He had spent most of the evening making sure that his men were properly dispersed, keeping watch over the hills that led up to the Keep so that no more bandits could attempt to make their way inside. Keith had insisted on dragging himself out of bed to help, though he had tried to insist that his friend take all the rest he needed for the time being.
He pushed the door open an inch or two, peering inside. At first, it was dark enough that he couldn’t make out much, the room only lit by the slight glow from the fireplace beyond. But then, as he stepped inside, his heart dropped.
The room was empty. Innes was nowhere to be seen.
He cast his gaze around, certain that he must have misunderstood, that she must have been there somewhere. How could she have crept out beneath his watchful gaze so easily? But then, his men had been scattered as he had tried to organize them anew. Perhaps a gap had been left in his guardsmen, letting her break free…
However, why would she have left? She seemed to have been intent on getting him to see the light of the matter at hand. It was hard to believe that, after all that they had shared, she would be so quick to turn her back on him.
And then he spotted it, a small note tucked beneath a book at her desk. He was sure it had not been there the last time he had come by her room, and, striding over, he pulled it out, casting his eye over the page before him.
His heart hollowed at the sight of those words, insisting that she come to the tavern at the local inn if she wished to protect her brother from future chaos. He knew that she would not have been able to ignore it, no matter how evidently suspicious it was. She was too kind for that, too good, too decent, and she would have done anything to protect her brother. But this…
He recognized the handwriting. Isobel. There was no chance it could have belonged to anyone else. And if she was trying to coax Innes down to the inn after he had rejected her as bluntly as he had… he could not imagine for a moment that she meant anything good by it.
He tossed the letter onto the bed and took the stairs two at a time as he rushed down to the courtyard. It was nearly eleven now, and she was due to meet with Isobel at midnight, which gave him hardly enough time to gather his troops and tell them what was going on.
No, he needed to act now if he had any hope of getting to her at all…
Bursting out into the courtyard, he called out to Keith as he made his way towards the stables
“Gather the men and follow after me!” he ordered.
“What’s going on?”
“You heard me!” he barked back. “No time to explain. Get the horses ready and go to the village!”
He could feel Keith’s bemused stare, but he paid no attention to it. He didn’t have time to explain himself. What mattered was the woman who had fled from this place in the hopes of doing some good—the woman who would do everything in her power to try and put right everything that had happened between his clan and hers.
“My Laird, you dinnae ken what yer riding into.”
He paused in the doorway, turning to face him.
“No, I dinnae,” he agreed. “But I ken that it’s my stubbornness that brought us here. She wanted to resolve this wi’ forgiveness, but I…”
He stopped, shaking his head.
The guilt was almost overwhelming now, his mind tortured with images of what might be happening to her. She was not a weak woman, but whoever had sent her this note expected her togo alone, and that could be for no good reason. They wanted her where they could hurt her, where they could steal her away. And Innes, in all her kindness and good spirits, would never have looked upon someone and thought them capable of such a thing.
“I have to do something,” he muttered. “I have to get her out of there. If she’s gone, if she’s hurt, I could never…”
His words failed him. Images of Innes hurt, dead, or worse ran through his mind. What if she decided to go back to her brother? To someone who she thought was willing to listen to her? He had to move, and fast. What Keith had to say on the matter did not give him pause. Nothing would.
He tacked his horse swiftly, clambering astride it and grasping the reins. Driving his heels into the beast’s side, he galloped towards the gate, which had already been pulled back to allow his exit. In the distance, on the far side of the Keep, he could hear thunder beginning to rumble, the grim convergence of storm clouds above them.
As he crested the hill, he could make out the lights of the village below, twinkling in the distance. What had once seemed to him like such a peaceful sight now screamed with urgency, and he sank lower into the saddle, streamlining himself to make up whatever time he still could. Not far behind, he could hear Keith calling to his men, the hoofbeats of his horse only a few moments behind Lachlan’s.
“Hold on for me, Innes,” he muttered to himself. “Just a little longer. Hold on.”
Chapter Nineteen
Innes stumbled as one of the men shoved her, almost tripping over a rock that jutted up at the edge of the river. At least, she thought it was a river. In the darkness, it was hard to tell which way was which. The branches were tearing at her hair and her dress as the thunder growled in the distance.
She had given up protesting for her freedom, sensing that her sister-in-law would not grant her such kindness after all she had done. The tears were streaking silently down her face, mixing with the spattering rain that fell from the grey sky above. It seemed to drag on for an eternity, a fair reflection of her terror and how impossible it seemed for her to escape from the mess she now found herself in.
Behind her, she could hear Isobel thanking her man for his help. He had offered her a hand to help her through the rough terrain. As absurd as it seemed given the circumstances, she still insisted on being treated like a lady.
Would her brother ever find out what his wife had done tonight?
