“I remembered his name, my lady.”
“Who, Coleen?”
“The patron at the tavern who asked about ye,” Coleen let her know.
Aye, the man of mystery who—
“He said he was called MacRae, Alistair MacRae. From where, I canna recall,” Coleen said regretfully.
Ismay stumbled back. Joan hurried to catch her. It was Chief MacRae. Ismay knew it. She knew if she stopped or slowed down he would catch up to her.
“Och, my lady,” Coleen lamented seeing Ismay’s reaction to the news. “Who is he? He didna seem unfriendly or dangerous at the tavern. Is he not a friend?”
A friend. Why had he pretended to be a friend looking for her? So as not to rouse her suspicions if she found out he was close by, she told herself. And it had worked.
She cast a nervous glance around the perimeter of the back garden. Was he near? Och, Constantine, where are ye?
“We should go inside,” she suggested to the others and herded them in, looking over her shoulder as she went.
She gave Coleen a brief explanation about why she did not want him to find her. To Joan and Hilary, she said even less. They knew who Alistar MacRae was. She’d told them just last night.
What if he showed up here? Would he hurt these women without the young men here to save them? She knew what she had to do. If he hurt Joan or Hilary, or any of her other friends…she couldn’t think of it. She had put them all in danger by coming here.
If Constantine were here—but he wasn’t.
“Joan, please tell Hugh not to let in any strangers, no matter who they say they are, until themen return.”
“Ismay,” her friend began, reaching for her.
“I’m fine, Joan. I just need to think. Alone.” She looked from Joan to Hilary.
“If no one lets him in,” Hilary noted, “there’s no way fer him to know ye’re here.”
Ismay shook her head. With each passing moment, her heart beat faster. “Someone may tell him. The baker and the tanner come and go. One of them could mention me if he describes me. I have to think,” she added when her two friends gave no rebuttal but stared at her.
“I’m going to my chambers. Joan, please dinna ferget to tell Hugh.”
When the chambermaid nodded, Hilary took both their hands in hers. “We will keep ye safe, Ismay. I will kill him if he somehow finds ye.”
Ismay could almost hear Constantine’s voice promising to keep her safe. She wanted to throw her arms around her braw friend and thank her, but she also wanted to scold her. Ismay could not live with herself if Hilary was hurt…or worse, because of her.
After sending them on their way, she nearly collapsed while she ascended the stairs as thoughts of running overwhelmed her. She didn’t want to run away. She liked it at Tor Castle. She liked her friends and she liked the Lochiel—very much. But she had always known that her stay here was temporary. It was best for everyone, even without the threat of Alistar MacRae. Hadn’t she already decided that?
Aye. It was time to stop being idle and indecisive. It was time to leave.
She didn’t mention her plans to Joan or Hilary when they visited her chambers later that evening. She wanted their last night together to be spent smiling and laughing together. She also didn’t want anyone to try to change her mind, which her friends would no doubt do. Her resolve was too weak. She would never leave if they wept over her.But the threat had become very real.
“What was the Lochiel like in his youth?” she asked Hilary, since Hilary was his cousin and they had all grown up together.
“Och, he was mayhem with a heart.”
Ismay laughed at such a description. “Explain, if ye please.”
“When he was just eleven summers old,” Hilary began with a furtive grin, “he robbed the chicken pens of almost every MacKintosh clan from Lochiel to Inverness. Him and his wee accomplices—my brothers and some of the other lads—werena caught fer a year and half a year after that. But what was Gilbert to do aboot it? He loved his brother and wouldna punish him, and I think he secretly admired his little brother’s courage.
“When his chicken thieving days were over, he was always away fighting or raiding cattle. He even took to robbing others on the road. Whether on horse or in their fancy carriages, Constantine took everything they carried with them. But he left them alive. He was trouble away from home, but the moment he stepped back inside Tor, his heart was restored. He was good-natured and he smiled often.”
“And he changed so much after Alison and his babe died?” Ismay asked, knowing by now what it had done to his heart to lose them.
