“We’ve no claim on her, lad. I’ve no right to bring her back,” Jamie said very quietly.
“You held yourself responsible for her. Are you forgetting that?”
“Only while she was here, lad,”
“But what if she comes to harm with Jameson?” Colen cried.
“Enough! You think I dinnawantto bring her back? I would like nothing more—but my hands are tied. If she were friend or foe of the MacKinnions I could do something, but the MacEwens are neither. Jameson knows that. He could raise a complaint with the king if I took the lass from him without a reason. That’s what’s needed, lad, a valid reason. You find me one, and I’ll bring her back, no matter who Jameson turns her over to.”
Crossing the river at that late night hour was a cold, dangerous business. But the horses had crossed in the same area many times before, and only one balked at the frigid water, dousing its rider. Luckily that horse was not Sir William’s, on which Sheena rode, trying in vain to relax against the strange body.
They had not turned east to Aberdeen, but were riding west, to Sir William’s home. Sheena accepted this. After all, it was late. She couldn’t very well expect to be taken the long way to Aberdeen just then.And the important thing was getting away from Castle Kinnion. She was safe now, her fears farther and farther behind her with every mile.
Where, then, was the peace of mind she had expected?
Chapter 22
“Sir Jamie!”
Jamie turned from his contemplation of the fire. One of his retainers was hurrying across the hall, leaving a trail of dripping water behind him. Poor Alwyn had been soaked through by the storm raging outside. His bonnet was askew, beads of water clung to his red beard and bushy brows, and his knobby knees were bone white and shaking.
“A bit chilly outside, is it?” Jamie said, grinning and shaking his head at Alwyn’s condition.
“That it is,” Alwyn agreed.
Jamie ordered blankets, and Alwyn stepped closer to the fire. The weather had taken a turn for the worse the day after Sheena’s disappearance, five days before. Jamie had spent two days in Aberdeen, a waste of time as it turned out. He had searched everywhere for Erminia MacEwen, even spent half a day at the poorhouse, set upon by beggars. But noone had heard of a MacEwen nun. Lies. He should have known.
His thoughts were as dark as the sky. He had been willing to humble himself. If he had found her, he would have pleaded with her rather than lose her. But what if he couldn’t find her?
He gave Alwyn his full attention. “How far down was the party sighted?” It was Jamie’s sister’s party, traveling in the storm.
“Yer canna see sae very far wi’ rain as thick as this, but they’re just outside.”
“And which sister is it who’s ventured out in this wretched weather?”
“Mistress Daphne.”
Jamie scowled. “I should’ve guessed. No doubt Jessie Martin’s spun some wild tale about her treatment here, and now Dobbin’s come to learn the truth of it.”
“I didna see Dobbin Martin.”
“Who did you see out there?”
“Well, I do believe ’tis The MacDonough escorting yer sister.”
“The hell!” Jamie growled. “How dare he come here after wedding a Fergusson?”
“Did he? Yer’ve had news?”
“No’ recently, but what was to stop him? If he’s here to petition peace for his bride’s kin, he’s in for a sore disappointment.” Jamie clenched his fists, anger mounting. “Curse the man! Has he brought his bride with him?”
“I canna say, Sir Jamie,” Alwyn replied, growing exceedingly uncomfortable so near Jamie’s anger.
“If he has, she’s no’ to be let through the gate. Go, give the order now!”
Alwyn was aghast. “Yer’d turn a poor lassie away in this weather?”
Jamie stared hard at the man. After a few moments, he sighed. “I suppose that wouldna be very hospitable of me, would it now? You’re right. And now I think of it, I’ve a mind to look over this particular Fergusson. She’s old Dugald’s favorite, you know.”
