“Aye, I’m sorry, me laird, but she was clearly forewarned and had help gettin’ away,” the sergeant hurriedly explained.
“Is that so? Then whoever helped her will pay dearly,” Torcall said, fixing the terrified abbess with a menacing stare.
“Aye, me laird. One of our riders found a trail leadin’ out from the garden tae the orchard. They must have gotten over the perimeter wall and fled,” the sergeant reported.
Torcall inhaled sharply. “They? Who the bloody hell isthey?” he demanded.
“The rider reckons there were two people, me laird. He followed the trail a short way, but then the storm broke and we had tae call off the search until the mornin’. But before that, he says he saw two figures in the distance, fleein’ across the fields towards the woods. One of them was a man wearin’ Gordon colors.”
Gordon colors?
A powerful jolt shot through Torcall’s body as he suddenly realized who might have been responsible for helping Catriona escape the priory, aside from the nuns that was. In light of this new knowledge, the seething anger of frustration that had been churning inside him suddenly turned cold and controlled.
“We’re leavin’,” he suddenly announced. “Immediately.”
“Aye, me laird,” said his sergeant, already silently directing the men from the room. “Where are we goin’?”
“Gordon lands,” the laird replied, striding towards the doors.
If Malcolm Gordon has taken me bride tae his keep, then I’ll just pay him a wee visit and retrieve her mesel’.”
CHAPTER TEN
Despite her reservations about being there, Catriona immediately felt safe within the walls of Malcolm’s stronghold.
Nonetheless, that feeling was tempered by the knowledge that Torcall Sinclair was out there somewhere, hunting her as a wolf hunts its prey. She was all too aware that if he came with his army to Castle Gordon, more people would suffer and die protecting her from him. The thought sparked the familiar guilt within her.
She shoved her gloomy thoughts aside as Malcolm’s voice broke into them. “Can ye manage tae walk by yersel’?” he asked, still supporting her with his arm after lifting her down from the mare.
“I’m nae sure. Let me try it and see.” She tried it, but the instant she put weight on her foot, it screamed.
“A walkin’ stick might help,” Malcolm suggested, calling for a servant to fetch one at once. “Let’s get ye inside,” he added, helping her to navigate the entrance into the keep. Catriona was touched by his thoughtfulness. Once again, it seemed, she had cause to be grateful to him.
“Och, I swear the place looks just the same as when I was here last,” she exclaimed softly, a wave of nostalgia washing over her as she looked around at the familiar walls of the vestibule. “It brings back a lot of memories.”
“Aye, well, ye can have a wee tour once ye’ve rested, eh?” he said as servants began bustling around them. They greeted her warmly, and a few even remembered her. She had not expected to feel so welcomed.
She could not help overhearing Malcolm talking quietly to his guard captain. “We may have unwelcome visitors on our tail. Inform the men tae be vigilant. Secure the gates and double the watch just in case. Inform me immediately if anythin’ happens.”
The guard captain nodded and left at once. Catriona hid her concern behind a polite smile, but she could tell Malcolm was more worried about Sinclair than he was letting on.
Her worries fled, however, when she saw someone she recognized hurrying towards her from the other side of the vestibule with a huge grin on his face.
Her own smile widened into genuine delight when she saw him, and she let out a gasp of amazement at the tall,handsome, laughing fellow who halted before her and gave her a ridiculously theatrical bow. Catriona laughed, both at the bow and the way Malcolm rolled his eyes.
“Well, well, well, who is this stunnin’ paragon of beauty standin’ before me, Braither?” the newcomer asked, peering at Catriona playfully, his warm hazel eyes glowing with mischievous pleasure.
“Ye ken her well enough, Braither,” Malcolm interjected gruffly, shooting his younger brother an inexplicably dark look.
“Ewan, is it really ye?” she asked, stretching out both hands in greeting, taking in the tall, lean man before her.
Ewan Gordon caught her hands in his and kissed them, only releasing them when Malcolm glared at him for a second time.
“So ye dae remember me, lass! Aye, ’tis me all right, the younger, better lookin’ braither,” he boasted cheerfully, clearly enjoying ribbing Malcolm.
Catriona laughed. “’Tis years since we’ve seen each other, but how could I ever forget ye?” she replied.
“Aye, that’s what all the lasses say,” he confided with a cheeky wink. “I must say, ye’ve grown up a bit since we last met, Cat. In the nicest possible way.”
