MacGregor Castle came into view just as the sun was beginning to set. There had been no sign of an English army on their journey and for that Lennox was grateful. It looked as if he still had time.
"What’s that?" Rose asked, looking up for the first time in hours.
"My home," Lennox replied. He took in the turrets, the scaffolding on the battlements, the sound of masons chiseling stone. It was all as much a part of him as the heather on the mountainside or the mist on the lochs early in the morning.
"Gregor," he called to the guard outside the portcullis. "Is my father here?"
"In his chamber, my Laird."
"I’m not Laird yet," Lennox replied with a laugh. "Would you have him bumped off so soon?"
He rode on through the gatehouse into the courtyard, climbing down as a groom ran over to take his horse. He had to nudge Rose to climb down, she was staring around her with wild eyes.
"It looks so different," she said as she stood beside him, still staring at the interior of the courtyard. "Of course. I must go down the steps. That’s how I’ll get back. The key will be in the dungeon door."
She ran off and he followed. "We have no time for this," he said as she darted into the keep and then down the first flight of stairs she found. He caught up with her as she stopped at the bottom, running her hand against the door that blocked her path. "This was the door," she said. "But where’s the key? It’s not here." She put her head in her hands. "I really am stuck here."
"Come," he said, taking her hand. "I must speak to my father."
She let him guide her back up the stairs where Marion was walking toward him, her arms filled with linen. "Marion," Lennox called. "Watch my guest for a spell. Rose, I must speak to my father."
"Of course," she said, passing the linen to one of the maids following her. "This way, Rose."
"Wait, where are you going?" Rose asked, tugging at his arm. "I need to find the key to get home."
"Go with Marion," he replied, squeezing her shoulder. "I will be back soon."
He headed up the stairs to his father’s chamber, finding him bent over his desk, reading. "You’re back," Ross said, looking up and smiling. "Care to explain how you got to Walter and back in less time than it takes the kitchen to roast a pig? You must have ridden like the wind."
"I have not been yet."
Ross scraped his chair back, getting to his feet and roaring, "What?"
"I was captured."
"Captured? Who by?"
"The rat’s men held me in Warkworth’s dungeon. I barely escaped with my life."
"And you returned to me rather than ride on to Walter? What possessed you to do something so foolhardy?"
"I had to come back, father. They were going to kill you."
Ross’s rage subsided. "Kill me? How?"
"The rat was planning to offer my freedom for a ransom. When you came out to negotiate he was going to have your throat slit. I had to warn you."
"Then perhaps you made the right choice. What’s this Gregor tells me about you bringing a woman back with you."
"She was held in the dungeon with me. I could not leave her there."
"I see. You still have the letter, I hope?"
"I do."
"That’s something at least. Ride to Walter and try not to get captured this time. I will pray time is on your side and Walter will hear what you have to say."
"Yes, father."
