“Nay,” Tor agreed, realizing what he was suggesting. “You think there might be someone spying on me,” he said flatly. Every instinct rebelled at the idea. He knew his men.
MacRuairi shrugged. “It’s a possibility.”
As much as Tor didn’t like to think that one of his people could have betrayed him, MacRuairi was right. He had to consider it. Who had he angered enough to go to all the trouble? Nicolson certainly. For the attacks that were recent, he would have to add MacDougall to the list.
If someone was spying on him …
He swore. His first thought was of Christina. He forced back the spike of what could only be termed panic. She was safe. No one could get to her in the castle; Dunvegan was impenetrable.
“Who knows how long you will be gone?” MacRuairi asked, reading his mind.
“Too many people,” Tor answered, jumping to his feet, his earlier exhaustion forgotten. “If we leave now, we can be there by midday.”
Brother John was turning into an overprotective nursemaid. “Not today, my lady. Tomorrow will be soon enough. The children are improving and you, forgive me for saying, are looking tired.”
Shewastired. Her menses were about to start, and as always, she had cramps and a headache. But she could hardly explain that to a churchman. “I’m fine, and I’m not going to miss this beautiful day. I’ve forgotten what the sun looks like. Come, we won’t be gone long.”
But she was wrong. The children had indeed improved and had decided to entertain her with a special song and dance. It wasn’t until near midday that she and Brother John started to make their way back to the boat for the return ride to the castle.
“Slow down, Brother John,” she said with a laugh. “I’ve never seen you walking so fast.”
He smiled. “Was I? I’m sorry, my lady. I must be hungry.”
“After all those tarts that you ate?”
He blushed. “I have a fondness for plums.”
“As do I. What a wonderful treat this late in the season.”
All of a sudden Brother John jerked to a stop. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear wh—”
But her question was cut off by the far-off sound of a horn. The blood drained from her face. She looked to the clerk and could see her panic reflected in his gaze. “What is that?” she asked Colyne, one of the guardsmen who’d accompanied them.
She suspected the answer, but it didn’t lessen the shock when it came.
“It’s a warning from the castle, my lady.” His face looked grim. “We’re under attack.”
