Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“ Y e need a dress.”
“What? But I dinnae have a dress!”
“Look in the chest over there. There’s a few bits of clothin’ that the lads have gathered over the years fer times like this.”
“But why have ye got a dress in there? D’ye like tae dress as a lassie when ye go out scoutin’?”
“Aye, what’s it tae ye if I dae?” he riposted, pretending to take umbrage, stifling his laughter. “’Tis a blue gown as well—me best color.”
He spied her lips curving up at the corners as she said, “Ach, ye great lummox! Why really have ye got a dress in yer collection?”
“I dinnae ken how it got there! By mistake, I suppose. The lads pick these things up now and then in case they come in handy. Anyway, who cares where it came from. The important thing is it looks about yer size. Get it out and try it on.”
“But I can hardly leave the camp dressed as a woman,” she pointed out, nevertheless crossing the tent and kneeling next to the chest.
“Ye’re nae gonnae. Ye can take the dress with ye and change in the woods afore we get tae the village, then change back again when we return.”
“Ach, all right,” she replied, rummaging through the contents of the chest and eventually pulling out the blue gown. Standing up, she held it against herself. “’Tis quite nice if a bit rumpled.”
“Nay need tae worry about that. There’s a big cloak in there ye can wear over the top.”
She returned to the chest and eventually tugged out an enormous piece of thick woolen material which, when she held it up, proved to be a cloak. Immediately, she turned up her nose. “Ugh! I cannae wear that,” she declared.
“Why nae?”
“Because it stinks like someone died in it.”
“They likely did,” Ewan told her, chuckling when she promptly dropped the cloak to the floor, letting out a squeal of disgust. “I’m jestin’,” he added. “If I remember rightly, one of the lads stole it off a feller at an inn one night.”
“That daesnae make it stink any the less,” she protested, getting up and poking the offending garment with her foot.
“Well, ye’re wearin’ it whatever ye say. Hang it up fer a wee while, give it a good airin’, and it’ll be as good as new.”
“D’ye ken how much I dislike ye, Ewan Ballentine?” she asked him with a rebellious look, nevertheless doing as he suggested with both the cloak and the gown.
Tickled, he said good-naturedly, “Aye. Now, shut yer hole and put that dress on. I wantae see if the disguise is any good and ye can pass as a woman.”
He guffawed loudly when she picked up the cloak and threw it at his head.
Later that night, they left the camp on Ewan’s stallion. Isla rode behind him, her front pressed against his back, her arms linked around his waist. “Why can we nae take two horses?” she had complained when she realized he meant them to share the saddle.
“If we’re meant tae be man and wife, it’ll be more convincin’ this way,” he had insisted, reaching down to give her a hand up.
“That daesnae make sense. Can married people nae have a horse each?” she asked, squeezing in behind him and wriggling annoyingly as she tried to get comfortable. He grinned to himself, liking the sensation of being between her thighs, of having her breasts pressed against his back, and her arms encircling him.
“If anyone asks what we’re doin’ there, we can say one of the beasts went lame and that’s why we havetae stop at the inn. Anyway, ’tis nae different tae sharin’ the bed, so shut up and quit complainin’. And will ye sit still?” he pretended to grumble, pressing his heels against the stallion’s flanks, clicking his tongue, and slowly guiding the huge beast out of the camp.
They were heading for the village of Killicragie, about three miles or so from the castle, still on Galbraith lands. The moon was almost full, lighting their way ahead brightly as they rode side by side down a leafy lane. The silvery brilliance mirrored Ewan’s mood. Not only was he optimistic about the success of their mission and the possibility of discovering a hidden way into the castle, but he had also enjoyed sparring with Annie that afternoon as they made their preparations. Most of all, he had found the sight of her in a dress wildly exciting.
“D’ye think I’m gonnae take me clothes off in front of ye?” she had demanded, one hand on her hip, the other clutching the pale-blue gown.
