Chapter 22 #2
Evan reached into his tunic and withdrew the scrap of cloth he had prepared earlier—a bit of material in the clan colors of the neighboring estate. He dropped it near the hedgerow, where it caught on a branch.
Evidence. Obvious enough to be found. Subtle enough to seem like a mistake.
God help him, he despised how good he was at this.
The fire roared higher, flames licking up the timber frame. Sparks spiraled into the sky. Shouts erupted from the settlement. Somewhere a lantern flared to life.
“Time to go,” Evan muttered.
They melted back into the darkness, skirting the edge of the fields as the first bell began to clang—a frantic, uneven sound. Behind them, the barn blazed. Evan didn’t look back.
“That’ll stir things,” Tam said with satisfaction.
“Aye,” Key agreed. “MacInnes will be pleased.”
Evan said nothing.
Ahead, his manor house loomed out of the night, dark and silent. His neck prickled. The third of his minders—Angus Gowan—should have been stationed near the outer wall, keeping watch. But there was no sign of him.
Key had also noticed the man’s absence. “Where is that stupid bastard?”
Evan scanned the shadows. The door to the manor stood closed. No lantern light showed through the windows.
“He wouldn’t leave his post,” Tam said, though doubt crept into his tone.
Evan growled under his breath. “Check the back.”
Tam peeled off into the darkness. Key and Evan moved toward the door. Evan had just reached for the latch when he heard a sound—raised voices approaching from the road. Boots scuffing dirt. A low murmur of anger.
He turned as a small group of men emerged from the gloom, lantern light swinging wildly. At their center, half-dragged, half-shoved, was Angus Gowan. He sported a split lip and a swollen eye.
Hamish strode at the front of the group, carrying a stout staff. The group stopped a few paces in front of Evan and shoved Gowan forward. The man stumbled, barely catching himself.
Gowan spat blood into the dirt. “Bunch of oversensitive—”
Key stepped in fast, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him upright. “Shut yer mouth.”
Hamish’s gaze flicked to Evan, but Evan glanced away, unable to meet the headman’s eyes. Shame roiled through him. What must Hamish think of him? These were the same men who had attacked him, and now he was working with them? He wished he could tell Hamish the truth, but knew he could not.
“This man came into the village drunk,” Hamish said. “Loud. Cornered Myra’s daughter and tried putting his hands where they weren’t wanted.”
Evan’s jaw clenched so tight it hurt. “Ye were told to stay here,” he hissed at Gowan.
Gowan shrugged, wincing as the movement tugged at his bruises. “Got bored.”
Bored. Evan could feel every pair of eyes on him. Watching. Judging. It took all his restraint not to pummel Gowan bloody.
“I apologize,” he said to Hamish, each word measured. “This willnae happen again.”
Hamish held his gaze and he saw doubt and distrust in his old friend’s eyes. But he said nothing. After all, it was not his place to question the laird. He and the others turned, lantern light bobbing as they retreated down the road.
Evan stood very still until they were out of sight. Then he moved. He grabbed Gowan by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the door hard enough to rattle the frame.
“You stupid bastard! Didnae I tell ye to keep away from the village?”
Gowan bared bloodied teeth. “They started it.”
He drove a fist into Gowan’s stomach. The man doubled over with a grunt.
“Ye think MacInnes will be pleased if ye blow our cover?” he snarled. “If the villagers start telling tales?”
Gowan wheezed, clutching his middle. “Who cares what they say? They’re just peasants.”
“They’re witnesses, ye fool!”
He released him with a shove. Gowan slid to the ground, swearing under his breath.
“One more stunt like that and I’ll see ye sent back to MacInnes in pieces,” Evan snarled.
Gowan glared up at him but said nothing.
Key hauled him to his feet. “Inside,” he ordered.
They dragged him through the door. Evan followed them inside and began pacing the length of the bare hall. His pulse refused to settle, and Hamish’s face lingered in his mind.
That look. He had seen it before—in men who’d decided he couldn’t be trusted. Seeing it on his old friend’s face cut like a blade.
Evan braced his hands on the mantel, staring at the cold stone. He could still feel the heat of the flames of the barn against his skin. Still hear the crackle of timber giving way.
How far would he have to go before MacInnes was satisfied? And how much of himself would be left when he did?
The bigger goal, he reminded himself. Keep in mind the bigger goal.
He wondered how many more lines he would have to cross to make that happen.
And whether, when it was done, he would recognize himself.
RUBY PULLED HER CLOAK tighter as she picked her way along the narrow track behind the smithy, boots sinking into the churned earth. The sky hung low and pewter-gray, and threatened more rain. It had been raining on and off all day.
She found Hamish waiting for her, broad shoulders hunched as he stood by the door, looking out into the gathering dusk.
“There ye are, lass,” he said. “I was beginning to think ye weren’t coming.”
“I had to make sure I wasn’t followed.” Ruby stopped a few feet from him, scanning the slope that led down toward the village green. “So. Tell me.”
Hamish exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his beard. “Evan and two of MacInnes’ men went out last night. They didnae come back until after dark.”
“Where did they go? To meet MacInnes?” Hope flared in her chest. If that was the case, then Evan’s plan was going better than expected.
But Hamish shook his head. “I dinna think so. They headed south, towards the Byre estate.” He hesitated. “And this morning, word came that there had been a fire there overnight.”
Ruby’s stomach dropped. So it had begun. “Anything else?”
“One of MacInnes’ men got drunk last night. Said things he shouldnae have. Hinted at levies and punishments. Spoke of ‘teaching the village a lesson’ if we didnae fall in line.”
“Who heard?”
“Half the village,” Hamish replied grimly. “And the other half heard about it before dawn.”
Of course they had. News here traveled faster than broadband ever had in Edinburgh.
“As a result, the villagers are restless,” Hamish said. “They dinna know the truth and they willnae long tolerate a laird who shows up after years of absence and then proceeds to let his men behave like bullies. I willnae be able to placate them for long. Evan has to find MacInnes’ location soon.”
Ruby turned away, staring toward the distant line of trees where the road curved out of sight. “I know. But what can we do?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Hamish replied. “And I may have a way to speed things up.”
“How?”
He hesitated. “It’s best ye dinna know.”
Ruby frowned. “I don’t like that answer.”
“Sometimes not knowing is the best protection.”
She huffed out a breath and glanced towards Evan’s manor house. “All right. But please be careful.”
He smiled crookedly. “Always.”
As she turned to leave, the wind picked up again, sharp and insistent, whipping Ruby’s cloak around her legs.
Hurry, Evan, she thought. We’re running out of time.