Seduced by a Rogue (23 page)

Tensing so much that she was sure her stomach must be curling up inside her, she listened for any other suggestion of imminent
discovery. Hearing only the sighing wind and the rhythmic soft lapping of waves outside, she relaxed. Doubtless the noise
had been no more than a strange echo of the restless water.

Continuing down the open stone steps with even greater care than in the stairwell, Mairi reached the wharf and walked to the
end nearest the opening. Only when she looked for a way down to the cave floor did she see clearly that what she had taken
for a damp sheen there was a sheet of dark, calm water clear enough to reveal the rocks below. Although the tide had to be
nearly out and no water was entering the cave other than occasional droplets of spray, the shallow area between the base of
the wharf and the cave opening was water-filled.

Refusing to let the sight daunt her, she examined the wall from the end of the wharf to the archway. With care, she thought
she could find enough hand- and footholds to get outside. Although she saw only water from where she was, she assured herself
that the area nearest the cave must, at low water, be sand or shingle. Not until she reached the opening and looked out did
she see that that was not the case.

Beyond lay only surging and retreating water. She had seen from her window that at low tide, a beach ran from below Senwick
to the head of the bay, leaving only the river Dee’s channel as water. But Senwick lay a mile or more north of her.

Looking up, she saw that the cliff face jutted sharply outward, making it clear that she could not climb it even if she were
foolish enough to try such a feat.

As for inching northward along the face of the cliff until she could reach the beach at Senwick, she could never manage that
safely in her long skirts and cloak.

“Damnation,” she muttered, borrowing a favorite epithet of Rob’s.

No wonder the man did not bother to post guards at the door to the cavern. She ought to have known from that alone that no
one could simply walk in—or out.

The only remote possibility for escape seemed to be a challenging swim. But she was not a strong enough swimmer to attempt
it. In any event, that she would have to remove most if not all of her clothing would deter her. At home, with her people
at hand and her life at stake, she might have risked it. But the thought that one of Rob’s men might find her naked on the
shore and take her back to the tower was enough to put the idea of trying such a stunt right out of her head.

“I would rather die,” she said with a sigh, certain that she spoke the truth.

Making her way carefully back to the wharf, she decided she would have been wiser to have learned more about the bay’s shoreline
before attempting such an escape. Hoping the shore outside the cave might prove more accessible if the next cycle brought
the water even lower, she made her way back upstairs to the top of the dark spiral tunnel and pushed against the timber door.
It did not budge.

She knew then that the thud she had heard had been the draft pulling it shut.

In the darkness, feeling up and down its rough-timber length, she could find no latch or latch chain, no way at all to open
it from outside.

When she pounded on it, she hurt her hands and her fists made only soft thuds. No one inside would hear her, even if someone
were there.

She had trapped herself in the cave, the tide would soon turn, what light there was in the cave would be gone, and she had
no idea how high the water would rise.

Something touched her skirt, making her jump and cry out in alarm.

Her unexpected companion replied with a plaintive “Mew.”

The journey to the river Annan was swift and, Rob thought, uneventful.

That Gibby did not share that view had been plain the moment one of the first huge incoming rollers had caught the galley
and heaved it forward. While the men rowed hard and skillfully to keep from capsizing, the boy watched it all, wide-eyed,
as if he thought the great froth-topped rollers were demons chasing them.

Watching his alarm change to grinning delight, Rob remembered his own first such experience. He had been terrified they would
overturn and sure he was not a strong enough swimmer to make it through such rollers to shore. It had taken him just a short
time, too, to realize he loved the sense of pitting himself against the waves.

Gib clearly had the makings of an oarsman, even helmsman or captain. But Rob would have to keep an eye on him. Even outstanding
oarsmen—and his were the best—had capsized boats while running a spring tide into the Firth.

Despite their speed, by the time they entered the river Annan, the tide there had already begun its turn. The sun had not
yet risen above the eastern hills.

Rob motioned for quiet and the lads did what they could to muffle the sounds of their oars as they rowed past Dunwythie’s
land and onward.

“Take it a little farther,” he murmured to Jake Elliot as they passed the harbor. “It is too early yet to request entry to
Annan House, so look for a place to set me ashore on the riverbank. I’ll walk back to town from there with one of the lads,
and we’ll hire a pair of horses.”

“I’ll go wi’ ye,” Gib offered.

“Nay, you will stay here and behave yourself,” Rob said sternly, signing to one of the oarsmen to accompany him.

How unfortunate it was that humans were such superstitious creatures, Mairi thought grimly. She sat on the top step, wedged
into one corner, hugging the warm sleeping kitten to her chest and wishing her wool cloak were thicker. She wished, too, that
she had never decided to escape or known about the wretched cavern.

