Amanda Scott (12 page)

Rory, who had remained cheerfully uncritical, objected to the arrangement with more vigor than Sorcha had expected.

Clearly trying to keep his voice from carrying to the family end of the croft, he muttered, “ ’Tisna fittin’ ye should sleep in straw wi’ the beasts, m’lady, or that I should sleep in the same wee byre wi’ ye. Me mam would throw up her hands and give us both the rough side o’ her tongue for such doings.”

“Hush now, for we can scarcely ask the crofter to let us sleep with his family,” Sorcha said. “He thinks we are three lads.”

“I ken that fine,” Rory said. “But I ken, too, that I ha’ nae business t’ be sleeping wi’ ye. Can ye tell me the laird your father would ha’ nae objection to it?”

“I cannot say that,” Sorcha said. “But I know that he would not look kindly upon your abandoning us here, either.”

“I’ve nae intention o’ doing such a cowardly thing,” he
said with grave dignity. “I’ll just stir up a pile o’ that straw and sleep on the other side of it.”

“Thank you, Rory,” Sorcha said more graciously. “If anyone remarks upon the arrangement, be sure that I will accept all the blame. We are most grateful for your protection. I’ll not let you suffer for having provided it.”

When he said no more, merely arranging his nest to his own satisfaction while she helped Sidony settle in for the night, Sorcha began to think she was turning into an excellent manager. She would find Adela, rescue her, and show others—unspecified—just how such things ought to be done.

Once again, Adela had no idea where she was. They had been following much the same narrow track since disembarking from the longboat, but the territory was wholly unfamiliar to her. Whenever they neared a cottage, croft, or clachan, they rode well off the track and skirted it, taking care to keep out of sight, so the only people she had seen for the past three days had been at a considerable distance.

In some ways, her fears had increased. In others, they had eased, for her captor seemed more at ease with her now. Although he was still often brusque or uncivil, he had not spoken again of cutting off her head. Instead, he occasionally invited her to ask questions and then, half the time, refused to answer them. It was as if he teased her on purpose, so she would never know what to expect.

Since he allowed her to speak to no one else and had kept her separate from everyone else after hanging his
henchman, she found herself eager to converse with him whenever he was willing. She told herself that talking could only put him more at ease with her and reduce the likelihood that he would kill her.

At least, she hoped so.

She still missed having her own horse, but at least riding pillion provided opportunities to talk to him. That very afternoon, when she had asked him to explain more clearly what he was doing for the Roman Kirk, he answered readily, “The Sinclairs, and others, have stolen something from the Kirk that must be returned. His Holiness, the Pope, expects me to find it and see it safely to the Vatican.”

“Mercy, sir,” she exclaimed softly. “What manner of thing is it?”

“That is not for you to know,” he said. “You need know only that I’ll not rest until I find it. I am a soldier of Christ—a hand of God, if you will. So I will do whatever I must to reclaim that which was lost through trickery and wicked deceit.”

He seemed so confident, so certain of the rightness of what he did, that she was beginning to think he was not an evil man at all but merely a dedicated one. While she found it hard to imagine that Sir Michael Sinclair, Prince Henry, or even Sir Hugo would do anything so wicked as to steal from the Holy Kirk, she understood that his lordship sincerely believed that they had.

She knew he told her only what he wanted her to know, and that Sir Hugo and others would likely produce equally strong arguments in opposition. Since neither they nor any others who dared disagree with him were at hand, she could not know what those arguments were.
But if what he said was true, then perhaps his position was just, even if abducting her was not.

As the afternoon neared evening, they approached a clachan of four cottages but left the track as soon as the clachan came into sight. Riding well around it and deep into a nearby wood, they came to a clearing suitable for making camp.

His lordship’s tent was soon up, and the cook fires lighted. Half an hour later, delicious smells of rabbit stew and roasting venison filled the air.

Adela realized she was famished. Even so, as had become her habit, she watched his lordship carefully, trying to judge his mood as he strode about the campsite, giving orders to his men. So far, he had made no move to have his way with her, but if he intended to teach her a woman’s proper place, doubtless he would do so, and she still had not the slightest notion how she could prevent it.

He glanced at her from time to time and glanced, too, at the men as they tended their chores. Not one cast an eye in her direction. They had learned the lesson he’d meant to teach with the hanging, as had she. Just thinking about it knotted her stomach. Still, when he gestured to her, she went to sit beside him on a log, accepted the wooden trencher piled high with stew, and took the spoon he gave her. Although she dipped it into her stew, she did not think she could eat.

“We’ll retire early, I think,” he said casually as he settled himself and dug into his own food.

His words stopped the breath in her throat and the motion of her spoon halfway to her mouth.

Each of the past two nights he had hinted that he would sleep in his own bed, but each night he had sent her
to the bed of furs alone and slept elsewhere. Once again she tried to think how she could stop him if he had decided the fateful night had come. Then a new, more frightening thought struck. What if her refusal was all that he sought as his excuse to lop off her head and send it home to Glenelg? Or worse, what if her body did not satisfy him and he killed her because of that?

Although she had wanted nothing more than to leave the onerous duties that had fallen to her at Chalamine since Cristina’s marriage, and had been prepared to marry Ardelve because marriage to him would ease that load, she wished now with all her heart that she could magically whisk herself home again.

