The Knight's Temptress (Lairds of the Loch) (40 page)

Although Pluff had assured her that Lady Aubrey had taken the trail up the glen, Lina was beginning to wonder if she had come the right way. Fruin Water sped by alongside her, curving back and forth on itself as it tumbled down the glen. The path took the same course as the burn, and she had been following it for at least half an hour. But she had yet to see any sign of her mother.

Not long after climbing a steep bit of the path, beside a waterfall, she rounded a sharp curve and paused to scan a broader view of the glen ahead. The burn widened there and seemed shallower than it had been. It was much quieter in its passage, too, bubbling along as if it were talking to itself.

Pluff had offered to accompany her, but she was glad she had not let him. She had told him to make himself useful to Lady Margaret’s cook if need be.

The path continued its serpentine course up the glen. Birds chirped to each other, and a hawk soared overhead. High above it, an eagle soared lazily, as if it had no interest in food or aught save fresh air.

The thought made her smile. But the smile froze, and so did she, when she heard a man’s voice and realized it had come from close behind her on the trail.

Without stopping to think, she slipped around the next curve as fast as she could while making as little noise as possible. Then, with relief, she saw that if she climbed a
short distance above the trail, a huge boulder there might conceal her.

Suiting thought to action, glad that her bare feet were as tough as whitleather and as sure on the granite slope as any garron’s hooves, she slipped behind the boulder. She could see the trail above but not the part behind her. Listening, with every other sense alert, as well, she heard more voices, quiet ones, and horses.

Looking up the glen again, she saw a woman on the steeply sloping hillside across the burn. She was striding up a grassy slope with scattered patches of dense shrubbery. The woman wore a green shawl over her head, draping to her hips, and was clearly visible as she neared trees above her on the hillside. The men were sure to see her.

The woman glanced over her shoulder.

Although the shawl concealed much of her, Lina easily recognized Lady Aubrey. Still hearing the voices and sure that any number of men were riding toward her, she kept perfectly still and willed her mother into the safety of the trees.

Keeping her head low, Lina peeped cautiously around the boulder, saw the nose of a bay horse, and eased back. Her mother had vanished.

The men passed below the boulder, two of them still talking. She did not know their voices or who they were. There were six men in all but no banner to identify them. None looked familiar until the last one rode by.

Her skin turned cold then, her face numb. She had never seen James Mòr Stewart or any nobleman who was close to him. But she did recognize Patrick Galbraith, and she knew that James Mòr was the only man Patrick followed.

Chapter 17
 

A
fter sending the others to meet James Mòr’s men, Ian had not waited. He was confident that with Bannachra in the balance, Mag, Rob, and the twenty men with them would easily defeat anyone coming up the glen.

As he spurred his horse across the hillside to meet Pluff, Ian knew from the boy’s terrified expression that the news he carried was bad.

Wrenching the horse to a halt a short distance from the gasping boy, he said curtly, “What are you doing at Bannachra?”

Bending over, hands on his thighs, trying to catch his breath, Pluff looked up at him helplessly.

“Out with it, lad! Who else is here?”

“No to say… ‘here’… exactly,” Pluff gasped out, grimacing.

“Tell me!”

“ ’Tis her ladyship… She went out o’ the castle. And the lady Lina—”

“Lady Margaret and Lady Lina went out?”

“Nay,
our
lady Aubrey did leave tae go a-walking.”

“Then what did Lady Lina do?” Ian asked, although he could guess.

“See you, that were later, and none so long ago, neither.”

Wanting to shake him, Ian growled, “
What
was later?”

“Lady Lina followed her mam. I’d ha’ gone wi’ her, but she didna want me.”

“Which way did they go?” Ian asked. Fear that they had gone east toward James Mòr and the rebels caused his throat to close on the last few words, making them barely audible.

Understanding enough to point westward, Pluff said, “Yonder, up the glen, sir. I dinna ken how far or where. Nor did our lady Lina ken where her mam went, neither, ’cause she asked me.”

“Does either of them have a dog or a manservant with her?”

Pluff shook his head.

“What are they wearing?”

