Chapter 2
Darack turned to face the stable master, his back to the wheelbarrow where Mairiana was covered by the canvas tarpaulin. "Just finishing up, sir," he called back. "Getting ready to haul the dung out to the fields on the wagon."
"About time." O'Quigley strode away toward his lodgings.
"Whoreson," Darack muttered under his breath.
Lifting up on the handles, he slowly pushed the wheelbarrow along the straw littered corridor of the stables toward the wagon waiting outside. The brown canvas cover wouldn't look much different from a dung heap as viewed from the ramparts.
Why was Mairiana so resistant to this method of escape? He'd thought it brilliant. Was she terrified of a little horse manure? Such a cosseted princess, she was. He shook his head.
Outside, torches lit the bailey here and there. The few servants about were busy working, cleaning and preparing for tomorrow's visitors and wedding guests.
Casually glancing about to make certain no one paid him any mind, he wrapped the tarp about her closely and lifted her onto the wagon, settling her between the seat and the pile of horse dung he'd loaded earlier.
"Ugh," she grunted, then made a coughing, gagging sound.
"Shh. Lie still," he breathed, then climbed onto the seat and took up the reins. He flicked them at the old mare's back and the horse moved forward at a slow walk.
At the portcullis, one of the guards motioned to another and the portcullis was raised with the screeching and clanging of metal.
He held his breath as he urged the horse past the guard's critical, observant gaze.
Once Darack was outside the walls, he listened to the portcullis rattling closed again and picked up the pace, flicking the lines more urgently. He guided the horse along the narrow track between fields to a spot several hundred yards away from the castle where the dung was left to decay so the crofters could spread it over the fields later. The guards on the wall walk would think it odd if he didn't take the wagon to the right spot, as he had been doing for the last few days. 'Twas also near a line of trees and bushes they could use for cover while slipping away.
The sounds of coughing and gagging erupted behind him again.
"Not much further," he told her.
"I can't breathe." Her voice was muffled.
"Lift the edge of the canvas a wee bit. No one is too close now."
After she did, he heard her inhaling great gasps of air.
They were almost to the tree line and 'twas growing darker, a great benefit.
When they neared the dung heap, he pulled back on the reins. "Whoa."
The mare stopped and Darack crawled to the back of the wagon. Standing between her and the castle, he lifted the canvas from her head and shoulders. "Climb off that side and slip into the wood." He started unloading the dung with the pitchfork.
She eyed him, then did as he asked. No easy task for a woman wearing fancy clothing with all the trappings, including a farthingale. He would've helped her, but he had to continue going through the motions of unloading the wagon to allay any suspicion.
Once she'd vanished from sight, he leapt down, dropped the pitchfork and followed. Mayhap the stable master would think he'd been abducted while unloading the dung or simply gotten tired of his job and left. Not a stretch, considering what a smelly job it was.
Once Darack escorted her home, he would have to come back here and beg for his manure mucking job again in order to find his mother's brooch. Talk about destroying the pride. Hell, who was he kidding? He nor any of his clan had much pride left after the king's proclamation. They were lucky to have their lives. But at least they hadn't given up. MacGregor blood still ran in their veins, and when their eyes met, that spark of unwavering spirit remained. He was determined that one day his clan would be united once again and they would no longer be labeled outlaws.
He strode into the darkness of the trees and bushes. "Where are you?" he whispered loudly.
"Here," she said, popping up from behind a bush. "Do you think anyone will follow us?"
"Not for a while. They will, no doubt, start looking for you in the morn when they discover you're gone. We need to be far away from here by then."
"Aye, but where shall we go first? We have no horses to ride, and we cannot possibly walk all the way to Rornoch."
Darack shook his head and grinned wryly. What a beautiful but coddled lady she was. "Well, we could walk that far, but 'twould take a long time. Instead, we'll take a ferry from Dundee to Perth. I have a good friend there who will let us borrow a horse to ride north through the mountains to Rornoch."
"That sounds good, but 'twill take several days to get home." The worry in her voice was evident.
