Mad for the Plaid

  Ailsa smiled at Gregor now. “It’s kind of you to come. This is nae your fight.”

  He didn’t return her smile. “Does it involve you?”

  “Aye, but—”

  “Then it’s my fight, too.” He linked his arm with hers. “Your family is now mine, and when there’s trouble, I wish to help.”

  “That’s verrah kind of you. To be honest, I’d thought to leave you here with Lady Edana to keep her calm, so the men and I could rescue—”

  He stopped, and to her shock, his voice cracked, sharp and furious. “Ailsa, I am not a child.”

  “I never said you were. I just—”

  “You don’t believe I’m capable of helping, do you? Not really.”

  “I do. It’s just that our grandmother worries so much and I thought you could—”

  “Stay home, holding Lady Edana’s hand like a child left behind, while the adults participate in life’s real events. Is that what you mean?”

  “Nae, Gregor. I just thought—”

  “You are just like your father, neither of you willing to give me a chance.” Gregor stomped a short distance away, spinning back to face her, the lantern held at his side. “Well, I’m not a child, and I’m not a bloody fool.”

  Ailsa blinked, her mouth hanging open in surprise. In all her years, she’d never seen her cousin so angry. “I assure you I never think of you as a child or a fool.” She spread her hands wide. “Truly, I dinnae.”

  He glared at her, and for a horrible moment, she thought he’d turn and leave her alone in the black snow, taking the light with him. But instead, he grimaced and pressed a hand to his temple. “I’m sorry, Ailsa. I just didn’t—I can’t explain how this—” He swiped his eyes as if wiping away tears.

  “I’ve never seen you so overset. What’s wrong?”

  “Everything. Nothing.” He gave a shaky laugh. “It’s been a long few months. You don’t know how—I just—really, it’s not you I’m angry with, it’s Uncle.”

  “He’s hard on you, I know.”

  “He never treats me as if I were an adult. And yes, I know that’s partly my fault. Over the last few years, I’ve let him down more than once.” Gregor shook his head and came back to rejoin her on the path. “Ailsa, I must tell you something. And it is not pretty.” He swallowed, the noise loud in the silence of the night. “I visited the Earl of Argyll at your father’s instigation.”

  “Papa’s? But why— Ah. Argyll’s daughter.”

  Gregor nodded glumly. “Last month, I went to see Uncle in London to apologize for—well, for everything I’ve done wrong. He wouldn’t listen; he just kept saying I was a failure and was heading for the poorhouse and how he couldn’t keep me from it forever, and— Oh, it was a horrible argument. We both said things we shouldn’t have. At the end, he informed me that he and Argyll had made a decision for me, since I was unable to make one for myself. Argyll’s daughter, the indomitable Lady Agnes, was unmarried, and seemed unlikely to gain a suitor. And there I was—a hopeless wastrel with no prospects other than my services as a well-bred stallion.” He laughed bitterly. “I was to marry her and get her with a child or two, and then Argyll would give me an allowance and I would be free to wander about the world as I wished, unfettered and unwanted.”

  “Gregor, nae. Papa would never be so cruel—”

  “Wouldn’t he? Those are your father’s exact words. And I, having no pride, agreed. But I just couldn’t bring myself to come to point.” Gregor shook his head. “When your father finds out, he will cast me off.”

  “Surely nae.”

  “It’s what he said he would do. And he meant it. He thinks the worst of me, and when he finds out I left Argyll’s in such a fashion—” Gregor rubbed a hand over his face. “Which is why I’m so grateful you allowed me to help. This opportunity, this chance to do something right for once, it could make the world of difference. I could prove to your father that I’m not a waste of air.”

  She slipped her arm through his. “You’re nae a waste of air, nor a wastrel, nor a failure. You’re dear, wonderful, delightful Gregor, and I’m glad to have you along. It will make the trip fly by. But I must warn you, Greer said the way is verrah rough. ’Twill nae be an easy journey.”

  “I don’t care; I’ll do whatever I must.” Gregor sent her a crooked, strained grin. “Dear, dear Ailsa. You’re the sister I never had, which is yet another reason I must come. What if these unscrupulous abductors decide to take you prisoner, too? What then?”

