Luckily for Gar, once Mattie’s head hit the pillow, she went out like a doused candle. She was instantly, and deeply, asleep. He pulled her into his arms and promptly fell asleep next to her. They slept the afternoon away and when Gar finally opened his eyes again, it was dark outside. It was nighttime and he could hear the soldiers’ distant calls on the wall in the course of theirregular sentry duties. Everything seemed normal, thankfully. In his arms, Mattie was sleeping like the dead and he gave her a squeeze, preparing to pull her closer, when he realized something very strange.
It wasn’t Mattie at all.
It was Winchester.
Somehow, the dog had gotten onto the bed, in between him and Mattie, and now was wrapped up in his arms with his wife snoring softly on the other side of the bed. Gar opened his eyes in shock and found himself staring at a sleeping dog’s head, with Winchester’s teeth inches from his face. The dog was as content as a baby in its bed, snug with his new master.
Realizing that, Gar laughed until he cried.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was warmand quiet.
Gordie had spent the day leaning against the wall and pretending to be asleep while the Sassenach world went on around him. Ever since they found him just inside the gatehouse, lying on the ground and wearing clothing that had been stolen off a dead English soldier, he lived in fear that his ruse would be discovered.
So far, it hadn’t been.
Not that it wouldn’t be at any given moment, but he’d managed to carry on the pretense of being a wounded English soldier since the fight at the gatehouse. That skirmish had had the sole purpose of getting him inside and it had worked. What they’d had to do, however, was kill an English soldier so they could take his clothing, and so far, Gordie had not heard anyone speaking about a missing English soldier. Ean and the men had carted the body off when they retreated to the north, so the body more than likely would not be found anytime soon, if at all. Things always tended to be a little chaotic after a battle as it was, so it was no surprise the English had not yet discovered that they were missing one of their men.
Hopefully, that would hold out until Gordie did what he needed to do.
The plan was this—Ean and the others were to retreat to the north and find a good hiding place. No one was sure if the English would send out patrols after them, but so far, they hadn’t. They seemed to be more concerned with repairing the gatehouse and tending the wounded. If there were no patrols, then Ean and the men would return tomorrow at sunset, whereupon Gordie would make his way to the postern gate and unlock it. The postern gate of an otherwise strongly fortified castle was used primarily by the kitchen and, in the case of Gleann na Fola, the door was so small that it looked as if it had been made for children. Gordon remembered this from the days when the Scots used to hold the castle, back when he was a child. However, if the English had bricked it up to ensure there was only one way in and one way out of the castle, then Gordie’s plans were for naught.
He would have to figure something else out.
Meanwhile, he intended to stay exactly where he was, pretending to be a wounded English soldier, presenting a head wound that Ean had given him. They had to make Gordie look as if he had actually been injured, so a blow to the jaw had been the way to do that. It created enough of a bloody mess, and a mild injury, without actually debilitating him. The man needed to have his wits about him if he was going to execute the plan and, until sunset, it was going to be a waiting game.
But when the time came, the old man would be ready.
And so would the Scots.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It was morning.
Gar awoke to Winchester sleeping on his legs now and an empty bed. It had to be close to dawn at this point and he yawned, lifting his head slightly to see where Mattie was, only to discover her over by one of the narrow windows that looked out toward the east. There was a tiny bit of light in the chamber from the hearth, a small flame that had been stoked up from the embers, so he could see the hair lifting from her face in the slight breeze.
“Queenie?” he muttered sleepily. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Mattie looked over at him, smiling weakly. “Did I wake you?”
“Nay,” he said. “I usually awaken before dawn. But why are you awake?”
She shrugged, turning her face back to the window. “I had a dream,” she said. “Something about my mother and father, but when I tried to speak to them, they faded away.”
He sat up in bed. “You had a dream about Hensingham?”
“I think so,” she said. “It was a castle. I assume it was Hensingham, though it might have been Prudhoe.”
“Why Prudhoe?”
“Because that is where I fostered,” she said. “Sometimes I dream about it. I don’t know why, but I do.”
He threw his legs over the side of the bed. “Because it was important to you, once,” he said. “I dream of Castle Questing sometimes, of the holiday celebrations we have there. You’ve never known a Christmas or Martinmas as crowded as those at Castle Questing. All of those de Wolfes jammed into one place and it looks like a parade for the king.”
She grinned. “I am looking forward to it,” she said. “Our family celebrations were always small.”
“You have no close family, do you?”
