Amanda Scott (23 page)

“They captured me when I walked a short distance from the castle after Michael and the others left with the flotilla,” Isobel said. “I thought I heard a child crying, so I went farther than usual, but it was a trap. They were waiting for me.”

“But if his grace and the others left before you, why are they not here yet?”

“Because they went around the Mull of Kintyre so others from the south could join them, whilst we came across the isthmus from West Loch Tarbert.” Isobel tried to sit up, then said in frustration, “Can you untie me?”

Sorcha took a step toward her, but the hand that had so recently released her caught her arm again.

“You will ask my permission first,” Waldron said.

Sorcha looked up at him. “Why should I when you will simply refuse it?”

“Because you do not know I will,” he replied calmly. “Until you know me better, lass, you would do well to tread lightly. I hold two of your sisters, after all. ’Tis they
who will pay the price for your insolence if you try me further.”

“Sakes, would you hurt a woman big with child? Only a mons—”

“Sorcha, be silent,” Isobel said sharply. “You do not know him.”

“Wise advice, Lady Isobel. Let us hope your insolent little sister accepts it.”

Gritting her teeth, Sorcha inhaled deeply and exhaled before she said, “Very well then, may I untie her hands?”

“Certainly,” he said. “I doubt she will try to escape whilst you and Adela are here, or that she can get far if she does.”

Isobel said, “I would like to have a few minutes of privacy outside, if I may.”

“You just went an hour ago,” he said.

“Aye, but women in my condition require frequent relief,” she said.

“I’ll have one of my men take you then.”

“That’s barbaric,” Sorcha said. “I’ll take her. If you like, I’ll give you my word that we won’t try to escape. We are not going anywhere without Adela.”

To her surprise, he smiled, but it was not a pleasant smile, and she had no wish to ask him what he thought was funny. Expecting him to refuse permission, she was surprised again when he nodded. “Take her then, but do not stay long.”

Outside, he directed them to the area they wanted, and when they had found a suitable place, Isobel moved to brace herself against a tree, murmuring so that her words barely reached Sorcha’s ears, “Is anyone with you or close behind?”

“I don’t think so,” Sorcha said quietly. “When Hugo finds out that—”

“So Hugo found you?”

“Aye, yestermorn, but I doubt he knows yet that I’ve left camp. He is expecting some of Hector’s men, and likewise some from Roslin, but I do not know when they will arrive. He’ll come, though, as soon as he learns that I’ve gone. He’ll know I meant to come here. That is, he will, if we are near the village of Ratho.”

“Sakes, I haven’t a notion where we are,” Isobel said.

“I don’t, either, but Rory MacIver heard them say the name, and Hugo said it lay somewhere hereabouts.”

Isobel made a sound then that sounded like a groan.

“Are you ill?” Sorcha demanded. “It cannot have been good for you to travel so far, as big with child as you are. You must have made all speed, too, if you left after Michael and his grace left. That was likewise yestermorn, was it not?”

“Aye,” Isobel said, straightening again with the support of the tree. “The men had a galley, doubtless the one Michael thinks they used to take Adela south from Glenelg to Loch Ailort. He believes they had it from the wicked Green Abbot of the Holy Isle, who has helped Waldron before. You do know that Waldron is a cousin to the Sinclairs, and thus also cousin to Sir Hugo.”

“Aye, Hugo told me.”

“Another galley waited for us in East Loch Tarbert, so we walked across the isthmus, made Dumbarton by morning, and reached this place late this afternoon.”

“If he managed to summon up two galleys, even from the Green Abbot, he must have planned this venture carefully beforehand,” Sorcha murmured.

“Aye, sure, but what else did Hugo tell you? Nay, never mind,” Isobel added hastily, looking around as if she expected the very trees to have ears. “But do take care not to infuriate Waldron, Sorcha. He is a demon, believe me.”

“Did you really push him off the ramparts at Roslin? Hugo said you did.”

“I did, and by rights he should be dead, but demons don’t die easily.”

She spoke more loudly than before, so Sorcha was not surprised to hear Waldron say, “Come, ladies, it is time to go back to your wee tent.”

Exchanging a look with Isobel, Sorcha wondered, just as her sister clearly did, how much he had heard them say.

He gave no indication that he had heard any of it as he guided them back to the tent, saying only, “You will sleep here with your sister, Lady Sorcha.”

“I want to see Adela first,” Sorcha said.

“Not tonight,” he said. “She is asleep.”

Sorcha would have protested, but Isobel pinched her arm, silencing her.

When they were alone in the tent, Isobel said, “Adela will not thank you for being here, Sorcha. She was absolutely furious to see me.”

“Well, she should have been furious,” Sorcha said. “The very idea that Waldron and his louts would force a woman in your condition to travel all the way from Lochbuie to this horrid place should infuriate any civilized person.”

“Aye, sure, but she seemed angry with me, not him. And I suspect that she will be just as unhappy to see you.”

Adela was too angry to sleep. She had lain awake, mentally flaying everyone she could think of, especially Isobel. What, she wondered, had Isobel been thinking to let herself be captured? And where was Michael, that he’d allowed such a thing?

