Chapter Four
Francis had lost his joy in drinking and fondling the maids who so easily offered themselves up to him. Gregory was counting on him, so he had to remind himself this was not a party, but a serious attempt to find out where Lady Sinclair was being held and how determined her guard was.
So far he’d learned that the lady of the manor was in her bedroom and he just now learned from another lass that the door was locked. This pretty little one waved the key to Lady Sinclair’s room that she kept on a chain around her neck, in his face.
“Why would the laird trust ye with the key?” he asked as he slid his hand up the inside of her leg.
“Because he kens I will go to his bed anytime he asks.” She giggled. “Some of the others avoid him because he can be a bit rough at times.”
Francis frowned. “And that doesna bother ye?”
She shook her head, but there was a definite sense of pain in her eyes. “He gives me the easier jobs and time off that the others doona get.”
He grinned to himself. It appeared he would have to make the sacrifice and entice the lass into one of the bedrooms in order to relieve her of the key. It would be necessary to make sure she had enough to drink so she wouldn’t raise an alarm after he left.
He placed his hands on her face and pulled her close.
“What are ye doing?” She giggled again.
“Kissing the prettiest lass in the room.”
She sighed. Obviously, the lass received very little in the way of praise from The Sinclair when she was warming his bed. She settled for the easiest jobs and extra time off.
While he was busy with her mouth, he waved at one of the lasses to bring them the whisky that she was handing out to the other warriors.
If this was a clan they wanted to conquer, all they had to do was attack at night.
The few warriors he saw up on the ramparts when he easily slipped into the keep were too busy sipping ale and bragging to each other to pay much attention to what was going on outside the castle.
’Twas information to pass along to Gregory.
It took him no more than a half hour to douse the lass with whisky, have her take him to a bedroom, do what he needed to do—oh the sacrifice!
—and leave with the key in his pouch. She was naked and snoring when he left.
He’d pulled a cover over her body then looked at her for a minute.
’Twas a sad life for the lass to be sure.
He was almost tempted to bring her with him, but they didn’t need that complication.
He walked the distance to where he’d left his horse and headed back to the other warriors, whistling a tune. ’Twas too bad not all his assignments were such as this.
“It took ye long enough,” Gregory groused when he returned and slid off his horse. “I still need to get the lass out and as far away as we can get in the dark.”
Francis raised his eyebrows and dangled the key in front of Gregory. “’Twas no’ an easy assignment. However, Lady Sinclair is in her bedchamber upstairs, with the door locked.”
Gregory placed his fists on his hips. “And what good is the key to the lass’s bedroom? Am I to stroll into the keep and make my way up the stairs and bring her down?”
Francis nodded. “That’s about it. Ye wouldna’ ken how sloppy the keep is. I doona think there was a sober head in the place. Even the men up on the ramparts were chatting away like a couple of old women and drinking ale.”
“What about The Sinclair?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. I met one of the lasses who services him—she is the one I got the key from, and doona ask how—and she said he rarely appears downstairs after the evening meal.”
“I canno’ believe the mon I spent time with at Dornoch Castle would allow such a thing in his keep,” Gregory said.
Francis shrugged. “The mon ye spent time with is dead, but I will say things couldn’t have changed that much in the few weeks since he died.
“However, when questioned, the lass I got the key from mentioned that Robert Sinclair had stepped back and the uncle had been acting as laird since the old laird died.”
Gregory shook his head. “All this chatting away is no’ getting us Lady Sinclair and on the road.” He gestured to Peter. “Go steal a horse from the Sinclair stable for Lady Sinclair. We might as well get this over with and on our way.”
Gregory urged his horse forward and swung his leg over the animal’s back. “Be ready to leave the minute I return with the lass. I want to get as far away from here as we can and with it being dark, it will be slow going.”
’Twas a short ride to Sinclair Castle Girnigoe.
He could hear the noise of the gaiety long before he approached the gate to the castle, which was wide open.
There were no men on the ramparts. Chances were, from what Francis told him, the men were fast asleep by now.
He shook his head, thinking that either the Sutherlands or the Mackays should take over the Sinclair land.
Such a lax in guarding their castle actually made it dangerous for the clans surrounding it.
He walked into the great hall with his hand on his sword, not sure if things were as bad as Francis said.
They were.
He walked through the hall, up the stairs, and tried each door latch. The only one locked must have been Lady Sinclair’s. He pulled the key from his pouch and fitted it into the hole, twisting it until it unlatched. Then he opened the door. Slowly at first.
