Highland Captive (21 page)

When
Elfking’s steps faltered, Parlan dismounted. Something drew the horse to a
place the animal would not usually go, and Parlan wanted to see what it was. He
drew his sword and heard Iain do likewise. Although he could not fathom why the
animal would approach danger so doggedly, there was always the chance that it
was a threat the horse had scented, and it would be wise to be prepared for it.

“We
run out of land,” Iain muttered when they reached the edge of the loch.

“Aye,
but the beast wishes to move on yet even he balks at trying to walk the wee
spit of land between the walls of Dubhglenn and the waters of the loch.”
Handing Elfking’s reins to Iain, Parlan ordered, “Hold him here. I will go
along and see what draws the fool animal.”

He
smiled grimly as he heard Iain’s soft mutter. The man did not like being left
behind where his sword could prove useless. Parlan knew that Malcolm would have
been far less reticent in his disapproval. Parlan also decided that he had
better speak to Aimil about what tricks she had taught her mount so that he
would not be caught by surprise by the horse’s actions again.

“Did
ye think to try this door?” panted Aimil as she struggled in her battle to open
the thick oaken portal.

“I
nudged it and it gave. Do ye wish me to take a turn?”

“Nay,
for if ye stumbled, I would never be able to hold ye and ye would end in the
loch. I am near to having it open enough.”

“We
but need a space to slip through and we being so slim it doesnae have to be a
verra big space. ‘Tis not enough as yet?”

“Nay.
An inch or twa more will do it though.’ Tis noisy,” she hissed when the hinges
groaned, strained by use after so long.

“I
should have thought to grease them.” He waited with her to see if any alarm was
raised. “‘Tis not as loud as we think,” he murmured a few moments later. “Try
again. Mayhaps the noise doesnae carry beyond this spot. Come, loving,” he
urged when she continued to hesitate. “There is always the chance that someone
may look into our chambers and see that we are gone. We cannae hesitate now.”
When she pushed the door and again the screech of little-used hinges rent the
air, he cursed softly then said, “Ignore it and continue.”

“But,
Leith,” she protested, sure that the noise would be audible to a guard.

“There
is no other way nor is there any other time for us. If we are caught now rather
than later, so be it, but let us not hesitate simply because of the risk of
capture. Push.”

Parlan
pressed himself against the cold stone wall. He was not sure what he had heard
but something had alerted him. Listening tensely, he waited for either a
movement or a sound. A soft whicker from Elfking told him that whatever had
drawn the horse to the spot was still there.

His
searching gaze suddenly fixed upon an irregularity in the line of the wall.
Although he was not well-acquainted with this side of Dubhglenn, he felt sure
that there should not be a length equal to a man’s height jutting out from the
wall. Even as he stared at it, a soft noise reached his ears, and he was
certain it had come from that spot.

Carefully
he edged toward it. As he watched, he detected a faint movement accompanied by
the faint squeak of something akin to rusted hinges. Suddenly he knew what he
saw. Some long-forgotten exit was there, and someone was trying to open it.
Someone had found an old doorway in the walls of Dubhglenn and was struggling
to put it to use.

He
was assailed with an odd mixture of emotion as he moved even nearer. There were
only two people in Dubhglenn who would need to leave it so stealthily. Angrily
he wondered how they had managed to get so close to succeeding. They were
supposed to be closely watched yet no one had apparently noticed their absence.

Catarine
hesitated as she passed Leith’s chambers. The youth had been cold to her, quite
insulting in his attitude. That stirred her to fury, but she suddenly
recognized his possible usefulness. He was very close to Aimil. The girl
listened to him, and he had a great deal of influence with her. Catarine
realized that she could find the way to drive Aimil away either by using him
directly or by the use of some information she managed to glean from him. That
he had shown her little warmth was something she felt sure she could change.

Opening
his door, she slipped inside only to halt and stare blankly at the empty bed.
It took her a moment to realize what had happened. Hurrying down the hall, she
flung open the door to Parlan’s chambers. When she saw that bed was also empty,
she began to smile. Leith had convinced his sister to escape. Considering the
time that had passed since the pair had retired and the lack of any outcry,
there was a very good chance that they had succeeded, and Catarine’s smile
widened.

A
sudden stir in the keep prompted her to leave Parlan’s room quickly and shut
the door. If she was caught there, she would be asked why she had raised no
alarm. She listened tensely, but there was no outcry simply a sudden bustling,
an increase in activity. Her smile widened again as she understood the meaning
of it. Parlan was returning. Laughing softly, she hurried to greet him,
planning to let him see that she held no grudge and was more than willing to
assuage whatever sense of insult Aimil’s flight had inflicted.

“‘Tis
nearly open enough, Leith,” Aimil gasped as she paused to rest a moment.

“I
should have tested it more. We waste precious time struggling here.”

“Are
we to give up then?” she asked with weak hopefulness.

A
light smile touched Parlan’s face. He stood near enough to hear the faint
whispers and knew his suspicions were correct. Aimil and Leith were attempting
to escape Dubhglenn. Reluctantly, he admitted that it hurt to think she would
wish to leave though he understood the reasons behind the escape did not need to
be personal ones. The reluctance he heard in her voice was some balm to that
hurt. She did what she felt she had to, not necessarily as she wished to.

“Aimil.”
Leith sighed. “Now isnae the time to argue that again. We do as we must.”

Aimil
pondered crossly that duty was a tiresome thing. She would much rather follow
her heart which told her to stop breaking her back on the door and go back to
Parlan’s chambers. Her heart did not care what people thought if she chose to
stay in Parlan’s bed or if he did impoverish her father with his demands for
ransoms. Unfortunately, the demands of pride and duty were proving as strong as
her heart’s desires.

