The carriage jostled and, because her hands and feet were bound, Isobel jostled with it. It was uncomfortable, because she and Hamish had been crammed in the foot well and there wasn’t much room. And he was hard.
She’d worried for a while that he was dead. She’d seen the blood on his head and he was very still. But when she stared at his chest in the waning light through the windows, she could see he was breathing.
It was a mystery, what those filthy men in black hoods had planned for them, but judging from the few things she’d heard, and the ferocity with which they’d tied her, it couldn’t be good. She very much wished she had her bow. She would skewer them all and then they’d be sorry.
It had been a long and boring day, tied up in a carriage. She entertained herself ripping scraps from the trim of her chemise and shoving them through a small hole in the floor of the carriage. She had no clue if they were indeed falling to the ground below, or if they were collecting in the boot, but she kept it up … until she ran out of trim.
Perhaps she should have made smaller pieces.
Mama would be appalled at the damage she’d done, but Isobel found it oddly satisfying. Little else was. She was hungry and thirsty and every bone ached.
The worst part of all was the fact that she’d been good. She’d been good and done everything everyone had asked of her. She hadn’t gone out to play by herself. She hadn’t climbed any towers. She hadn’t even gone to visit the bunny in the garden.
She hadn’t done any of it, and they’d snatched her anyway.
From her bed.
Shoved a rag in her mouth and wrapped her in a blanket and carted her away like she was a carpet.
It was truly infuriating being small.
However, she vowed she’d get them back. She’d make them pay. Somehow. She just needed to watch for her chance.
She dozed as the carriage continued to lug along. She had no idea where they were or where they were going, but the road was decidedly bumpy. With a frown, she peered out the window. From her position on the floor, she could only see the sky. But when she focused and tried to be clever, she could tell from the angle of the setting sun that they were heading east. Then she realized they must be following the coast, because she could smell the brine in the air. She imagined the map of Caithness County Mama had made her memorize, and her nose wrinkled. Scrabster lived to the east along the coast. She hated Scrabster.
A wayward thought made her grin. If she were to rain vengeance down on any man, he was as good a target as any.
And Mama probably wouldn’t even scold her.
Beneath her, Hamish stirred. Then he winced and groaned. His eyes fluttered open and he blinked.
“Hullo there,” she said, because it seemed the polite thing to do.
He licked his lips. She wished she had some water to give him but she didn’t. And she was thirsty, too. She would probably have drunk it all by now. “Is-Isobel? What happened?”
She smiled. She tried to make it as brave a smile as she could. “We’ve been kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped?” He shook his head and winced again. “Why?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I doona know. But we’re heading east, so I’m pretty certain it was Scrabster.” She wrinkled her nose. “He’s a worm.”
“Scrabster?” Something flickered across his brow. It might have been concern. “How—How long have we been traveling?”
She sighed. “Hours. All day.” She sighed. “It’s going verra slowly.”
He smiled, though it was a wobbly effort. “These things do.”
She tipped her head. “You’re bleeding.”
“They coshed me on the head.”
Her interest flickered. “Were you fighting them?”
He frowned. “I was guarding you.”
“I was sleeping.” They sat in silence for a moment, swaying with the movement of the coach. He didn’t look very comfortable at all. “Why do you think they brought you?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I doona know. But I’m glad they did.”
“You are?”
“Aye. I wouldna want you to be here all alone. Perhaps I can rescue you.”
Had her hands not been tied, she would have patted him. It was very sweet that he wanted to rescue her. And though he was very old, he was valiant.
Of course, it was more likely she would rescue him than the other way around—given his age—but she didn’t mention it because Mama had always taught her to try to be respectful of her elders. She’d never really excelled at being respectful, but she did like Hamish a lot. Though it was clear now, he would not make as good a father as Andrew. There was something about Andrew that made her feel safe and cared for and protected. It didn’t hurt that his hair was the same color as hers. That was easily as important a consideration as the fact that both Mama and Hamish were gingers.
And Mama had let Andrew kiss her.
Mama had never let any man kiss her before.
Ah, poor Hamish.
She reached over and patted him anyway.
The coach slowed and took a corner, then the vibrations changed, as though they had turned onto a cobbled road. Through the window Isobel caught a glimpse of a tall tower. “I think we’re almost there,” she whispered.
