Page 60 of Highlander’s Mercenary Lass

"Ye'll nae be free o' these chains, so just get used tae it!" he advised him. "We get stale crusts three times a week an' gruel on a Sunday!"

But Andrew wasn't listening. Sitting himself up, Andrew quickly noticed something. The chain around his ankle was loose. A closer inspection revealed it was rusting and also set far too big for him. Without too much problem, he managed to prize it off. In an instant, he was free—at least, as far as the door to the cell.

The wizened man viewed Andrew with alarm as if he could not believe it. Looking around, Andrew's fingers worked quickly to loosen the man's chains. It was not difficult; the fittings had all but rusted away from the walls, and with a strong shove, they were off.

Amazed, the old man stood up, as if for the first time. Andrew grinned. The chains were still around his legs, but he could move again.

Then, footsteps came from the far end of the corridor. A rustling of keys announced the presence of a guard. Grabbing the old man, Andrew jettisoned them both down, back onto the floor to hide.

As the door creaked open, Andrew put his finger to his mouth and grinned.

The door was not locked. All Aileen did was push against it, and she was in. Glancing about the corridors, the little lass was amazed to find not a single servant around, and, without a second thought, she stole inside the chamber.

Closing the door, Aileen removed her hood. Her plan had worked well. Without too much difficulty, she had disguised herself as a maid and snuck into the bedchamber. Getting in was the easy part. Finding the letters might prove harder.

Aileen scanned the room. The place was impenetrable, with not a trace of any papers anywhere. The obvious place was the desk, but a quick search turned up nothing. That was to say, there were plenty of them, but none of them were letters from her mother.

The shadows in the room began to lengthen. It was getting late, and as darkness fell, Aileen became anxious. She had been here some time already and found nothing.

And she had checked everywhere.

Briskly, she ran a hand through the bed, turning out clumps of fluff and what looked like bits of cheese—but no letters.

Outside in the distance, footsteps quickened.

Heart beating loudly, Aileen whirled about, looking for where else the letters could be.

With a sinking heart, she wondered if Grace had simply made the whole thing up. Or at least been mistaken. After all, she hardly knew her very well.

Aileen wanted desperately to believe in her sister, but she could not be sure. Instinctively, she could not believe that her mother would have ever wished to cause Grace harm. If she was hoping to find anything, it was a letter that proved the opposite to what Grace had claimed.

Just as she was wondering where that could be, the footsteps came closer. Now they were outside the door.

With horror, Aileen realized that they would be upon her at any moment. Still empty-handed, she dove beneath the bed.

It was just in time. In a trice, the door opened, sending a creak of light into the chamber. Paton's long shadow fell across the room. Aileen held her breath.

Paton's upturned poulaines snaked across the floor. Aileen hid a smirk. He looked ridiculous in them. And, as he amply proved, he could not even walk in the stupid things properly. The pair of shoes he had on were especially impractical, with curly points like rams horns. And they gave Paton trouble as he navigated across the wooden floor.

The curved leather shoes came toward her at haphazard speed. She had seen them before, somewhere.

Then Aileen gave a gasp. They were her father's! He had had them made shortly before he had ridden into battle.

Realizing for the first time what she was up against, Aileen felt her heart thumping. Then wham.

Unexpectedly, one of the poulaines skimmed the wooden floor and charged straight toward her.

With no warning, Paton had removed them and sent them hurtling across the floorboards. He didn't seem to be looking, which was just as well.

Hoping to God that this wasn't deliberate, Aileen froze against the boards. Then something flopped out of one of the shoes. She didn't want to touch it, but Aileen became gradually aware that it was a rolled-up bundle. Looking more closely, it appeared to be a folded letter, albeit one that had been scrunched down to fit inside the shoe.

Paton stomped around the room barefoot, looking for alternative shoes. As he busied himself fastening them on, Aileen heard the door creak open for a second time.

This time, it was a guard. Aileen's heart almost stopped as Paton barked orders.

"I'm the laird, and ye'll do as I say! An' I say, I want ye tae find an' capture the lass. Aye, Grace Duncan—or should I say, Grace Kennedy, or whatever the hell the ungrateful wench's name is!"

Paton's pale eyes blanched with venom, and in that instant, Aileen wanted desperately to stop him in his tracks and simply appear. But she did not dare.

As Paton's voice filled the room, barking loudly at the guard, Aileen took the chance to thumb through the letter—or letters, because there was more than one sheet. The parchment was creased but still readable.

She did not really expect them to be anything interesting. But then she noticed the signature Annis Duncan and jolted. Engrossed, she unfurled the manuscript as quietly as she could from beneath the bed.

She was not prepared for what she saw. Aileen only glimpsed the writing, but one sentence, in particular, stood out:

...the illegitimate progeny should be removed by any means necessary…

The footsteps advanced, two at a time, as the jangling turnkey let himself in. But waiting in the dark, Andrew was ready.

Biding the old man to keep quiet, he sneaked up on the guard. Lifting the empty chamber pot over the man's head, Andrew smashed it down, knocking him out instantly.

The ensuing smell from the pot nearly knocked him out, as well! Holding his nose, Andrew made a grab for the key, hanging loosely around the man's waist.

In a while, he had the door opened and was running down the corridor as fast as his heels would carry him.