Secrets to Seducing a Scot (22 page)

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Authors: Michelle Marcos

BOOK: Secrets to Seducing a Scot
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As soon as the pub keeper spoke, Malcolm heard a commotion outside. He darted out onto the cobbled street, and saw a lone horse and rider galloping up the high street.
“Make way! Make way!” the rider shouted as his horse’s hooves clattered on the ancient stones. He was headed straight for the path that led up to Ramh Droighionn Castle.
Malcolm’s instincts leapt into heightened awareness. A messenger on horseback at full gallop bound for the clan chief … this did not bode well.
 
They hid their horses in a thicket at the foot of the hill far removed from the road up to Ramh Droighionn Castle.
“We go on foot from here,” said Malcolm. “From now on, we must rely on stealth.”
Serena adjusted the dark arisaid around her to cover as much of her light-colored dress as she could.
“Well done,” Malcolm said. He pulled out a pistol from the waistband of his kilt and handed it to her. “Ye may have need of this. Have ye ever used one before?”
She shook her head as she turned the weapon over in her hand.
“Do ye know how to shoot?”
“No, but many is the time I’ve wished I had one of these to shoot you with.”
A grin appeared on his face. “Funny enough, the same thought had occurred to me.” He took the gun from her and modeled a stance for her. “Ye shoot like this. The trigger is very stiff, and it requires a lot of strength to squeeze. Ye may have to use both hands to pull back on it. Like this.” He showed her how to do it. “Ye only have one pistol ball, so shoot only if ye have to, and only if ye have a reasonable expectation of putting yer man down.”
Putting her man down
. It was a sobering thought. All of a sudden she realized what the implement of wood and metal in her hand was capable of. Malcolm must have sensed her apprehension, for he put his hands on her shoulders.
“If it comes down to yer life or another’s, shoot to kill. Do ye understand?”
Numbly, she nodded. That made it worse. It wasn’t the weapon that would
put her man down
. It was she herself who would be doing it.
“Stay low and out of sight,” he added. “Remember, nothing can happen to ye if ye’re invisible. Use the bushes to hide behind. And if anything should happen to me, don’t stay here. Make yer way back to Lord Askey’s home in Fort Augustus. All right?”
“Yes,” she lied. She was not about to leave Malcolm behind, even at his own insistence.
They crept up toward the castle on the forest side,
hidden from sight by the undergrowth. It slowed their steps, but they were able to approach undetected. Malcolm’s footsteps made no noise, even to Serena, who was only a few feet behind. He was clever enough to step only on earth or moss, avoiding the fallen leaves that crunched under Serena’s feet. Despite her pervasive fear of spiders, Serena gave them only a cursory thought. She was consumed with the hope that her father was just beyond the thick gray stone walls, and with the fear of anything happening to either of the two men dearest to her in the whole world.
Malcolm halted in mid-stride, tensing. Some sound pricked his ears, and he stilled to hear it. Serena’s heart raced in her chest. Suddenly she heard it, too. It sounded like distant thunder, low in the sky, but it grew louder and stronger, until she felt it vibrate the ground underneath her feet.
“The soldiers are on the move,” he said. “They’re marching out.”
Serena gripped his arm. “What if they take Father with them?”
His jaw tensed. “Come on. We’ve got to get a look.”
They left the safety of the woods and ran to the stone dyke that ran along the far end of the adjacent sheep pasture. Crawling along behind the low wall, they reached a good vantage point. From here, they could get a better look at what was happening at the door of the castle.
Ramh Droighionn Castle was a fortress built about five hundred years earlier. It comprised a high square keep surrounded by thick walls, which encased a courtyard in the center.
From the portcullis emerged a line of armed soldiers four men thick, who followed in formation behind a cavalry of regimental leaders. On and on the line continued,
hundreds and hundreds of men marching off to war. The infantry held lit torches in the air, making it appear as if the castle was spewing fire from its fanged mouth. It was a terrifying sight.
