Chapter Unknown #3
She hurried along in the dark. She wore a dark plaid wrapped around her to aid in blending into the misty darkness.
At the bridge leading to Strathwick she crouched low to the ground.
Torches lit the ramparts, and two men-at-arms made a slow circuit of the walls.
She tracked their path, and when they disappeared, she sprinted, racing across the bridge and up the path, stopping only when she was in the shelter of the wall.
She pressed herself against it, breathing hard, her breath pluming out before her in a cloud.
She clapped a plaid-covered hand over her mouth to hide it.
Her heart hammered in her ears as she waited. When she was certain she’d not been sighted, she crept along the berm, staying close to the wall. Dumhnull had left the castle somehow, and not through the gatehouse, as she’d been sitting by it and would have seen him.
She walked for some time, circling the castle and passing two drum towers before arriving at a postern door. There was no porter window on this door, so they’d have to open it if they wanted to see who was there.
She drew her dirk from her boot and set her bundle aside. She took a deep breath, preparing herself, and hid the dirk in the folds of her skirt. She hammered on the door purposefully.
It opened almost immediately, as if someone waited on the other side. She rushed in the open door. A woman stood on the other side, her mouth opened in almost comical surprise.
She came at Rose, frantically trying to push her back out the open doorway. Rose quickly sidestepped, pressing herself against the wall just inside the door.
“Oh, no! You must go!” The woman grabbed Rose’s arm and tried dragging her.
The woman was shorter than Rose was, but stouter. Still, when Rose dug in her heels, the woman could not budge her.
“I’m going nowhere until I speak with Lord Strathwick.”
The woman ran away, shouting for help. Rose panicked.
Men-at-arms would come, prepared to deal with an intruder, and she would be thrown out or worse.
Rose sprinted after the woman, fear spurring her to recklessness.
The woman was easily caught but not so easily restrained.
She fought, arms flailing, screaming and scratching.
Rose grappled desperately with her as two men appeared, afraid she might inadvertently stab the woman or herself in the battle.
“Be still, woman, before I cut you,” Rose hissed in her ear. Even to her own ears she sounded dangerously unstable.
The woman finally grew still, though she trembled and moaned.
The men stopped in their tracks, hands out in a calming gesture. The other man was younger, a comely man, with thick black hair and dark, angry eyes. He had drawn his sword and looked ready to hack her in two. So much for looking pitiful.
Rose looked from one man to the other, her hand shaking so violently that she feared she would nick the woman inadvertently. She glared at the men. “Take me to Lord Strathwick or I slit her gullet.” Rose would never do such a thing, but it sounded sufficiently threatening, and she was desperate.
Apparently some of that desperation showed in her eyes. The men exchanged an alarmed look. The dark man lowered his sword but did not sheath it.
The blond man took a deep breath, his hands still out in a calming gesture. “Put it down, Mistress MacDonell. No need to hurt anyone.”
Rose nearly dropped her dirk in astonishment. He knew her name! But there was no time to ask how he knew her. She pulled the woman’s hair back, exposing more neck. “Bring me to him, damn it, or she dies!”
The woman whimpered and snuffled, and the men just stood there, watching Rose as if she were a wild animal, which she supposed she was at the moment. She felt wild—capable of nearly anything—which was both frightening and exhilarating.
“Now!” she bellowed to emphasize her point. The woman she held flinched and let out a squeak of terror.
But still the men made no move to comply with her demands. Rose was scrambling for her next course of action when she noted the blond man’s gaze dart to something behind her.
Rose tried to jerk around, but she wasn’t quick enough.
Her wrist was seized and her dirk yanked downward, away from the woman’s throat.
Another arm snaked around her waist and hauled her off her feet.
The woman ran, throwing herself into the blond man’s arms. Rose fought her captor, frenzied with fear and confusion, legs kicking gracelessly in the air, her free arm flailing.
The hand holding her wrist squeezed until she dropped the dirk.
Her captor dropped her abruptly. She fell hard on her posterior, knocking the air from her lungs. She scrambled around, gasping for air and wincing at the pain in her backside.
“Dumhnull!” she gasped, then shut her mouth tightly. She didn’t want to cause him trouble, but she feared it was too late. She glanced at the other men. The black-haired one frowned severely at Dumhnull.
The groom leaned over to pick up her dirk, avoiding her gaze. His head was uncovered now, and she saw that he was older than she’d initially thought. Gray streaked his black hair, and though his face was unlined, the set of his jaw was rigid, and his beautiful eyes were hard and flat.
He was angry with her for her brutal entrance after his kindness.
She couldn’t blame him. She wondered if he would help her still, or even if he could, as a mere groom.
She continued to gaze at him, her heart still racing, but he refused to look at her.
She was caught now, at their mercy, without a single ally.
She closed her eyes, rejecting the urge to capitulate.
She was here, in Strathwick. She couldn’t give up yet.
She turned her attention to the other men. “I’m here to see Lord Strathwick. I’ll not leave until I see him.” Her bravado elicited some amused glances and an exclamation of disbelief from the black-haired man, but she rose to her knees and raised her chin.
The comely black-haired man stepped forward, his mouth curved into a sneer of contempt. “I’m Lord Strathwick.”
A jolt of surprise went through Rose. She closed her eyes in horror.
This was worse than she’d thought. It would have been bad enough having him hear about what she’d done secondhand; she still might have been able to talk her way out of it, charm him.
But he’d witnessed her chasing one of his people down and holding a dirk to her throat.
Against her will and pride, she looked back at Dumhnull, unable to hide the blind panic building inside her. He still would not look at her. He tapped her dirk thoughtfully against his thigh, staring at his chief with an odd intensity.
Rose turned back to Strathwick. She spread her hands before her, trying to appear submissive and contrite—not difficult, as she still knelt in the dirt. “I pray you, my lord, just hear me out. If you still refuse me after speaking to me, I vow to leave you in peace.”
Lord Strathwick approached her slowly, his slashing black brows lowered over dark blue eyes.
He circled her, looking her up and down.
Finally he stood before her, his expression scornful, but he said, “Very well, then. Follow me.” His gaze jerked behind her.
“You, too, Dumhnull.” He turned abruptly and stalked toward the castle.
Rose let out an astonished breath, weakness flooding her limbs.
Dumhnull grasped her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Looks as if you’ve gotten your way, miss.”
From his grim expression, she wasn’t at all certain that was a good thing.