Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Maura pulled up her hood as she slipped unseen into the street. Moving quickly, she headed toward the loch and found the narrow road that bordered it. Walking north, she intended to continue until the road disappeared into the woodlands north of town. She would not lose her way if she kept to the water’s edge and followed it west in the direction of the highlands.
She avoided thinking about her theft of the highlander’s map and concentrated on getting away from Fort William, as far and as quickly as possible. She knew it had been wrong to take the map, but perhaps her guilt could be ameliorated by the good use she would put it to. Surely, saving her helpless sister was a justifiable reason for her thievery.
It was not the first impulsive act of her life and Maura doubted it would be her last. Her quick actions were never mindless, but always based on some innate instinct. Sometimes her deeds landed her in serious trouble, but she never regretted them—especially her rash behavior on the day Rosie was born.
Maura had been hiding in the room where her mother labored loudly and painfully with her twelfth child. From what Maura could tell, the bairn had come early, and the birth had not gone well. Rosie had been born far too tiny, her color a sickly gray. The poor bairn did not cry, and she hardly moved in the well-used crib in which the midwife had placed her. But Maura had loved her on first sight, her wee rosebud lips and perfect little fingers and toes.
Lord Aucharnie had roared his displeasure with his wife, with the midwife, and with the tiny, frail bairn. He had given orders for his child to be left alone to die. His own child.
Maura had no intention of allowing her father to kill her tiny sister. The midwife had made no objection when Maura had wrapped the bairn in soft wool and taken her from the castle. She’d run through the Aucharnie hills to her refuge from her father’s frequent wrath—the quiet warmth of Deirdre Elliott’s cottage. Deirdre’s own bairn, Janet, was but a few months old, and Maura knew the woman would be able to feed her sister.
Maura’s father, however, had shown his rage through the use of a stout birch switch to Maura’s backside when he discovered what she’d done. By then, Rosie had reached the age of two years, though she had not thrived like the Elliott children. Lord Aucharnie was disgusted with them both—at Rosie for being so backward, and at Maura for her defiance.
The two sisters were outcasts within their own family. But at least they had each other.
Maura walked on. The night was clear and there was sufficient moonlight for her to find her way without falling into the loch. She was a strong hiker, having walked all over the hills and glens ’round Aucharnie, and with an escort after being sent to Glasgow. She’d learned from experience that it was necessary to do her hiking off the beaten path or someone would surely find her.
She pressed her tidy leather purse against her waist, reassuring herself that she had sufficient money for food and shelter during her travels, and eventually to take Rosie far away from Scotland. Once she was far enough away from Fort William, she was going to see how the highlander’s map fit against Argyll’s, and mayhap she would discover where to look for the treasure.
Moving along as quickly as possible, Maura soon turned west where she took note of a shadowy village in the distance on her right. She kept her head down, stayed close to the cover of the trees that lined her path, and continued on the north bank of the loch.
As practiced a hiker as she was, Maura had never before walked out in the middle of the night. The sound of the wind rustling through the trees unnerved her, and she huddled deeper within her cloak as she walked. And while she hoped that daylight would come soon, she wanted to put a good many miles between herself and the fort before Lieutenant Baird awoke and discovered she was gone.
Thinking of her odious escort, Maura quickened her pace. She would walk as long as her legs would carry her, then find a place to rest while she hid from anyone who might come searching for her.
Dugan woke from a restless sleep. ’Twas still dark, but his dream...
He sat up abruptly and looked about the room. All his men were still asleep. As he should be.
He rubbed the back of his neck. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones. He reached down below his knee and found his father’s dagger, his sgian dubh, still secure in his stocking. ’Twas the only thing of value—
Dugan grabbed his pack and tore open the laces. He reached inside. “Where in hell is the map?”
“What?” Lachann sat up and scrubbed his hand over his face as Dugan lit the lamps. “The map?”
The other men awoke as Dugan looked in every corner, then searched under the cushions of each chair of the sitting room.
It could not be lost.
“You put it in your pack,” Lachann said. “Did you wake up during the night and look at it?”
“No,” Dugan growled. He’d spent the entire night dreaming of a certain russet-haired beauty. “Someone took it from my pack.”
“Laird, are ye saying someone slinked in here like a wee stoat and stole it from under our noses?” Archie asked.
Aye, that was exactly what must have happened, and the thief might not have gotten far. Dugan started for the door, trying to think who might have heard Archie’s mention of the map and decided to search their belongings for it.
Anyone in the taproom could have heard Archie before Dugan had quashed his loose talk. But who would have had the audacity to come into the room and dig inside his pack for it?
Dugan stepped outside and looked all ’round, but saw no one. He realized the thief might still be inside the inn, sleeping contentedly until dawn when he could leave with impunity. Dugan had no authority to call for a search of the inn or any of the guests.
He returned to the sitting room.
Lachann stood with his arms folded across his chest. “How could anyone sneak in here with all of us—”
“We all slept soundly for the first time in a fortnight,” Dugan said. “They might have set fire to the place and none of us would have noticed it until our hair was on fire.”
“It makes no sense, Dugan. Who knew we had pieces of the French map?”
Dugan shook his head. He did not know, but he could not just stand there doing naught but scratching his head. He turned to his men. “All of you—get your horses and take to the road. Two of you ride southward, the rest of you head north and see if you can find our thief. If he’s left the inn, he couldn’t have gone far. Lachann, come with me.”
“What are you going to do, Dugan?”
“If anyone in this place is up and about,” he said, “that could be our thief.”
