Fortunately, he had useful information for his Chieftain, else he’d have been running in the opposite direction. Hopefully, the knowledge that the lad had escaped from the mine would be enough to stay the MacFarlane’s hand, though the Chief would likely want to know why he hadn’t been told sooner. Murray had an excuse for that too. He wasn’t about to say he preferred the comfort of Caerlaverock to his drafty home Keep. But waiting had paid off. He now knew the Laird was thinking to rescue the other bairns working in the mine.
He didn’t know when, but he’d explain he hadn’t dared to stay to find out. All in all, he was confident the MacFarlane wouldn’t beat him too hard.
The other reason he’d decided to rest was sheer tiredness. He’d been up since before day-daw and by the time he met with Ailsa, he’d felt as though he’d done more than a full day’s work. He gavea dark chuckle. In truth, if MacNee hadn’t come upon them when he had, Murray doubted he’d have had the stamina to actually do anything.
He looked back at the still figure in front of him. Bashing her on the head had been an impulse. He’d thought to take her horse and leave her, but then she’d turned round before he hit her. Had she caught sight of him? He gritted his teeth in indecision. He could strangle her now and be done with it. But murder? He would be certain to hang if he was caught – and that was if the MacFarlane didn’t string him up first. She looked to be well born too.
He frowned suddenly as another thought occurred to him. What the devil was she doing out alone? The only large house in the area was Caerlaverock. Sudden terror knifed through him. Had she come from there? He leaned forward and turned her face towards him, and shock held him immobile. The woman lying unconscious on the ground in front of him was Jennifer Sinclair.
Groaning, he sat back on his heels and closed his eyes. What a bloody nightmare. He didn’t dare kill her. There would be no mercy from the Duke of Blackmore if he did. But he didn’t dare leave her here either. He’d have to take her with him.
Panting, he ran back towards the small croft to fetch a length of rope he’d spied earlier, his mind trying to come up with an acceptable excuse for bringing Jennifer Sinclair to his Chieftain. He could say she sought to stop him revealing their intentions. The MacFarlane might even hold her for ransom.
Gradually, his panic eased as he tied her hands and feet together and lifted her onto the horse. She was a wee slip of a thing, and it hardly took any effort. Then, climbing up behind her, he guided the horse away from the well-used track. He had no ready excuse for having an unconscious woman lying across his horse, so he’d have to find another, lesser used route.
By the time he’d directed the horse around the back of the croft and up onto the open heath, Murray had convinced himself that this had been his plan all along. In fact, the MacFarlane might even train him as one of his warriors…
∞∞∞
It wasn’t often that Peter swore, but on discovering his sister had taken it into her head to go chasing after the missing servant alone, he let lose a string of expletives, some of which Felicity had never actually heard before. She hadn’t the heart to berate him, and once he’d ground to a halt, she simply held out the note Jennifer had penned.
Scanning it quickly, the Viscount ran his fingers through his hair in weary frustration. Why the devil had he decided to go for a ride? Guilt swamped him. It was no good saying that if he’d stayed in the house one moment longer he’d have damaged something. That he needed to be doingsomething…
But then, anyone else would have stayed put until he’d returned, but not Jennifer. The bloody woman was a menace.
‘I’ll have to go after her. With luck she won’t have got far. Her note stated she intended to stay on the Lochside track and would not approach her quarry. I suppose we must be thankful for small mercies.’
‘I should have stopped her.’ Felicity’s face was white and strained, her guilt echoing his.
Peter sighed and shook his head. ‘We both know that when my sister gets an idea into her head, nothing and nobody can sway her. The fault does not lie with you Felicity. You could not have stopped her. In truth she was right. Somebody needed to warn Malcolm and Brendon. I should never have left the house…’ He stopped and briefly closed his eyes before adding, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll find her. When Gifford returns, tell him to get word to Chapman. We may be forced to ask him and his men to get involved after all.’
∞∞∞
It was late afternoon when their guard hailed them.‘Hae ye foond anythin’?’
‘Should we pretend we hae nae heard him?’ Dougal asked the Reverend. ‘Make the bastart row ower here tae look fer himself?’
Reverend Shackleford thought for a second, then shook his head. ‘We don’t want to set up his bristles. Much better for us if he doesn’t have the chance to view your pathetic excuse for a hole.’
Dougal merely grinned and got to his feet, walking round the ruins until he could see the guard standing on the Lochside. ‘Nae, but ah reckon we be close,’ he yelled back. ‘Another day’ll be enough.’
‘It had better be. The MacFarlane be nae a patient man.’ Dougal didn’t see the point in answering that. Instead, he watched as the guard picked up his sword and began his walk back to the keep.
Dougal looked over at the Reverend as the clergyman joined him. ‘The lither bastart’s nae even stayin’ ‘til gloamin’, he growled. ‘He dinnae deserve tae be called a son o’ Caledonia.’
‘That’s the old name for Scotland?’ Reverend Shackleford asked, interested despite himself.
‘It were the one the Romans geid us,’ Dougal answered with a shrug. ‘Haed tae put up a bloody great wall tae keep us oot,’ he added with a chuckle. Fortunately the Reverend was too tired to rise to the bait.
They watched as the guard disappeared around a bend in the loch. ‘Do you think there’s a chance MacFarlane will send another guard to watch us overnight,’ the Reverend asked
Dougal shook his head. ‘Nae. This one didnae even finish his time.’ He looked over at the tall grass bordering the loch. ‘Ah reckon Bren’ll hae seen ‘im gae. Mebbe the guards ower at the mine be jus as bloody lither an’ be gaed already.’
The two men hurried back round the ruined keep where the Reverend picked up the field glasses. ‘Dae ye see anythin’?’ After a second, the clergyman nodded his head.
‘They’re putting what looks like rocks into a cart. Likely the ore the youngens have managed to dig out today.’ He paused, then began counting in a low voice. ‘I can see four of ‘em… ahh, there’s the fifth. He’s just come out of the mine entrance.’ He lowered the glasses and look over at Dougal in excitement. ‘It looks like they’re leaving.’
‘Let me see.’ The old Scot snatched at the glasses and put them to his eyes. ‘Aye ye be right,’ he muttered. ‘There be one still there. He dinnae look happy.’
