Chapter 20
The sun was starting to set, and Thomas was feeling frantic. It was a cool, fresh evening, which meant a cold night and sharp frost was likely to set it. What if Emma was out in the open without any shelter or protection?
He shivered, swallowing down panic. They were clustered around a set of maps on the table—himself, Dominic, Tabitha, and a tubby young English laundress who was apparently Emma’s closest friend.
Groups of soldiers were combing the forest around the Keep. Thomas was now sure that Emma was nowhere near the Sinner, not if McCade had taken her.
“I should have told ye that Gregor had escaped,” Tabitha said quietly, setting a hand on his shoulder. “I did not think it important.”
“I think this might have happened with or without Gregor,” Thomas murmured. “In the future, Tabitha, ye must trust me. Please.”
She gave a short nod. “Agreed.”
“We know that Lachlan McCade has taken her,” he announced to the room. “He’s allied with an ex-soldier named Gregor.”
“And Flora,” the laundress piped up with a sudden venom.
Thomas blinked at her. “And what is yer name, lassie?”
“Riley,” she answered. “Flora was awfully interested in Emma, always asking questions about her. I thought nothing of it, but she disappeared without warning a few days ago, right when Emma started acting so strange. I’m sure Flora has something to do with it.”
Thomas sighed. “It would be good to find the lass, but I fear that—”
“I am here, Me Laird.”
Silence fell at the timid voice. They all glanced towards the open doorway to find a thin, large-eyed blonde girl standing there, almost trembling with nerves.
Riley’s eyes bulged. “You! We thought you were our friend! We thought—”
“Please,” Flora said quietly, “let me speak.”
“Did ye enter the Keep under false pretenses?” Tabitha demanded in a strident voice. “Did ye intend to lure Emma out for the benefit of this man, Lachlan McCade? If so—”
“Let her speak,” Thomas interrupted, nodding at Flora. There was a sort of brittleness about her as if she might snap at any given moment. “Go on, lass.”
Flora drew in a breath. “I’ll not trouble ye with the sob story of my life, but know that I have suffered. I’ve worked for Lachlan McCade, so I suppose ye can all guess what I’ve been through.”
Thomas shuddered. He knew of McCade’s dealings, and he could well imagine that this poor young woman had suffered.
“I was indeed ordered to come here and lure Emma Gallagher out, but it felt wrong. Of course, I did it anyway. I was terrified. But there’s more to the story.
There’s… there’s a man in McCade’s employ.
His name is Simon. He’s a good man. He helps McCade’s women, and the men, escape, where he can.
” She broke into a tiny smile. “I think he loves me. After this, he plans to help me escape. That’s why he insisted on me being chosen for this mission, so we could flee further north.
We’re going to go together because he has no home, and I can’t go home.
But if I tell ye where to find Emma, and I know I must because my conscience won’t let me rest about it, ye will find him there, and ye will kill him. ”
“Ye want his life in exchange for your information,” Thomas stated.
She nodded. “Aye, I do. I’m sorry, but I can’t let him die. You can promise me that, Me Laird. Ye have the power.”
Thomas sighed. “I could keep my promise and throw ye in the dungeons for the rest of yer lives.”
Flora gave a small shrug. “Ye could, but I don’t think ye will.”
“Fine, I agree. Yer man’s life will be saved. But if I find he’s laid a hand on Emma—”
“He won’t have done it,” Flora said confidently. “I am sure of that.”
“Ye will come with us to this place, aye? So we can be sure ye are telling the truth?”
“I’ll show ye the way. It’s the McCade pub, but the lass is being held in a secret room beneath the pub. Ye won’t find it on yer own, but I can find it for ye.”
They glanced at each other.
“The McCade pub,” Tabitha said dryly. “We really ought to have guessed that, eh?”
Emma woke up to the worst pain in her head she’d ever experienced. Before she even opened her eyes, she had already started to reach for the small vial of powdered brimleaves—ideal for headaches—which she kept beside her bed.
Her hand slapped uselessly across the cold, gritty stone, and her eyes flew open. Memories surged back, and she felt bile rise in her throat.
I’m a prisoner. Lachlan has me.
Her stomach convulsed, and if there had been anything in it, she would have thrown it up.
She didn’t recognize the room she was in.
It was a small, stone cell with no windows and a flight of stone stairs weaving up to a wooden door at the top.
Not a chink of light came in, except for a few beams filtering through the ceiling.
Her eyes gradually got adjusted to the gloom, and she realized that the ceiling above her head was the floor of the room above.
She could see no movement, although she could hear sounds of chatter and laughter and the clink of glasses.
She wasn’t tied up, thankfully.
Emma shuffled back until she could lean against the damp wall, hugging her knees to her chest.
Just breathe. Stay calm.
The brass berries were still rattling around in her pocket, which meant that the poisonous yellowberries were likely still there, too. She had no inclination to reach for either, even though the brass berries would have soothed the growing ache in her stomach.
So would the yellowberries, actually. Just more permanently.
There was a series of strange squeaks and creaks, then the door opened. A figure appeared, silhouetted against the flickering glow of candlelight. Emma wondered what time it was.
“Comfy down there, are ye?” came Gregor’s voice, sending a chill through her. “I thought ye would never wake up. Thought I hit ye too hard.”
