Stuart, Elizabeth (43 page)

She
would have to settle for the ruse she had used once before and slip out after
sundown. The villagers who worked in the castle by day would be leaving then
for their homes. Bess had promised to gather food and a suit of men's clothing.
With those pitiful provisions, Anne was determined to escape and make her way
north.

She
slipped furtively across the courtyard in the lengthening shadows. Entering the
main door, she darted quickly down the long corridor to a side stairway, hoping
to make her room without meeting her father or any of his men. She had almost
reached her chamber when her luck ran out, and Edmund Blake stepped from a
shadowy doorway to block her path. With a low cry of alarm, Anne jumped back,
ready to flee if he reached for her.

Blake
glanced over his shoulder, then back to her. "Campbell and your father
have been calling for you," he said in a low voice. "They've been
drinking this last hour. I suggest you not return to your room."

She
blinked at him, unable to believe her ears.

"I've
told your maid to await you in the south tower. She's there now with a hot
meal." He took her arm, guiding her quickly toward the servants' stair.
His hand was hard, more muscular than it appeared. She realized that he'd never
before touched her. "It's the second room on the left past the stairs.
It's best you go there quickly."

She
stared at him in astonishment, still unable to understand his interference on
her behalf. Was there a flicker of compassion in his cold, colorless eyes? She
turned and hurried up the narrow stairs and along the stale, seldom-used
hallway. She had come to a pretty pass indeed if even Edmund Blake felt pity
for her, she thought wryly.

Bess
was waiting anxiously, a tray of food and wine on a table beside the bed.
"Oh, mistress, I've been so worried!" she exclaimed, jumping to her
feet at sight of Anne. "Edmund Blake's up to something, but he gave me no
choice but to go along."

"It's
all right, Bess," Anne said wearily, sinking down upon the edge of the
dusty bed. "I don't understand it either, but I'll not be waiting to find
out what he's planned."

"I
stole some trews and a shirt from one of the stable boys," Bess said,
pulling the wad of clothing from beneath the bed. "I've the cloak you told
me to bring, and I've sewn the coins and jewels into the lining as you bade
me." She held it out to Anne.

"You've
done well. Did you find boots near my size?"

"I
managed these from the cobbler's shop," Bess said, holding out a pair of
small, worn boots for Anne's inspection. "I'm afraid I didn't do so well,
though. They've a hole in the bottom. I fear they'd not yet been mended."

Anne
threw her arms around the girl and hugged her tightly. "You've done
perfectly, Bess," she said, releasing her and stepping back. She shook her
head ruefully. "I'm only sorry to set you to such thievery."

"It's
no matter." Bess sniffed and lifted eyes shining with unshed tears.
"You know I'd do anything to help." She turned away and picked up a
woolen cap from the bed. "I brought this, too. I thought we'd pin your
hair beneath it."

Anne
nodded and sat down on the bed, drawing the tray of food across the bare
sacking. She ate and drank what she could force down, knowing she must hurry if
she were to escape when the servants left for the village.

After
the meal, she dressed silently in the rough, poorly fitting clothing, pulling
the breeches tightly about her slim waist and holding them in place with a
piece of rope. She pinned up her hair, then pulled the cap down low over her
forehead. With the help of a loose shirt, her trim hips might pass for a boy's,
but she doubted she could pass close scrutiny in the light of day. Her only
hope lay in joining an honest company of travelers and buying their escort
north. It was a slim chance—but better than the certainty awaiting her here.

When
Anne was ready, Bess snuffed the candle, and they stood together in the
darkness of the open doorway. Bess squeezed her hand, and Anne heard the girl
sniff tearfully beside her. "Be sure you remember the tale we agreed on,
Bess," Anne reminded her. "You must be as surprised as the rest when
they find I'm gone." She frowned. "I'm afraid you may be punished for
my disobedience."

"Don't
you worry, mistress. I'll remember."

With
one quick hug of farewell, Anne flung the cloak over her arm. Stepping into the
darkened corridor, she felt for the small dirk she had placed in her belt, then
hurried toward the back stairs. Making her way down the narrow spiral to the
first floor, she came out between the kitchens and the barracks. She was in a
part of the castle now that was not familiar, and she hesitated in an attempt
to get her bearings.

Hearing
the sound of approaching footsteps, she whisked herself around the corner,
peeking out just in time to see two kitchen lackeys heading down the hallway,
cloaks and caps over their arms.

With
a quick prayer of thanks, Anne followed, crossing the courtyard boldly several
yards to their rear. As they approached the gates, she hastened her steps to
arrive just behind them. The uninterested guards gave her a cursory glance. She
slouched her way through the gates in imitation of the two ahead.

Passing
outside, she released her long-held breath in a carefully controlled sigh. She
was actually outside the walls. Escape had been as simple as walking through
the gate! No one was watching for her; Glenkennon had never dreamed she would
disobey him.

She
smiled grimly. He had pushed her too far this time. She did not have to endure
the unendurable as her mother always had. Even a woman could resist—if she had
the stomach for it.

She
followed her friends, as she mentally termed the two, only until she heard the
sound of the double gates closing noisily behind her. Then she melted silently
into the shadows beside the road.

Pausing
in the darkness, she took stock of her surroundings. When her absence was
discovered, the road and nearby village would be the first places Glenkennon
would search. She must make her way around the loch and strike off across the
meadow to the wood beyond instead of following the easier path of the road.

She
stumbled around the outer wall of Ranleigh to the darkest shadows on the
western side. She noticed thankfully that the moon was naught but a slim,
fingernail crescent, and even that fitful light was obscured by the scudding
clouds which had moved in with the sunset.