“You’re going to listen at every door?”
“If need be.” Dugan headed up the stairs and when he reached the top, noted one door that was slightly ajar. He pushed it open and saw that the room was empty.
“I thought there were no spare rooms to let,” Lachann whispered.
“Damn all,” Dugan muttered. ’Twas Lady Maura’s room. With his own eyes, he’d seen Baird escort her to it.
The fire was out, but Dugan could see that the lady had done no more than lie on top of the bedclothes—probably so she would not become too comfortable and sleep through until morning.
The wench had decided to steal from him last night, when the taste of him was still on her lips.
“Do you think she left alone, Dugan?” Lachann asked quietly.
“I doubt it,” he replied. “What highborn lady would go off in the night without a servant or two to take care of her?”
“Or an escort.”
“Aye.”
’Twas infuriating. To have been so taken in by a bonny face and form. He and Lachann returned to the main floor, Dugan vowing never again to be so taken in.
Had Maura and Baird concocted a quick plan together after hearing Archie’s slip of the tongue? She had not seemed particularly glad of Baird’s company, but mayhap he was her only choice.
Damn all!Dugan wanted to punch his fist through a wall. He could not believe he’d been so lax that he’d allowed the woman to steal away his only possibility of raising the funds he needed to keep his clan on their land.
As the sun rose, Dugan and Lachann gathered their belongings together. They heard activity in the kitchen and found the innkeeper there, along with two maids. Dugan made haste in settling his account with the man, asking him if he knew when Lady Maura’s party had left the inn.
“They hav’na left, Laird.” The man frowned fiercely. “At least, not that I know of. They’ve no’ paid me fer their lodgings.”
No, of course they had not settled their account, not if they—
A shrill voice and the clomping of heavy shoes on the staircase interrupted Dugan’s thoughts. The old woman he had seen with Lady Maura burst into the kitchen. “She’s gone!” she cried. “Gone!”
“Lady Maura, ye mean?” asked the innkeeper.
“Well, who else would I be talking about, man?” the woman demanded in a panicked but decidedly sour tone. “Where could she have gone?”
The innkeeper spoke to one of the maids. “Go out to the privy and see if the lady is there.”
“I’ve been there, sir,” the old woman countered. “Which is why I know that Lady Maura is not there or in her room!”
Dugan stepped forward. “What about her lieutenant?”
The old woman looked askance at Dugan for suggesting the possibility that the two were together, but turned to the innkeeper. “Rouse Lieutenant Baird, sir.” Then she turned to Dugan and pointed one pale finger at him. “And you keep out of this, you ... you ... highlander!”
Dugan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a large, heavy worktable. “Nay, woman. I do not think so,” he said in his most intimidating tone. ’Twould take only a moment to confirm or deny Baird’s absence, then Dugan intended to go after Maura. Mayhap his men had already found them.
Deep color rose upon the old woman’s cheeks. She turned in a huff and followed the innkeeper out of the kitchen. Dugan returned to the sitting room and once again tore through every corner and every cushion of every piece of furniture, hoping to find the map tucked away somewhere.
He swore again, furious not only with Maura, but with himself. He never should have assumed they were safe in the inn. He should have posted a guard last night.
Dugan caught sight of Bryce and Kieran outside, returning to the inn after their search. Lady Maura was not with them.
A moment later, he heard the sound of voices above stairs, and soon Lieutenant Baird was racing down to the ground floor. He wore only his trews and shirt, and had not even taken the time to pull on his boots. “She must be here somewhere, by God!”
If Lieutenant Napper was still there, then where was Lady Maura? Had she gone off by herself? ’Twas unthinkable.
“You there!” the lieutenant called to Dugan.
Dugan did not even pretend to listen to the man. He shouldered his pack and started out the door, determined to go after the little thief himself. But the lieutenant grabbed his arm as he passed.
“I’m speaking to you, highlander!”
Dugan pulled away and headed out the door. “You may be speaking, but I’ve better things to do than listen to a bloody Sassenach.”
“Send someone to the fort for my men!” Baird ordered the innkeeper.
“What about me?” the Hammond woman whined.
“Well, what about you, woman?” Christ almighty. He could not lose Maura. At least, not unintentionally.
“What are you going to do? What shall I do?”
“I do not give a bloody hell what you do,” he said. He caught the innkeeper before the man went to find a messenger. “I want this building searched, top to bottom.”
The innkeeper shot Baird a look of indignation. “Lieutenant Baird, I cannot rouse every patron from his bed!”
“Aye, you can and you will. Unless you’d like me to bring soldiers from the garrison to do it for you.”
Goddamn it, the wench had not waited until her arrival in Cromarty to rebel against her father’s wishes as Baird had assumed.
“Ach, dear heavens, where would she go? Home?” the Hammond woman whined.
Baird’s mind raced. He’d known she would at least attempt to talk the baron out of marriage, and if that didn’t work, then try something drastic.
’Twas likely she’d found someone to take her back to Glasgow. Or even to Aucharnie Castle to confront her father. Baird went to the window and watched carefully as the highlanders gathered in front of the inn, and knew she was not with them.
So where was she and with whom?
He wondered if she’d found a soldier to escort her back south. God knew there were plenty of them about Fort William, but if he laid hands on any such soldier, the man was going to suffer court-martial for his actions.
Baird climbed to his room to dress properly for a day that was likely to get worse before it got any better. This was not at all what he had in mind when he considered ridding Lord Aucharnie of his troublesome daughter.