“Well, I’ve always been the hopeful sort,” he had replied jokingly, really looking forward to seeing her transformation.
“I mean, will ye have the decency tae turn around while I change?”
“Och, all right.” Grinning, he had done as she had asked.
“And definitely nay peepin’ his time!”
Though surprised she would allude so directly to their time at the pond, he could not resist teasing her. “Och, why so bashful? ’Tis naethin’ I havenae seen before.”
“Ye-ye…!”
“Just get on with it, will ye? We havenae got all day,” he commanded her in his sternest voice, hiding his smile. With growing excitement, he listened to the sounds of rustling, imagining the clothes coming off and the dress going on.
“All right. Ye can look now.”
“At last! I could feel me beard growin’, ye took so bloody—” he was saying as he turned in his chair to look. But the final words fell by the wayside as he took in the vision standing just a few feet away from him. Judging by the rich fabric, he guessed the gown must have been expensive, and it could have been made for her.
It highlighted every curve of her slender, lithe body, from the nipped in waist and flaring hips to the pearly half-moons of her breasts, which the gown’s pretty front lacing pushed up enticingly. Her bright golden hair was loose, and it flowed down her back to her waist in a cascade of tiny curls.
“Will it dae?” she asked, twirling on the spot so the skirt flowed gracefully around her legs and brushed the floor. Ewan, transfixed by her radiant beauty once more, swallowed hard and nodded.
“Aye,” he managed to croak, crossing his legs to hide any hint of his sudden embarrassing arousal. “It’ll dae.”
“It feels so strange wearing a dress again. It’s been quite a while. ’Tis a shame I have nay stays or petticoats tae go with it though,” she mused, smoothing the skirt gently. “Ye’ll havetae turn around again, so I can take it off.”
Dinnae take it off, a part of him wanted to shout. Let me dae that! The other part, however, told him to pull himself together and focus on the mission in hand. Torn, he sighed and turned away again, as she had bade him to. He could only listen to the tantalizing rustle of silk taffeta, picturing her in his mind’s eye as she disrobed, while he fought down his arousal and wished to God he knew who the devil this woman was, for she was slowly turning him inside out.
A mile or so from Killicragie, they halted so Annie could change from Harris’ clothes into her feminine garb. Ewan waited patiently, not allowing himself to get too excited this time. He knew the full-length, hooded cloak would just about cover her from her neck to her feet, pretty much obscuring the gown beneath. He thought it just as well, for he wanted to keep his wits about him and not get distracted.
Eventually, she reappeared from the trees, her shape completely hidden by the voluminous cloak. They clasped hands as he helped her to remount. “Why, ye couldnae even tell there’s a woman under that thing,” he remarked when she was back in her spot behind him and he gently urged their horses onwards.
“Well, it was yer idea fer me tae wear it,” she pointed out. “And it still stinks. I hope nay one comes too near and thinks ’tis me.”
He felt a flash of possessiveness at the thought. “That’s nae gonnae happen. Ye’ll stay by me the whole time and nae wander off on yer own, understood?”
“Aye, m’laird,” she muttered. “Och, look, lights up ahead. I think that might be the inn.”
She was soon proven right when they rode into the surprisingly busy cobbled courtyard of The Thatcher’s Arms. The inn was a two-story, sprawling, whitewashed cluster of buildings, with leaded windows that gleamed in the moonlight, and a bowed thatch roof . Lamps shone a welcoming glow from inside the windows. The big, worn door swung to and fro with a squeak as a variety of people passed in and out, releasing infrequent bursts of animated chatter, laughter, and fiddle music in to the night air, as well as the smell of stale beer, roasted meats, and unwashed humanity.
“It seems quite a lively place,” Annie remarked as Ewan handed the horse over to a stable lad. Ewan ruffled the boy’s hair and tipped him a few groats. The youngster led the horse away, grinning as he pocketed the coins.
