Once the plans had been made for the following day, Agnes and Ceana led Maggie, Braden and Sin into the castle to feed them and to finalize their preparations. Maggie stayed only long enough to make sure everything would be ready, and then her nerves got the better of her.
Unlike the men, she didn’t feel like eating. Not when her stomach was tied into so many knots, and so many doubts plagued her.
She needed a breath of fresh air, and some time alone to think. Time alone where no one could see the numerous uncertainties that shredded her confidence and left her vulnerable and scared.
Heading out of the donjon, Maggie paused at the top of the stairs to glance about the bailey. Rushlights had been lit, and the women along the parapets had ceased their taunting of the men in order to eat their suppers and gossip with each other.
None of them paid her any heed as she descended the steps, then walked aimlessly around the dark yard.
What have I gotten myself into now?
True, the three of them were still alive, but there was a lot more to do before she would feel victorious. After all, everything hinged on the fact that the MacDouglas would care if something happened to his wife.
If he didn’t...
Maggie trembled, then pulled her plaid shawl tighter around her shoulders.
As she rounded the side of the keep, a shadow drew her attention. She paused and turned her head to look at it.
At first, she thought she might be seeing things, but the faint outline of a body was all too clear. Someone was skulking about, and unless her instincts were wrong, the shadow was watching her.
Frowning, she took a step forward to peer a little more closely at her specter. The shadow stepped back, away from the moonlight and her ability to see it clearly. Maggie felt a moment’s reservation, but the shadow didn’t look very large or dangerous.
Ultimately, her curiosity overrode her trepidation.
Determined to learn who was watching her and why, Maggie closed in on the shadow, only to find a lad of about seven years shirking away from her.
His face panicked, he glanced about for a way to escape.
“It’s all right,” Maggie said gently, relieved to find the lad, and not a man bent on mischief.
No doubt, the boy was only hungry and searching for food, or his mother. “I mean you no harm.”
She still couldn’t see his features plainly, but she could see the basic contours of a thin, narrow face. For several seconds, she stood completely still as he sized her up. By the shadowy curl of his lip, she could tell he found her lacking in some way.
“Are you that MacAllister lass?” he asked tentatively. “I was told ya had short hair.”
“Aye, I am she.”
Maggie heard his sigh of relief. And too late, she remembered Robby MacDouglas’s words about her head. And the value of it brought to him on a pike. Could the boy possibly be after that?
It seemed unlikely, but why else would he want to find her?
“And who are you?” she asked.
“Me name’s Connor.”
Maggie smiled. How sweet, it was the same name as Braden’s horse. “And what is it you want with me, Connor?”
The boy stepped into the bright circle of moonlight to where Maggie could finally see him.
Her breath caught in her throat, for never had she seen a more perfect duplication of Braden. The lad’s black hair was wild and in need of a trim. His long, lanky frame needed steady meals, but those eyes...
She’d know those greenish brown eyes anywhere. But whereas Braden’s were teasing and bright, the boy’s were hard and jaded. Angry and harsh.
“I want you to take me home,” he said.
Maggie’s chest drew even tighter at the boy’s request.
