“I think you are clever enough to find a way.”
“And how would you explain your miraculous survival when your uncle, the crew and your dowry are gone?”
“The ship went down in a storm. I survived because you assisted me. No one else did. My father would reward you greatly.”
“I am a convicted criminal.”
“Patrick said the . . . oarsmen were only known as numbers. You could take the name of one of the crew members.”
“You have thought this out. Were you so sure I would help you?”
“Nay. If you did not agree, I would go alone.”
“I have not agreed, senorita,” he said.
She waited.
“You have not told me how you expect me to help you leave Inverleith.”
“Kimbra has suggested a picnic. If you can manage a ride yourself at the same time . . .”
“I will consider it,” he said.
His face told her she would get nothing more now.
“Gracias,”
she said.
“Do not thank me,” he said. “It is a wild scheme, and you are asking me to betray someone. . . .”
His words trailed off.
“I will tend those wounds,” she said.
“No. I will do it myself,” he said. The look he gave her was anything but friendly. He was angry and she was not sure what she had said to make him so.
She shivered. Would he tell anyone her plans? And why was he so angry?
Even more important, why did she think she could trust him? Both in helping her escape and, just as importantly, getting her to London safely.
She did not know whether he saw the questions in her face. She only heard his muttered curse in Spanish and then he left the stable without another word.
Chapter 28
LACHLAN rode both day and night after leaving Inverleith.
He led a second horse behind him, and he switched mounts along the way. The extra mount would serve a second purpose: a gift for the irascible Charlton, one of the fiercest of the English border reivers and at one time Lachlan’s captor.
He would need the Charlton’s help.
Theirs was a strange friendship. Thomas Charlton had little use for Scots but a great love for chess. Lachlan had found he had a talent for the game.
His mount now was a hobbler, a horse from the borders and a gift from the Charlton. Small and rough-looking, the animal was an extremely hardy animal that could travel over rough terrain for far longer than horses from the Highlands. In turn, his gift to Charlton was a Maclean-bred animal. Thomas Charlton, he knew, coveted them to crossbreed with his own.
The journey had been bloody uncomfortable. It had started raining the day he left, and had not stopped during the past two days. He was wet and cold and tired when he arrived at the Charlton Tower.
He heard the alarm being given. He rode close to the gate before the sentry recognized him and opened up.
By the time he dismounted, Charltons had gathered around him asking about Kimbra. Then he strode toward the door. The tower had none of Inverleith’s grace or comfort. Unlike Inverleith, with its huge stone walls, the tower was a far less sophisticated dwelling. It depended on the great door for defense and the fact that defenders above could hurl hot oil and rocks at any potential raiders.
Then the great door opened and Thomas Charlton limped out and held out his arms. Lachlan endured a rough embrace. “How is my Kimbra?” the Charlton asked.
“Well, as is Audra,” Lachlan said with what he knew must be a foolish grin on his face. The thought of Kimbra always made him smile.
But already the Charlton’s gaze had gone to the horse he led. “An extra mount?” he said, his eyes greedy.
“Aye. A gift.”
The Charlton went over to the animal and ran his hands along its flank. “A fine gift.” Then his eyes sharpened. “I imagine ye would like something in return.”
Lachlan grinned. “Information.”
“That is what I like about ye, Maclean. Ye speak bluntly. Come in. One of the lads will take the horses.”
He followed the Charlton inside. The man was a bloodthirsty thief and bandit, but true to his own code. He would do anything for an ally or friend. But God help you if you were an enemy.
Charlton led him to up the steps to his chamber. It was obvious that his host’s gout was no better than it had been before. But then he did not have Kimbra to mix the tea and poultices for it.
As if reading his mind, the Charlton collapsed into the chair. “I should never have permitted the marriage,” he complained. “I need a healer.”
“It just happens that Kimbra sent some leaves for a brew,” Lachlan said with a grin.