“Aye, it does. Seems like the type of pace where ye get all sorts comin’ fer a drink or a meal. ’Tis ideal fer our purposes.” He held the door open for her, and they entered a long, L-shaped room with a low ceiling. A massive hearth was blazing against one wall, and a bar festooned with pewter tankards, ceramic pint mugs, and crude glasses ran the whole length of the place. It was quite crowded with people waiting to be served their drinks. Others sat at tables or stood about, intent on their talk, hardly sparing them a glance as they entered. A thick pall of tobacco smoke hung in the air along with the smell of cooking.
“Lord, ’tis so noisy in here!” Annie said, having to raise her voice for Ewan to hear her.
“Aye, let’s go tae the bar and get somethin’ tae drink. Now, remember, we’re husband and wife, eh?” He offered her his arm, and she took it as they went over to the bar.
She nodded. “Aye, I remember. Mr. and Mrs. Mackintosh from Oban.”
“That’s right. Now, look cheerful, as if ye’re the talkative type.”
“Och, I’ll make sure tae laugh uproariously at all yer jokes, Husband.”
“Is that nae part of yer wifely duties?” he asked and burst into peel of false laughter that drew glances for the other punters.
“Wheesht, ye fool!” she said, laughing herself and batting at his arm.
They reached the bar, and people politely moved out of Ewan’s way to let him through to order. He leaned a massive elbow on the counter and smiled down at Annie, enjoying her company in her feminine guise in this new setting. “Now, Mrs. Mackintosh, what’ll ye have?”
“What dae ladies drink in such establishments?” she asked, eyeing the bottles and flasks ranged behind the bar with curiosity from beneath her hood.
“Anythin’ they like, I should think. Wine?”
“Aye, I’ll have some wine, please,” she agreed with a nod. Ewan ordered a pint of ale for himself and wine for Annie. “Aye ye nae gonnae take yer hood down?” he asked as they waited for the barman to fetch their drinks.
“Nay, I’m still a wee bit cold. I’ll keep it up fer now,” she replied.
He shrugged, not thinking much of it. “All right, if that’s what ye want.” When the barman placed their drinks on the counter, Ewan took some time finding his change to pay the man. As he did so, he asked him, “What’s tae dae up at the castle?”
“Ach, the place has been under siege by an enemy laird fer three weeks now,” the barman, a small, wiry man with a thin beard, replied, holding out his hand for the payment.
“Is that so?” Ewan replied, counting out his coins slowly and placing them in the man’s palm one by one. “That’s a shock tae discover, indeed. Me and the wife here, we’ve come all the way from Oban tae visit her sister who works there as a maid. But when we got there today, ye can imagine how surprised we were tae find an army camped outside the gates. Some of the soldiers turned us away.”
“Aye, that’s Laird Ewan Ballentine’s army. But I doubt it’ll be there fer long,” the barman said, closing his palm over the coins.
“Oh, why’s that?”
“Rumor has it that reinforcements are comin’ any day now, sent by Laird Allen, the ally of our Laird Galbraith. Ballentine hasnae enough men tae defeat Laird Allen and Laird Galbraith’s forces together. Folks say the whole thing will blow over in a few weeks.”
“I see. Well, that’s unfortunate. We cannae wait about that long, can we, Wife?” he looked down at Annie.
“Nay, and ’tis very upsettin’, comin’ all this way for naethin’. I dae hope me poor sister’s all right in there. Three weeks is a long time tae be shut up like that,” she said, doing a very convincing job of sounding worried.
“Aye, it is. I dinnae wantae worry ye, Missus, but nae a morsel of food has gone in or out the place the whole time,” the barman answered, taking two empty tankards from the man waiting next to Ewan and starting to refill them with ale as he carried on chatting.
“I wouldnae be too sure of that,” Ewan said, pausing to take a deep draught of ale before he went on. “While we were there, we heard two of the soldiers talkin’ of a secret entrance tae the castle.”
“Did ye now?” The man flicked a glance at him and gave a small smile. “Ach, that’s just stories,” he said dismissively, handing the other customer his refilled tankards. He looked back at Ewan and added, “Ye must excuse me, I’ve other customers tae serve.”
