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"He told Danvries to meet him at the barn after he'd fetched ye."
"I see," Murine said on a sigh.
"Anyway, while we were waiting in there for the men to move on, the Connor fellow kept demanding that Danvries tell him where some will was and to give it to him. He seemed quite angry about it. Why does he care about some old will?"
Murine's mouth twisted and she said, "I suspect aside from everything else, Connor is tired o' blackmail and hopes to be rid of all his problems here today. If he gets the will back, Danvries can't blackmail him with it anymore."
"You and me, we're a part o' those problems ye're thinking he wants to be rid of, aren't we?" Alpin asked solemnly.
"I'm afraid so," she acknowledged.
"And the Englishman is blackmailing him? That's the other problem?" he asked.
"Aye," she whispered.
Alpin worked silently for a minute and then asked, "What will happen if the Englishman gives him the will?"
"I suspect Connor will try to kill you and I, make it look like my brother did it and then probably kill him and take his body away somewhere it would no' be found," she said honestly. There was no sense lying. The boy had already proven himself smart enough to see through it had she tried.
"Aye. I suspect ye're right," Alpin said quietly. After another moment of silence, he asked, "Is yer brother likely to give him the will?"
"Nay," she said with certainty. "Montrose has a healthy sense o' self-preservation."
"Ye mean he's a coward," Alpin suggested.
"That too," Murine said dryly.
"Good," Alpin said staunchly. "He'll keep him talking fer a good while then, and that'll give us a chance to try to escape."
Murine smiled faintly at the brave words and suddenly thought she understood why Saidh was so attached to the boy.
"What is it?"
"I'm no' sure." Dougall straightened and turned over the bit of lace he'd spotted on the ground. It had seemed to take forever for he and Bowie to reach this cave at the end of the passage, and they'd arrived only to find it empty except for the bit of lace in his hand. Frowning, he dangled it from his fingers and noted that it was a circle. Eyebrows drawing together, he muttered, "I believe it is the trim from the sleeve o' me wife's gown."
"Really?" Bowie moved closer to peer at it with excitement. "She must have ripped it off and left it behind for us to find. She's leaving us a trail."
"Aye," Dougall closed his fingers over the bit of cloth and raised his torch a little higher to peer around, but everything was dark outside the circle the torch cast. "Where is the exit?"
"Over here." Bowie led him to an arch in the stone with bushes growing high beyond it.
No one would have found the entrance to the cave from outside if they hadn't already known it was there and been searching for it, Dougall thought as he started to push through the bushes.
"Wait!" Bowie caught at his arm. "Shouldn't we tell the others? We might need help getting her back. We do no' ken who has her or how many men they have with them, or how they left here. They may be on horseback and we are on foot."
Dougall frowned, but then nodded. "Aye. Go back, tell them what we found, then bring men out on horseback. Bring my mount too. In the meantime, I'll look around and see if she's left a trail. If she has I'll follow it, but leave it in place for ye to follow on yer return."
Bowie hesitated, looking as if he wanted to protest his going alone, but then nodded and turned to head back toward the entrance to the passage, saying, "If ye find them, wait for our help. I'll return as quickly as I can."
Dougall merely grunted a response that could be taken as Bowie wished, and ducked out of the cave. If he found Murine and she was in peril, he wasn't going to wait. He wasn't sure he could wait even if she wasn't in immediate peril. It just wasn't in him to stand by and watch the woman he loved suffer pain or torment or even just fear if there was something he could do about it.
Steps slowing to a halt, Dougall stared around the clearing he now stood in. It was on the edge of a loch and looked serene and beautiful. And he'd just described his wife, at least in his own thoughts, as the woman he loved.
Dougall lowered the torch he held. It was still daylight, though the sun was dipping toward the horizon. However the torch was unnecessary.
"I love me wife," he muttered. Damn, that didn't seem a good thing, not with the way trouble followed her. So far Murine had done nothing but faint, take an arrow, and run about in burning buildings rather than see herself safe. Now she'd gone and got herself kidnapped by either her brother or some other villain to boot. If she carried on this way the woman would be in her grave ere she'd seen thirty years. Or he would because his heart had seized up from all the trials she got herself into . . . and still he loved her.
Was not that just perfect, he thought dryly and moved to the edge of the loch to douse his torch in the water. He couldn't go fall in love with a prim miss who would stay where he put her and do what she was told. Nay. Not Dougall Buchanan. He fell in love with a little hellion who threw grown men down burning stairs and dragged others out bedchamber windows using a damned bed linen and shutter as a pulley.
