The Knight's Temptress (Lairds of the Loch)

by Amanda Scott

  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.”

  “You’re certain he won’t give them up?”

  “Aye, sure; he says they be too valuable, the pair o’ them. But the lady Lachina tellt me that Dougal MacPharlain be for taking her away right soon.”

  “Then I must reach them straightaway, Gorry. Can you get me inside?”

  “Easy as breathing wi’ such a mob in this yard and servants coming and going tae attend them in the hall,” Gorry said. “What’s in yon bundle?”

  “Oilskins to cover them and breeks,” Ian replied in an undertone as they wended their way toward the service-stair door.

  “Oilskins be a good notion,” Gorry said. “I didna ken what tae do about their skirts, and ye couldna verra well spirit them away in them. Am I tae leave wi’ ye?”

  “I should take you, because it will be gey dangerous for you here when the lasses are gone,” Ian admitted. “But if we can arrange for you to stay safe, you’ll be more valuable to me when I think of a way to force the rebels out of here.”

  “Aye, sure, when ye take back the castle. But willna James Mòr ken fine that Colquhoun had summat tae do wi’ the ladies’ disappearance?”

  “If you or one of your friends can help, I mean to cast suspicion on Dougal long enough for me to get their ladyships safely to Dunglass.”

  Gorry glanced at him, eyes agleam. “We can help wi’ that, for Dougal’s awa’ doon tae the harbor. What must we do?”

  “I’ve scrawled a message on a scrap of vellum that I mean to drop in their ladyships’ chamber,” Ian explained. “I brought matching vellum with me, too. If you can hide it amidst Dougal’s effects and then have someone spread word of his too-frequent visits to their ladyships, even that he discomfited them…”

  “Aye, sure, we’ll do that,” Gorry said. Striding up the steps to the service-stair door, now open to admit others, he muttered, “Keep your head doon,” and preceded Ian to follow them in.

  Inside, Ian saw with astonishment that the stairway was alive with cloaked and uncloaked servants going up to rooms on other floors or down to a kitchen, bakehouse, or storerooms below the entry level. They carried jugs, trays, and other objects, doubtless meant for the great hall on the next level or chambers above it where James Mòr and his noble followers would have their private chambers.

  The narrowness of the service stairway made passing others awkward. But the gillies and men-at-arms using it paid no heed to them. Each man clearly had his mind on his own task. And with duties taking them into and out of the weather, the majority of them wore cloaks of one s
ort or another over livery or mail.

  Gorry kept to the narrow part of the wedge-shaped steps, near the stone center post, allowing those coming down to hug the wall as protocol demanded. He moved up with practiced ease as men coming down with empty jugs, trays, baskets, linen, or other paraphernalia pressed past him.

  Following him, Ian held his oilskins bundle close, so no one would knock it from his grip. When they were past the great hall, Gorry moved faster.

  No one questioned their presence.

  At the next-to-last landing, the flight above loomed dark and vacant.

  “No guard?” Ian murmured.

  “None needed,” Gorry replied. “I ha’ the key. Dougal keeps another in the wee purse on his belt. Since he’s the one as ordered me tae keep others away and see tae their ladyships m’self, I’ll be the first one he suspects o’ this.”

  “There must be more than two keys to that chamber,” Ian said.

  “Aye, sure, the castle steward had one. So did the captain o’ the guard.”

  “If one or both of those keys should vanish for a wee while…”

  Gorry chuckled, “Aye, and so I thought m’self,” he said. “That be how them keys did go a-missing. I dinna think their keepers ha’ missed ’em yet.”

  “You’re aye a canny man, Gorry,” Ian said, grinning.

  Taking advantage of the unusual activity within the castle wall to slip down to the harbor, and believing that his immediate goal was within reach, Dougal had ordered his crew to prepare to depart soon for Arrochar despite the heavy rain.

  Wrapped in an oiled leather cape over his plaid and a simple saffron sark, his rawhide boots soaked through, he was heading back to the castle, certain that Colquhoun must have arrived by now.

  The lightning and crashing thunder had nearly undone his plan, because some of his men were superstitious, others terrified of lightning, especially on the water. But, unlike the fashious wench, they would obey him. He had never heard of lightning striking a vessel on the Loch of the Long Boats. It struck the nearby peaks instead. And the lightning had moved on. Only distant, growling thunder remained.

  “This damnable rain,” he muttered through his teeth. The wind had dropped, but his stiff cape had provided only slight protection while it blew, so he was wet.

  Their journey later would be unpleasant, but he had an unexceptional reason now for leaving. Having found it impossible to secure the Firth of Clyde, James Mòr feared a siege and had asked him to learn who amongst the west Highland clan chiefs would be most disposed to aid him if he needed an escape route.

  So, Dougal would take the lady Lina as soon as he could and leave.

  Lina had finished darning the shirt, so when the latest set of footsteps reached the landing, she snipped her thread free and set the garment aside.

  “Someone’s coming, Liz. Two men.” She realized that the difference she had discerned in the footsteps was that they were of equal tread.

  The lad’s steps had always been lighter and quicker than MacCowan’s.

  Her heart was beating faster, harder. Her skin felt as if lightning were still in the air. She fought to keep her composure, to look natural when they came in.

  Lizzie was staring at her, squinting in the flickering light of the candles.

