Archie strode from the room looking taller than he had earlier in the day. He gave Andrew a playful punch in the shoulder and together they walked to the solar. It was clear Archie was pleased with how things were proceeding with his wooing of Lady Cait. For the first time since the arrival of their female captives, Andrew thought Archie’s daft plan might actually work.
“Thank ye, Andrew, for getting that moat dragon out of the way. Lady Cait is coming around.”
“She’s no’ a dragon.” Andrew was unable to squelch the need to defend his lady. “She’s a beautiful lady and if she dinna care for ye, it only shows her good sense.”
Archie flopped into a chair and gave his younger brother a knowing smile. Andrew recognized too late his ardent defense had revealed too much of his feelings.
“Things going well wi’ Lady Cait, ye say?” asked Andrew in a nonchalant sort of way. Feelings and tender emotions were for the weak. He needed to get himself together before his older brother lost all respect for him and decided to thrash some toughness into him.
“Aye. She is verra different in person than your dragon Alys would make her out to be.”
Andrew sat in another chair in front of the small fire smoldering in the large hearth. He was not going to take the bait again.
“Another few days and I may be able to persuade her no’ to see us swing at the end o’ a rope. Give me a week and I may be able to convince her to wed.” Archie McNab was happy, unusual in itself, but his appearance had also improved. His shoulders were relaxed and the corners of his mouth turned up instead of the perpetual down. He even looked hopeful, and hope was not an expression Andrew had ever seen in his brother’s eye. Andrew should mock him in return, but he did not have the heart.
“Ye both are naught but fools.”
Andrew shrugged at his sister as she entered the room. Morrigan never shied away from giving her honest opinion at its most critical and pessimistic. Trouble was, she was generally right.
“If ye believe Lady Cait, Campbell’s own sister, is e’er going to wed ye, then ye are a bigger fool than I kenned.” Morrigan glared at Archie with glittering eyes. “She’s pretending to be amused by ye just to bide her time until her brother finds ye. Mark my words, Archie, she will ne’er marry ye.”
“She’ll agree to no’ tell her brother ’twas us who kidnapped her.” Archie defended his dream. “We’ll say we rescued her from the real abductors, and mayhap Campbell will even give us a reward for our service.”
“And how will ye know that she winna turn on ye once she is back safe with her brother. ’Tis easy to make promises now, prudent even, but I would be surprised indeed if she does’na reveal all to her brother once safely back at home.”
Archie’s smile waned, and he laid his head back against his chair and closed his eyes. “What would ye have me do then? If I send a note to ransom them, Campbell will come, take the lasses, and annihilate us. I canna simply give them back since they already know who we are.”
“And now is when ye get to thinking this through? Ye may have pondered this minor problem in yer daft plan before ye abducted them.” Morrigan shook her head, her eyes catching the light of the fire.
“’Tis possible they may choose no’ to reveal us to our deaths.” Archie folded his arms across his chest and regarded Morrigan with dark, cold eyes. “Though ye ken naught about human affection, it does’na mean these ladies have as black a soul as ye.”
Morrigan’s jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed. “Ye would risk all our lives on that chance? Ye’ve left us few options, Brother. The ladies must be eliminated.”
“Nay!” Andrew was on his feet before he knew he had spoken.
Morrigan slowly turned her maleficent gaze to him. “And ye’re just as big a fool as he, running after that wench.”
“Alys is no wench, she’s a lady-in—”
“She’s the castle whore if she’s spending her time snogging the likes o’ ye. Listen carefully, ye daft fools. ’Tis only a matter o’ time before the Campbell tracks them down. Would ye lead us into war wi’ the Campbells? Have ye no care for the lives o’ yer clan? Think on that before ye kill us all.”
Morrigan stalked from the room, leaving a cloud of desperation in her wake. All the joy and hope Andrew experienced earlier in the evening shriveled in his hands to dust. Collapsing back into his chair he tried to decipher a way out of this mess. He should just return the ladies, but doing that would risk the wrath of Campbell. Morrigan was right; their clan would hardly survive such an attack.
