Page 60 of An Earl for the Archeress

“What does Madeline mean to you?” she asked.

“Consider yourself warned, Lady Mariel.” He deflected. “I have to report back to your faither and tell him what I’ve found. Unless you, Robert, kill me now. In which case, my failure to return would rouse Laird Crawford’s suspicions further and he would watch Huntington more closely.”

No one did anything, though all arrows remained poised to shoot.

“I can see you’re in quite the conundrum, are you nay, Laird Huntington? Kill me and rouse his suspicion further, or let me go and risk my report to him,” Teàrlach said. “Either way, you might lose grandly.”

“What do you plan to tell him?” Mariel finally asked, stepping forward and breaking the silence.

“Mari, no. Get behind me,” Robert cautioned, unable to pull her back without relaxing his arrow.

“I won’t vouch for Teàrlach’s character,” she said, “for I hardly know the man other than he serves Crawford and is usually always at his side.”

Robert nodded slowly. “Ah, you were the guardsman at his side when he spent the night at Huntington and kicked shite off his boots all over my rushes.”

The fact that Teàrlach was calm, polite, if indeed not talkative, always made him go fairly unnoticed, Mariel remembered. It was a point of Teàrlach’s character her father always valued.

After further pausing, Robert continued. “You’re the peasant man my crofters took in a couple nights ago. No doubt, spying is your specialty.”

“I will say that I’ve never seen him act cruelly,” Mariel said. “What report do you intend to give my faither?” she asked.

“I intend to tell him the truth,” Teàrlach replied, unconcerned about the impending release of five arrows. Mariel heard the gauntlets around her creak more, feeling the tension thrum through the air. “That his daughter was seen fleeing from Huntington after climbing out a window on a rope made of bed sheets. That I can only assume the earl, Robert of Huntington, was holding her prisoner after she showed up on his estate, until arrangements for Laird Crawford could be made to come and retrieve the wench. I’ll tell him that I tried to steal her back when I found her traveling of her own free will through the forest with a band of masked thieves, heading for a ‘lair.’” Mariel looked between Teàrlach and Robert, their eyes locked with one another in silent challenge. “’Twould nay be a lie, now would it, Lady Mariel?”

It would be a lie, and it would mislead Crawford. Why would Teàrlach, her father’s number one man, help her? She tried not to let down her guard, but the man seemed sincere, and there was something about the way he had mentioned her younger sister that spoke of affection. Did the guardsman care for Madeline?

“Your sister fears for you, my lady. I see her fretting, walking the parapets, searching the countryside for the chance that you might return in yer faither’s shackles or worse, dead. I’d hate for the Lady Madeline’s fears to come true.”

“He toys with your feminine affections,” John warned. “Careful you don’t take the bait.”

“And yet here we stand, unable to decide which is better. Killing him? Or releasing him?” Robert spoke up, still staring down Teàrlach with his weapon pointed.

Teàrlach nodded, his easy smile returning. “I see you’ve already made yer choice. Killing me would nay doubt cause a greater stir, as you’re considering. I give my word that what I told you now is what I plan to report. If she’s captured, ’twill nay be because of me blowing your cover.”

With that, Teàrlach turned away from them all and walked to the opposite bank of the stream, sloshing in the water. Robert released no arrow. He did nothing but watch him go.

“That was imprudent.” Jonathan scowled. “He just lied his way out of being taken to the ground in a pool of blood.”

“Still, I think he was sincere,” Mariel said, watching the trees where Teàrlach had entered. The men began to relax their arms. “He cares for my sister. I could see it. Like I said, I never saw him treat another poorly.”

“He works for your father,” Will said. “Don’t be blinded by his pleas of the heart. He could very well ruin us.”

“But he won’t.”

“There’s no guarantee of that in games of subterfuge,” Alan, the most thoughtful and quiet of the men, said.

“But I’ll trust Mariel’s judgment on the man. For now,” Robert said. “She knows him better than any of us. David, you’re my best man for my own games of subterfuge.” He turned and looked straight at the silent man. “Follow him. And if he lies to his lord, make haste back to Huntington without delay with a report on Crawford’s next plan.”

David nodded, disappearing back up the bank toward camp, and as the rest of them returned, David’s pile of kindling was sitting in the clearing, though he, his horse, and his effects, were gone.

Chapter Eighteen

Huntington.

Here she was yet again. She sighed as she stared up at the green and black standards waving upon the castle’s outermost curtain wall. Her life was beginning to feel like a snag in time, like a recurring dream, as if she were trapped in a mythical place of the fae folk from which she would never escape, doomed to repeat the same occurrence for the rest of her life.

And yet, there was also relief. She felt safe in these walls, even if Charlotte was here. She had never felt safe in Ayr. Here, the soldiers she had dined with were kind. Robert’s men were friendly. Alice might shake her head at her unladylike appearance, and Wesley might have made a point to glare at her during her first supper in the hall, but the people here smiled and laughed. No man had yet to haul her to her chamber to administer discipline. The people of Huntington knew they were secure.

Robert rode under the portcullis, through the gatehouse tunnel, through his outer yards and into his bailey, where his serving staff waited to greet him. Mariel dropped her grip on Robert’s waist. Riding astride and plastered to the lord’s back, Alice would already have cause to click her tongue.