  With little more noise than a few clicks, the door swung inward and Gorry MacCowan filled the doorway. By then, Lina knew who stood behind him. Her body had recognized Sir Ian’s approach with more confidence than she had.

  “M’lady,” MacCowan said, “Ye should—”

  “Watch the door, Gorry,” Ian said, stepping past him into the room. “I’ll explain, but we need to hurry if we’re to succeed.”

  His peat-man rags, gray cloak, and stiff oilskin contrasted oddly with words spoken in the crisp tones of a noble knight accustomed to command.

  Lina glanced at Lizzie, who was staring at Sir Ian with her mouth open.

  Gorry shut the door and stood with an ear against it as his lad had earlier.

  Collecting her wits, Lina said, “What must we do, sir?”

  “I’ve breeks for each of you,” Ian said, revealing his bundle. “Put them on and stuff your skirts into the waists. Can you do that by yourselves?”

  “Aye, sure,” she said, taking the leathery pair of breeks he handed her. “Quick, Liz. Put down that shirt, and do as he bids.”

  “But—”

  “I’m a friend of your brother Mag’s, lass,” Ian said to her. “I’ve come to get you out of here. So, be quick. We’ve nae time for debate or modesty.”

  Lina donned her breeks easily, although they reeked and were too big. Wondering who might have worn them before and what vermin they might contain, she looked at Ian, saw his eyes light with humor, felt her body respond, and hastily attended to her skirts.

  Lizzie eyed with distaste the pair Ian had handed her. But after a glance at Lina and one at him, she pulled them on. When she had stuffed what she could of her skirts into them, she looked like a plump lassock in lad’s clothing.

  “Turn around,” Ian said to her. When she did, he loosened her long red plaits and tied her hair at her nape with a string. “Now put this oiled cloak over you, lass.”

  “Nay, sir, not yet,” Lina said. She had no need to tie back her hair, coiled rather untidily at her nape. But she removed her veil as she said, “Oiled skins will keep off rain, but they are stiff and unwieldy. Going downstairs, we would find it impossible to keep our stuffed-in skirts and our hair hidden from those coming up.”

  “Her ladyship be right, master,” Gorry said. “We’ll ha’ tae go doon the way we came up. Gillies and the like will still be a-using them stairs.”

  “Sakes, man, they cannot wear their own cloaks,” Ian said.

  “We have others,” Lina said. Picking up her blanket-cloak and handing it to him, she said, “We fashioned hoods, and we slit fitchets in the sides to slip our hands through, so we can hold them round us as we go. They look rather monkish. But when we are outside, with your oilskins over them—”

  “They should serve, aye,” he interjected, his light blue eyes brimming with amusement as he draped the cloak around her. “I thought sure you’d balk at this reckless escapade, my lady. I did not expect you to prepare for it.”

  “Any captive should try to plan for an escape,” she said. “But this is no time to quibble, sir. We must go if we are going. Art ready, Liz?”

  To Lina’s relief, Lizzie nodded without a word as she adjusted her bulky middle to more appropriately resemble a stomach than a roll that bulged all around her. Then she let Ian help her don her blanket-cloak. Its hood, like Lina’s, fit in loose folds that concealed much of her face and all of her curly tresses.

  “The message, master,” Gorry said as they turned toward the door.

  “Aye, sure,” Ian said. Pulling a scrap of vellum from his rags, he dropped it to the floor. You had best take the other portion now, Gorry, lest I forget later.”

  Watching him hand a small roll of vellum to Gorry, Lina wondered what message he had left. Whatever it was, she just hoped they would get away. Moving to the door, she assured herself that if someone did catch them and bring them back, she and Lizzie would still be as valuable to James Mòr as when they had arrived.

  Ian startled her with a light hand on her arm, a touch that stirred the tingling again. So strongly did the sensation affect her that he sounded far away when he said, “Let Lizzie go first, lass. We’ll keep you two between us. And keep your heads down. Both of you must look as meek as you can.”

  “Wait, master,” Gorry said, crossing the room to pick up the noisome pail and then a tray from the table. “Let the lassie carry this pail. They’ll mistake her for me lad, and nae one will trouble her. And, m’lady, if ye’ll carry this tray, ye’ll look as if ye’re doing your chores, too. Look slippy now, master,” he added. “Four of us a-going down may set some’un tae thinking summat we dinna want him tae think.”

  “No one will heed us,” Ian said, gesturing for
him to lead the way. Then he put a hand to the small of Lina’s back, sending new tremors through her.

  “Move along, lass,” he said when she stiffened.

  Making her way down the twisting stairway, she was glad that those coming up kept to her left, giving her the wider footing. She did not need to shift the tray to watch her feet, but even so, she had all she could do to keep everything in place when she had to pass someone. At the door to the yard, so determined was she to keep her head down that when the deluge struck her, she nearly cried out.

  Ian’s hand was at her back again. Gorry kept Lizzie with him as they wended their way through the sodden crowd milling in the courtyard, but men they passed seemed too concerned with their own misery to pay them heed.

  They were nearing the gates when Ian said quietly, “Stop.”

  When Lina did, she saw that Gorry had vanished into the crowd.

  Lizzie stood beside her.

  They stood so until Ian said, “Here they come now.”

  Following his gaze, Lina saw the Laird of Colquhoun striding toward them.

  Chapter 7

  Not 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.”