Since she could not, she forced herself to eat and went with him without objection when he had finished his supper. He showed her first to the privy area in the woods, and then escorted her to the burn from which they had taken their camp water, so she could wash her hands and face and clean her teeth. He did not speak as she tended her needs, but afterward he followed her into the tent, which he had not done since the first time she had found herself there.

Drawing breath, she faced him and said, “If you intend to ravish me, my lord, I wish you would say so and tell me what you want me to do.”

“Nay, lass, for now I want only to talk with you. I find it helps me think, because you are the quietest woman I’ve ever met, and a good listener.”

It was the first compliment he had paid her, and to her astonishment, she felt herself warming as if he had caressed her. Or, suggested a voice in the back of her mind sternly, as if she were a bitch that had been several times
kicked and yet went running to lick its master’s hand the moment it saw him.

Steeling herself, she said with forced calm, “If you do mean to ravish me, I wish you will get it over with. It is needlessly cruel to keep me guessing like this.”

“Mayhap it pleases me to keep you guessing,” he said, pulling up a small cushion for himself and gesturing for her to sit on the pallet of furs.

So lightly had he spoken, and so nearly did the words match her thoughts about his behavior, that she almost made a spirited retort. But something in his expression stopped her. Reminding herself that her emotions and instincts had become sadly untrustworthy, she seated herself on the bed instead, tucking the skirt of her once-new wedding dress neatly around her.

He regarded her for a moment, then said, “I have no intention of forcing you to couple with me. Indeed, I feel no lust for you, nor should I.”

“You don’t?” Realizing how that must have sounded, she added hastily, “I mean, you don’t intend to compel me?”

“Nay, for God has made it plain that I must not.”

“I thought you said He would forgive you anything you do in His name.”

“Aye, well, I expect that means anything I believe is necessary to accomplish the task He has set me,” he said. “He made it clear, however, that ‘ravishing,’ as you call it, is neither necessary nor acceptable to Him.”

“Mercy, how did He do that?”

“He let your sister Isobel push me off the ramparts of Roslin Castle.”

“Isobel!”

“Aye, did she not tell you?”

Adela shook her head. “Such a thing seems most unlike her. I cannot imagine how someone so much smaller could have done that to you.”

He grimaced. “For once, you did not listen. I admit I provoked her, but she could not have done it had God not lent her the strength.”

“You attempted to ravish her?”

“I threatened to, to force her to tell me about things I thought she knew.”

His expression warned her not to ask about those things.

“I did want her, though,” he said. “I’ll not deny it, since God kens the truth, and that wanting was my error. Fear is an excellent weapon, as He kens fine, and a wench as seductive as Lady Isobel would tempt the strongest will. But sithee, I vowed to sacrifice all worldly pleasure to serve His needs, and thus swore chastity. So whilst the threat might have proven useful, I risked breaking my vow.”

“But if Isobel did that to you, why abduct me? I’d expect you to seek your vengeance against her. Not that I want you to do that, of course. Vengeance should be left to God.”

“I am His arm,” he said. “As to why I took you, you are dear to her, and in truth, your wedding afforded me an opportunity to set my plans into motion.”

“And you learned of it through my sister Sorcha’s messages to Sir Hugo.”

“Aye, your younger sister is an impulsive, headstrong lass. I’m glad you show better sense.”

“I still do not understand why you took me.”

“To draw the others in, of course. Michael and Henry Sinclair, and your Hugo, have all annoyed me, and they must all suffer the consequences. And do not think that I have forgotten Isobel.”

“She is eight months with child!” Adela exclaimed.

He shrugged. “You will know what to do,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“When the child comes, of course.”

“Then you do mean to let me go,” she said with nearly overwhelming relief.

“Nay, why would I? I’ll bring Isobel to you.”

Hugo, feeling no less impatience after making his decision, had left for Duart Castle soon after dawn Tuesday morning to do his waiting for news of the abductors with Lachlan himself. Discovering upon his arrival that the High Admiral already had received pertinent information, the bulk of which indicated that the abductors were indeed making for Edinburgh, Hugo revealed his intent to intercept them.

“I’ll want to take at least a score of our men and leave from Oban,” he said. “Will we find enough horses there to accommodate us?”

“Hector keeps his own in Oban, as do I,” Lachlan said. “His grace’s flotilla will sail to Glasgow, so what horses we have in Oban are yours if you need them.”

Thanking him, Hugo took his leave, intending to depart from Lochbuie by dawn’s light the next morning.

Although from one cause or another, he did not manage to get away so early Wednesday, he was on the point
of leaving after enjoying a solitary breakfast, when a guard from the ramparts reported that one of Macleod’s boats had returned.

“Should we rouse the master, sir?”

“Nay, for the Laird of Glenelg is expecting his boats, although I do not think he expected them until tonight. I’m going down to the wharf anyway. If they have need of Hector Reaganach or Macleod, I’ll see to it.”

To his astonishment, Macleod’s chief helmsman met him halfway and insisted on waking Macleod, who was, as far as Hugo knew, still abed. The man’s distress was so great that he walked back with him to hear what news he had brought.

“It is not about Lady Adela, is it?” he demanded of the man as they went.