“Need them all the time,” the Charlton grumbled. “Should have brought her with you.” He rearranged himself again. “Now what do ye want? Ye look as if you have been riding hard.”
“I need information about the Earl of Chadwick and his son. He has property not far from here. You seem to know something about everyone.”
“Why?” the Charlton asked.
“I cannot give you the reason. I can only say it is important to me.”
The Charlton speared him with his gaze. “I know ye dislike asking for help. It must be important.”
“Aye.”
“His lordship is in the north often now,” the Charlton said. “I hear he is ill.”
“And his son?”
“Ah, the viscount. A bad one, to all accounts. Took his brother’s place when Garrett was killed.”
“How?”
The Charlton shrugged.“’Tis said somewhere in Spain.” He paused. “A pity. He was well-liked on the border. Participated in our games. He was a good swordsman and was said to have honor. As for the new viscount, we hear rumors. Nothing to his credit.”
“And his father?”
“Like most lords,” the Charlton said with contempt. “Ambitious. Ruthless. One must be if one is to sit next to a king.”
“Have you heard anything about their business affairs?”
The Charlton shook his head. “They have ships but do no smuggling here, at least not with us. Not like ye,” he said ironically, referring to Lachlan’s occasional visits to the border on one of the Maclean ships. It had turned into a lucrative venture for both families with the added bonus that Kimbra could see her family.
“They have a Spanish partner,” Lachlan said.
“I am not surprised. It gives them entrance to ports the English might not have.”
“Some of the ships are galleys powered by slaves.”
The Charlton raised his eyebrows. “And ye do not approve?”
“There are rumors that some may be Englishmen guilty only of being in the wrong place.”
“I cannot believe that true of Chadwick. He regards his reputation too highly, and the crown would not look kindly on the practice. But his son . . . it is possible.”
Lachlan shrugged. “That is what I wish to know.”
Thomas Charlton raised his gout-swollen leg to a stool. “Ye wish to get rid of this Kingsley?”
Charlton, despite his rough exterior and reputation as a reiver and bandit, had never been a fool, although he often liked strangers to believe the opposite. He had become head of the family through ruthlessness and kept his position because of loyalty.
“I wish to know more about him, enough to destroy him . . . if he is guilty.”
“I think ye are not that concerned with his guilt,” Charlton said.
“If he is what you say he is, nay, I am not.”
“God save me but I don’t want to be an enemy of the Macleans.”
Lachlan winced internally. He
had
changed from the idealistic young man who’d wanted to be a priest, more than he’d thought. But he despised cruelty, and to think of sending Juliana to a marriage to a man like that made his stomach curdle. “We feel the same about the Charltons.”
“Come and sup with us. We will plot together, ye and I.” The Charlton looked pleased at the prospect.
“It is urgent,” Lachlan said. “I hoped you might have an ear somewhere in London.”
“Ye wish to go?”
“Aye.”
“I will have horses and a guide at dawn tomorrow. I know exactly the person.”
“Honest?”
“Nay, the best thief in London but he knows everyone’s business.”
“I knew you could help.”
“Always at yer service,” the Charlton said with a grin that would do the devil proud.
RAIN. Rain. Rain. Juliana had taken one of the puppies from the stable upstairs to Audra’s room.
Bear nudged the puppy, which had just opened its eyes, and licked it with his great tongue.
It had been raining for days, and Juliana was about to go mad with waiting. There had been no word from Edinburgh, but the city was several days’ ride away.
Diego avoided her and gave no indication whether she could expect any assistance from him.
Even in the rain, he trained as if he had a battle to win. She watched him from her window, wondering what drove him. What was important to him? She knew no more today than she had the day she had met him.
She did not know whether he would help her. Or whether he had reported the conversation to Rory Maclean. She doubted it, because her hosts said nothing, nor did they assign her a guard.
