Amanda Scott (40 page)

Ranald went through a series of unintelligible movements, then turned sharply and returned to his place, whereupon the next man stepped forward. One after another, they followed.

Rapidly growing bored with the ritual, Sorcha was repressing a fatal impulse to shout at them to get on with it, when a man from the depths of the triangle strode forward and torchlight fell clearly on his features for the first time. Recognizing her father, she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle any audible sound of her dismay.

Macleod of Glenelg went rapidly through the same movements that the others had. The man who followed him was one she had seen at his grace’s installation, but she did not know any of the others until the last, who was Michael.

Only then did she notice that Hugo was no longer standing beside the chair on the dais. With prickling unease, she wondered where he had gone.

The council proceeded with more ritual, including prayers and an odd recitation of numbers from each man in response to a question from the commander about encampments, which made no sense to her.

Her unease increased until she knew she would be wise to leave before the men did and Hugo returned to the tunnel. As quietly as she could, she eased back the way she had come until she reached the rough stone wall. Feeling for the door and finding what she was certain was one edge of it, she moved her hands gently over the nearby area, concentrating, searching for the latch opening.

By then the prickling had increased until it was unbearable, but she sensed no noise or motion until a hand tightly covered her mouth, a head bent near enough for lips to touch her right ear, and a menacing whisper she could identify only too easily murmured, “Not one sound, Skelpie, or I swear I’ll throttle you right here.”

W
ith no more than the hand over her mouth, Hugo held her hard against him, but Sorcha knew it would be both foolish and useless to struggle. When the door opened, she heard nothing but sensed only a change in the air. He shifted her a bit as he turned, so she could see the guard, still standing stiffly, still looking the other way, obviously unaware that anyone else was near.

Hugo lifted her and carried her through the opening, letting the door shut silently behind them before he set her down. Then he caught her hard by the shoulders and turned her to face him, his grip bruisingly tight.

“What the devil do you think you’re doing here?” he demanded, his voice clearly under tight control, as if he feared it might otherwise somehow reach ears on the other side of the thick door. “You promised not to leave the castle.”

“I said I would not leave without you,” she said. “And
I followed you, but why is my father here? And Ranald? And what was all that about encampments?”

His fingers tightened until she winced, but he abruptly released her, saying, “I cannot talk now, because I must get back before the others miss me. Doubtless they think I’m checking on the guards, and I’ll certainly have something to say to that one standing like a stone out there. I have much to say to you, too, so you will remain here until I return. And if you cannot look me in the eye then and swear you did not so much as touch that door again, I’ll put you straight over my knee. That’s a promise this time, and you should know by now that I keep my promises.”

He did not await her reply but turned away. Then she heard the almost silent click and knew she was alone. The darkness closed heavily around her, but she was glad he had gone and glad, too, that she had not been able to see his face. Not that she had needed to see it. His fury had radiated from him, and he’d frightened her.

She could still feel her heart pounding, could almost hear it. For anything else she could hear, though, she might have been the last person left in the world. She had never known such total lack of human voice or footstep. Not even a shadowy rustle of a small creature going about its ordinary business disturbed the unnatural silence.

In truth, she decided, the last thing she wanted to hear in that clinging darkness was the sound of a rat or mouse or even another human—not until Hugo returned—because anyone else would have less right to be there than she did.

While her attention had been fixed on the rituals, she had forgotten her sore feet, but she felt them now, and although the idea of sitting on the tunnel floor did nothing to cheer her, imagining the walk all the way back to Roslin decided the matter. Feeling her way, she sat down and leaned against the wall to wait. As she rested her hands in her lap, she felt the stiff message from Adela in her sleeve.

As angry as Hugo was, the thought of telling him about the message was daunting, but she had no choice. That she had promised to consult him was reason enough. That neither she nor Adela dared trust Waldron was even greater reason.

She would tell him about the message at once. In his present mood, she doubted he would be reasonable about it. But he would listen, and if she could not persuade him, perhaps she could distract him from scolding or punishing her.

But when he returned, torch in hand this time, he did not come alone. The fair-haired man came, too. Although he no longer wore the circlet, Sorcha scrambled hastily to her feet and swept him a low curtsy.

“The lady Sorcha Macleod,” Hugo said grimly. “Little though her behavior recommends her, my lord, I thought you should first meet her privately rather than before the family. This gentleman, as I see you already suspect, lass, is my cousin Henry of Orkney. As I told you, sir, she saw and heard far too much tonight for our safety or her own. The fault is mine. She followed me through the tunnel.”

Still in full curtsy, head bent, Sorcha tensed as an icy
chill swept through her. She had not spared a thought for what her actions might mean for Hugo.

Gravely, Prince Henry of Orkney said, “ ’Tis a serious matter, cousin. But as you assume responsibility, I’ll expect you to deal with it. I’d suggest some degree of severity, but I don’t doubt you can persuade her to hold her tongue. She is Isobel’s sister, after all. You may rise, Lady Sorcha,” he added sternly.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said, looking at him as she rose. When she stood before him, she added sincerely, “You need have no fear, sir. I’ll not betray you.”

He held her gaze for a moment, nodded curtly, then said to Hugo, “See to it then. You have my leave to do whatever you deem necessary.”

