Amanda Scott (7 page)

“She couldn’t move that bed alone,” MacCrichton said confidently. “The only other furniture in there is a table or two, a stool, and a pair of side chairs. She’s jammed the latch, that’s what she’s done.”

Duncan nodded. He had come to the same conclusion himself. Bracing himself with his hands against the stone walls on either side of the doorway, he brought up one leg and kicked the door hard at latch level. He felt it give slightly, but it remained shut. “Brace me from behind, both of you,” he ordered.

With the two men holding him, he was able to put more power behind his next kick. With a loud crack and the sound of wood fragments scattering across the floor, the door flew open. What remained of a small side chair, broken into numerous pieces, lay just beyond the open door.

“What the—” MacCrichton stared at the remains.

“She jammed it under the latch hook,” Duncan said. “Where is she?”

MacCrichton hurried across the room, kicking chair pieces out of his way, and peered into and under the curtained bed. The curtains hung open, and Duncan could easily see that the bed provided no dark space large enough to conceal a grown woman. Nonetheless, MacCrichton jerked off the featherbed and shook it, as if he expected to find her stuffed inside or underneath it.

A swift look around told Duncan that she was not in the bedchamber. He strode into the small adjoining turret chamber.

“Here, MacCrichton,” he called seconds later as he leaned out of the open window to pull in the rope that dangled a dizzying thirty feet or more to the ground. “I’m afraid that your love bird has flown away.”

T
ERRIFIED THAT SOMEONE WOULD
look up from the courtyard or come around the wall from the dock or the main gate and see her climbing out of the window, Mary had wasted no time once she decided what she had to do. The action soon proved more difficult than the thought, however.

She had realized at once that she could not climb down a rope in her cloak, so she had dropped it to the escarpment. After some trial and error, she discovered that by using the rope, she could sit on the window ledge and balance there, but it was quite another thing to ease over the edge holding nothing but the rope. At first she did not think she could do it, but fear that someone in the courtyard might look up and see her, added to the greater fear that Ewan would soon come in search of her gave her the motivation to do it. Nonetheless, the plan nearly came to an untimely end when her skirt got wedged in the angle of the window opening.

Hanging there ungracefully, legs flailing, her skirt caught just above her, she could think of only one thing to do. Drawing a breath and saying a quick prayer, she let go with one hand to reach up with the other to yank the material free. For a dizzying moment, her weight seemed to be too much to hold, and the hand gripping the rope slipped. Then her other hand grabbed hold, and the moment passed.

Glancing toward the one corner of the courtyard that she could see, and taking courage from the fact that it remained unoccupied, she began to let herself down hand over hand. She had hitherto thought her hands and arms quite strong from doing housework and riding, but she quickly realized that she was not strong enough to dawdle. The turret being near the battlement helped once she was below the latter’s top edge, for by swinging slightly she could push against the curtain wall with her feet. That relieved her hands of the weight and made her descent easier.

Not until she reached the end of the rope did she realize that it was not as long as she had thought it was. Some six feet of open space remained below her, and the top of the steep escarpment was barely narrow enough for a foot path. If she stumbled, or tripped on the cloak that was lying there, she would tumble some fifteen or so feet farther into the icy waters of the loch. She did not think the fall would kill her, but it would certainly do her no good.

Turning so that her left side was against the rough wall, and resisting a strong impulse to shut her eyes, she drew another breath and let go. She landed, bending her knees to soften the shock and grabbing the wall to steady herself.

She had done it. Glancing quickly around, she saw no one. The water gate lay around the corner in front of her, however, and she wanted to reach the hillside behind the castle as quickly as possible without being seen.

The path on which she had landed was no more than a foot wide, but it seemed to go right round the castle, so picking up her cloak and putting it on, she turned and followed it, regretting that she had no way to retrieve the rope now that it had served its purpose. There was none, however, so she dismissed all thought of it from her mind and hurried to the next corner, pausing there long enough to peek round it and be certain that no guard awaited her. None did. The hillside was clear.