Andrew sat in the solar next to his brother long into the night. Neither spoke, even as darkness smothered the room, and all that was visible was the faint, red glow of the embers in the hearth. Andrew tried to devise a plan in which this situation could end without anyone being killed. The only course of action was to trust his fate to Alys and Lady Cait.
Alys must be made to love him. Their lives depended on it.
***
Cait lay in bed, far from sleep. She closed her eyes and smiled, reliving every lovely moment of her day with Andrew.
“Cait.” Alys spoke tentatively next to her in the dark.
Cait said nothing, hoping Alys would think her asleep. She did not wish to talk to the real Alys. She enjoyed pretending to be Alys too much to let reality intrude.
“Cait, I ken ye’re awake. I wish to speak wi’ ye about McNab. Archie proposed marriage to me.”
Cait snorted. “He wants to marry me, ye mean. Or rather, my dowry.”
“Aye,” Alys said slowly. “But can ye judge a man harsh for trying to better his lot in life?”
“He’s no’ bettering himself, he abducted me. I’m surprised at ye, Alys. One would think ye had gone sweet on him.”
Alys said nothing, the silence hanging heavy in the darkness between them. “’Tis the first proposal o’ marriage I have e’er received, and I’m no’ likely to receive another.”
“How can ye talk such nonsense?” Cait sputtered. “He does’na wish to wed ye, he only wishes my fortune.”
“And what o’ ye?” Alys retorted, her voice raised. “How can ye run off wi’ Andrew, making yerself the gossip o’ the whole castle. Have ye forgotten yer betrothal to Gavin Patrick?”
“’Tis enough, Alys!” Cait’s sparkling dream of happily ever after with Andrew shattered into thousands of pieces. She hated Alys for reminding her of who she was. If only she was the real Alys, she would stay with Andrew forever, not just for now.
Cait turned her back to Alys. Andrew could never be hers. She was betrothed to another. She would enjoy this dream as much as she could, but eventually she would be forced to wake. In the end she would wed Gavin Patrick, and Andrew would be nothing but a fading memory.
But not yet. She was not yet ready to relinquish her dream.
***
Campbell returned to St. Margaret’s after another unsuccessful day’s search. He followed the faint torchlight of St. Margaret’s like a beacon in an inky black night. Somewhere here was Isabelle. What was she doing now? Where would she go from here? Would he see her tonight?
Campbell shook the treacherous thoughts from his head. Must be lack of sleep breaking down his defenses. Isabelle was not his concern. It was his sister he needed to find. His rage at his sister being abducted had diminished into a gnawing fear for her safety.
With a growing urgency, Campbell quickly stabled his mount with his brothers and strode to the room the nuns had given them to meet. He hoped some of the other men would have good news for him, but one swift look around the table told him different.
Gavin Patrick and his uncle MacLaren sat at a heavy oak table. Neither bothered to look up when he entered. Gavin’s stepfather, Chaumont, leaned on the mantel, his usually lively face grim. Campbell’s brothers Dain, Gill, Finn, and Hamish filed into the room and sat heavily on benches or chairs. They looked something awful.
“Let us examine the map, and see where we have searched and where we have yet to go,” said Campbell.
<
br /> They spent an hour poring over the map with weary eyes, discussing different theories of what happened to Cait.
“We’ve followed all the tracks of the whoresons who took Cait, but each led to a dead end,” said Campbell, rubbing his aching forehead. “I was hoping ye could tell me where bands of thieves may be hiding.”
“We’ve heard of bands of ruffians roaming these parts, causing mischief of one sort or another,” said MacLaren. “Some attacks have been close to the convent, some to the north. It is not known if it is the same or separate bands.”
“There has also been unrest in Stirling,” added Chaumont.
“I have also heard that McNab to the north has been hiring himself out as protection from bands of ruffians,” said MacLaren. “He could be using the situation to increase his purse, or it could be a plot. I’ve had dealings with him in the past and I dinna trust the cur.”
