“Aye, I know that well.” He swept the fallen gorse from the ground and shoved it at her. “He threatened my life just days ago.”
Winnifred waved the branch in the air in front of his face. “He did that to you?” She pressed her lips together. She wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. Not that Donald didn’t deserve it but the beating seemed severe. She strode to another clump of gorse. “Then why are you here? If my husband doesn’t want you on his land, then you need to leave.”
“The independent, unconventional Miss Hannon has yielded to the duty to obey her husband’s wishes.” He picked up a stick and tossed it away. “You disappoint me.”
“Is it obeying my husband when my judgment aligns with his on this matter?” She cut another flowering branch with her pocket clippers. “You have become a nuisance, and I cannot condone the trouble you have caused.”
He grabbed her elbow and swung her to face him. His nostrils flared. “Trouble I’ve caused? I told my comrades, men I considered friends, that yer husband suspected me, and because of this I was set upon. They tried to kill me to keep me silent.”
She slapped her clippers into her palm. “So my husband wasn’t responsible for that patchwork of bruises.” His coconspirators must be desperate men to turn so on Donald. “Perhaps their betrayal shows you’ve chosen the wrong side. Come back to Kenmore with me. Tell Dunkeld everything you know. Stop this madness before it gets out of hand.”
He clenched his hands. “The only madness is allowing the English to remain as our masters. Can’t you see that? I won’t let some turncoat marquess stop me from my purpose.”
“Your purpose?” She chose to ignore the insult to her husband. Sin loved his country and didn’t require defending.
“To overturn the union.”
A burst of laughter escaped her lips. “You? You think you will be responsible for ending the union? Single-handedly, as you are now cut adrift from your motley crew of rogues?”
His face purpled. “Ye’ve never had vision. Even with all the books ye’ve read, ye never learned the power of devotion to an ideal. Of being willing to do anything necessary to achieve it.” He clamped his fist around her arm and started walking, dragging her away from the castle.
Winnifred dug in her heels, but still she was propelled inexorably forward. “What the devil do you mean by this?” She smacked the back of his head with the gorse, yellow blossoms exploding over his hat and collar. “Release me at once!”
“Not until I get what I want.” Donald’s hat tumbled to the ground under her blows, but he ignored it. “The Marquess of Dunkeld might be a traitor to his own people, but I’ve seen the way he looks at ye. He’ll do as I say when I have his marchioness stashed away. Ye’ll be all the protection I need.”
Irritation tore through her breast. She wouldn’t let herself be scared, not of Donald.
His donkey was tired to a bush down the lane, and she pawed her hoof when she saw them coming.
“Oh, for goodness sake.” She tried to jab him with her clippers, but he held her arm too tight. “You don’t intent to carry me away on that poor beast, do you? It will barely hold you, much less the both of us.”
He adjusted his grip. “She’ll take us.”
Hell and damnation. She couldn’t allow herself to be taken from her home. She let her knees buckle, made her body drop to the earth, stopping their progress. She dug her free hand into the loose earth and flung a fistful of dirt into his face when he turned.
Dropping his hold on her, Donald let loose with a torrent of curses and pawed at his eyes.
Winnifred crab-crawled away from him then jumped to her feet. “If you are the best Scotland has on offer, then I pity your chances to gain independence.” She waved the clippers at him, her chest heaving.
Slowly, he scraped a path of soil from his eyes, revealing an iron-tipped glare.
She took a step back.
He followed.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so hasty with her insults. “Now, Donald, we’ve known each—eep!”
He lunged, and Winnifred twisted away. She threw the clippers at him, and they bounced harmlessly off his chest. Lovely. Lifting her skirts, she tore back down the path, heading for safety. For Sin. Rounding the low hill, she waved her hands at the footmen in the distance.
Donald’s fingers slid off her shoulder.
Winnifred changed direction and put on a burst of speed. She’d never make it to the castle before he caught her. The broken beams of the rear tunnel rose from the ground just a hundred feet away. There, in the dark, she could evade her former friend.
“Stop! I won’t hurt ye.” Donald’s) words ended on a gasp.
She pressed her lips tighter together and quickened her step. She would have thought a man riding about the countryside stirring up trouble would have been in better form. Her slipper skidded on a stone at the tunnel’s entrance, and the ankle she’d twisted the week earlier flared with pain. Limping into the dark, she cursed the man behind her. She threw herself against the earthen wall and tried to hold her breath.
The air shifted as he rushed past. “Winnie! Be reasonable.” Something scuffed against wood, and she sidled back toward the entrance, her lungs burning.