“Isobel. I have a dirk in my boot. Can you reach it?”
She frowned. “I canna take your dirk.”
“When we reach wherever we are going, they will probably separate us and I would feel better if you had a weapon.”
“Why would they separate us?” Trepidation flickered through her. She very much did not want to lose his company.
He didn’t answer, but his frown darkened.
“Why would they separate us?”
The carriage slowed to a halt. “Isobel. There isn’t much time. See if you can reach my dirk.”
She sighed and shifted around until she could touch the hilt of his knife in his boot. It was awkward trying to reach something with her hands tied together in front of her, but she got it. She levered away as she pulled it out and gazed at it in awe. It was not a dirk. It was practically a sword.
“Careful. It’s verra sharp.”
She blew out a breath. “I’ll be careful.” It was indeed sharp and long. It glinted in the waning light. She cautiously slipped it into the deep pocket of her nightgown.
“Be judicious,” Hamish whispered. “Doona use it until you are certain you can escape.”
“Aye,” she sniffed. As though she didn’t know that much.
“And pretend to be asleep,” he suggested.
“Asleep?”
“Perhaps we can learn more about their plans for us that way.” He winked. “Men tend to talk when they doona think you are listening.”
“Good to know.” He was very clever indeed. And as sneaky as she was. A pity he wouldn’t be her father, but she had decided she liked Andrew best. Still and all, she liked him very much. Obediently, she closed her eyes and flopped down on him, just as the door to the carriage whipped open.
“Hell. They’re both unconscious,” a dark voice drawled. It was a little familiar, but Isobel couldn’t place it and she didn’t dare open her eyes just yet.
“I told ya we should ha’ stopped to give them water.”
“There wasna time.”
The man with the dark voice snorted. “Come on. I’ll get the girl. You lot get the man.”
Whoever he was, he lifted her very gently, for which Isobel was thankful. As he carried her away from the carriage, she braved a peep at his face. How disappointing that it was still covered with the black hood.
It was difficult to close her eyes all the way after that, because she really was curious about where they were and where they were taking her, so she squinted them until she could see through the fringe of her lashes.
The man with the hood carried her up the stairs into a castle she’d never seen before, but she knew without a doubt it was Scrabster’s, especially when the laird himself leaped up from a table by the hearth as they entered the great room. The castle was very old and hadn’t been updated from its ancient layout, so the great room was an enormous, booming hall with a stone staircase curving up one side. At the moment, it was filled with Scrabster’s men who were having dinner. The smell of roasted chicken tickled her nose and made her mouth water.
But still, she didn’t rouse. Hamish’s words hummed in her brain.
“Did you get her?” Scrabster asked.
“Aye,” the man holding her said.
Scrabster lifted her hand and let it drop. “Is she dead?”
“She’s asleep. We brought one of Dunnet’s men as well.”
“Excellent. Take him to the dungeons.”
“The dungeons are not in good repair.”
Scrabster chuckled. “It willna be for long.”
“Aye, my laird. And the girl?”
“Take her to the dungeons as well,” Scrabster said.
The man holding her stiffened. “She’s a girl.”
“And?”
“My laird…” His tone was much like Mama’s when she was trying to be reasonable when she really wanted to bellow. “You canna toss her in the dungeon.”
“Can I not?”
A sigh. “I guarantee you, once she finds our note, her mother will arrive with all haste to accede to your demands.”
“So you said.”
“Can you imagine her reaction if she arrives to find her darling daughter … in the dungeon? She would probably shoot you.”
Scrabster made a sour noise. “I’m a baron. She canna shoot me.” But there was a hint of doubt in his tone.
Isobel nearly snorted. Because if it had flesh in its arse, and it annoyed her, Mama would probably shoot it.
“If you want to win her mother, I suggest you take another tack.”
Oh, bother. That was what this was about? Isobel nearly blew out a breath but then remembered she was pretending to be asleep. To that effect, she gave a little snore.
“Put her in the solar then. The door locks. She canna escape. And she’s a tiny thing.” Scrabster barked a laugh. It took everything in Isobel not to stab him now.
