in such dastardly clutches made Andrew’s skin crawl.

  Filled with a renewed rage, Susana whirled and began pacing the room. “I shall crush him like a bug. I shall smash him. I shall gut him and feed his entrails to the pigs.”

  Andrew reminded himself never to make her angry.

  Magnus gave a heavy sigh. “At least we know where she is.”

  “Do we?” Andrew asked. It was a fair question. The bastard could have taken her anywhere …

  Susana snorted.

  Andrew glanced at her. “Would he be stupid enough to take her to his castle?”

  She gored him with a caustic look. “It’s Scrabster. He has no imagination.”

  “His lands are but a day’s ride away,” Magnus said.

  “Aye.” She nodded sharply. “We must leave at once.”

  Magnus frowned. “Susana. It’s getting dark. Riding in the dark is far too dangerous…”

  She brushed his concerns away with a wave of her hand. “Aye. It’s dark. And my daughter is out there. Alone.”

  “She’s not alone. She’s with Hamish.”

  Susana spun on him. “We doona even know if Hamish is responsible.”

  “He isna.” Andrew’s annoyance riffled. He shouldn’t have barked, but he couldn’t help it. “Why would he align with a maggot like Scrabster?”

  She threw up her hands. “I doona have a clue. But it hardly signifies. I’m leaving now. You can come with me if you wish.” Magnus bristled, as though preparing for war. Susana set her hand on his arm. “Not you, Papa. You need to stay here.”

  “I doona want to!” he boomed. “She’s my granddaughter!”

  “Aye.” She patted him. Andrew could see Magnus was in no shape to be haring around the countryside on horseback in the middle of the night. Likely, in his condition, he would not even be able to hold his seat—whisky and all. “We need you here,” she said gently.

  “You do?”

  “Of course. In case any more news comes in.”

  Miraculously, Magnus accepted this—or likely, he knew the truth of his age and weakness—and he nodded.

  It heartened Andrew to see Susana regain some of her vigor, but he couldn’t help asking, “What do you plan to do?”

  She gored him with a glare. “Whatever I need to do to keep my daughter safe.”

  His gut tightened. “You’re not marrying Scrabster,” he bleated.

  The glare darkened. “What do you care who I marry?”

  “I care very much, damn it. Isn’t that obvious?”

  “Nothing is obvious where you are concerned.”

  “That is hardly fair—”

  “Ahem.” A deep voice rumbled through the room, shattering their mutual pique.

  Susana frowned at her father. “What?”

  “Whatever the two of you intend to do, I suggest you do it now, and argue later.”

  She sent a look at Andrew, one that sliced through to his soul. “Right,” she clipped.

  “Right,” he responded, because he really didn’t know what else to say.

  They wasted no time preparing to ride out, although while they were doing so, Andrew made Susana eat. He couldn’t stop her from coming along, indeed, he wouldn’t dare try, but he didn’t want her fainting halfway there.

  Their plans were fluid; they decided to plot along the way. All they wanted to do now was get moving. It would take hours to reach Scrabster’s land; indeed, they would need to ride straight through to have a chance of reaching the castle by morning. If the villains had taken a coach, which the evidence suggested, they might even catch up with them.

  Still, they needed to be cautious. This whole debacle could be a ploy to lure them away and leave the castle unguarded, so Andrew left men posted at the gates and had them close up tight when they rode out. He took as many men as he could spare without leaving Dounreay vulnerable.

  They pounded toward Scrabster’s stronghold with all haste. In Andrew’s opinion, they had no time to lose. Oh, Isobel would be safe. Scrabster wouldn’t dare harm a hair on her head, not if he wanted to win Susana’s hand. But if Keir had planned this, and taken Hamish along to pin the blame on someone else, there was only one thing that could happen to Hamish for his plan to work.

  Hamish would have to die.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The carriage jostled and, because her hands and feet were bound, Isobel jostled with it. It was uncomfortable, because she and Hamish had been crammed in the foot well and there wasn’t much room. And he was hard.

  She’d worried for a while that he was dead. She’d seen the blood on his head and he was very still. But when she stared at his chest in the waning light through the windows, she could see he was breathing.

  It was a mystery, what those filthy men in black hoods had planned for them, but judging from the few things she’d heard, and the ferocity with which they’d tied her, it couldn’t be good. She very much wished she had her bow. She would skewer them all and then they’d be sorry.

  It had been a long and boring day, tied up in a carriage. She entertained herself ripping scraps from the trim of her chemise and shoving them through a small hole in the floor of the carriage. She had no clue if they were indeed falling to the ground below, or if they were collecting in the boot, but she kept it up … until she ran out of trim.

  Perhaps she should have made smaller pieces.

  Mama would be appalled at the damage she’d done, but Isobel found it oddly satisfying. Little else was. She was hungry and thirsty and every bone ached.

  The worst
part of all was the fact that she’d been good. She’d been good and done everything everyone had asked of her. She hadn’t gone out to play by herself. She hadn’t climbed any towers. She hadn’t even gone to visit the bunny in the garden.

  She hadn’t done any of it, and they’d snatched her anyway.

  From her bed.

  Shoved a rag in her mouth and wrapped her in a blanket and carted her away like she was a carpet.

  It was truly infuriating being small.

  However, she vowed she’d get them back. She’d make them pay. Somehow. She just needed to watch for her chance.

  She dozed as the carriage continued to lug along. She had no idea where they were or where they were going, but the road was decidedly bumpy. With a frown, she peered out the window. From her position on the floor, she could only see the sky. But when she focused and tried to be clever, she could tell from the angle of the setting sun that they were heading east. Then she realized they must be following the coast, because she could smell the brine in the air. She imagined the map of Caithness County Mama had made her memorize, and her nose wrinkled. Scrabster lived to the east along the coast. She hated Scrabster.

  A wayward thought made her grin. If she were to rain vengeance down on any man, he was as good a target as any.

  And Mama probably wouldn’t even scold her.

  Beneath her, Hamish stirred. Then he winced and groaned. His eyes fluttered open and he blinked.

  “Hullo there,” she said, because it seemed the polite thing to do.

  He licked his lips. She wished she had some water to give him but she didn’t. And she was thirsty, too. She would probably have drunk it all by now. “Is-Isobel? What happened?”

  She smiled. She tried to make it as brave a smile as she could. “We’ve been kidnapped.”

  “Kidnapped?” He shook his head and winced again. “Why?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I doona know. But we’re heading east, so I’m pretty certain it was Scrabster.” She wrinkled her nose. “He’s a worm.”

  “Scrabster?” Something flickered across his brow. It might have been concern. “How—How long have we been traveling?”

  She sighed. “Hours. All day.” She sighed. “It’s going verra slowly.”

  He smiled, though it was a wobbly effort. “These things do.”