“Come the morn I want it sealed. Now, I will go speak to that fool lad.”
After glancing at an avidly listening Catarine, Malcolm suggested softly, so that she could not overhear, “Ye didnae tell the lad your plans at all. I ken he trusts ye but he darenst, nay, not when the ransom is still collected and ye still bed his sister as ye will.”
Parlan ran a hand through his damp hair. “Ye are right, Malcolm. I will say what is needed. Tomorrow. I am too weary to do it right this night. How promises the weather on the morrow?” he asked Angus, a man reknowned for his forecasting skill.
“Bodes well. Sun, clear skies, and warmth. A rare summer’s day.”
“Good. Maggie, ye will see that food is readied. I dine in the sun tomorrow at noon with Aimil.” He winked at Malcolm. “I ken just the spot. The Banshee’s Well copse. Now, to speak to Leith.”
Catarine did not care to think on what such special arrangements could mean. She crept out of the hall and sought out one of her men-at-arms. Ordering him to leave with two horses giving the excuse of readying matters for her journey to Stirling, she told him to wait for her just beyond sight of Dubhglenn. He had barely cleared the gate when she was at the door Leith and Aimil had tried to escape through. Luck was with her, and moments later she was riding toward one who would certainly aid her in her quest of ridding Dubhglenn of Aimil Mengue.
“Who?” muttered Rory when Catarine was announced.
“Catarine Dunmore,” growled Geordie. “She says she has a bargain to set before ye.”
“Show her in then.”
“I have little time,” Catarine began immediately upon entering the room. “I must be back at Dubhglenn before the morn.”
“Then tell me what ye wish. I cannae think what bargain we can strike however.”
“I can give ye Aimil Mengue.” Catarine nodded with satisfaction when Rory tensed with interest and she quickly told him of the plan she had devised.
“And what do ye gain?”
“Parlan. I want him. Alive,” she hastened to add. “A bargain?”
“A bargain. Where will they be and when?”
“I mean it,” she said after they had made their final plans and she prepared to go. “I want Parlan alive. Do as ye will with that girl but leave Parlan to me.”
“Of course. My word upon it.” A smile eased over Rory’s face after Catarine left, and he turned to Geordie. “Ten of our best marksmen are to be ready to ride on the morrow. I will get my bride back and I will see the Black Parlan dead.”
Leith tried very hard not to feel like an errant child as he faced Parlan. He was, however, uncomfortably aware of the fact that he had been allowed to stay at Dubhglenn on Parlan’s good graces. His attempt to escape with Aimil was akin to an insult to that hospitality. Leith hoped he would not be sent from Dubhglenn as a result.
“How fares Aimil?” he asked quickly, thinking to divert Parlan.
“Fine. She sleeps. She will most likely sleep through the night.”
Inwardly, Leith winced. That was a circumstance that would not improve Parlan’s mood at all. He watched the man warily.
“How did you find the door?” Parlan demanded.
“I was kicking a ball around, and it went back there. I then explored its suitability as an escape route.”
“It didnae prove too suitable, did it? Aimil was nearly drowned.”
“Aye,” Leith rasped, “I ken it, and the guilt lies heavy on me for I pressed her into leaving.”
“I told ye I wasnae taking all the ransom.”
“Ye did yet ye still let it be gathered.”
“Because I have naught on that hellhound Rory yet. If I give ye your sister back, she will be wed to the man, and if this ransom game ends, I have no rights to hold her. She is only my captive and all hold I have flees when the ransom is paid.”
“The ransom my father sweats to gather for ye.”
“It willnae break him to gather it. In truth, he will learn something. He will learn who his true friends are.”