The thought of how that must have looked brought a smile to Dougall's face, as he tossed the torch aside and began to search the clearing for any bit of cloth his wife might have left behind. Murine might be a passel of trouble, but she was never boring and was definitely damned clever, he decided as he spotted a bit of white on the green grass at the opposite edge of the clearing. It was just a part of the trim this time, he noted, examining it briefly. Setting it back down for the others to find when they followed, he started into the woods. He moved slowly, eyes scanning the ground for the next bit of lace, and hoped like hell that wherever she'd been taken to wasn't far, else she'd be naked by the time she got there.
"There," Alpin breathed with relief as Murine felt the rope fall away from her wrists.
"Good," she murmured, keeping her hands exactly where they were. "Now give me your hands and let me see if I can free you."
She felt his wrists bump against her hands, and quickly explored with her fingers, trying to sort out what was what. Murine soon decided that it was much harder than she would have expected to sort out ropes and knots that you couldn't see. She was frowning in concentration and tugging on a particular strand of rope, when Connor suddenly pounded the makeshift barrel table and bellowed, "I want the damned will, Monti. I'm no' a cow fer ye to milk all the days o' me life."
Murine eyed the pair warily, her fingers moving more quickly on the rope around Alpin's wrists. Connor obviously had no intention of even pretending to try to convince her to support their claim that the switched will was the true one. She suspected he'd just used that excuse to get Montrose out here to take her. He'd probably planned all along to find out where the will was and kill them both. That seemed the smarter plan to her. MacIntyre would hardly push the issue about the will once she was dead.
Murine paused in her efforts to untie Alpin as it occurred to her that the attacks on the way to and at Buchanan might not have been directed at Dougall at all. The men had been sure they were at the time and she'd agreed with them because she hadn't thought there might be anyone out there who would want her dead, but now . . .
She stared at Connor silently, considering that he might have shot her with the arrow. He might also have set the fire at the lodge, she realized and recalled the bit of cloth she'd found on the window ledge. It had been made up of yellow, green and red threads, she recalled and peered at the tartan Connor was wearing. It was made up of yellow, green and red threads.
"M'lady?" Alpin said anxiously.
Recalled to her task, Murine mumbled an apology and began to work again on the rope, but her mind was racing now. Connor must have been
at the lodge. He must have been the one who drugged the cider and set the fire. He'd probably come up with the idea to kill her on his way home from court. Surely he would have been in a panic at the possibility that he was about to be discovered, what with MacIntyre demanding to see the will. He would have been trying to find a way out of his problem, and killing her would have been the easy answer.
But how had he known where to find her? Murine wondered with a frown. He shouldn't have known she'd fled Danvries, let alone that she was traveling with the Buchanans. Unless he'd stopped at Danvries first and spoken to Montrose.
Her gaze shifted to her half brother. Montrose was bargaining and wheedling with Connor. She recognized the obsequious expression on his face combined with the calculating glitter in his eyes. It meant he was saying what he thought would appease Connor, while calculating what he could get away with. She suspected he'd be lucky to get away with his life this time. A man who would burn seven innocent men to death to see that one woman died was not one to be trifled with.
"Ye did it," Alpin hissed and the rope and his hands suddenly pulled away from her busy fingers. "Ye loosened it enough I can get me hands out."
"Don't," Murine instructed at once. "Pretend they're still tight. The rope is in front on ye and we might need them to think we're still bound."
"A' right," Alpin said softly.
Murine hesitated, then started to shift again, this time moving so her back was to the wall, and then easing back to it.
"What are ye doing?" Alpin asked under his breath.
"The bottom o' the wall is made of fieldstone and old. One o' them might be loose," she breathed as she came up against the stone wall.
"Should I--" Alpin began, but paused when she shook her head abruptly.
"Nay. I'll try to find ye one too. But they might notice if we move around too much."
Alpin nodded at that and Murine concentrated on running her hands over the stones behind her back. Much to her surprise, she was quick to find one that shifted under her touch. Concentrating on that stone, she worked it back and forth a bit and then it slid easily out . . . and was followed by several more that just slid down with it. Good Lord, the wall was ready to crumble around them, Murine thought and winced as the stones clacked together. The noise seemed extremely loud to her, but the two men at the other end of the barn didn't seem to notice. At least they didn't look around.