As the man carrying her mounted the stairs, Isobel dared a peek at the direction they were dragging Hamish. She didn’t know what they meant when they said he wouldn’t be in the dungeon for long, but she didn’t like the tone in which it was said. She didn’t like it at all.
The idiots locked her in Scrabster’s solar and left her there alone. Mercifully, they brought her a tray of food and water, which they set on the desk. Once they left, it took her less than a minute to slice through her bonds and pick the lock with Hamish’s knife, but when she crept out into the hall and peered over the landing to scout the area, she saw that the great room of the old castle was crawling with men. She couldn’t attempt an escape with so many guards about. But it was evening. They had to go to sleep at some point.
She made her way back into the solar and occupied her time eating, drinking, and exploring Scrabster’s study. It was mostly very boring things like papers and maps, but she did find a lovely bow hanging on the wall. The bow was quite large for her, but she’d practiced with Mama’s—when she wasn’t looking—so Isobel was certain she could handle it. She also found a chest that was very interesting indeed. The lock was harder to work than the one on the door, but she had plenty of time.
It was a great disappointment to find the chest wasn’t filled with gold and jewels—just letters—though there was one very beautiful chunk of gold with mysterious inscriptions on it that captured her attention. She tucked it into her pocket. She was sure Scrabster wouldn’t mind. Or maybe he would. She didn’t care. At the very least it was payment for her inconvenience. She took the letters, too, but only because they were important enough for him to lock in a chest.
There were lots of other papers in the room. These she piled on the desk.
She peeped out to check the great room every now and again, and each time, there were fewer and fewer men. When finally, she saw that the hall was empty, she lit the papers on fire with the lamp and slipped out the door. It was great fun skulking through the shadows with Hamish’s knife in her hand and the bow and quiver over her shoulder. She almost hoped someone would come upon her so she could skewer them. But sadly, they did not.
Silently, stealthily, she made her way down the curving staircase and through the hall, then to the stone stairs leading to the cellars. She was greatly relieved, however, to find there were only two men in the dungeons, guarding Hamish who was locked in a grungy old cell. One of the men was cutting a radish and eating it slice by slice, but the other was asleep.
Hamish saw her creeping down the stairs and his eyes widened. She shot him a grin. Tiptoeing through the room, she picked up a cauldron, likely used for some manner of heinous torture, and stepped behind the radish man. Without hesitation she bonked him over the head. He fell to the side with a groan.
It was quite fun, so she bonked the other man, even though he was already asleep.
Pleased with her work, she skipped over to Hamish.
“What are you doing?” he hissed.
She fluttered her lashes. “Saving you.” She pulled out his knife and quickly worked the lock. The cell door opened with a grating whine.
He stepped out and stared at her in bewilderment. “Are you certain you’re a child?” he asked.
She laughed at his joke. Surely it was a joke. Then she tugged on his arm. “We must hurry. They will find it soon.”
“Find what?”
But ah. It was too late. From above stairs, shouts echoed through the castle.
“Where is she?” Scrabster’s voice bellowed. “Find her at once! Susana or not, I am going to kill that girl!”
* * *
Andrew signaled for a halt as the company topped the ridge overlooking Scrabster’s castle. It wouldn’t do to barrel in without a plan. They’d ridden hard all night and though it was early morning, they needed a rest. Pity there wasn’t time for that.
He slid from Breacher’s saddle and hunkered down, surveying the lay of the land. Susana followed suit. Her eyes widened as she took in the devastation.
Indeed, this wasn’t what they had expected to find. In the wee hours of the morning, the castle and the land surrounding it should have been quiet, peaceful. It was not. Men poured from the portcullis with weapons, and some had already fanned out into the lea surrounding the fortress. Their shouts and calls echoed in the breeze. More disturbing was the fact that smoke poured from the structure. One of the walls had crumbled. It looked as though it had been under siege.
“Oh, dear God,” Susana breathed. “My baby.”
Andrew rubbed her shoulder to calm her, though his own heart nearly pounded from his chest. “I’m sure she’s fine.” An absolute lie.
She didn’t believe him, judging from the way she gaped at him. “My baby is in there,” she hissed. “We need to get her out.”
