“By the order of the king I am here to take custody of Glenna Canmore and provide safe escort to Rossie, where she will be under constant guard and protection. There is concern her father’s enemies have learned of her. I am Baron Montrose.”
“You lie!,” Elgin shouted, foolishly raising the fork.
His men responded and closed in a protective circle around him, while others pounced on Elgin Gordon, disarming him and holding both brothers captive.
“Baron Montrose took her!” Elgin said.
“I doubt that,” Ramsey said wryly, “Since I am the Baron Montrose and clearly I do not have her. My men wear my badges. My pennant flies thus. Note my shield.”
“He had the same shield!”
The men came back before Ramsey could question him.
“She is not here, my lord.”
“He was alone,” Elgin said.
Despite the look they had exchanged, he saw the Gordons were not lying to keep and protect her as he had thought. A sinking feeling hit his belly. “Alone? He had no men or guard? Did you not find that questionable?” It was fast becoming clear that these men who lived in a place so far out would know little of the way of things.
“He had orders in writing from the king and claimed to be Baron Montrose,” Alastair said defensively. “I can show you the papers he handed me.”
Ramsey had left without the papers when they could not findthem. He had more than five shields, all stored in the armory at Rossie. Foolishly he had not been concerned about the papers.
“He was tall,” Alastair Gordon continued. “With light hair—“
“--And a black horse,” Ramsey finished through gritted teeth.
“Aye.”
At that moment he wished he was a handbreadth away from his stepson. His anger was a live thing and his vision turned red from it. His horse baulked because his hands had tightened on the reins. He almost laughed aloud at the bitter irony. Lyall. No one knew where Glenna was but a handful of men. His stepson was not one of them.
“When did they leave?”
“Four days ago.”
To think he thought this a simple errand, despite the number of men with him and word of the king’s protectiveness. He had said as much to Beitris the morn they left Rossie. “I go on a simple errand. You should not worry,” he had told her. Now he had things to say to her, questions to ask, and worry would be the least of what she was feeling. What in the name of God was he up to now?
“Who is he?” Alastair was looking at him, clearly concerned for Glenna. “Why would he take her?”
“He is my stepson. Lyall Robertson.” He did not answer the other question.
“Will he harm her?” Elgin asked.
“No. Do not worry. I will find them and make certain she is safe.” Ramsey turned to his men. We must leave now and ride hard to make the evening tide.” And without another word they rode off.
Alastair and Elgin Gordon stood there, unable to move. “What have we done to her?” Elgin asked.
“Nothing we cannot fix. Get the horses, quickly, and I will gather supplies. We will ride to the Norse side. Oskar will ride back and care for the horses and one of his father ships can takeus across the firth without worry about tides. We will not wait for Baron Montrose to save her. We will be far ahead of them. She is our sister and she needs us.”
Driedlavender and leaves of sage floated in her bath water which was tepid now after sitting in the wooden tub for so long. There was no chill in the air. A coal burner nearby made the small room as warm as if she were bathing out in the sunshine, something she always did during summers at home.
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes tightly. At the fleeting image of the island, those horrible weak tears of hers were once again burning her eyes. She willed them away. But in her mind’s eye were her brothers, nothing but small brown figures waving at her as they stood so far away, down the rolling island hills by their stone house, the paddock toward the north with colts romping and horses easily grazing, overhead the sky giant, cloudless, and blue. She could smell the heather. She could smell the hay and earthy scents of barn and animals, grains and feed, and the scents of home: El’s pheasants roasting on the spit in the fire and Al unlocking the spice boxes with brass keys and carefully measuring cardamom and cinnamon into an iron mead pot.
Hands covering her face she sobbed anyway. She missed El and Al. She missed everything she had known. She even missed the lies she had lived. Right then, she thought as she took a deep, chest-shuddering breath, she did not care about lies. Those lies had been her life. Now nothing was familiar. Now nothing was safe.
Using the back of her hand, she wiped her eyes and nose, then splashed water on her hot face. She sat there still and quiet as she waited for it all to pass. The past days felt as if she had lived a year.
Though she had slept long after first awakening, she still feltout of sorts and fussy. She had not seen Montrose except once, when he thought she was asleep and came to stand over her, watching her in silence. She dared not open her eyes then, for he was such an enigma to her.