Hugging the wall, knowing it would be less likely for someone to see her in the shadows there, she hurried along till she came to where the distance to the trees seemed shortest. Just as she was about to make a dash for it, someone hissed at her, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

She had been watching the woods and listening for sounds from above that might warn her of guards looking over the battlements. Now, seeing Chuff emerge from a narrow opening just ahead, clutching a small duffel, she remembered that she had told him he could go with her. To her shock and dismay, however, she saw that he held a little girl tightly by one hand.

“Chuff, who is this?”

“She’s me sister,” Chuff said. “I’ll explain it all when we get safe. There is nay time the noo for blethering.”

Mary agreed wholeheartedly with the last statement, so she said no more, asking instead how they had got outside the castle walls.

“Postern gate,” Chuff said.

“Did no one see you?”

“They paid us nay heed,” Chuff said. “Black Duncan’s wi’ the laird, ye ken, and one o’ his men be just inside the door. The other two stand by his boat, and the laird’s men who dinna be watching the doorway be watching them.”

“Is there no one on the battlements, then?”

“I didna see anyone. The laird keeps only six or eight men here the noo.”

“Well, if Black Duncan has only the ones he brought with him, it will be the smallest tail he’s commanded in a long while,” Mary said thoughtfully. “We must take great care, Chuff.”

“Aye, I ken that fine, mistress. We must whisk across quick, though, or they will be after us. That dangling rope will tell them all they need tae know.”

“I blocked the door,” Mary said. “Perhaps that will delay them for a bit.”

“Aye,” Chuff said doubtfully. “We’ll see. I dinna like that sky.”

Mary did not like the darkening sky either. As they sped across the open space to the safety of the forest, she saw that the gathering clouds loomed darkest in the north, the very direction they would head. For a moment she hesitated, wondering if it would be wiser to take the shore road along Loch Linnhe. It was cold enough for snow, and they would be less likely to meet with any if they avoided the passes, but no sooner did the notion cross her mind than she rejected it.

“Do you know this forest, Chuff?”

“Aye, a good bit of it,” the boy said. “Flaming Janet lives yonder.” He pointed to the left.

“Who is Flaming Janet?”

“She’s by way o’ being our mam.”

“Do you mean she is your foster mother?”

Chuff shrugged. The little girl imitated the shrug and said not a word. Her blue eyes seemed overlarge in her thin, freckled face.

“Do you want to go to her?”

Both children shook their heads fiercely.

“Where exactly does she live?”

“I’ll no tell ye,” Chuff said. “Ye’ll tak’ us there whether we will or nay.”

“What is your sister’s name?”

“She’s Pinkie,” Chuff said. “She doesna talk much.”

“I can see that,” Mary said, smiling at the little girl, whose fair hair and thin body were draped in a thin plaid shawl that she held clutched shut beneath her pointed little chin. “Will she be warm enough, Chuff?”

“Aye, she’s a tough lass, is Pinkie. Where will ye go, mistress?”

“I want to go up Glen Creran,” Mary said. “That’s the one where the loch below us begins. It’s some distance to the river glen from here, though, and we dare not show ourselves in the open or along the shore, so we must keep to the woods as much as we can. I don’t know these woods, though, and we will all find ourselves in deep trouble if we should become confused, or get lost.”

“I willna get lost,” Chuff said. “I ken fine a good bit o’ the way up the glen.”

“Once we get into the glen, I shall know the way,” Mary assured him. She had been looking around the dimly lit forest, and only now did it strike her that nearly every tree she could see had a slash mark on it, as if someone had scarred the bark with a knife. Recalling what Ewan had told her, and hiding a smile at the memory, she looked at Chuff to see that he was watching her with solemn curiosity.

“Do you know why the trees are all marked like that, Chuff.”

The boy shrugged. “They been like that long as I can remember.”

“Me, too,” Pinkie said, speaking for the first time.

“How old are you, my dear?”

“She’s seven,” Chuff said.

“Seven,” said Pinkie.

Mary chuckled. “And how old are you, Chuff?”

“Nine,” the boy said. “Least the laird said I was nine and so I’m old enough now tae work harder, but Pinkie’s too small yet tae work in the scullery. I didna like them in the kitchen touching her. We go this way,” he added, drawing Pinkie forward with a gentle tug.