“Aye. We will. Doona fash yerself.” Andrew turned back to the scene, his mind awhirl. Options on how to proceed flitted through his mind. They could simply ride into the castle, in which case Susana would no doubt be claimed by Scrabster at once. They could attempt an attack, but the men milling about far outnumbered the ones he’d brought. They could wait until dark and attempt a covert infiltration, but he worried that, if his suspicions were correct, Hamish didn’t have that kind of time. Another option would be to create a diversion at the front of the castle and send men in through the back, but Andrew didn’t know the layout of the castle well enough to guarantee success.
As he was weighing these options—ignoring his roiling stomach—a flash of movement in the woods below caught his attention. He narrowed his focus on it and his breath caught. Two figures, hunkered low and using the cover of brush to conceal themselves from detection, were slowly making their way up the hill. One of them was tiny and had white-blond hair. The other was a ginger.
His pulse launched into a rapid patter. He touched Susana’s arm and then pointed. When she cried out and made a move to leap to her feet, he tugged her back down and set his finger to his lips. “We doona want to give them away,” he murmured.
Her features tightened, but she nodded.
Then he let go a low whistle, one that might be mistaken for a birdcall. Hamish stilled, and glanced up. When he spotted Andrew, his taut expression broke into a grin. He sent Andrew a quick salute, murmured something to Isobel, and changed direction, heading straight for their position on the crest of the hill.
It seemed to take forever for them to make their way through the brush, and several times Andrew lost sight of them, but Hamish was being cautious, and he was a master of stealth when he needed to be. All the while, Andrew kept an eye on the men who were, it was apparent now, searching for them down below. It stood to reason there would be men scouring the woods as well.
He ordered his company to be on their guard for any such persons and to make themselves as unobtrusive as possible. But they were a large company, with horses. Still, Hamish and Isobel were nearly here. They would grab them, mount immediately, and hie away as quickly as possible, putting as much distance between them and Scrabster’s men as they could.
As Hamish and Isobel neared—the latter tugging an incongruously large bow and quiver—he and Susana scuttled back down the ridge. When they reached a point where they couldn’t be seen from the lookouts in the castle, Susana rushed over to Isobel and wrenched her into a ferocious hug. There was weeping—Susana, not Isobel. Isobel merely rolled her eyes and suffered her mother’s attentions.
Andrew, overwhelmed with relief to see his friend alive and hale, hugged him as well, and while there may have been a prickling in his eyes, the embrace was far more manly and not nearly as demonstrative. They clapped each other on the back, as men do.
“Damn, I’m glad to see you,” he said, though his voice threatened to fail him.
“Not as happy as I am to see you,” Hamish said. “I was worrying how we would make it all the way back to Dounreay on foot.” He forced a laugh, but Andrew could tell it was an effort.
Andrew smiled. “It’s a nice day for a walk.”
“Aye. But I am glad I doona need to.” He glanced over his shoulder. “We should go. They’re looking for us. Their men are crawling all over these woods.”
“Aye. At once.” Andrew signaled to his company and they all mounted up. He headed for Breacher as well, but as he did, Isobel broke away from Susana and threw herself into his arms. Though his tension ran high, and he desperately wanted to leave this place, he couldn’t break the embrace. It was likely his hug was as fierce as her mother’s had been. It was such a relief to know she was safe. Such a relief to hold her slight body in his arms. To feel her arms close around his neck.
She pulled back before he did, but it was to set her forehead on his, as she had the day they’d met. She stared into his eyes—hers crossing slightly at the propinquity. “You came for us,” she gusted.
“Of course we did.” His pulse thudded and he had to hug her again.
“We should go,” Susana said.
“Aye. At once.” Andrew pulled back and brushed Isobel’s hair from her face. He thumbed at a smudge on her cheek. While she looked sallow and wan, and terribly bedraggled, a customary mischievous light danced in her eye. He was gratified that this ordeal had not broken her spirit.
Andrew stood and headed for Breacher, but Isobel tugged on his tunic. “I want to ride with you,” she said.
He glanced at Susana, noting her slightly put-out expression, but she nodded, so he lifted Isobel up onto Breacher’s back and mounted behind her. Susana rode with Hamish, which he found bothersome, but the fact that Isobel had chosen him warmed his heart. He couldn’t resist wrapping his arms around her as the rode back down the road to the west. The first town they would hit once they left Scrabster’s lands was Brims. He intended to halt there and give everyone the rest they so desperately needed. Scrabster wouldn’t dare follow them there.