Emma forced herself to get to her feet, vainly scanning the bare room for something, anything she could use as a weapon. They hadn’t even brought her basket along.
Well, of course not, since it had a small trowel in it for digging out stubborn roots.
“Comfy enough. Are ye going to let me go, or did ye just come to chat?” Emma said, pleased at how steady her voice sounded. “It’s a pity ye cannot learn to pick on someone ye own size, Gregor.”
He sneered. “Better mind your manners, lass. I’ll be back.”
He slammed the door, the crash reverberating through the room. Emma heard locks click into place and then the same squeaking, scraping noise as before. It seemed that the door was hidden, then. This must be a secret room.
So, to take stock, I don’t know where I am or how long I’ve been here. I’ve got no food, water, or weapons, and I’m hidden inside a secret room that perhaps only Gregor and probably Lachlan know how to get into.
She sank down to the floor again.
Wonderful.
“There it is. Ugly place, eh?” Dominic mumbled.
Thomas gave a brief nod, surveying the building. Even now, as the sun was setting, the place looked disgusting. Not even the idyllic golden glow of a sunset could make it beautiful.
He’d never visited McCade’s pub before. He knew of it, of course, but had no idea that Lachlan McCade seemed to believe that they were rivals.
A wee bit full of himself, thinking this old place could compete with the Sinner.
The McCade pub was a squat, ugly building with only one floor. It was in a state of disrepair—peeling paint, lopsided shutters, a door with a panel kicked out, and a sagging roof. There was movement inside, but not much. The front door gaped open, revealing nothing but darkness inside.
“Are we sure she’s in there, Thomas?” Dominic asked quietly.
Thomas glanced over at Flora. The lass had been dressed in a plain shirt, breeches, and boots, and her blonde hair was hidden under a cap. She looked pale but determined, her eyes fixed on the McCade pub with absolute hatred.
“I’m sure,” Thomas said. “If not… well, I don’t know where to find her.”
That idea sent an ice-cold stab of fear through him. What would he do if he couldn’t find her? He hadn’t even told her how he truly felt. They had that one snatched moment together, which had gone past in a blink. Thomas felt like a fool. How could he have been so blind, so stupid?
“Thomas?” Dominic pressed, shuffling closer to lay a hand on his shoulder. “Are you ready? We don’t know how much time we have.”
Thomas gave a curt nod. “Yes, I’m ready.”
The problem here had been how many men to take.
Thomas could have arrived with dozens if not hundreds of warriors, but what good would that do?
If the McCade pub was anything like the Sinner, it would have narrow passages and low-ceilinged rooms. That meant too many men would bottleneck the halls, and there would be no swinging great swords around.
Thomas had brought six of his best men, as well as himself and Dominic. Flora was to hang back until they’d gone in and subdued the rest. They were lightly armed but ready, nonetheless.
“Let’s not lose the element of surprise,” Dominic reminded him.
Thomas gave a nod and slunk out of the undergrowth towards the pub. Dominic followed, and his men slipped along behind him, making no more noise than a cat.
There was no sound from inside the pub to indicate that they’d been heard, but neither was there the usual chatter of conversation.
Perhaps he just doesn’t have many customers.
They reached the doorway, and Thomas glanced back over his shoulder.
The men pressed up against the wall, braced.
As previously arranged, three men had gone to secure the back entrance.
However, the trees and undergrowth pressed in around the pub, and Thomas couldn’t rule out the prospect of somebody slipping out of an unknown entrance or even diving out of a window.
It felt like he was trying to keep water in a sieve.
Hold on, Emma. I’m coming. Just hold on a little longer.
He gave the signal, and they rushed forward, bursting in through the door. It swung open without any impediment—there was nothing behind him, nobody waiting. The rooms beyond were dark, and the men squinted in an effort to see.
This was odd. Why were there no torches lit, no lanterns, no candles? As his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, he saw that the bar was silent and empty, with nobody sitting at the abandoned chairs and tables.
A curl of fear began to unravel itself in his stomach.
“I think…” he began.
“It’s a trap,” hissed Dominic.
Behind them, the door slammed shut. They turned to see two huge, burly men whose heads nearly brushed the ceiling guarding the way.
“A pleasure to meet ye in person, Laird MacPherson!” came a taunting voice, and a large man came sauntering forward out of the shadows.
Gregor lurked at his elbow, baring his teeth and clutching a rusty knife. There were around four armed men beside him, leaving them fairly equally matched.
At least, they would have been equally matched if Thomas had not sent three men to guard the back of the pub. That didn’t matter, though, surely. His men would come through, and they would be evenly matched again. In a place this small and narrow, strength didn’t matter nearly as much as skill.
Or so Thomas hoped, because all of McCade’s men were larger than him, which was saying something.
He spotted a fifth man lurking in the background, unarmed and looking extremely worried.
He seemed to be young, no more than thirty, maybe even closer to twenty, but his hair was prematurely gray.
He showed no interest in joining the fight, but nobody paid him any attention.
I’ll wager that he’s Simon.
Thomas remembered his promise to Flora. There was no time to think about that, of course.
“I’d not worry about yer men round the back,” McCade said as if reading his thoughts. “We were ready for them. So, Thomas MacPherson, I take it ye are here to die?”