Watching them walk ahead of her, Mary wondered what on earth Ewan had been thinking to set the fragile little girl to work in the scullery. She had seen no sign of ordinary maidservants anywhere at Shian, and to think of the child working for the rough men she had seen there made her shudder.

“How came the pair of you to be working at the castle?”

Glancing back at her over his shoulder, Chuff said, “Flaming Janet said it was time we earned our keep.”

“If she is your mam, why do you call her Flaming Janet?”

“It’s her name,” Chuff said simply. Then, apparently deciding he could trust her with some small part of their history, he added, “She isna our real mam though, only like you said, a foster one. Our real mam was her sister. She was called Red Mag MacLachlan, and she died when Pinkie was nobbut just borned.”

“Then Flaming Janet is your aunt. But why did she send you to Shian?”

“She said it was the laird’s duty tae look after us,” Chuff said. He came to a sudden halt, drew Pinkie close behind him, and cupped a hand to one ear. Then, lowering his voice to a murmur, he said, “There’s men and horses below, mistress.”

Mary heard the murmur of voices, and then a dog barked, but she could see no sign of them, for the forest was thick. Leathery green and yellowing bracken covered the ground, and despite the seasonal lack of leaves on the deciduous trees, thick conifers mixed amongst them allowed little daylight to filter through. The children appeared to be following a deer trail.

She said quietly to Chuff, “We have been walking toward the loch shore, have we not?” When he nodded, she said, “Those may well be more of Black Duncan’s men. You will recall that I thought it odd for him to have only three men with him, since he usually travels with many more. I wonder if any of them saw us when we crossed the open hillside to reach the woods.”

“It willna matter,” Chuff said. “They canna ken which way we turned.”

She gazed around thoughtfully. This part of the forest was too thick for any party of men on horseback to follow them. “The laird must be looking for us by now,” she said. “Odd that he hasn’t called up Black Duncan’s men to help him.”

“Why would Black Duncan care where ye went?”

A bubble of laughter formed as she said, “You are quite right, Chuff. I am of no importance to him. I had been thinking that he dislikes me and thus would not pass up an opportunity to do me harm, but you put the matter in perspective.”

“I did?”

Pinkie’s eyes widened. “He did?”

“He did indeed,” Mary said, reaching out to feel the little girl’s cold cheeks. “We must keep moving, so we can stay warm, and so we’ll not worry about Black Duncan. He is more likely to demand that the laird attend to his wants before he will allow him to chase after me, so we shall make haste while we can.”

They made their way along the hillside, keeping to the trees until they were well past the party of horsemen. Then, in the interest of covering as much ground as fast as they could, and hoping their pursuers, whoever they might be, would search first along the road to Loch Linnhe, Mary urged the children to the hilltop above the forest. Though the trees grew sparse, bracken and heather still covered the ground. Although the thick fernlike bracken hampered their progress at times, they still were able to make better time than in the forest, and at last, Mary saw that the shoreline of Loch Creran lay well behind them. They were above the narrowing river glen.

She kept her charges near the crest of the hillside. Although someone with a keen eye riding along the trail by the river might see them, greater danger existed in the fact that their pursuers might overtake them if she and the children followed the river trail themselves. The higher they climbed, the more rugged the terrain grew, but she knew the territory now. She had often walked these hills with her cousins and Bardie Gillonie.

“I dinna ken this place,” Chuff said an hour later, as they made their way across a barren granite outcropping.

“We are nearing the hill pass into Glen Duror,” Mary told him. “I am very proud of you both. I have not heard a word of complaint from either of you, and we have come very far for such short legs.”

“My legs are not short,” Chuff said indignantly. “They are just right.”

“Mine, too,” Pinkie said, looking down at them.

“So they are,” Mary agreed, chuckling. “Forgive me, both of you.”

They eyed her curiously, as if they did not know what to expect next.

“You know,” she said, “we have been in such a hurry, and we’ve been concentrating all this while on walking, so we have not talked much. This place is protected from the wind, and it’s sunny at the moment, so I think we can perhaps sit down for a few minutes now to rest a bit. No one can see us here from below.”