“Aye.”
“Why? Are you conveniently a woodsman in addition to being a thief?”
Bran briefly closed his eyes. As tempting as it was to bend the lass over his knee and teach her a thing or two about respect, he dared not. The great hall was full of curious eyes. Instead, he pictured the wealthy young lasses he had often charmed on the High Street in Edinburgh, and he produced a lazy smile. “You’ll discover soon enough that I’m averycapable man, lass.”
Her gaze met his, and a rosy bloom spread across her cheeks.
The color softened her features in an unexpected way—fine and delicate became warm and sensual. Less sharply cut diamond and more sultry pink pearl. “Go,” he said, pleased with his efforts. “When you’re ready, meet me at the postern gate.”
She hesitated, clearly not used to being dismissed.
“Go,” he repeated. “We must make the most of the day.”
Perhaps it was the suggestion of passing time, but she finally let go of her misgivings and nodded. “The postern gate,” she confirmed. Then she headed for the stairs.
Bran watched her until the last bit of purple satin had disappeared into the stairwell. Now all he had to do was find a way to secrete the lady out of the manor. Slipping out on his own would have been easy enough, but Caitrina would pose a challenge. She was hardly the sort of lass who could move about without drawing notice, even if she rid herself of the brightly colored gown.
He tapped a finger on his chin.
Unless, of course, she wasn’t a lass.
***
Caitrina dug through the chest until she found the gown she was looking for: a dark green kirtle with a brocade bodice of brown and cream. Much more subtle than purple. She shook out the gown and laid it on the bed. “This is the one,” she said to one of the young maids who had accompanied them to Clackmannan.
The lass fingered the dark material with a frown. “Are you certain, my lady? A trifle dull this is, for a day gown.”
“It is indeed,” Caitrina agreed. Not that she’d always thought so—it had been one of her favorites back in Atholl, before she’d been chosen as a lady-in-waiting. There had been few occasions to wear satin and lace there, especially after her maither took ill. A much simpler time, requiring much simpler attire. “But if I’m to venture into the cellars, then I’ll not risk one of my better gowns.”
The maid unlaced Caitrina’s purple gown and tugged it gently over her head, taking care not to muss her braided hair. “And why must a lady enter the cellars?”
“To find furniture for the nursery.” Caitrina ducked into the dark green gown and helped the maid smooth the material over her white linen sark. “The queen has commissioned the master carpenter to craft an oak creidle worthy of a prince, but there’ll not be time to hew everything we will require. I’ve been assured there are numerous items in the storerooms below the manor that might prove suitable.”
The maid wrinkled her nose. “May I suggest, then, that you don boots instead of slippers? There’ll be all manner of dust and dirt below the stairs.”
“A fine idea.” And just what she would need for her ride into the forest.
But she had to make the exchange swiftly—left to his own, Marshal Gordon might depart without her. He wasn’t a real marshal, after all. He was a thief. A contemptible wretch. How could she have any faith that he would honor his word? Caitrina waited impatiently for the maid to lace up her boots and then scurried downstairs.
The postern gate was a narrow wooden egress behind the stables. It was used mostly by the huntsmen and the gardeners to perform work outside the manor walls, but they typically left at first light and returned at sunset. In the middle of the day, the portal saw little movement. Indeed, when Caitrina arrived, it was closed and there was no one about.
Not even her thief.
She slowly pivoted, scanning every shadow. Where was he? She hadn’t entirely taken him at his word—she’d hidden the crown where he’d never think to look—but shehadbelieved this was the easier option for him. With the constant flow of ladies and servants, entering the queen’s rooms would be a challenging feat. But what if he didn’t come? She knew roughly where the men were camped. Was she prepared to go alone?
“Hallo, lass.”
Caitrina spun around. Her wayward thief stood immediately behind her, holding a small bundle of cloth in his hands. How could a man living a lie look so calm and worry-free? Not a single line marred his handsome brow. “Where are the horses?”
He smiled that smile again. The slightly crooked one that made her pulse leap and her belly tighten in anticipation. “We’ll get to the horses soon enough. First, I’ve had another think on your attire. I need you to wear these.”
She accepted the bundle of cloth, fingering the rough-spun material. “Are these trews?”
“Aye.”
Her gaze shot up to meet his. “Are you mad? I cannot wear such a garment.”
“If you want to accompany me, you must.” He nodded to the soldier visible on the wall just to their left. “The guards will think nothing of two lads departing the manor. But a lass—even one dressed in a dark gown—will be cause for comment.”