“Such foolish wishes, Tiggie,” she murmured to her softly snoring companion. “But, oh, how I wish I knew more about this awful
place!”

She had no idea how much time had passed since she had trapped herself, or even if morning had come yet, because the incoming
tide had raised the water level high enough to plunge her into pitch darkness.

Meantime, she was cold despite the kitten’s warmth, and had been fighting a primordial fear of the dark. Until the noises
of the water had stopped altogether, every thunderous roar, sudden slosh, thump, or mutter had made her shiver as if ghosts,
demons, and boggarts roared or gibbered at her from secret lairs in the impenetrable blackness. But now, she was sure the
water was still rising, stealing quietly up the stairs toward her, and she had no idea how high it would get.

Wondering next if spiders could tolerate the damp chill of the place, she decided sternly that she should turn her thoughts
to pleasanter things. However, imagining herself atop Annan Hill, looking out at Solway Firth, reminded her only of how wild
the Firth could grow in a storm.

She disliked storms—especially thunderstorms, unless the lightning and noise were distant. But it
had
been overcast the day before, and she had seen clouds when she looked out at the moon. If the wee galley got caught in a
big storm…

Tearing her thoughts from the weather, she considered what she would like to do to Rob Maxwell to pay him back for bringing
her so far from home.

But thoughts of Rob abruptly took a different tack. She could see him in her mind’s eye more clearly than she had seen the
stormy Firth, although his image was just as stormy. She had no doubt he would be furious to learn what she had done.

But she would endure his wrath, would even look forward to deflecting it, if only he would return quickly.

However, Rob was nowhere near Trailinghail, and she did not know when he would come. Also, she had given Annie leave to stay
home and had left her own door open and the bed tidily made, hoping anyone who found her gone would think Rob had taken her
with him. “And I have no doubt now that they will think just that,” she muttered. Her sleeping companion made no comment.

The plain fact was that Rob had left in the middle of the night, so no one was likely to inform anyone that she had
not
gone with him. It was even likely that no one would think to ask. Had she not seen for herself that Rob’s people did not
express curiosity about much of anything their laird did?

Unless someone just happened to open the unbarred door, it was unlikely that anyone would find her. Those who knew he had
taken her into the tower through the cave entrance were most likely the men with him. If Annie did come, she or Gib might
look for her. But neither would look in the cave.

Mairi wondered again how high the water had crept. Even if it did not rise high enough to drown her or suck her down the stairs—and
if she did not die from lack of air—how long could she survive if no one found her? Hours or days?

Please, God, she prayed, bring Rob home swiftly!

After an adequate breakfast at a harbor inn, Rob and his man rode to Annan House. Admitted to the yard, Rob left his companion
with their horses and asked the captain of Dunwythie’s guard to inform his lordship that he wanted to speak to him.

After keeping him waiting nearly an hour in a small room off the entry where Rob suspected tradesmen waited to talk to his
lordship’s steward, Dunwythie received him in the hall, greeting him politely but without enthusiasm.

Matching his lordship’s civility while fighting his own impatience, Rob forced concern into his voice as he said, “Forgive
me if I intrude, my lord. I heard the disconcerting news in my travels that one of your daughters is missing. I have come
to offer you any help I can give in finding her.”

“Have ye now?” Dunwythie said, with a sour look. “And why would I welcome aid from a Maxwell? If English ruffians took her,
God kens ye Maxwells were once their allies. If ’twas Jardine mischief, ye’d be their ally even now!”

“Good sakes, sir, I had the honor to meet both of your daughters at Dunwythie Mains. I ken fine that you must be gey fond
of them, so I should think you would gladly accept any aid in finding Lady Mairi, no matter who took her.”

“So I would from most men,” Dunwythie agreed. “Ye’ll have to forgive me, though, if I wonder why any Maxwell would make such
an offer.”

“’Tis easy enough to explain,” Rob said. “As you know, the sheriff has any number of men at his command who could aid in your
search for the lady Mairi—and access to places your own influence cannot reach. Sakes, I could gain his aid swiftly on your
behalf if you would but accept my offer to do so, to track down Jardines
or
English raiders. But you cannot expect him to pay for all the men and supplies such a search would require, to help a nobleman
who refuses to contribute his share of the shire’s expenses.”

“Is that how ye Maxwells define the added sum your sheriff demands for collecting Annandale’s taxes? ’Tis nob-but our fair
share of the shire expenses, ye say? It is nobbut
extortion
. But he will
not
succeed.”

“Will he not, my lord?”

“Nay, for all the lairds of Annandale I’ve talked to have agreed we must go on as we have done. We have never required the
sheriff’s aid, nor will I seek it now. I’ll find my daughter by myself, Robert Maxwell. So, hie yourself back to Dumfries
or wherever you’ve come from.”