The Macleans went far to make her feel at home. Rory was charming, telling her she made him miss Felicia a wee bit less. She did not believe him. She’d seen the way he looked at Felicia. There had been so much love in his gaze that she ached. What must it be like to be so loved?
Audra laughed as the puppy rolled over.
The Spaniard has taught the puppy that,
Juliana thought.
If she stayed in this room any longer, she would never leave Inverleith. The true seduction was that she really felt they would like her to stay.
“Does it always rain like this?” she asked Kimbra, who watched her daughter like a tigress protecting her cub.
“Aye. Too often. Does it not in Spain?”
“There is more sun,” she tried diplomatically. In truth there was a great deal more sun.
“I have not forgotten that picnic,” Kimbra said. “I see you are becoming restless.”
“I am used to riding daily,” she replied.
Kimbra nodded. “I miss it as well.”
Juliana disliked using a common interest for her own benefit, but at the moment she would take any opportunity to leave. As quickly as possible. Every moment she stayed was like sinking farther and farther into quicksand, except this quicksand carried a different kind of danger. The longer she stayed at Inverleith, the more she wanted to linger. Forever.
Juliana nodded. She replaced the puppy with its anxious mother in the stable and returned to the keep. She tried to find something to read in Lachlan’s room, but she was too restless. She just could not stay here while others were off deciding her destiny.
Back to the window. The skies were still thick with bulbous clouds and a gray rain continued to fall.
What was happening in Edinburgh? In London? In Spain?
And when could she control her own destiny?
PATRICK rode next to Jamie into Edinburgh. Denny, dressed in servant’s clothes, rode slightly behind him in the role designed for him.
Every step of his mount took him farther from Juliana. He could not block the memory of the look on her face when he’d left her the last time. A mixture of anger, of hurt and, most fearful of all, determination. He remembered her courage when she’d first faced him. And the recklessness of some of her words.
Would she try to do something rash?
Surely not. He’d told Rory to be careful, even though she seemed content enough to his brother.
He tried to turn his attention to the city. It had been nearly a decade and a half since Patrick had last been there, and that had been for games in which he competed against the man now riding next to him. He’d never thought to be riding beside him as a companion. Part of him still could not believe it.
The two of them had discussed what to do with Denny. They did not know who he was, but someone at court may, especially since there were English envoys there. Some of his mannerisms and skills indicated that he was of a privileged class.
Patrick glanced at Denny, who was also looking at the dwellings darkened with peat smoke. While Patrick knew it was a gamble that could prove troublesome if not catastrophic, Denny might remember someone, or something, that would help bring his memory back. That had become more important to Patrick as he himself had found his own place. Could he let Denny wander alone in darkness as he’d learned Lachlan had for weeks?
Except, for Denny, it had been years. He owed the Englishman that much.
They had done what they could to mask him. He was dressed in a servant’s saffron shirt, an old plaid and a cap. No one looked at a servant. Kimbra had used a dye to darken his hair and Felicia had suggested putting wads of paper in his cheeks. Denny had been told that if he recognized anyone, he was to slip away and meet Patrick back at the inn.
As Denny trailed behind, Jamie caught Patrick’s glance and moved closer to him. “You are worried about your friend?” he asked in a low voice.
“Aye. Kimbra said that Lachlan had started to remember bits of the past when the Maclean crest brought it all back,” he said.
“We do not know whether Denny suffered the same kind of injury.”
“Nay, but he sees and understands more than I thought. Mayhap he will see something in Edinburgh that will bring back memories.”
The entire scheme was full of risks. But Patrick knew that since the forced signing of the Magna Carta, the English detested slavery. He could not believe King Henry would condone it. If Denny did belong to an important English family, then he might have allies, even against the powerful Viscount Kingsley. Those allies might be of use to the Macleans as well.
Jamie planned to stay in the chambers allotted to the Campbells in Edinburgh Castle. Jamie’s father had been a close advisor to the last two kings, and as a reward the Campbells had been given chambers for their use.