“I’m nae going home, Faither,” Blair informed him. “I’m staying here to go find that woman and help her escape.”
Angus chortled. “It’s a good joke, Blair, but this isnae a fairy tale where ye can simply wave a magic wand and do that in the wink of an eye. If ye’re even thinkin’ about trying such a thing, all that will happen is the chief brigand will have two wives to do his bidding for him in the future, and no one.”
Slaine sat up straight in the armchair. “Listen to what yer faither’s saying, Blair. He kens what he’s talking about. Look at his injuries...and he didnae even get them from the chief; he got them from the gang. Go home with yer faither and forget this madness.”
“Ye’re both lousy cowards, the pair o’ ye! Why are ye too lily-livered to even take a peek at the place? For all ye ken, it might be as easy for us to take her back as it was letting her go in the first place,”
Blair stood in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips, refusing to budge.
Angus tried his own form of stubborn persuasion. “If ye carry on acting like this, Daughter, ye’ll scare off any man wanting to wed ye! Nay man wants a scolding fishwife for his spouse.”
Blair looked at Slaine when Angus said this. He did not appear at all revolted by her behavior, but his face bore a rigid expression—the exact same look she had seen him have in the woods before she made the wrong decision and gone around the barrier of tree branches instead of turning back. It made her hesitate. Could it be Slaine was advocating the correct action to take? He was older and wiser than she; well versed in how brigands and varlets behaved. Would it be better to submit and listen to his advice?
But Slaine cannae possibly be right now! He might be right in the sense that going home is the best and safest thing to do for everyone in this room, but it’s most certainly nae the right thing to do for that poor woman.
Blair’s shoulders slumped, and it seemed to the two men watching her that all the breath was expelled from her body in one deflating sigh.
Angus and Slaine looked over at one another hopefully. Could it be their sane arguments had won Blair over?
“Very well,” she whispered softly, “I have nay wish to figure in anyone’s mind as a shrew. All I wanted to do was go and rescue that woman as I ken is the right thing to do, and ye cannae disagree with me on that score.”
She looked at Slaine. “Ye make yer living out of keeping people safe, and yet ye wilnae do this one thing for me. Is it because this woman has no gold?”
Slaine shook his head firmly, determined not to be swayed by Blair’s argument. “Nay, lass, ‘tis because I dinnae ken this woman, or understand the circumstances of her capture perfectly. For all we ken, she could be the biggest doxy under the sun, and ye want us to risk our lives for her? Nay. Also, yer faither’s still yer guardian, and he forbids it.”
Blair’s eyes filled with tears at Slaine’s rational words, and she turned to her father.
“Faither, will ye nae command Slaine to help me? Ye ken that poor woman is blameless and about to be forced into the most horrid act. Please, dearest faither, bid Slaine to help me…to help us.”
“Ye’re joking, aye?” Angus said brusquely. “I’ve already tried to save the woman once! How many times do ye expect me to put meself out over her? Come on now, pack yer things and let’s be on our way.”
Blair nodded and stumbled to the bedchamber door, her eyes blinded by tears. She closed the door behind her, and the two men left in the parlor heard the sound of wardrobe doors and drawers opening and shutting.
“Best we let her get her tears out,” Angus said to Slaine, “it will make for a more pleasant trip home. Still, there’s time for one more mug o’ ale downstairs, nae so?”
He ushered Slaine out of the parlor and down to the taproom.
18
Gone
“She shouldnae be taking this long,” Slaine said. “Blair has ever been one to bounce back from an upset, ready to take on the world anew. It’s been over an hour.”
Angus gave a slight belch from drinking his ale too fast, and shrugged. “How would ye ken? Ye speak as though ye’ve been with her all her life.”
Slaine ignored the slight. “Has she always been such a thrawn wee lass? Or did it arise when she came to womanhood?”
Made garrulous from the ale, Angus replied, “Och, she was ever the wee minx. Screamin’ her head off when she dinnae get what she wanted...first, she wanted to ride a pony, then she wanted to ride Pooka, then she wanted to jump him over fences. It drove me to distraction. But she calmed down a bit when she took on the duties of running the household and the farm, fortunately. Once one mountain is climbed, she wants to scale an even taller one, if ye take me meaning.”
“Hm,” Slaine said, no longer willing to keep his suspicions secret. Leaving his ale untouched, he ran up the stairs, three at a time, and burst into the bedchamber. It was empty. Cursing under his breath, Slaine ran back down the stairs to the stables.
Pooka was gone.
He grabbed a groom walking past,.“Did ye see when the lady on the brown stallion left?”
The groom, once he was certain the tall, muscular man’s anger was not directed at himself, replied, “The bonnie lass with the red curls? She took the horse from its stall an hour hence, sir. Rode out o’ here as if the Earl of Hell himself was sliding on her shadow.”
Slaine swore some more and ran into the taproom.