  “I’d be oot of luck, for Papa is nae nearby, and Lady Edana never has two coins to rub together. But I’m certain I’ll be safe. I was never going alone, you know. I’ll have Greer and his men, as well.”

  “If something ill happened to you, I’d find the ransom money, I promise.”

  “I know it.” She patted his hand. “Ah, and here’s MacKean and Stewart, waiting as promised.”

  The two huntsmen stood outside the old stables with the horses already packed with beds and supplies. Ailsa was glad to note that someone had thought to line the bedrolls with furs, to make the trip more comfortable. There was little to say, and as time was slipping away, they mounted up and were soon on their way, the cold morning air nipping at Ailsa’s nose and cheeks. There would be more discomfort ahead, she was sure. Much, much more if this wind and the terrain they had to cover were any indication. And at the end of that . . . she didn’t know what challenges awaited her there, only that she had to meet them and free Lord Hamilton and Her Grace.

  They quietly rode the horses single file across the ridge above the dark castle, and then on past the stables where the prince slept. To her relief, nary a light showed.

  The only sound in the night, other than the occasional blast of wind and the growing rustle of the trees, was the horses’ muffled hoof falls on the thick snow. Soon, they were breaking a faint path across the stretch of moors to the forest beyond.

  MacKean reached the forest edge and lifted his hand, signaling for everyone to stay close, as it would grow darker in the forest. St. George lifted his head to whicker at the rustle of the trees overhead, but she patted him soothingly to keep him from making noise. She followed MacKean onto the dark path, Stewart close behind.

  She’d just let out a sigh of relief that they’d made it, when a horse’s loud neigh broke the silence. Heart pounding, Ailsa wheeled about in her saddle to see Gregor fighting his horse, the animal bucking wildly. He got the animal under control, but Stewart was left muttering angrily.

  Her breath coming in quick bursts, Ailsa looked toward the castle. But no light shone, and no movement stirred.

  Yet.

  “Let’s go!” she urged, turning her horse down the path and heading straight into the black forest.

  Under a tree across the paddock from the stable, Nik patted D’yoval’s neck. “For people sneaking away in the middle of the night, they are making a lot of noise.”

  Rurik grunted. “Aye. Do you think they did it apurpose?”

  “Nyet. It was one horse. Something could have startled it.” Try as he would, Nik couldn’t keep the snap from his voice.

  Apraksin eyed Nik with a cautious gaze. “You are angry they slipped away.”

  “It does not make me happy.” Which was putting it mildly, to say the least. He’d been fooled by Lady Ailsa’s seemingly innocent kiss and had thought he’d made a conquest of a sort. So it had been a shock when Apraksin had shown up at the stables well after midnight with the unwelcome news that he’d overheard Gregor complaining quietly to Ailsa about having to get up “in the middle of the night.”

  Nik checked D’yoval’s saddle one last time. He should have known Lady Ailsa had some sort of trickery up her very silky lace sleeve; she’d been far too conciliatory by the end of their conversation. “Slipping away in the middle of the night is an underhanded way of conducting this business.”

  “We were going to do the same,” Apraksin pointed out. “It is why we are here now.”

  That was true. But stil
l . . . Nik growled, “She was never going to consult me about her plans.”

  “And we weren’t going to consult her about ours.” Apraksin was once again the voice of reason. “I found the note, and we now have the location of the ransom exchange. I fail to see how her actions are any less—”

  “That’s enough.” Nik swung into the saddle and gathered D’yoval’s reins even as he scowled at Apraksin. “Why are you even here?”

  “I came to say good-bye and good luck.” The courtier shoved his hands inside his pockets. “I wish I were going with you.”

  Rurik shook his head. “You have a duty.”

  “I know, I know. Do you have the map I found in the library?”

  The guard nodded and climbed onto his horse. “We will trail Lady Ailsa and her men, as they will take the quickest route through the mountains. We will join them at the end of the day, when they are too committed to alter their course.”

  “Why travel with them at all?” Apraksin asked.