’Twas dark in the room, but not dark enough to hide the woman crawling out the window onto the branch from a tree outside her window.
Gregory sucked in a breath, but didn’t want to startle the lass by calling out to her. Instead, he quickly left the room, and raced down the stairs and through the keep, rounded the building and reached the tree just as Megan started to climb down.
“Doona move lass,” he said quietly enough not to have her fall. However, it didn’t work and she began to slip.
“What are ye doing here?” She held onto a branch, but in the moonlight Gregory could see her small hands begin to slide.
“God’s bones! If yer brain wasn’t so muddled with this foolish plan ye have, ye would ken why I am here.”
“I have to leave before first light. Anthony is going to take me to The Gunn.”
Gregory shook his head. “I think ’tis best if we stopped this conversation and get ye out of that tree before ye break yer fool neck.”
“I’m slipping!” The words came out right before she dropped, hitting a branch which slowed her fall. She flailed her arms, trying to catch another branch.
“Just let go, Megan. I will catch ye.” He barely got the words out before she landed in his arms. The surprise on her face must have matched the one on his.
He placed her on her feet. “What the devil were ye trying to do, lass? Ye could have killed yerself.”
She brushed off her bodice and skirt. “Twould be better than having The Gunn kill me when he finds out I’m barren.” She looked at him, her face as red as a beet. “I guess I should no’ have blurted that out.”
Gregory shrugged. Her confession was something he would think on later. Right now they had to leave as quickly as possible.
Megan turned to walk and fell to her knees.
He stopped and pulled her up. “What’s wrong, lass?”
“I think when I hit the branch up there, I hurt my ankle.”
“I’ll take a look at it when we’re away from here.” In one quick motion, Gregory scooped her up in his arms, strode to where he’d left his horse.
“Wait! I need my satchel.” She turned in his arms and pointed to the small bag she’d brought with her that had fallen from her hand when she tumbled from the tree.
Quickly, Gregory settled her on his horse, grabbed her bag, tossed it to her, swung his leg over the animal, settled Megan on his lap and rode off.
*
Megan was so relieved at being rescued from her inane idea of climbing down the tree that any ill feelings she’d had for Gregory Mackenzie faded like a setting sun.
“Why did ye come back? I thought for sure ye’d be on yer way home right now.”
The warrior grinned at her. “Dinna ya see the wink I left ye with?”
“Aye I did, but since I doona ken ye, I had no idea what it meant. Well, I mean, I did think that maybe it mean ye were no’ really leaving, but then again I’ve had lads wink at me and—”
Gregory bent his head and took her mouth in a very interesting and voice-quieting kiss.
She relaxed against him, the strength and warmth from his body giving her the best sense of calm and security she’d had since Robert’s death.
She knew in her heart that Gregory Mackenzie would not let her uncle drag her to The Gunn.
He raised his head, looking at her surprised face with a hint of laughter. “Keep in mind lass, every time ye’re babbling like that I will quiet ye with a kiss.”
Of course, she should be insulted, but based on her body’s reaction to that very unexpected kiss, she might be doing a lot of babbling in the future.
They didn’t ride far before she saw the men who had accompanied him on this mission sitting around a small fire, sipping on ale and talking. There were seven horses hobbled not too far from them.
She turned to Gregory. “Did ye bring an extra horse with ye?”
He grinned at her. “Nay, ’tis a Sinclair horse.”
“Ye stole it?”
He laughed. “Aye.” He looked at her, a glint in his eyes. “Just like I stole ye, too.”
Gregory slid from the horse and wrapped his hands around Megan’s waist and lifted her as if she weighed no more than a bag of feathers.
The men who had been sitting around the campfire kicked dirt on the low flames and headed to their horses. With her ankle still hurting, Gregory helped her over to one of the horses and settled her on the animal’s back. “Do ye feel well enough to ride by yerself?”
Megan nodded and Gregory strode off, carrying her satchel which he fastened to his horse.
He climbed on the animal and addressed the men.
“We will ride through the night, but because of the darkness we will go slow. Once we have light we will pick up the pace. It won’t take Anthony long to find out Lady Sinclair is missing and he will ken exactly who has her and the direction we’re headed. ”
Gregory looked at her. “Lady Sinclair, I want ye to ride in the middle of our group. If the injury to yer ankle causes ye too much pain directing the horse yerself, let me know.”
With those words, he raised his hand and turned toward the darkness. “We ride.”