“‘Tis
that I dinnae like losing Elfking,” she muttered, and was disgusted with
herself for mouthing such a lie, one that was so easy to see through.

“Of
course,” drawled Leith. “I err in thinking ‘tis the other stallion ye crave to
see return.”

“Dinnae
call him a stallion.”

The
twinge Parlan had felt when she had spoken of Elfking passed. He knew she loved
her horse and that she would feel regret for having to leave him behind. Her
defense of Parlan, however, indicated otherwise. It at least revealed that she
was not without some feeling, enough to make her object when she thought a slur
had been made about him.

“Many
call him so. ‘Tisnae an insult for a man.”

“I
shouldnae like to be compared to a beast not even one as fine as Elfking,” she
gritted as she pushed against the door. “There is more to the man than that. I
thought ye kenned it.”

“I
do.”

“Yet
we try to flee.” She knew the length of time it was taking to break free of
Dubhglenn was why she faltered.

“I
told ye the why of it. Even if we dinnae succeed, mayhaps t’will spur him to
confide the plans he speaks of or to show us some results.” Leith released his
hold upon her to test the opening of the door. “Nearly there.”

At
that instant, Aimil gave a push that utilized all her waning strength. She
suddenly realized that it was not only a lack of use that made the door hard to
open but the fact that it rubbed against the ground. Her efforts had finally
caused it to clear that obstruction and made the door suddenly jerk open. She
fruitlessly tried to maintain her balance but fell to the ground.

For
an instant she hung at the edge of the small rocky walkway. She frantically
tried to gain a hold that would stop her from falling into the cold, fierce
waters of the loch but failed. With a soft cry, she plunged into the cold
waters. She fought to regain the surface, but her clothing pulled her down.
Fear gripped her when she discovered that she might lack the strength to save
herself, having seriously depleted it in trying to open the door. She struggled
against the paralyzing effects of terror as fiercely as she fought to remove
the clothes that worked to hold her beneath the water. The fear began to win as
she failed to remove her clothes in time. For a moment she tasted sheer terror,
then blacked out.

“Aimil,”
Leith cried, staring in horror at the black waters that had swallowed her.

He
hurried to tug off his heavy boots only to find a sword thrust toward him from
out of the dark. Stunned though he was, he recognized the large form that dove
cleanly into the water after Aimil. Another man suddenly appeared at his side,
and together they tensely waited for Parlan to reappear.

Parlan
fought a gnawing panic as he dove after Aimil. She had been fully and warmly
dressed which would act as an anchor. So too there was little light beneath the
water to aid him in his frantic search. When he located her, her limpness
frightened him. He fleetingly noted that she had tried to lessen the weight
that pulled her down but suspected that she had lacked the strength.

Four
hands reached out to aid him when he broke the surface of the water, but he
ordered Iain and Leith to a wider spot where they would not be so dangerously
hindered by the lack of room. Once he got Aimil upon the bank, he worked to
free her of the water she had swallowed. He joined Leith in softly thanking God
when Aimil spewed out the cold water and spluttered briefly awake. Curtly
refusing any assistance, he carried her to Elfking then into Dubhglenn where he
intended her to stay.

Chapter Twelve

It
was a moment before Catarine noticed the bundle that Parlan carried. She halted
abruptly in her advance toward him to glare at the limp, dripping Aimil.
Briefly hope flared that the girl was dead but that was killed when the girl
groaned. After Parlan turned Aimil over to Old Meg’s care and ordered Leith
escorted to his chambers, Catarine followed him into the hall, watching him hungrily
as he changed into dry clothes even as she plotted another way to be rid of
Aimil.

“I
told ye to watch them carefully, Malcolm,” Parlan growled.

Malcolm
took the rebuke as his due. He could have placed extra guards upon the Mengues
but had not. Even a long-forgotten doorway would not have aided them had he
done so. It was an oversight and he acknowledged it.

“How
did ye come across them?” he asked Parlan.

“That
horse sniffed her out. He forced me to that point. ‘Tis weel that he did. Fool
lass could have drowned.” Parlan downed almost a full tankard of ale that was
served to him. Where did that door come from? Did none ken it was there?”

“I
think not. The stables have been there since your father’s father’s time.”

“Come
the morn I want it sealed. Now, I will go speak to that fool lad.”

After
glancing at an avidly listening Catarine, Malcolm suggested softly, so that she
could not overhear, “Ye didnae tell the lad your plans at all. I ken he trusts
ye but he darenst, nay, not when the ransom is still collected and ye still bed
his sister as ye will.”

Parlan
ran a hand through his damp hair. “Ye are right, Malcolm. I will say what is
needed. Tomorrow. I am too weary to do it right this night. How promises the
weather on the morrow?” he asked Angus, a man reknowned for his forecasting
skill.

“Bodes
well. Sun, clear skies, and warmth. A rare summer’s day.”

“Good.
Maggie, ye will see that food is readied. I dine in the sun tomorrow at noon
with Aimil.” He winked at Malcolm. “I ken just the spot. The Banshee’s Well
copse. Now, to speak to Leith.”

Catarine
did not care to think on what such special arrangements could mean. She crept
out of the hall and sought out one of her men-at-arms. Ordering him to leave
with two horses giving the excuse of readying matters for her journey to
Stirling, she told him to wait for her just beyond sight of Dubhglenn. He had
barely cleared the gate when she was at the door Leith and Aimil had tried to
escape through. Luck was with her, and moments later she was riding toward one
who would certainly aid her in her quest of ridding Dubhglenn of Aimil Mengue.

“Who?”
muttered Rory when Catarine was announced.

“Catarine
Dunmore,” growled Geordie. “She says she has a bargain to set before ye.”

“Show
her in then.”

“I
have little time,” Catarine began immediately upon entering the room. “I must
be back at Dubhglenn before the morn.”