“After the revolution, I can protect ye,” Donald called. “The wife of a member of the English House of Lords won’t survive over long, but if ye cooperate, I’ll make sure to keep ye safe.”
She sidled closer to the light. He couldn’t be so simple as to think that he could protect her better than Sin. Even surrounded by an angry mob with her neck heading for the gallows, she’d still feel safer standing beside her husband than hiding next to this craven fool.
“There you are.” He heaved a sigh. “I’m glad you saw reason.”
Winnifred paused. Donald’s voice was at least fifteen feet distant, no where near her position. What—
An unholy shriek filled the tunnel, followed by familiar hissing.
Her eyes widened, but still she saw nothing. But she knew that sound. Knew what unholy beast could produce such fear in man. Forgetting stealth, she turned for the entrance and ran headlong away from the badger.
She grasped the beam at the end of the tunnel and clutched her stomach as she sucked in air. The high-pitched squeal grew louder, and Donald’s panicked face broke into the light. His raced past, hands covering his bum, a large section of torn fabric flapping with his every step.
Donald spared her no glance as he fled to safety behind a large oak tree. He clung to the trunk, peering around its width, eyes wide.
The badger waddled into the open, a strip of black wool impaled on a lower tooth. He gave her a sidelong warning look before retreating back into the tunnel.
“For a man who thinks himself Scotland’s savior, that was a poor display of manliness,” she shouted. She tucked a loose bit of hair back into its pin.
Donald raked a hand through his hair. “That … thing …”
“Yes?” She rested her palm on the wall and winced. She held her hand to the light. An angry-looking scrape ran its length.
He adjusted his neckcloth and tugged on the hem of his jacket. The effort to look respectable failed miserably. “Ye will regret yer decision here.”
She snorted. “I think not.” A carriage rolled down the drive in the distance. The first of their guests was arriving, and Sin would be wondering where she was. “You’d best leave now. My husband will be coming and I don’t want him to hurt you.”
Donald blinked. “Ye still care for me?”
“Not in the least.” She ran her gaze over her girlhood friend. He still looked the child. Never maturing; never thinking beyond his own immediate desires. “I care about what happens to my husband. I don’t want to see him tried for your murder.”
He pressed his lips into a white slash. “Ye’ve condemned yerself to your own fate. May God have mercy on yer soul.”
She flapped her hand at him. “Worry about your own. I have guests to attend. It’s time for you to leave.”
With a curt nod, he turned and did just that. He trotted over to his donkey, climbed into the saddle, and disappeared down the path, away from the castle’s entrance.
Winnifred smoothed the stomach of her gown. She couldn’t face their guests, or Sin, not looking like this. And the only way into Kenmore without garnering attention was directly behind her.
Squaring her shoulders, she turned to face the darkness. “Badger, I promise not to molest you if you give me the same consideration. A compact of mutual cohabitation. What say you?”
Only silence answered her, the lack of hissing she took as a good sign. And with halting sightless steps, she limped her way home.
Chapter Twenty-Six
He found Winnifred in her dressing room, her maid buttoning up her gown. Sin waved her woman off and took over the task. “Lord and Lady Abercairn have arrived. I’m hoping you can keep the women well-occupied tonight after dinner so I can speak with him.” He hated this part of investigations, not when he couldn’t use his best investigative tool: his fists. Abercairn had too many friends and only the word of one fuckwit against him to justify such violent methods.
She kicked her morning gown under a settee, and the maid balled it up and scurried from the chamber.
Sin frowned. “Was that mud on your—”
“Is Lord Abercairn the man Donald named as the brains behind the rebellion?” Winnifred smiled over her shoulder. “I do hope his wife isn’t privy to her husband’s misdeeds or this could make for an awkward house party. I don’t know how talented I am at deception.”
“Something for which I am glad.” He slid the last button into place. “I can hardly credit MacConnell’s accusation. Abercairn has been one of my most sensible colleagues in the House of Lords. We are in agreement on most all of the bills. I can’t believe he would behave so recklessly.”
She turned to face him. “Can’t, or don’t want to believe?”
Sin twisted his lips. “The latter.” He paced across the small chamber. His world was spinning topsy-turvy and there seemed to be little he could do to right it. Another of his tenants had moved away, informing him the Highlands were no longer enough to provide for him and his family. He no longer knew who but his friends he could trust in the House. And Winnifred ….