Andrew sidled up to Hamish and Susana so they could chat as they rode. “So tell me,” he asked. “What happened?”
Isobel glanced at him over her shoulder. Her expression was uncharacteristically innocent. “Nothing. I didn’t do anything. I swear.”
Hamish laughed. “You did, too, you little minx. For one thing, she rescued me from certain death.”
Susana frowned. “Certain death?”
“Aye,” Hamish muttered. “They planned to kill me and blame this all on you.”
“On me?”
“On Alexander, to be precise. Scrabster was planning to use this incident in his campaign to discredit your brother.”
Andrew’s eyes narrowed. Hell. Just as he’d suspected. Sometimes he hated always being right.
“How do you know this?” Susana asked.
Isobel fluttered her lashes. “Men are notoriously loose-lipped when they think you canna hear them. I learned a lot … just pretending to be asleep.” It occurred to Andrew that this was a tactic she might use again in the future and considered himself forewarned.
“I’m sorry to say, Keir was working with them,” Hamish said. “He wore a black hood, but I recognized his voice.”
“Oh, aye,” Isobel said. “That was him.” She sent her mother a repentant look. “He might have been one of the men I stabbed.”
Susana’s eyes widened. “Might have been?” And then. “You stabbed someone?”
Isobel shrugged. “He grabbed me. I dinna want to be grabbed.”
“Good for you, darling.” Susana’s chin firmed. “You should always stab a man who grabs you when you doona want to be grabbed.”
“Aye.” Isobel nodded. “That was my thinking.”
Andrew chuckled. He wasn’t sure why. He frequently had urges to grab Susana. “Would you mind starting from the beginning? So we get the whole story?”
Hamish and Isobel exchanged glances. At some unspoken accord, Hamish began. “I was stationed in Isobel’s sitting room. The door opened behind me and as I turned to see who it was, someone coshed me on the head.”
“He was coshed,” Isobel added with far too much enthusiasm. “There was blood everywhere.”
“Oh, dear lord,” Susana muttered.
“I woke up in the carriage, bound hand and foot. When we reached the castle, they separated us,” Hamish said. “They put me in the dungeon.”
“And they put me in Scrabster’s solar.” Why Isobel grinned was a mystery.
“She escaped and came down to rescue me.”
“Oh, holy God.” Susana clutched her chest.
Hamish patted her shoulder. It didn’t seem to calm her. “Isobel was really verra clever—”
“Thank you.”
“She created a diversion—”
“I started a fire.”
Susana made a sound, something strangled. “Lord have mercy.”
Isobel’s eyes widened with innocence. “I dinna know they kept their munitions storage in the solar.”
“Half the castle blew up. We were able to sneak out during the tumult.”
“I stabbed the men who tried to grab me and…” Isobel stared at her mother and fluttered her lashes. “I might have shot someone, too.”
“She found a bow.”
“Someone just left it lying there. What was I supposed to do?”
Hamish sent Andrew a skeptical look. “I really doona think she’s five,” he murmured in an aside.
“Well,” Susana gusted. “I’m just verra relieved you’re all right—both of you—and that we now know who was behind all this. That was one of the worst things … not knowing. I’m so angry at Keir I could spit nails.”
“Apparently, he’s been working with Scrabster all along,” Hamish said sympathetically. “Although some of the things he said made me wonder—”
What, exactly, Hamish had wondered was lost as a cry of warning went up among the men riding behind them. “They’re coming!”
Hamish glanced at Andrew and with no hesitation, they both set their heels and their mounts sprang forward. Aye, they could stay and fight, but with Susana and Isobel with them, he wouldn’t dare it. Better to run for the border and seek asylum with the Baron of Brims.
At full tilt, they rounded a corner … and found themselves facing a battery of Scrabster’s men blocking the road. Though they were all on foot, they held weapons—everything from swords and arrows to pistols. Andrew had no choice but to slow down and come to a halt. The trees in this wood were thick—too thick to ride through without risking injury—but there was a small clearing to the left. Andrew analyzed the situation and quickly realized that position was their best bet when facing a threat from the front and rear. It would force their attackers to assemble before them. Aye, they would be cornered. But his men were some of the best-trained warriors he knew. Scrabster’s men seemed to be conscribed farmers and merchants, and many of them were nervous to boot.