“What sort o’ plot?” asked Campbell.
“He creates fear in the countryside by robbing and pillaging, and then sells ‘protection’ against his own band of thieves.”
“So we could go out toward town or farther north into the Highlands,” said Campbell. “What do ye think we should do, Gavin?”
Gavin’s head shot up, his wide eyes full of surprise. Campbell sighed. As Cait’s betrothed Gavin had the right to take the lead, but he was young yet. Still, it was proper to ask, and Campbell would do all that was right.
After more discussion they developed a plan of attack for the morn and the men retired to sleeping quarters given them by the nuns. His brothers offered to continue searching through half-closed eyes, but Campbell ordered them to bed. Never had one of his commands been more readily obeyed. They had all pushed beyond the point of exhaustion.
Campbell himself, however, slipped away unnoticed and went to the stables. He would continue to search. Cait was his sister and he would see her safe… no matter the cost.
***
Sleep would not come for Isabelle. She tossed one way, then another. Perhaps it was the simple pallet, or the plain sheets, or the thin blanket. She sat up. It was none of those things. It was Campbell. She was worried about him. Worried he would come find her and drag her back to his castle. Despite the obvious contradiction, she was even more worried she would never see him again, and that fear more than anything kept sleep at bay.
Isabelle got to her feet and paced back and forth in her small cell. So tiny was her room that she could only take a few steps before it was time to turn and go back again, making it a very unsatisfactory place to pace. Perhaps a little fresh night air would do her good. She reluctantly pulled on the torturous wool gown. At least the good sisters had washed and returned her linen chemise so the gown did not itch quite as much. She wrapped a long cloak around her shoulders, and slipped down the narrow, dark corridor and out the heavy oak door into the night.
Isabelle took a deep breath, the cool night air reviving her flagging spirits. Thick mist swirled around her. The moon illuminated the fog, making a half circle in the sky. The pale light reflected in the mist, making it difficult for her to see more than a few feet in front of her.
Isabelle strode off in the direction of the chapel, but soon was engulfed by the mist. After a few minutes of invigorating walking, she began to wonder why she had not found the chapel. She stopped and turned around to get her bearings, but could see nothing but gray blankness. She stopped turning and realized she now had no idea from what direction she had come. Isabelle rolled her eyes. Honestly, getting lost all the time was getting tiresome.
With a shrug of her shoulders, Isabelle was off once more. She knew she was still on the grounds of the convent, so she would simply walk until she found the wall that surrounded them or a building. She had come out for a walk after all, so she should be little concerned by the fact that she was getting one.
Soon she recognized a smell that was decidedly not the chapel. She had instead found the stables. Orange light from a lantern beckoned, so she entered the warm barn, breathing in the inviting smell of fresh hay. Several horses were stabled in stalls down a line. In a far stall was a stable lad bent over a horse. Around a corner were more animals, a cow chewing contentedly, a hutch of bunnies, and a momma cat curled up with eight kittens.
“Oh, kittens!” said Isabelle. She ran to the orange and black cat and picked up a ball of fluff to cuddle. Nothing could revive the spirit better than a kitten. She cuddled and mewled at them, picking up two and cradling them in her arms.
“Excuse me, lass,” said the stable hand.
“I am sorry, am I in your way…” Isabelle’s voice trailed off.
They recognized each other at the same time.
“Lady Tynsdale.”
“Laird Campbell.”
A wave of excitement coursed through her at seeing him again. She tried to push it away but she could not deny her attraction to him. He was, after all, a good-looking man, except tonight he looked rather wretched.
He rubbed his weary eyes. “My sister I canna find, but ye I canna escape. Dinna distract me. I need to go. Get out o’ my way.”
Isabelle opened her mouth for a sharp retort to his rude behavior, but noticed him start to sway on his feet and held her tongue. She quickly put the kittens down with their momma and rushed to his side.
