Chapter Thirty-Four
The house lay quiet. Once again, to Alan, it seemed almost too quiet. The rain, which had slacked somewhat, made sounds like footsteps, and he whirled more than once, which made Annista seize the back of his cotte. He lit no candle, but once his eyes adjusted he could see well enough.
Archie kept watch at the front door, and he was awake. He assured Alan all was quiet and the master had not yet returned.
Where was his father now? Where, for all that, was Evan?
The kitchens lay empty and echoing, and made the hairs on the back of Alan’s neck stand up. Too many shadows. Another of the footmen guarded the rear door and looked startled to see them.
“All quiet?”
“Aye, Master Alan. There be a light on across the way, in the stables.”
So there was, dim and flickering. Somehow it lent a feeling of disquiet rather than safety.
“Come along,” he told Annista.
One of the stable boys sat just inside the door, fast asleep. When Alan nudged him, he leaped up in alarm.
“Peace, lad. All quiet here?”
“Aye, Master. Angus and Billy went to bed. I was keeping watch…” He flushed miserably.
“Ye’ve seen or heard naught?”
The lad shook his head.
Alan moved on, with Annista now clutching his arm. They went from stall to stall, checking even the empty boxes. When they reached Tempest, Annista let herself into the stall and laid her hands on the big horse’s neck.
“How is he?” he asked her.
“Still on his feet, at least.” When Tempest lifted his head in response to her touch, Annista added, “Better. Evan has no’ been here. If he had, he’d ha’ finished the beast.”
“I think ye’re right.”
“How long, d’ye think, till morning?”
“Hard to say. When it gets light, I mean to take Chieftain and go out looking again.”
Their eyes met and she tipped up her chin. “Then I go wi’ ye.”
“No’ a good idea, Annista.”
“I am no’ letting ye go out there on your own. If ye meet up and fight him again—”
“I will tak’ Seumas wi’ me.”
“Poor Seumas will need to sleep.”
“One o’ the others, then. Ye stay here wi’ yer fierce knife and keep guard.”
She drew a breath. “I do no’ like it.”
“There will, so I fear, be much neither o’ us likes before this is done.
****
The sun rose through a blanket of blood-red clouds, and Earl MacKallan did not return. Annista could not but consider that gory dawning a bad sign. She shuddered to think what this day would bring.
And what might befall her husband.
It shocked her a bit—aye, more than a bit—to realize how her allegiance had shifted. From her mother and, by way of her, Robena, to her husband. Yet vengeance aside, there was naught she could do for poor Robena, who slept in the cold ground, while her husband was alive and vital and…
Well, she desired every inch of him.
Was this all about desire? Surely not. She appreciated many other things about him. His steadiness and his strength. The way he thought about things, not rushing to anger. His deep-down gentleness, which she glimpsed when she gazed into his eyes.
A lad with such a gentle heart never stood a chance against Evan. He must have been badgered and bullied all his life. Yet he’d retained a very potent decency.
A woman could well give her heart to such a man. Had she already? Well…
The house came alive soon after dawn. Mistress MacKallan emerged from her chamber with her woman at her back, the lady looking woefully upset.
“Yer father has no’ returned,” she told Alan when they met in the great hall. “I am sore worried. Where can he be? Out all night in that rain.”
“Aye. I mean to go out searching at once.”
“We mean to go,” Annista asserted.
“Och, but son—your wound!”
“It has closed over.”
Did he lie? Annista shifted her gaze to his face and decided that yes, he did. As he’d lied to her last night when he said none of their indulgences had hurt?
Och, she must be more careful of him, if he would not be careful of himself.
“And,” Alan directed what he no doubt meant to be a stern look at her, “ye will no’ be coming wi’ me. I thought we settled this?”
“Ye thought wrong.”
Lady MacKallan looked from one to the other of them as if she sensed the change in their relationship. Hesitantly, she said, “Son, mayhap Annista is right. Ye should no’ go alone. Yer father went wi’ two footmen and we ha’ no idea what happened to him out there.”
“He will be back soon, I am certain.”
“Wha’ if—”
Alan turned to his mother. “Pray do no’ think such thoughts.”
“But—how can it end? I ha’ prayed on it, most the night. I canna see a way—”
“Mother, please calm yoursel’. I will go now and see can one o’ the grooms accompany me.”
Lady MacKallan nodded. Annista chafed but said nothing—at least not until she’d followed Alan out to the yard.
“There are nay extra horses,” she said.
“Eh?”
“Naught for a groom to ride. If ye tak’ me wi’ ye, we can ride double on Chieftain.”
He caught her by the shoulders. “Annista—”
A clatter interrupted him. Earl MacKallan rode into the yard, the two manservants on foot behind him. They were all wet to the skin and looked miserable. Lord MacKallan slumped in his seat and the unfortunate footmen appeared exhausted.
“Father?” Alan hurried over to them.
The earl cast him a look before turning to the men and saying, “Go get dry, tak’ a hot meal and then rest.”
They nodded and slogged off to the house.
Lord MacKallan said to Alan, “We tramped all night, every godforsaken place we could think to look, but did no’ catch so much as a glimpse o’ him. I no longer can imagine where he might be.”
Lady MacKallan came hurrying out from the kitchen door. “Neilan! Are ye hurt? Injured?”
“Nay, wife. Just weary and wet to the bone.”
“Come awa’ in. The breakfast is laid in the hall. Did ye find—”
“No’ hide nor hair o’ him.” Earl MacKallan dismounted stiffly, showing his age and weariness. One of the stable lads came out and led away his mount.
Alan and Annista were left standing together.
She gazed at him. “Wha’ will ye do? Surely ye need no’ go out if Earl MacKallan ha’ already searched everywhere.”
“We know he was at the Duncans’. I will ride there first and then try to determine where he might ha’ gone from there. Think like him.”
Impossible, Annista decided.
“Verra well,” she declared. “But as I say, ’tis cruel to mak’ any o’ the servants follow ye on foot, and your father’s mount needs rest. Alan,” she laid her hand on his arm, “let me come.”
Was it her use of his given name that moved him? Did her touch remind him of all they had shared last night?
Either way, he relented. “Aye so, but we will no’ ride far.”
“Fine, that, since ye should no’ strain that wound, by any road.”
Alan saddled Chieftain and led him out with his own hands, but they told old Billy that Annista was accompanying him so no one in the house would worry for her.
They rode out beneath that blood-red sky, Alan taking Annista on the saddle in front of him, clutched tight in his arms.
They rode first to the Duncans’ holding along the twisting lane that passed as the main road. They paused only briefly at the gate where they could see the roof of the barn still smoking. They did not linger.
Alan looked alert, as if scanning his surroundings. Annista, glancing up into his face, saw the red dawn light reflected in his eyes.
“This way,” he decided, and rode on.
Annista grew nervous. So determined had she been to accompany him so he should not go alone, she hadn’t given sufficient thought to the rest of it.
What would happen if they did encounter Evan?
Just the two of them and that madman, perhaps in some quiet place.
Alan already injured. Could she defend him?
She had her knife, aye, but had she the courage?