  “It will be safer to travel in a group. It’s been reported that thieves roam the higher trails.”

  Nik nodded. “Then let us go. We will walk the horses to the forest and stay far enough back that we are not heard.”

  “Have a care, Your Highness.” Apraksin stepped back from the horse.

  “Of course.” Nik turned D’yoval to a path that led to the ridge where Ailsa and her party had just passed through, Rurik falling in beside him.

  As they rode across the moor, the dark woods loomed before them. They were almost at the forest line when Rurik said into the quiet, “Lady Ailsa will not be happy to see us.”

  “But I will be happy to see her.” They had unfinished business, and Nik was determined to see it through.

  He remembered again the unexpected passion that had flared at that damned kiss. There had been fire there, a surprising amount, for such a plain woman.

  And she was plain, although there were moments when, glowing from that kiss, her gray eyes had turned silvery bright, and she’d looked almost pretty. It could not have been false, the passion I sensed. I will not believe it.

  “I hope they do not have a guard posted on their flank,” Rurik said.

  “They are not soldiers, and do not expect to be followed. We will not be noticed.”

  They followed the trail where it disappeared into the black forest, the trees reducing the light. Before them in the snowy path, hoofprints gleamed. As dawn broke, the forest came alive around him, and Nik found himself admiring the beauty of it. It had grown colder as they went, snow and ice frosting every green bough, brown tree limb, and waxy shrub with a glistening veil. The scent of pine mixed with that of fresh snow, and a deeper, richer peaty scent that he was beginning to realize was pure Scotland.

  Only once did they hear the party ahead. Mr. Mackenzie’s voice carried over the others, complaining about the cold, and the pace. Nik reined in D’yoval and motioned Rurik to stillness. After ten minutes the voices faded to nothingness, and Nik signaled that it was time to continue.

  Ah, Lady Ailsa, you are in for a surprise. One I look forward to delivering.

  Chapter 8

  “We’ll make camp here.” Ailsa glanced up through the trees at the fading sun before she returned her gaze to their campsite. The small clearing was backed on one side by a huge boulder, and was encircled by trees that provided some relief from the relentless wind.

  MacKean, the reticent, lean, dark-haired tracker who’d so far led their expedition, eyed the area with a critical look. “It’s nae verrah large.”

  “’Tis large enough,” Ailsa said firmly, dismounting. She refused to look at MacKean, but she held her breath until he, too, climbed down off his mount.

  She gave a silent sigh of relief. When she’d first taken on the duties as head of Castle Leod, winning the trust of the servants who worked in the castle hadn’t been nearly as difficult as commanding the respect of those who worked in the fields and stables. They were unused to taking orders from a woman, and she’d had to start from scratch, especially with MacKean and Stewart, the two gamekeepers escorting their party to meet Greer. Independent by nature, they’d presented a certain challenge, one she felt she’d finally met.

  Ailsa put her hands on her lower back and stretched the stiffness from her muscles, the cold wind stirring her cloak as she moved. She’d thought she was a toughened rider, but now she realized that riding the gentle trails around Castle Leod, even for hours at a time, could not compare to riding over such a steep trail. Not only was one jolted about, but time and again, they had to stop to either rest the mounts, or to walk them up a particularly steep portion of the trail.

  She threw St. George’s reins over a shrub, frowning as she looked around. “Where’s Gregor?”

  Stewart tied his horse beside hers. Large and barrel-chested like a bear, his red hair shaggy and long, he was an excellent tracker. He jerked his head toward the path they’d just left. “He’s comin’ oop the path, my lady. I hear his horse now.”

  And sure enough, a few seconds later, Gregor appeared. He looked as tired as Ailsa felt, not used to the grueling effort, either.

  MacKean shot Gregor a hard look. “Got lost, did you?”

  The younger man flushed. “I was only lost in my own thoughts and didn’t realize you had trotted ahead.” He swung down from his horse and rolled his shoulders.

  “I’d keep oop, if I were you,” MacKean said in a flat tone. “Dangerous men hide in these woods.”