Pluff’s brows knitted together in thought. “Lady Lina had a yellow gown on. Her ladyship wore a reddish-brown-colored one, I think. Aye, and a big green shawl that looked too hot tae wear on a day like this ’un.”

“You have good eyes, Pluff.”

“There be another thing ye should ken, though,” Pluff said.

Impatient to be away, Ian had begun to turn his horse but paused. “What?”

Hastily, Pluff said, “There was riders, sir, six o’ them. They passed by none so long after the lady Lina left. They slowed, so I think they meant tae stop. But one o’ them pointed tae the ramparts and muttered tae the others. Then, they rode on.”

“Thanks, lad,” Ian said, trying to suppress his surging
fear for Lina. “Go back inside and look after the lady Margaret. I’ll find your ladies, never fear.”

“And ye’ll take care o’ them, aye,” Pluff said, nodding.

“I will,” Ian said grimly. He could hear a clash of arms below in the glen, so battle had begun. What the devil Lina and her mother had meant by coming here—sakes, by letting Lady Margaret leave the safety of Tùr Meiloach—was a question to which he meant to have an answer before he was much older.

Crossing the burn as soon as the men were out of sight, and realizing that she knew, or thought she knew, where her mother was heading, Lina paused to ask herself why she was trying to catch up with her. To reach the hillside clearing they had visited with Lizzie, they had turned back eastward for a time after crossing.

Suspecting that her mother was indeed going to the clearing, Lina wished that she had thought to wear the mossy green cloak that she had brought, because it would help her conceal her presence in the woods. Too late to be thinking about that now, though, she told herself firmly.

If the clearing
was
where Lady Aubrey was going, it might be quicker, she knew, to try to get ahead of her by angling that way as she climbed the hill.

“But what if that dream, or whatever it was, was wrong and Mam is just going somewhere near there?” she murmured as she hurried up the grassy slope toward the woods above. “If I go the wrong way, I might be too late.”

Guiding his horse up the track along Fruin Water, Ian urged it to a lope for a short distance until the track made a sharp curve to his left and another back to his right, following the rocky course of the water rushing nearby.

Hearing a roar ahead, he soon reached the waterfall making the racket. The track was steep there, so he let the horse pick its way. Cursing all willful women, he tried to focus on what he’d say to the two of them when he caught them—and
not
let his fertile imagination provide gruesome images of dangers they might have met.

Trying to imagine himself telling Lady Aubrey what he thought of her haring off on her own at such a dangerous time daunted him, given what he knew of her and of her husband’s respect for her abilities. But the thought of Lina following her out of concern for her safety made his intent clearer. He would flay them both.

Rounding a curve a short time later, he caught a glimpse of movement to his right on the steep, forested hillside beyond the fast-moving burn. Yellow fabric, certainly a woman’s skirt, whisked out of sight amidst the trees there.

“How the devil…?” He shook his head, scanning the burn. Despite its rapid flow, he could see the bed beneath it a few yards upstream. Urging his mount closer, noting how the animal’s withers trembled, he said, “Now, lad, it’s not as deep as the Leven was. And we’re far enough above the falls now to be safe. Hie in, laddie.”

Tossing its head with a snort, the horse obeyed.

As it made its way across the burn, Ian forced himself to relax lest his anxiety increase the horse’s disquiet. On the far side, it scrambled up the bank—slipping here, sliding there—but it was a canny beast and sure-footed.

Riding up the steep, grassy hill to the trees was another matter. He felt exposed in the meadow and he had seen no sign of the riders Pluff had mentioned. Reaching the woods, Ian decided he might be wiser to tether his mount if only to move more quietly. Heaven knew where or how far the women would go. But it was clear to him that whatever they were doing, they were behaving oddly.

Just then, he glimpsed the yellow skirt again. Dismounting and tethering the horse, he adjusted the sword on his back and the dirk in its sheath, and set out on foot, moving quickly. Thanks to the thick layer of pine duff and beech leaves underfoot, he also traveled silently. He soon saw that his instinct had been right.

The woman he followed was Lina. She did not look back.

“Foolish lass,” he murmured. “I’d teach her a gey good lesson if I walked up behind her and slung her over my shoulder… or over my knee.”