Then he was gone, and she was alone again with Hugo and the fervent hope that Henry had not been suggesting that he murder her.

“Did you touch that door?”

She looked him in the eye. “You know I did not.”

“And you know what you deserve for this,” he retorted.

“I know what you think I deserve,” she said, taking a wary step backward but resisting the impulse to place protective hands on her backside. “I do deserve your reproaches for putting you at fault with Prince Henry, but whatever you mean to do, I wish you will just get on with it. I’ve something I must tell you.”

“It is true that if I skelp you here, no one else will hear your cries,” he said thoughtfully. “Mayhap that would be best.”

Tensing, she glanced at the torch he held, wondering what he’d do with it.

“If you look at the walls, you’ll see holders along the way,” he said, reading her thoughts easily. “Shall I use one now, or would you prefer to tell me your news first? I should perhaps warn you,” he added gently, “that it had better be important.”

“Adela wants to escape,” she said. “I got a message. I was going to tell you when you came home tonight, but…” She swallowed. “I should have, of course.”

“But you decided instead to see if you could discover where I was going. So you
did
spy on us last night from the laird’s peek.”

She licked suddenly dry lips. The conversation was not going as she had hoped, and she had just given him another excuse to punish her. Even so… She squared her shoulders, reached into her sleeve, and extracted the message.

“You’d better read this,” she said, unfolding it before she handed it to him since he could not do so while he held the torch.

He shot a frowning look at her, then quickly read the message. Looking at her again, he said, “How did you get this?”

“I cannot tell you,” she said. “I promised I would not.”

“Aye, well, I can guess,” he said. “Ivor Ross has a brute of a cousin who serves Waldron. Doubtless Gil brought it to you.”

She met his gaze. “Whoever brought it is not the one at fault here, nor will I say who it was. We must rescue Adela, sir. I know Countess Isabella expects you to confront him tomorrow and demand his presence at Roslin to answer for his crimes. But by all you have told me, I doubt he will obey her.”

“He will resist to the end,” Hugo agreed. “I just hope he does not barricade himself inside Edgelaw. A siege can be long and expensive.”

“Well, I don’t want Adela stuck there even one more day,” Sorcha said bluntly. “I mean to help her. I told you I would consult you first, and I have—”

“Just what do you imagine you might attempt that I could not prevent?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I just know I’ll keep trying, because I
won’t
abandon her. I had hoped for your help, though, because the very fact that she has sent for me proves she is not with him willingly.”

“Do you know how much this cost?” he asked, holding the message out.

“That paper, you mean?”

“Aye, ’tis made from linen cloth. It is very expensive and must be imported from France or Italy, so how do you think your sister came by it at Edgelaw?”

She hesitated. She had not thought about how Adela had acquired the paper, but she recognized the course of his thoughts because her own had taken a similar path. “Your cousin must have got some from his French kinsmen.”

“Do you think he just leaves it lying about where anyone can use it?”

“I think he gave it to her and helped her write that,” Sorcha said. “Adela makes her letters better than I do, but she always asks for help spelling out her recipes. I doubt she has written a message to anyone before. And she would never feel obliged to explain so much. I think he told her exactly what to say.”

His gaze sharpened. “To what purpose?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Mayhap he has grown tired of her.”

“More likely, he is still using her as bait.”

She nodded. “The way he intended to use her and Isobel at Ratho.”

“And the way you used yourself to draw me to Ratho,” he said gently.

“Then you think his purpose is to lure me to Edgelaw, to hold me as well.”

“I’ll say this much for you, Skelpie, you are not slow-witted. But you see why I cannot let you go, even if I had the smallest inclination to do so.”

“But I don’t see that,” she said. “If we prepare against such an outcome, you can keep me safe. And we cannot ignore this, because we could be wrong about it.”

“What if he wrote the thing himself and has no intention of letting her go?”

“Adela made those letters,” she said. “And he will certainly let her go as far as that tower if one can see it from the hilltop, in case anyone is watching.”

He frowned, but he was no longer frowning at her.

She held her breath.

He said, “Waldron will set his own watchers if he has not done so already.”

“You told Sir Michael that you’d set extra guards,” she reminded him.

His eyes narrowed, and recalling how she happened to be aware of that particular fact, she snapped, “Don’t look at me like that! I
was
at the laird’s peek, and you can say or do whatever you like to me for that later, but for now—”

“For now,” he interjected, “I need to think more about this. Also, there is still something we must do here before we return to the castle.”

She tensed again, but to her surprise, his lips twitched and a twinkle lit his eyes. “I’m glad to see you show some respect for my right hand, Skelpie, but that is not my intent now. You gave Henry your word that you would keep silent, and he said that I must deal with you, so—”

“So, if you are not going to beat me, what
are
you going to do?”

“What you heard was Henry giving permission for me to tell you enough to convince you of how important it is that you keep your word.”

“Mercy, I thought he was giving you permission to murder me.”

“I may yet do that,” he said dryly. “But first I want to explain what you saw in the cavern, so you’ll want to sit again. I’m going to put up this torch.”

She stared as he turned. He had surprised her before but never like this.