“You are barely standing. Where do you think you are going at this time of night?” Isabelle put her arm around him to steady him, though in truth, if he chose to fall she could no more keep him upright than could one of the kittens.
“Cait is out there, somewhere, held hostage by some bastard. I dinna want to think what could be happening… Nay, I will no’ sleep until I find her.”
“Do you mean you have not slept since she was captured?”
“Nay.”
“But that was days ago! You must be exhausted.”
“I must find her.”
“You will find her, but now you must sleep. Come, let me take you back to your sleeping quarters. You will do much better after some sleep and you can resume your search in the morning.”
“I must find her,” he repeated stubbornly, but put his arm around her shoulders and leaned heavily.
Isabelle struggled to remain standing as Campbell shifted some of his weight to her. “You need sleep. Where are your brothers?”
“I sent them to bed.”
“Which is where you should be. Please let me help you—”
“Nay!”
“Stubborn Highlander! You can hardly stand on your feet and you are about to take us both down. Look, there is a hayloft; at least lie down for a few hours, rest to regain your strength and some sense.”
“One hour. No more,” he grumbled.
“Fine, fine. You will be better able to find her after some sleep.”
Isabelle pointed Campbell in the right direction and he hauled himself up a short ladder to a raised section of the barn where the hay was kept. He crawled back to the wall far from the edge and collapsed on the fresh hay.
Isabelle followed him up and watched him for a moment. His eyes were already closed and he breathed deep. On impulse she removed her cloak and laid it out over him. She was rewarded with a brief, faint smile.
“Cait was very kind to me. I will pray you find her soon,” she whispered.
Campbell opened a tired eye and took her hand in his. “Please do.”
Isabelle was slightly surprised at the request, but bowed her head. This was perhaps not the moment to mention that God never heard her prayers, or at least never bothered to answer them. Maybe with Campbell present God would be more receptive.
“Dear Lord, please allow your servant Campbell to find Cait tomorrow and please let her be safe and well. Amen.” Isabelle looked up cautiously. The prayers of her priest where always much longer, and she wondered if Campbell would find her simple prayer lacking.
He squeezed her hand. “Thank ye.”
“I will ask the sisters to pray for you too, and I can light a candle in the chapel for
you.” Isabelle wanted to do something to help.
“Thank ye. I would appreciate it if ye would. My brothers and sisters, they are everything to me.” He gently squeezed her hand again and closed his eyes. “Everything.”
Isabelle reached over with her other hand and touched his stubbled cheek. “You will find her. I believe you can do anything.”
A slow smile spread across his lips. “I protest this scandalous treatment of my person.”
Isabelle smiled in return, recognizing her own words to him from the inn. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Good night, David.”
“Good night, Edna.” Without opening his eyes David wrapped his arm around her, encouraging her to lie down next to him, and cuddled her close.
Isabelle considered breaking free. His breathing was soon slow and steady, and his arm around her relaxed. She should return to her sleeping cell, but the hay was a more comfortable bed and she was warm, snuggled next to Campbell. It was only for an hour, she reasoned. What harm could it possibly do?
***
“Day!” Campbell shouted.
“W-what?” said Isabelle, sitting bolt upright.
“’Tis light. Ye were only supposed to let me sleep an hour!” Campbell slung himself down from the hayloft, leaving her cloak strewn across the hay without so much as a thank you.
“Well! A good morn to you too!” Isabelle struggled down the short ladder and smoothed her gown.
“There you are!” Campbell’s brother Dain marched into the stable followed by his brothers and several other men. The men looked at Isabelle, then at Campbell, then back at her.
No one said anything, but her cheeks burned in the frosty morning air. With as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances, Isabelle walked toward the door, but her way was blocked by a tall, handsome knight.
“Laird Campbell, I insist you introduce me to your charming friend,” said the man in a slight French accent.
Behind her, Isabelle swore she could hear Campbell’s teeth grind.
“Lady Tynsdale, may I present Sir Chaumont,” said Campbell tersely.
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