But part of her, a large part, accompanied her husband out into the night.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
A certain mood overshadowed the manor that night, which Alan suspected no one could deny. As soon as the dark settled down, a wind sprang up, one that made it difficult to trust one’s ears against a step that might herald danger. And tensions spiked.
He could feel that in the men around him, those who guarded the house and buildings and those who accompanied him on his rounds. So jittery were they, the merest suggestion of a movement had them jumping.
“Easy, Tommy,” Alan said at one point to the young stable hand who paced with him through the dark.
“By God, Master Alan—I thought ’twere somewhat there.”
“Just shadows thrown by the trees, I think.” A fitful moon came and went through clouds driven by the wind, lighting the firs that bowed their limbs before slipping away again.
They were both armed, Tommy with a hoe and Alan a sword. Of the two, Alan believed the hoe more deadly in the hands of a lad who’d spent his days mucking out stalls.
Their route circled the house, and Alan glanced up at it time after time. A light burned steadily in his father’s chamber and one in the hall where the men who were not on watch gathered. Annista’s chamber—like his own—was dark. Did she rest comfortably there with Bonnie? Or at least safely. He expected comfort was too much to hope for on such a night.
And, where might Evan be?
Anywhere. That was the terrifying thing.
Alan found himself praying that morning would come. With every turn in his route, he looked for a glow of light to the east, one he did not see. He convinced himself all would be better when morning came again. Evan would be found—elsewhere. Father would pass the physician’s milestone, awaken and despite the man’s dire predictions grow well.
The thing was—Evan would not be found elsewhere. He was returning to Kallan. Alan could still feel it right down in his bones.
He stopped walking and poor Tommy half stumbled beside him. “Master? What—”
The scream came from inside the house and split the night. It rose above the wind, wild and raw. Alan’s first thought was for his wife.
Yet—it did not sound like Annista.
Mother?
“He’s here,” he told Tommy and the night.
****
Annista had disobeyed her husband’s dictates and, having accompanied Bonnie back to their chamber once Cook and the maids went to bed, decided to go out again. Bonnie had at last fallen asleep, and Annista did not want to disturb her. So restless was she, unable to keep still, she had no choice but to rise and tiptoe out. She hadn’t changed to her nightclothes—neither of them had—so was fully clad save for her shoes.
A dark form leaned against the wall outside Master MacKallan’s room—Seumas. Did he doze? Mayhap, for he did not stir when Annista tiptoed toward him.
A faint rime of light showed under the earl’s door. Quiet reigned.
Light also shone from the solar where the physician waited out the night. Annista did not desire company but wanted a breath of air. She went down the stairs, and Seumas did not stir. Should she go back and wake him? If she did, he might try to send her back to her chamber.
Careful to be silent, she skirted the kitchen, wondering at the shadows there, and exited by the rear door.
A feeling of wrongness hit her as soon as she met the night, which had gone muddy and fretful. Shouldn’t one of the men be on guard here? She’d expected a polite directive to go back inside.
But—she saw no one. The yard lay empty all the way to the stables. No lights there.
Did her eye catch movement at the entrance to the yard? Was it Alan, out on watch? Had he told the other men to take a rest?
Nay, surely just a shadow.
Well, if the men were not on watch here, she could take a turn. She was more than wide awake and had her knife in her pocket.
She started off across the open space, determined to at least peek into the stable, and was halfway across when she heard it. A sound not above but beneath the sough of the wind.