Crouching
in the blacker-than-night shadows, she drew a deep breath. The thrill of
accomplishment she had felt after getting through the gate disappeared
abruptly. The strange night sounds were loud and threatening, and the thought
of entering the dark woodlands beyond the loch sent a shiver of fear along her
spine. She whipped up her resolve, reminding herself of the reason for her
flight. Better the unknown dangers of the woods than another night with Campbell.

She
moved forward along the wall, feeling her way hesitantly over the uneven
ground. A sprained ankle was the last thing she needed at that point. Squinting
into the night, she made out the end of the western wall. She was almost there.

Before
she could take another step, a rough hand shot out of the darkness, smothering
her startled cry of fear and throwing her to the ground. She caught the flash
of a blade just before her body slammed into the hard earth. The blow knocked
the breath from her lungs, sending the world spinning around her. Pinned
helplessly to the ground, she waited for the sharp thrust of the knife—but the
blow didn't come.

A
muffled oath sounded. Impatient hands jerked the cap from her head, loosening a
strand of hair to trail betrayingly against her shoulder. Still too dazed to
struggle, she found herself abruptly gathered into a hauntingly familiar
embrace.

"What
in God's name are you doing here, lass?" Francis whispered against her
ear. "Damn, I could have killed you in the dark, thinking you one of
Glenkennon's men!"

"Francis!"
she clutched him convulsively, sure she must be dreaming.

"Did
I hurt you? Mother of God, I..."

She
shook her head against his chest, still struggling to get the air back into her
lungs.

"God
be praised." He lifted her to her feet. "Quick, lass, we must be
gone! Someone may have heard." Without waiting for a reply, he drew her
along beside him to the edge of the shadows cast by the high stone wall.

"What
are you doing here?" he repeated, taking her in his arms as if to assure
himself she was truly flesh and Wood.

She
pushed away, grim reality destroying the fleeting happiness she had felt in his
arms. "I had to escape," she said shortly. She glanced over her
shoulder into the darkness. "We must go. They may be after me any
minute!"

He
settled a heavy coil of rope over his left shoulder and slipped his dirk back
into his belt. "Come then, lass," he whispered. "You've saved us
a full day by being out here to greet me." She could hear the amusement in
his voice, yet her own heart weighed even heavier in her chest. After that
first rush of relief at finding herself in his arms, she had cursed the luck
that had involved him in her escape. If he were brought to harm through her...

She
could not finish the thought.

"We'll
wait here in the shadows till the moon goes behind a cloud. Then we must run
like the very devil across this meadow," he said softly. "Should the
moon come out before we reach those far trees, you must drop to the ground.
Tuck your head and sit as still as you can." He chuckled softly.
"You'll look like one of those rocks scattered in the grass from the
castle wall."

She
nodded, wondering desperately how she could run over the uneven ground in her
poorly fitting boots.

Francis
squeezed her hand. "Let's go."

They
sprinted down the hill, skirting the edge of the loch and darting across the
meadow beyond. Her heart was pounding fit to burst, and her breath came in
long, strangled gasps by the time they reached the cover of trees. Francis was
still breathing easily, but he paused, allowing her to collapse onto a log in
an effort to catch her breath.

The
knifing pain in her side slowly eased. "How... how did you know it was
me?" she asked, finding her voice.

He
laughed low. "I've yet to meet a guard that smelled so sweet, lass. If you
wish to pass for a man, you must first get rid of your scented soaps. I
recognized the smell at once... and you'd no' the feel of a man." He
reached for her hand, but she rose nervously and moved away.

He
took a step toward her. "Is there aught wrong, love?"

She
backed away. "No... no. I'm fine now. But we'd best be on our way."
She hated herself for the way she was treating him, yet she could not cope with
her tangled emotions or the feel of his hands upon her. "I'm afraid my
absence may be discovered by now," she added.

There
was a long pause. "Aye, lass. We've horses waiting just ahead through
these trees."

Refusing
to take the hand she knew to be held out to her, Anne moved forward into the
darkness. By the time she had stumbled twice and been saved a nasty fall only
by dint of Francis's quick hand, she admitted her foolishness.

"You've
not the way of walking out here in the dark," he said gently. "Here,
take my arm and we'll get on much faster."

She
reached for the comforting solidity of his muscular arm, allowing him to draw
her along beside him. How he could move so confidently when the ground beneath
them was swallowed up in darkness was beyond her ken.

After
a short walk, he gave the low, haunting cry of a hunting owl. In a moment, the
cry was answered from somewhere ahead. "It's Conall," he explained.

They
headed in the direction of the sound. In a few moments a soft voice called,
"Over here."

Anne
waited nervously in the darkness while Francis stepped forward to speak with
his friend. She was aware of them both only as slightly blacker shapes in the
blackness all around, but their hushed voices carried easily.

"Our
plans will have to be changed," Francis said. "I've brought her with
me now."

"How,
by all that's holy? You've been gone less than an hour."

"She
was outside Ranleigh. I stumbled upon her in the shadows while I was making
ready to scale the wall. I almost slit her throat thinking her one of
Glenkennon's men."

Conall
stepped forward, catching Anne's hand and lifting it to his lips in the
darkness. "I'm delighted to have you with us again, lass, but why in
heaven's name were you wandering about outside?"

She
could feel Francis beside her, waiting tensely for an explanation.
"Because tomorrow was to be my wedding day, and I'd no wish to be Percy
Campbell's bride," she stated evenly. She was thankful now for the
darkness; it hid her shame and the quick tears that started to her eyes.

For
one frozen moment, there was silence, then Conall squeezed her fingers.
"Desperate measures were obviously in order," he said smoothly.
"I'm only glad we happened along. Francis, lad, you've been saying your
prayers in Kirk."