He moved toward the door, pausing only briefly from the quiet awareness that all had been set in motion. There would be no turning back from it now.
Only forward.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Margaret did not sleep easily the night the plan was set. It was not fear that kept her wakeful, nor doubt in what they had resolved to do, but the mere fact that before anything, she had to make sure that her sister was safe.
The knowledge of her father’s reach sat too sharply within her to be ignored. He had spoken with certainty, and Margaret had learned, long ago, that he did not deal in empty threats.
By morning, her decision had settled.
“I must see her,” she told Domhnall right after breakfast.
He did not pretend to misunderstand. They stood in the outer chamber, and the day already begun around them. Cameron had just departed to oversee preparations, leaving them alone for a moment that felt, to Margaret, far more consequential than any council discussion.
“It is nae wise,” Domhnall replied.
“Perhaps nae,” she agreed. “But it is still necessary.”
His gaze held hers, and despite that, Margaret did not waver.
“If he kens where she is,” she continued, more quietly now, “then every moment we delay is one in which he may act before we dae. I willnae sit within these walls and wonder whether she is safe. We must make certain she is beyond his reach before we proceed with anything else.”
He inhaled deeply, acquiescing. “All right.”
And so, they departed before midday. The escort was small, as Domhnall preferred for such journeys. It was enough to ensure protection, but not so many as to draw attention. The road inland stretched before them in long, winding lines, with the land rising gradually as they left the coast behind.
Margaret rode beside him. The air was cool, though not unpleasant, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant rain. The sky had begun to shift, with clouds gathering in slow formation across the horizon.
She noticed it, and so did he.
“We should make better pace,” Domhnall said, and everyone obeyed.
The hours passed in steady rhythm, while the landscape changed as they moved and the coastal wind gave way to the deeper quiet of the Highlands. Trees thickened along the road, hills rising higher.
Margaret paid no attention to the landscape. Her mind was focused on the croft, on Eleonor and on the fragile safety that might already have been compromised.
They were close. The land began to take on a shape she recognized from her sister’s words. And at that exact moment, the sky broke. The storm came all at once, not giving them any warning. Wind struck first, sharp and sudden, bending the trees and pulling at cloak and rein alike. Then unrelenting rain fell in sheets so thick the path ahead blurred to shadow.
Margaret tightened her hold on the reins, while her horse moved apprehensively beneath her as thunder rolled across the hills.
“Domhnall…” she called out to him.
“We cannae press through this,” he said at once.
The ground had already begun to soften beneath them, and they both knew that the path was becoming treacherous with mud and loose stone. Visibility narrowed to mere yards, as the storm swallowed distance and direction alike.
“There!” One of the guards called, pointing ahead.
A structure was barely visible through the rain. It stood off the road, half-hidden by trees and time. It seemed to be made of stone, with its roof partially intact.
It would suffice.
They reached it quickly, dismounting with practiced efficiency despite the weather. The guards moved at once to secure the perimeter, with two remaining at the entrance while the others checked the surrounding ground. Just like Domhnall, they were used to such conditions.
Margaret stepped inside. The structure had long since been abandoned, its purpose forgotten or no longer needed. What remained offered little comfort, but enough shelter from the worst of the storm.
Domhnall followed. The sound of rain against the roof filled the space, loud, constant and leaving no room for anything else.
