Chapter Twenty-Two #4
An hour later, her tears spent, she thought about poor Alasdair and how she’d dismissed him. The kind thing to do would be to apologize for her abrupt behavior. She freshened up a wee bit with the basin in her chamber, then opened the door to leave.
Before she could step out into the passageway, she heard the booming voice of Alex Grant, echoing off the rafters. “You cannot risk all of your lives for one person. I want you all to agree to my proposal about this venture.”
The four cousins each agreed with the proposal.
This must have put an end to the conversation, for the next thing she heard was the screech of chair legs scraping across the stone floor.
She stepped into the passageway and moved to the balcony so she’d be seen.
While she had eavesdropped, it hadn’t been deliberate, and she didn’t know what to make of what she’d heard.
Was she the one person they were risking their lives for?
Alex Grant had seemed happy to see her—would he really have advised his grandchildren not to help her?
Alasdair bounded up the stairs and stopped in front of her. “You are better?”
“Aye,” was the only word she could get out.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is everything to your liking in the chamber? Would you like another?” He kissed her cheek, but she still could not move. Her hands gripped his upper arms as if she were afraid he would disappear.
“The chamber is fine. I…”
Dyna called up to him from below, “She probably overheard Grandpapa’s words and misinterpreted them.”
Emmalin stared into Alasdair’s eyes as he absorbed his cousin’s words. Not for the first time, it struck her that Dyna was remarkably intuitive.
“Grandpapa tends to worry,” he said at once.
“He was warning the four of us not to go up against a garrison of fifty knights. Alick and I both have tempers, at times, especially toward the English, and he’s always afraid we’ll allow anger to get the best of us and bring us into an argument we cannot win.
Els has had to play peacemaker before. Grandpapa wasn’t telling us not to protect you. We will.”
She still stared at him, her exhaustion now taking its toll on her.
He whispered in her ear, his warm breath soothing her. “I will. Do not worry yourself. I will always protect you. Besides, it was my grandsire who sent me to your land, remember? He knew you were in trouble.”
Emmalin glanced over the balcony railing and looked straight into the eyes of Alex Grant.
“I don’t wish to be a burden to any of you. Alasdair, I must practice with my sword on the morrow. I have much need to improve.”
Alexander Grant was a man of mystery. Was he glad she was here because of his friendship with her sire?
Or did his concern for his grandbairns override everything else?
Chapter Twelve
Alex knows the value of a lady’s maid…
Alasdair paced outside the stables, waiting for his grandsire to awaken.
He’d stayed up later than usual to speak with them, to plan with them, and in his advanced age, he sometimes slept in after late nights.
He wished to be on the road before the sun was highest, and they only had about an hour to make it happen.
They’d agreed last eve that the cousins would travel to Berwick to see what they could uncover about the king and MacLintock Castle.
The big question was whether or not to take Emmalin.
Grandpapa had wanted them to leave her behind, fearing her presence would put them at greater risk of being discovered.
He also didn’t think the lass would be safe in Berwick.
Alasdair wanted her to go with them, because he believed it was the best way to protect her. In truth, he did not trust anyone else to see to her protection the way he would. Selfishly, he also wanted to be with her.
He knew their conversation last eve had discomfited her.
She feared she’d be married off again, but he would never let that happen against her will.
Neither would his grandpapa. She’d misunderstood what she’d overheard last eve, something he needed to make her understand.
As soon as they finalized their plan, he’d talk with her.
He’d made his tenth circle of the stables when he saw two horses surging toward the gates, one carrying an older woman. She looked frantic as she bolted off her horse and raced toward the guards. Alasdair hurried over, sensing she brought news. Urgent news, from the look of it.
“My mistress, Emmalin MacLintock. She is here, is she not?”
The guards looked confused, but Alasdair snapped to attention and hurried out of the gates to uncover her purpose.
“What know you of MacLintock land?” he asked, doing his best to be vague.
“My mistress,” she stopped, panting to catch her breath.
One of her companions jumped down from his horse.
“Please pardon Besseta. We’re all worried about our mistress.
We seek Emmalin MacLintock, daughter of the former laird of MacLintock Castle.
We have come to warn her. I am one of her guards and she is her personal maid.