The men chasing them wheeled up on their mounts and circled their position, but held steady.
Given Scrabster’s goal of claiming Susana, it didn’t surprise Andrew that the men didn’t attack, they merely held his company there as they waited … for something. What that something was, he had no clue and didn’t care.
He signaled to his men to dismount and prepare to fight. On horseback, they were far too easy a target. He slipped from Breacher’s saddle and helped Isobel down as Hamish did the same with Susana, nudging them both to the middle of the company, so they were shielded from any stray shots. And then he unsheathed his sword.
Silence hummed in the clearing as the two forces faced off. Andrew’s men bristled with tension, poised to defend their position. The moments ticked away, measured by the beat of his heart. The only sound was the drone of bees and the occasional call of a gull.
That silence broke with the rumble of carriage wheels. All heads turned. A dark, unmarked coach rolled up and Scrabster levered out, followed by Keir.
That Keir’s hand was bound—clearly where Isobel had stabbed him—wasn’t as satisfying as it should have been. She should have aimed for parts south, in Andrew’s opinion.
“Susana!” Scrabster’s reedy voice warbled, flecked with rage. He pushed through the crowd of his men and limped forward. There was an arrow lodged in his thigh and his hair was singed. But it was the pistol in his hand that caught Andrew’s attention. It was pointed at Susana.
Without thought, Andrew stepped in front of her holding his weapon aloft.
She didn’t cooperate with his protection. She pushed past him and snarled, “You bastard. I’ll see you hang for this.”
Scrabster laughed. “Is that any way to speak to your intended?”
“I will not bluidy marry you.”
“Oh, you will.” His eyes narrowed; his gaze flickered over their company and landed on Isobel. “You will, if you want your daughter to live.”
With something akin to horror, Andrew watched as the pistol veered toward Isobel. He shifted his position and nudged her behind him. It vexed him that she, like her mother, wouldn’t stay shielded. She poked her head out and announced, “You’re a bad man. My mama will never marry you.”
Scrabster’s ratlike face scrunched up into a moue of fury. “You set my castle on fire, you little fiend. Blew it up! You’re the devil’s spawn.”
“You’re the devil’s spawn,” Isobel retorted.
Susana shushed her and turned her vehemence back on Scrabster. “She’s a girl. And you kidnapped her. You got what you deserved. And as for you lot…” She whirled on Scrabster’s men, pinning them with a fierce glare. “You are all going to hang for this. Ask yourself if your loyalty to this wretched laird is worth your life, because a magistrate willna take your loyalty into account when he sentences you to die.”
This seemed to have some effect on the men surrounding them, the farmers and merchants especially. They began to murmur and shift their feet.
Unaccountably, Scrabster chuckled. “Be reasonable, Susana. I will have my way. And if you doona marry me, you will force me to take what I want by other means.”
Susana stiffened. “Such as?”
His smile was reptilian. “I believe you have one more unmarried sister. She will do just as well for my needs.”
“Leave Lana out of this.”
“Aye,” Isobel said. “Leave Lana out of this.”
Scrabster turned his glare on Isobel; his expression sent a chill down Andrew’s spine. “Be silent, you monster.”
“She’s not a monster,” Susana bellowed.
“She shot me.” There was a hint of petulance in his tone as he gestured at his leg.
Isobel stepped forward, peering at the wound. “You really should have that arrow out,” she suggested.
It was a logical suggestion. No telling why it enraged Scrabster as it did. “Enough,” he howled. “I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill you all.” His gaze wavered back to Isobel. “Starting with you.”
Several things happened at the same time.
First, Andrew was aware of Susana’s growl and her movement by his side as she lifted her bow. Second was the terror at the tinge of deranged determination in Scrabster’s eye and the tightening of his finger on the trigger. Next was the burning determination that this bastard would not hurt Isobel, not if Andrew could help it. He launched himself to the right, throwing himself between the pistol and the girl.
And finally, he was aware of a loud explosion and a searing pain in his chest.
And then, of course, there was nothing.