“I suspect the fact that she did not was a hard disappointment to them. Once she returned to Dunburn they feared doing anything to be rid of her.”
“And so that bitch played upon my poor wee lass’s feelings and her need to have a family.”
“It kept Cecily from asking questions such as why her uncle ne’er wrote and all.”
“And so by keeping Cecily thinking Angus had turned aside from her, Anabel was able to tighten her grip.”
“Banishing ye from Dunburn did the same, I expect.”
Old Meg sighed. “I should have held fast to my temper. I am lucky I wasnae hanged for beating the woman. But, aye, taking me away from Cecily only left the poor wee child e’en more alone and in need.” Old Meg cursed and shook her head. “I was no better. I ne’er asked any questions and was quick to cast aside whate’er suspicions I had in the beginning. I only briefly doubted it was just thieves who did the killing, and I fear I just cursed Angus for an old fool and assumed he had e’er only been interested in the laddie.”
“Most men are. An heir and all that.” He patted Old Meg’s shoulder. “Dinnae chastise yourself too heartily. They obviously didnae use any Dunburn men or ye would have heard a whisper or two to set ye to thinking.” He shrugged. “’Tis done and past. There is no changing it. Aye, and the ones who are really at fault are her kinsmen, the verra ones who should have cared for her.”
“So what is to happen now?”
“I need to get Cecily out of here.” He frowned. “I can nay longer just try to convince her to come to Glascreag with me and openly ride away with her. That would ne’er be allowed, and I cannae fight off all of the Donaldson and Ogilvey men.”
“It sounds as if ye have been giving it a goodly effort.”
Artan ignored that remark. “I need to get Cecily to Glascreag as quickly as possible. She can be better protected there. There isnae any chance of doing that here, as this is her enemy’s home ground. Howbeit, I am nay sure how I can get her away unseen.”
Old Meg crossed her arms over her chest. “Your greatest problem is how to get her to go with ye at all. Aye, we now ken that she has been cheated of what is hers by right and that her life is in danger, but she isnae going to believe it just because ye say it is so.”
“What if ye tell her all we have just learned?”
“’Twill plant a few doubts in her mind, but nay enough to make her calmly walk away with ye. Wretched as these people are, Cecily sees Dunburn as her home and these people as her family. Bonnie as ye are, she has only kenned ye for a few days, so why should she believe ye o’er them? And I have ne’er liked Anabel or Edmund and have made my dislike far too clear o’er the years for her to heed me too closely.”
Artan softly cursed. Old Meg was right. Cecily would be slow to believe them, if only because no one would want to accept that they had been made a fool of for years, and there was no time to convince her. He could not depend on getting her to overhear another revealing conversation by her own guardians so that she could hear the ugly truth from their own mouths. It appeared there was little chance Cecily would willingly walk away with him, at least not this soon in the game or without far more proof of the danger she was in than just his word.
“I am going to have to try to get her to meet with me somewhere outside the walls of the keep and then kidnap her,” he said. “After listening to those three swine, there simply isnae any time left for convincing her that her guardians and her betrothed are a threat to her or to woo her into coming with me.”
“Nay, there isnae enough time, although I cannae believe I am e’en thinking of helping ye kidnap the lass; but better she go with ye than stay here with these carrion. And what do ye meanwooher?”
There was a tone to Old Meg’s voice that sharply reminded Artan of the one his own mother would use when she had caught him out in some mischief. To his utter dismay, he felt a guilty color burn in his cheeks. For a moment he considered several ways to wriggle out of answering that last question, but then he looked into her eyes. There wasthatlook, the one he suspected all mothers gave erring sons that seemed able to pull the truth right out of them. Artan heard himself tell her all about the bargain Angus had offered him and was not really surprised that he was doing so.
Old Meg frowned and studied the young man. She did not like the idea that Cecily would be taken away from a marriage she had been forced to accept and thrown right into another that she was being lured into by pretty words and a handsome face. Neither man seemed to care much for Cecily’s feelings. Then she inwardly cursed. Sir Fergus planned to kill the girl when he had taken all he wanted from her. Sir Artan might also be marrying the girl for gain, but he would keep her safe. Cecily might have her feelings hurt when she discovered exactly why this big, strong man had married her, but at least she would still be alive to complain about it. Considering Cecily would have this man in her bed instead of Sir Fergus, Old Meg decided that hurt could be quickly soothed. As soon as she could collect up the things Cecily had hidden away, Meg also decided she would take them to Glascreag herself and make sure that her lass was being treated well.
“I dinnae like the fact that Cecily is still being wed because of her dower, but better ye than that sly ferret Fergus,” she said.
“I willnae marry her just to gain Glascreag,” said Artan.
“Are ye trying to tell me that ye already love the lass?”
The bite in Old Meg’s words was so sharp Artan almost winced. “I like her, I desire her, and I am a mon who will hold fast to vows made. She wouldnae get that from verra many other men, nay when she is so richly dowered.”
“Aye, that is the sad, hard truth. So, best we start planning on when and how we can get her out of here.”
“The when had best be tonight, I am thinking. Anabel may hesitate just tonight to take up her role as guard, but shewilltake it up and it will make an escape nearly impossible. I need to get Cecily alone long enough to convince her to slip away and meet me. Since we cannae guess how quickly or firmly these carrion will increase their guard on her, ’tis best if we take time to consider ways to elude them.”
Artan limped through the gates of Dunburn. A few men chuckled, but most watched him with a look of fear or respect. Cecily had to be the only one at Dunburn who did not know he was being attacked at every turning. This time he had actually had to draw his sword and two men would not be returning to Dunburn. It had, however, given him a good excuse to leave Thunderbolt secured near the burn. No one would question that his horse had gotten away from him during the attack, although he found it irritating that he had to leave these fools thinking he had so little skill with his mount. It was a necessary bruise to his pride, however. Getting Cecily out of Dunburn was going to be difficult enough. The only ideas he had come up with for getting his horse out at night could all too easily have given Cecily the idea that he had left for good, and she would then think there was to be no meeting after all.
It was not just Cecily who had to leave now either. This last attack had been much more than a nuisance. Eight armed men had come at Artan, and he had been hard-pressed to even the numbers enough so that he could more easily rout the others. He was a skilled fighter, but even that could not save him if the number of men attacking him continued to increase. Although he hated to run from any fight, he would do Cecily no good if he died.
As he walked toward his bedchamber, a noise from within Sir Fergus’s room caught his attention. It sounded as if someone was crying. For a minute Artan thought the fool may have already heard that his men had failed once again, but then he heard a soft feminine voice cry out. It was followed by the distinct sound of a fist hitting flesh. Stealthily entering the man’s bedchamber, Artan had to fight the strong urge to immediately kill the man. Only the knowledge that if he did so he would have to fight his way out of Dunburn and that that would leave Cecily unprotected stayed his hand.
Sir Fergus had a young maid pinned to the floor. She did not look to be much older than twelve or thirteen. Her gown was torn, and her face was bruised. Artan silently closed the door behind him and walked over to the struggling couple. He grabbed Sir Fergus by the back of his jupon and threw him against the wall. The man seemed to stick there for a moment, staring at Artan in horror, but then his eyes rolled back and he slowly slipped down into a heap upon the floor.
“Get ye gone, lass,” he told the girl as he helped her to her feet, “and stay far away from this swine.”
