Except it wasn’t. Not anymore.
“Leona?” Rufus’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. He looked as exhausted as she felt, his red hair dulled with dust, dark circles under his eyes. But there was determination in hisexpression, too. Her brave little brother, trying so hard to be strong. “Are we really doin' this?”
Leona thought of Ragnall’s face, twisted with grief and hatred. Thought of his promise to finish what Keith had started. Thought of the life awaiting her if she turned back now.
She straightened her spine. “Aye, we’re goin' in.”
Rufus nodded nervously, his hand moving to stroke Nyx where she perched in front of him on the saddle. The cat’s ears were flat against her head, her body tense with exhaustion and irritation.
They urged their horses forward, down the slope toward the castle gates. As they drew closer, Leona became acutely aware of how she must look. Her cloak was mud-splattered and torn at the hem. Her hair had come loose from its braid, wild tangles framing her face. She probably smelled of horse and sweat and fear.
Not exactly the impression she’d hoped to make.
The guards at the gate moved to block their path, hands on the hilts of their swords. Both were tall, broad-shouldered men who looked like they could break her in half without effort. One had a scar running from his temple to his jaw. The other’s nose had been broken so many times it sat crooked on his face.
“State yer business,” the scarred guard demanded.
Leona raised her chin, summoning every ounce of her father’s authority. “I’m Lady Leona Gilmore, of Clan Kerr, and this is me brother, Rufus Gilmore. I’m here to see Laird Ainsley.”
The guards exchanged glances. Something shifted in their expressions. Surprise, perhaps, and something that might have been grudging respect.
“Lady Leona Gilmore?” the broken-nosed guard repeated. “The one who…”
“Aye,” Leona said simply.
Word of Laird Ainsley’s escape had clearly reached his people. And her role in it hadn’t gone unnoticed.
The scarred guard studied her for a long moment, his gaze darting from her to Rufus, then to Nyx, who chose that moment to hiss at him with impressive venom. His lips twitched, almost smiling.
“Wait here,” he said, disappearing into the gatehouse.
He returned minutes later, his expression carefully neutral. “The Laird will see ye. Follow me.”
The gates swung open with a heavy groan, and they rode into the courtyard.
Immediately, activity stopped. Servants paused mid-task to stare. A blacksmith’s hammer fell silent. Even the chickens seemed to freeze, heads cocked as they watched the strangers pass.
Leona kept her head high, refusing to show how intimidated she felt. But her heart hammered against her ribs, and her palms were slick with sweat inside her gloves.
A stable boy rushed forward to take their horses. Leona dismounted carefully, her legs nearly buckling after two days of riding. She steadied herself against the saddle, then reached for Nyx. The cat came willingly enough, settling into her arms with a low rumble that might have been a purr or a growl.
“This way, me Lady,” the guard said, gesturing toward the keep.
Inside, Ainsley Castle was a warren of stone corridors lit by torches, the walls softened by tapestries depicting battles and Highland landscapes. The air smelled of smoke and herbs and something cooking that made Leona’s stomach growl with sudden, vicious hunger.
Servants paused their work to stare as she passed, whispering behind their hands. She caught fragments of conversation.
“… the one who freed him…”
“… Gilmore lass…”
“… what is she doin' here?”
Good question. Whatwasshe doing here?
The guard led them through twisting corridors, up a flight of stairs, then down another hallway. Finally, he stopped before a heavy wooden door.
“Wait here,” he said, then knocked and disappeared inside.