The English whoresons who attacked the castle are heading this way.
Someone there saw your plaid and told them. We fear for her life.”
Alasdair stared at the man, doing his best to imitate his grandsire’s intimidating glare. He waited for further information, needing to know they were who they claimed to be.
Besseta joined the guard and clasped his shoulder. “We pushed her into the tunnel. I closed the door behind her. She never would have gotten away if not for the tunnel.”
Alasdair nodded, although he was not yet ready to let them in. “Go find our guest,” he said to one of the guards. “Bring her to the steps and see if she knows these people.”
The man disappeared, and the next time the door opened, Emmalin stepped outside with a squeal. Running despite her heavy skirts, she launched herself at the older woman. “Bessie!” The maid was so thin Alasdair feared Emmalin might knock her over.
He cleared his throat and said, “If you know and trust them, invite them in, Emmalin.”
“Aye, my manners. Forgive me. Alasdair, this is my dear maid, Besseta. She has been with me forever. And these are two MacLintock guards.” She quickly turned her attention back to her Bessie. “What about the others? Gaufried and his men? Tamsin, Aunt Penne?”
“We have not seen or heard anything about Tamsin or Penne. Many villagers disappeared, mayhap they did, also,” one man said. “They ran. Gaufried went on the attack and there was a battle, but his body was never found. I hope he got away.”
Aunt Kyla emerged from the other side of the gate and offered an official welcome. “We welcome you to Grant Castle. Please come inside for a brief repast. You can tell Emmalin all that has transpired, and my sire would also like to hear your account.”
Once inside, they settled around the trestle table where Alasdair’s grandsire sat in his large chair. The others piled onto the bench. Alasdair made the introductions, then said, “Please tell us what else happened. Why have you come? You seem upset.”
“I am,” Besseta said, patting Emmalin’s hand.
“Though I feel much better now that I’ve seen you with my own eyes.
I was so worried. Forgive me for sitting with you, my lord.
I am but a lady’s maid. I will take my proper place if you’ll guide me to one of your maids.
I had to see her with my own eyes. I promised her dear mother…
” She stopped to mop her eyes with a well-used linen square.
Alex leaned forward and said, “My wife’s maid was her finest protector, my lady. You’ll stay where you are as you have earned the right to be by Emmalin’s side. I knew her sire well, and he would not have had his daughter in your care if he did not trust you implicitly.
She nodded and took a sip from the goblet of mead she’d been served.
“Go ahead,” Alasdair said, tired of waiting. He admonished himself to do better about learning his grandsire’s art of patience. Although, as Alex himself had reminded him, it was the work of a lifetime, not a day.
“The man leading the garrison was named Sheriff de Savage. He came for you. A baron hired him to lead the men to your castle and overtake it. Once it was done, the baron was to bring you to Berwick.”
“But I would have to agree to go with him, and I never would.”
“They have their ways,” his grandsire said. “Which baron?”
Besseta shook her head. “We don’t know, but as we said, they know you are at Grant Castle. We came upon another group of warriors headed in this direction. They asked if we knew of your whereabouts. Said we were to instruct you to go immediately to King Edward’s castle in Berwick.”
“You did not tell them anything, did you?” Alasdair asked.
“They would never give me up,” Emmalin responded at once. “They are the most loyal in our clan.”
Alex nodded. “I believe you. Did you hear any names?”
“Just de Fry. I’ve never met him before.”
At this, the wise old man sighed. “Both de Savage and de Fry are Scottish sheriffs, but they’re being bribed by different barons. Of that much I’m certain. Many of the sheriffs are easily brought to task with a bit of coin. But we don’t know which barons are in play.”
They all paused while the serving lasses brought more food for the travelers. Alasdair wondered if this would change their plan at all.
They didn’t need to wait to find out.
“Emmalin, pack your things,” his grandfather said. “I will meet with the cousins in my solar while she packs, since they will be your escorts to Berwick.”
“You’re sending me to marry the baron the king chooses for me?” Emmalin asked, her voice tight.
“Nay, I’m sending you and my grandbairns to speak with King Edward. They will gain your freedom, if they can. But it’s most important that you are protected from the rampant barons searching for you. They know you’re here. It’s best for you to leave.”
Chapter Twenty-Two