  “Of course.” Limping, Gregor led his horse to where Ailsa stood. “Here. Give me St. George. I’ll take care of the animals.”

  She could see the tiredness in his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll set oot the pallets. We’ll want that done before it grows dark.” She glanced up at the trees waving overhead against the gray-growing sky, the almost bared limbs showering dead leaves now and then. “We’ve nae much time to set oop camp. We rode all day.”

  “It feels like it,” Gregor muttered, rubbing his back.

  Stewart opened one of his saddlebags. “Whilst you do tha’, I’ll start a fire. I brought some salted beef and dried carrots and such. If you’d like, I can make a bit of stew.”

  “Aye,” Ailsa replied thankfully, glad to hear they’d have a warm supper. “Please do.”

  They set about their duties, hurrying to get them completed before nightfall. As Ailsa cleared areas for the bedding, she thought about the prince, something she’d done off and on all day.

  He’d be furious now, of course, probably cursing her name up one side of Castle Leod and down the other. She had no doubt he’d have followed if he’d known which direction to take. Which he doesn’t, thank goodness. That is not a man whose anger I relish facing.

  Once the fire was crackling, Stewart pulled a metal stake from his pack and jabbed it into the ground by the flames. At one end of the stake was a large hook, upon which he hung a small black pot for their stew.

  “That’s a useful tool.” She nodded to the hooked stake.

  “The blacksmith made it for me. It can be used for more than hangin’ a pot, too. I’ve tied horses to it, used it to secure one end of a laundry line, and anchored a tent, as well.”

  MacKean sent Stewart a disgusted look. “All of which you could do just as weel wi’ a cut stick.”

  “You could nae,” Stewart replied firmly. “Nae like this.”

  MacKean snorted.

  Smiling, Ailsa continued unrolling the pallets. She’d just finished placing the final one when a noise on the path caused her to rock back on her heels and look in that direction, her breath held as she listened. Was that the strike of a hoof on a rock?

  MacKean was suddenly at her side, his rifle in hand. “Stay low,” he whispered. “It could be brigands. I’ll go east and loop around to the other side of the trail. Stewart, take the west.”

  Stewart rose from the fire and gathered his weapons, then disappeared in the opposite direction, remarkably quiet for such a large man.

  Ailsa whispere
d, “I’ll find a place atop that boulder. If I cannae, I’ll use that ridge just beyond.”

  “Guid. Have Mackenzie set oop behind that fallen log.”

  Ailsa nodded and MacKean bent lower still and made his way into the woods, one silent step at a time.

  Ailsa made her way to Gregor, who was feeding the horses, unaware of their danger. She grasped his arm and pulled him down.

  “We’ve unexpected visitors,” she whispered. “Stewart and MacKean have gone to greet them. You’re to take position behind that log.” She nodded toward it.

  “How many?”

  “We do nae know.”

  He freed his pistol from his saddle. “Where will you be?”

  “On the boulder over the camp.”

  He checked to see that his weapon was loaded before sending her a serious look. “Be careful.”

  “You, too.” She glanced at her saddlebag. The money was securely hidden in its lining, but it wouldn’t take long for someone to realize the bag was much heavier than it should be.

  Gregor found his way to his assigned position. Though not as quiet as the trackers, he did well enough that Ailsa began to breathe again.

  Staying low, she moved toward the huge boulder that shadowed their campsite and carefully climbed up one side. It was steeper than she’d expected, but one hand and foothold at a time, she finally reached the top, her boots scraping on the rock as she scooted across the broad, flat top. She stayed prone, tugging her cloak about her, and looked down at the camp. Through the few dead leaves left on the trees, she could just make out Gregor where he hid not far away, his gun trained on the trail. Better woodsmen, neither Stewart nor MacKean could be seen, though she was certain they were there, too.

  A rustle sounded close to the camp, like that of a large animal brushing a shrub, and she turned her gaze back to the trail. In the growing dusk, a rider appeared, flickering in and out of sight through the thick leaves. Tall and broad shouldered, he rode as if he were a part of his horse. But more than that, he rode as if he owned the trail, the mountain, and all the trees.

  And she knew before she saw him who it was.