Although she tried, she could not seem to ease her fury. Since no one could have abducted Isobel from inside the walls of Lochbuie, she must have done something stupid to get herself captured. Not only had she thus put herself and her baby in danger, but she had also spoken the name Waldron aloud. Since that moment, Adela had been unable to think of him any longer as simply his lordship, a man with sincere beliefs whom she might eventually persuade to be more civil. That image had evaporated in the horror-stricken moment when Isobel’s very presence had reminded her of how evil he could be and the threats he had made. What would he do now?

Between them, Isobel and Sorcha had always been her two most troublesome sisters, with Isobel’s unending curiosity and Sorcha’s headstrong defiance often leading each into mischief. Had it not been enough that Sorcha had interfered in a matter that was none of her business? Adela was still angry with her, too, so angry that at one point in her reflections she thought that she heard Sorcha’s voice.

Then, realizing that her thoughts had taken her full circle, she tried to bring herself up short, to remind herself again that Waldron was the one at fault. But she dared not rail at him, for by no means could she persuade herself
that he would not react brutally if she did. And who would he use then to teach her a lesson?

She believed he had come to like her a little. Had he not said she was a good listener? Did he not speak civilly to her? He had not even lost his temper when she’d said he should take her at once if he meant to take her at all. In fact, he had not done anything brutal since the hanging Monday night, four whole nights ago—a lifetime.

But capturing the pregnant Isobel had hardly been civil. Adela tried to push the nagging reminder away, but she could not, because something inside told her that only a thoroughly evil man could do such a thing. Still, she tried to persuade herself that Waldron could not be thoroughly evil. Although evil men or evil thoughts must have influenced him to act as he had, only the devil himself was evil clear through.

Waldron served God, and God was not evil. God had a purpose in all He did.

On that thought, Waldron entered the tent without warning.

“Good, you’re awake,” he said.

She gazed blankly at him, wondering why he had come to her at such an hour. Could he mean at last to break the vow that he had made to God and to her?

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said warily.

“You’ll have to get up. I’m having them move this tent into the woods. We’ll leave the other where it is for now, but from any distance, I want this area to look as if no one else is here.”

“Then you mean to use Isobel as bait to catch Michael and Hugo,” she said, forcing herself to speak matter-of-
factly as she thrust off the blanket. “She ought never to have come here.”

He shrugged. “She did not come by choice. I needed her.”

Without thinking, she snapped, “But how could you? To have endangered her baby—” She broke off, furious with herself and terrified that she had stirred his anger again, anger that could now endanger Isobel and her baby even more. “I beg your pardon, my lord,” she said hastily, wondering what demon had taken possession of her tongue. “I know I should not speak so to you.”

To her astonishment, she thought she heard a trace of defensiveness as he said, “Until you told me, I did not know her time was so near. By then it was too late to do anything about it, but no harm has come to her, and I needed her.”

“To set a trap so you can kill her husband and Sir Hugo.”

“I won’t kill them,” he said. “Not straightaway. First, I must learn all they can tell me about the treasure.”

“Treasure?” She barely said the word aloud, but although he had tolerated her earlier plain speaking, his eyes narrowed ominously now.

“Surely, you know that anything stolen from the Kirk must be thought of as treasure,” he said. “Heretics held it, and when the Pope ordered its return and disbanded their unholy organization, they fled with it. The Kirk has been searching for it since the early years of this century, and as I have kinsmen amongst the family chiefly suspected of concealing it, I became one of the chosen.”

Drawing breath to steady her voice, she said, “I agree that if the Sinclairs have taken something that does not
belong to them they must return it, but you must not use Isobel to bait your trap. If a fight breaks out, she could easily be hurt.”

“Aye, well, I’ll think about that,” he said. “I’ve no wish to harm any babe unless it becomes necessary. Mayhap the lady Sorcha will suffice as my bait.”

“Sorcha!” She remembered the voice she had heard.

“Aye, she came to pay us a visit just before the moon went down, and I’ve no doubt that Hugo must be close on her heels. So pick up all you can carry and bring it with you. I want to get everyone out of sight straightaway.”

Two hours before dawn, Hugo awoke to darkness, fully alert and aware that someone stood silently nearby, just beyond his view. The moon had set, the black sky above was full of stars, and the air felt cold and damp. He lay perfectly still, relying on his senses for further information before he reacted.

Whoever it was was neither large nor heavy, for although he detected faster than normal breathing, it was soft, not labored or stertorous. With that awareness, a slight scent of lavender wafted to him. His first deduction was that it might be Sorcha, but the knowledge that she would not hesitate to wake him brought him swiftly to the obvious but less welcome conclusion.

Slowly, as though he still slept, he turned his head.

Discerning the slender shape huddled in a cloak in shadows nearby, he saw that it definitely was not Sorcha, and despite having already reached that conclusion, the disappointment he felt startled him with its sharpness.

Then he saw that Sidony was wringing her hands.

Knowing he could easily frighten her, he forced calm into his voice as he said, “What’s amiss, my lady?”

“Oh, thank heaven you are awake, sir!” she said without coming a step nearer. “I could not decide if I should disturb you, but I am dreadfully afraid.”

With every instinct now warning him to bring her quickly to the point, he said, “What has frightened you?”

“I… I truly do not know if I should tell you,” she said.

“Why not?”

“I fear it will make you angry,” she said. “Or perhaps it will…”

When she hesitated again, he sat up, fighting to keep his patience. “Or perhaps you believe it will anger your sister. Come now, where is she?”

“I… I do not know,” Sidony admitted, and he heard tears in her voice.