“It’s hard to tell if the ambassador is with them. I have to find out for certain if he is still inside.” She made a move to follow him, but he halted her. “No. Ye stay here. No one will see ye behind this dyke.”
“I want to—”
“If I’m no’ back in fifteen minutes, find yer way back to the horses and return to Fort Augustus. Is that clear?”
She was a jangle of emotions. She wanted her father back, but she didn’t want Malcolm to go. Her entire relationship with Malcolm flashed through her mind in an instant. At what point had she stopped being afraid
of
him and started being afraid
for
him?
Her eyebrows tented in worry. “Be careful.”
He placed a reassuring kiss on her mouth. “Tell that to whoever stands against me.”
She watched him run silently across the meadow. He jumped over the stone dyke on the far end, and then he disappeared.
The seconds slowed to a crawl, and the minutes dragged by. Serena’s eyes watered as she scanned the sight of the forbidding castle for a sign of her beloved. Her anxiety made her lose all sense of time. Malcolm could have been gone only a moment, or the unending moments could have swallowed him up entirely.
A shadow shifted in the distance, and she saw a man’s body being dumped over the stone dyke into the sheep pasture. It landed with a thud on the ground and lay lifeless. Malcolm! Her heart was ready to beat its last. And then she saw a man jump over the dyke and run straight toward her.
The moon was nowhere to be found, but she would recognize him even in utter darkness. “Malcolm!” She threw her arms around him and squeezed. “Thank God you’re all right.”
“Yer father’s inside,” he panted. “He’s alive. They’re keeping him in one of the dungeon cells.”
“Oh!” she breathed, joy fanning into her chest.
“I also found out that the British have marched on Inverness. McCullough’s gone to engage them in battle.”
“Can we go get my father now? Is it safe?”
Malcolm shook his head. “The castle has reinforcements. McCullough has kept reserves.”
“How many?”
“About a hundred.”
“A hundred men? How are we going to get my father out?”
“I’ll figure out a way. Ye stay here.”
“The hell I will!” Serena’s curse word surprised even herself. “I’m not going to be left behind again.
We
will get my father out.”
“I can’t allow it. If anything should happen to ye—”
“Malcolm,” she said forcefully. “You are here because I need you. But I can’t let you go in there alone. Now you need me.”
She watched his face transform as he carefully weighed her proposal. “All right. But do only as I say.”
She raised her pistol and cocked it. “As long as you say it nicely.”
They ran across the meadow. Serena saw a lad lying unconscious on the ground with his hands bound behind him and a cloth in his mouth. A few sheets of paper danced in the wind beside him. “Who on earth is that?”
He waved away her question. “Just the obliging page who told me what I needed to know. Don’t worry about
him. When he wakes up, he’ll have a hell of a headache, but he’ll be fine.”
They stole through the raised portcullis and darted behind an unhitched wagon situated just inside the courtyard. A wheel, broken in half, leaned against the crippled carriage. The oil lamps hanging from the walls around the keep cast a yellow glow on the enclosure. A couple of lads—pages, she assumed—were glumly walking around picking up rubbish and other debris after the regiments marched off.
“Dougal,” one of them called out, but got no answer. “Dougal!”
Serena’s heart started pounding. He was no doubt calling the unconscious boy from whom Malcolm had extracted information.
The ginger-haired lad came right toward them. “Dougal, if ye’re hiding behind the carriage so ye can draw yer dirty pictures again, I’ll tell the captain in the dining hall. He’ll give ye what for.”
Malcolm picked up a bone from the ground and tossed it through the portcullis. The thud distracted the boy, who walked outside calling his friend.
Soundlessly, Malcolm grabbed Serena by the wrist and pulled her out from behind the wagon. They ran to the shadowed crevice behind one of the smaller baileys.
