Because if shewasguilty of being in league with Laird Angus, then during her time of confinement at Castle Oliphant, she would almost surely make some attempt at sabotage, escape, or both. It would be Bryan’s job, he knew, to continue to watch over her in the event that this should come to pass.
And then whatever comfortable accommodations they had arranged for her would be traded for a cell in the dungeons next to Romilly’s.
Thatwas the hated idea that lurked in Bryan’s mind, the one he wished to banish but found he could not; the notion that both McGregor lasses would end up side by side in that hellish stone prison below, their baneful natures combining into a fiendish maelstrom. One Bryan would be expected to descend into in an attempt to secure more information for Alex, that the young laird might use it to weigh his decisions regarding the possible war to come.
Most of all, though, Bryan simply found that he loathed the mental image of Katherine’s beauty marred and tangled as Romilly’s had become, against the backdrop of pitiless stone walls and rat-choked drain pipes.
He shivered, and that was when she spoke at last, “Do ye feel a chill, Captain? For it seems warm enough tae me out here.”
“I felt nae chill,” he replied with uncharacteristic brusqueness. “Ye must have imagined.”
But the words died in his throat as heard hushed voices ahead. He peered through the darkness, and could barely make out a half dozen or so men sitting at the edge of the woods near the path. He drew the horse to a stop, watching and listening as keenly as he could, and hoping he’d halted in time to prevent them from hearing their approaching hoofbeats.
After a few moments of tense silence, Katherine dared to whisper, “Bandits, perhaps? I dinnae recognize any of the voices as belonging tae McGregor soldiers.”
Bryan wanted to believe she was telling the truth, if only because there was no way McGregors who were pursuing them could have arrived here before them so handily.
However, that did not entirely eliminate the possibility that they might be Laird Angus’s men, and that they had been dispatched before the abduction, on some sinister mission within Oliphant territory. Perhaps they meant to burn theoutlying farms by night, or continue on to infiltrate the castle and commit acts of stealthy assassination.
The longer he listened, though, the more certain he became that he recognized the voices; as those of several of his own guardsmen.
“Rory?” he called out incredulously, coaxing the horse forward again. “Barclay?”
He heard the men rise and draw their swords. “Who is it? Who goes there?”
Bryan rolled his eyes. “‘Tis I, yer captain! Wondering why I bothered tae instruct any of ye in matters of stealth, merely tae come upon ye sitting here being loud enough tae alert anyone on the road of yer presence.”
The men emerged into the moonlight, looking up at their commander.
Barclay was a tall, thin, reedy fellow, with wispy red hair and front teeth that protruded crookedly. That, combined with his far-apart black eyes, made him appear as some damnably large bedraggled rat that had crawled from the banks of a river.
For his part, Rory was as short and compact as a stump, and roughly twice as stubborn. To complete the image, his skin was as dark, chafed, and gnarled as tree bark. He did not so much “walk” as barrel forward obstinately on his stubby legs. There were those who might find the grizzled old grump comical, until they saw him swing a double-sided axe in the heat of combat, taking his opponents’ legs out from beneath them and then bringing the blade down upon their faces to finish the job. He had served generations of Oliphant guards—indeed, there were no living members of the corps who could recall a time before him.
Together, the pair represented Bryan’s most trusted lieutenants. Which was why he was mildly stunned at the incautious behavior he’d caught them at.
But Rory was unreadable as ever, while Barclay blinked up at Bryan unapologetically. “We meant tae find ye returning by the road, Captain. Or rather, I mean tae say, we meant for ye tae find us.”
“Laird sent,” Rory grunted. He rarely spoke in complete sentences, as though conserving as much of his breath for battle as possible. “Bring ye back while ye rest on the way.”
“Didnae find me up tae the task after all, is that it?” Bryan inquired wryly.
A half-smile twitched on Barclay’s lips, and he snuffled mirthfully. “Laird Alex said ye’d say that, right enough! Laird Alex said for me to say that ‘twas nothin’ of the sort, only that once ye’d crossed the border, there was nae further need for ye tae operate alone.”
“We watch her,” Rory rumbled. “Ye rest.”
“Sure, an’ ye didnae ‘spect LairdAlexwould ‘spect ye tae ride there an’ back straight, wi’ no chance tae stop a bit?” Barclay guffawed.
“I suppose I’d planned tae tie her tae a tree or the like, if I needed rest along the way,” Bryan mumbled sheepishly. He saw Katherine’s withering look and held his hands up defensively. “I didnae say I was looking forward tae the prospect, merely that it seemed my only option.”
“Then mayhap I ought tae thank these men for appearing when they did,” Katherine informed him archly.
Barclay shot her a dark look. “I’d nae be so bloody quick tae say that, lass. Laird Alex said we had tae see ye were hauled back tae the castle alive, but he didnae say we had tae like it, nor be especially kind aboot it.”
“McGregors.” Rory’s nostrils emitted a volcanic huff. “Scum.”
Katherine stiffened and bristled, but whether it was from fright or indignation, Bryan could not tell. In her case, hesuspected that both might be true at once, like the startled reaction of some beautiful fine-bred mare.
Either way, he thought it prudent to intervene before the matter escalated. “There’ll be none of that talk,” he admonished them sternly. “She is coming along without struggle, and she’ll be shown all respect until she gives us reason tae do otherwise. She may yet be blameless in all this, we cannae yet know for certain.”