“Aye, nice talkin’ tae ye,” Ewan said as the man moved off down the bar.
He and Annie stood at the bar for a little while until two seats at a table occupied by another couple became vacant. “Come on,” Ewan said, taking Annie’s arm once more and moving rapidly towards the table before anyone else could nab the seats.
“Are these seats taken?” he asked the couple politely.
The man shook his head. “Nay, help yersel’s,” he replied, raising his tankard in a half salute. He was a plump, clean-shaven fellow of about forty in a well-made coat. His double chin bulged over the collar of his neckcloth, giving him the air of an overweight otter. A prosperous farmer maybe, Ewan guessed.
“Thank ye kindly, Sir,” he replied with a slight bow. “A good evenin’ tae ye both.” He bestowed his most charming smile on the man’s wife, a thin woman with small, piercing gray eyes, a mass of red hair, and the red nose of a drinker. She smiled up at Ewan with thin, chapped lips, revealing two missing front teeth. He maintained his smile while shuddering inwardly at the frank admiration in her look.
He turned to Annie. “Annie, will ye sit down and take a rest, dear?” he asked, every inch the concerned husband as he pulled out a chair.
“Aye, sit yersel’s down and get comfy,” the woman said in a scratchy voice, her beady eyes resting unsettlingly on him.
“Thank ye, Husband, I will.” Annie smiled shyly at their new companions as she slipped into her seat and arranged her cloak around her. He noticed she still had not lowered her hood. He thought it a little odd since it was by no means cold in the bar. He was pleased when she addressed their companions in a friendly manner. “Good evenin’. Thank ye fer lettin’ us sit down. We’ve done so much travelin’ these last few days, I feel quite worn out.”
Good lass , Ewan thought, for it was a brilliant opener to introducing themselves and relate their fabricated story, in order to elicit the information he sought.
“There’s always been rumors of secret passages and such like under the castle, but that’s true of all those sorts of places,” said the man presently, now drinking the ale Ewan had supplied. His name was Bob Shilling, and he owned and ran a chandlery store in the next town with his wife Joyce. The couple were in Killicraigie visiting Joyce’s ailing mother.
“Aye, that’s very true, Bob,” Joyce piped up in her scratchy voice, her mass of hair bobbing as if it might fall off her head as she nodded. “But I grew up around here, and before I met Bob and married him, I used tae work at the castle as a laundry maid.”
Ewan’s ears perked up at that. He leaned his elbow on the table and gave her his best smile. “Is that so, Joyce? So, ye have firsthand knowledge of the place. How interestin’.”
Joyce’s small eyes gleamed as she returned his smile and leaned forward, giving him a good view of the tops of a pair of scrawny, freckled breasts. He tried not to look. “Aye, I dae. And I can tell ye for sure, there’s a whole nest of—oh!”
“Och, I’m so sorry,” Annie cried apologetically, having accidentally knocked her glass of wine over Joyce’s skirt. “How clumsy of me! Here, come tae the bar with me, and I’ll sponge that off fer ye before it stains.”
“Aye, let’s go. This is a new dress, and I dinnae want it ruined,” Joyce said, clearly annoyed. The two women hurried away to the bar.
Damn! We were just gettin’ somewhere then, Ewan thought, disappointed. He chatted idly to Bob as they waited for the women to return. He was anxious to hear what Joyce had to say. But when they came back, he was disappointed again. For as Joyce took her seat, with a big damp patch on the front of her skirt, Annie looked at him beseechingly and said, “Husband, I dinnae feel so good in here. D’ye think we could go? I need some fresh air.” She looked pale, and there was a fine sheen of perspiration on her forehead.
With his disappointment overtaken by real concern for her, he immediately stood up. They hurriedly bid the Shillings good night and wished them well for their stay. Then Ewan took Annie’s arm and escorted her out of the inn.