Just then, an armed soldier walked past them. Malcolm darted his head out to follow the man’s movements. He went through the courtyard and stood his post, guarding the entryway. Malcolm ground his teeth.
“The boy told me that the dungeon lies through that arched door in the keep,” he whispered. “We’re going to run for it.” Malcolm waited for the sentry to turn his head. “Now!”
Malcolm held Serena by the hand as they ran headlong
toward the opening in the keep. They were confronted by stairs going up, and another set going down. Malcolm took the downward stairs, hugging the cold stone wall as he tread silently. Serena could feel a dark sense of foreboding as she descended to what she knew was a dungeon. If they were caught down here, they’d be surely trapped with no other way out.
The stairs yawned onto a room, a shaft of light glowing on the ancient stone walls. Malcolm stole a quick look within and saw two men sitting upon stools in the vestibule to the dungeon. Behind them was a thick metal gate. The opening to the prison cells.
He turned to her and made a gesture to stay still. He pulled his
sgian dubh
from his sporran and ran to the bigger of the two guards. He plunged the six-inch blade into the man’s thigh, and the man screamed. Malcolm pulled the
sgian achlais
from under his arm and brandished it at the other man, but the guard was ready for him. He swung his sword at Malcolm’s dagger, knocking the weapon from his hand. Malcolm swung a fist at the guard’s face and jumped on him to wrestle the sword from his grasp. With his free hand, the guard punched Malcolm in the ribs, making him curl sideways. Still, Malcolm refused to let go of the guard’s sword fist. A taller man than the guard, Malcolm pushed him backward and wedged him against the stone wall. Malcolm succeeded in wresting the sword from his hand, but he left himself vulnerable to the meaty fist that came swinging at him. Disoriented, Malcolm stumbled backward and the man got in another blow to his face. He swung again, getting Malcolm in the abdomen. Malcolm collapsed to the floor. The man came at him, and when he bent to lay hands on Malcolm’s back, Malcolm grabbed hold of the man’s ankle and yanked on it, sending him sprawling
to the floor. Malcolm fell upon him and began to rain blows on the man’s head.
The other guard finally succeeded in extracting the dagger from his bleeding thigh. Just as Malcolm’s opponent finally lost consciousness, the stabbed guard lifted the bloody knife high and staggered toward Malcolm’s unprotected back.
Serena stepped in the path of the armed man and pointed the muzzle straight at his face. “Touch him and you die.”
The man’s already pained features contorted into one of shock at seeing not only a second assailant, but a woman, no less, with a gun. Slowly, he lowered the bloody knife.
“Drop it,” she said.
The man hesitated.
Serena took a step toward him, her determined scowl blackening. “You’ve already got one hole too many in your body. How would you like another?”
The man opened his fingers, and the dagger clanged on the stone floor.
Malcolm stood behind her and took the gun from her steady hand. He aimed the pistol at the guard. “Open the gate.”
The guard raised his bloodied hands. “I can’t.”
“Now!” Malcolm yelled, his scream echoing through the chamber.
The man quaked. “I haven’t got the key.”
“Where is it?”
A voice came from beyond the barred gate. “I have it.”
Malcolm and Serena turned to look. It was an old man with a white beard that reached halfway down his bony chest. Several large iron keys dangled from a ring in his hand.
The guard chuckled. “What are ye going to do, now, eh? Key’s inside. Ye’ll never get it out.”
Their failure flashed red in Serena’s mind. So close, only to fall short now. With the key to opening the gate on the other side of it, they could not get her father out. And the pistol had only one shot. Even if they did succeed in shooting the old man, the key would still be out of their grasp.
Malcolm stepped behind the guard and put the pistol to the man’s head. “Open the gate, old man, or we’ll shoot yer friend.”
The old man’s voice rasped. “He ain’t m’friend. How do I know ye won’t kill me next?”
“We’re here for Commissioner Marsh. Let him out, and we’ll trouble ye no more.”

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