Page 157 of Wicked Highland Heroes

Chapter Three

Rhoslyn hurried through the solar door into Alec’s bedchambers and stopped short at sight of the secret passageway’s open panel. She had closed the panel. She crossed to the bed and pulled back the curtain. The blanket still covered the pillows. Rhoslyn released the fabric and turned. Who had been here? She shifted her gaze to the door. She had no key to Alec’s room, so had returned through the hallways and solar so that she wouldn’t have to detour to the far side of the west wing through the passageway. Was the hall door locked?

She crossed to the door and eased it open a crack. Her heart pounded. Whoever had entered the room found the secret entrance and—Did St. Claire know of the secret passageway? Why leave her here if he knew? Because, she realized, he hadn’t known, but had discovered her gone, then deduced the truth and found the panel.

Her heart fell. She had hoped to be gone before she was discovered missing. Should she leave without the dagger? Nay, traveling without a weapon was foolish, and she had to see if St. Claire had raided their savings.

Rhoslyn went to the left corner of the room near the window and knelt at the wall. She wiggled the bottom left stone free from the wall and breathed in relief to find the key lying in the dust. She took it and replaced the stone, then hurried from the room.

When she at last neared the bottom of the stairs leading to the kitchen, she slowed her descent. Light bathed the half dozen remaining steps. The housekeeper kept a low fire banked in the kitchen hearth, but this was more than the meager dance of light from embers. She crept to the last stair and peeked around the corner. Light spilled into the kitchen from the great hall. Two men stood at one of the work tables.

She glanced at the scullery, which lay ten feet straight ahead. The men’s backs faced her. Could she reach the room without being noticed? Rhoslyn drew back and waited a long moment, then peeked around the corner again. The men were still there. They couldn’t tarry long. Shouldn’t they be searching for her instead of foraging for food?

Another man appeared in the doorway. “Baxter awaits us at the gate.”

“I plan to run a sword through Roberts myself,” one of the men at the table said.

His companion grunted. “After I shove my blade up his arse.”

“I imagine Sir Talbot will do that for us,” the first replied as they started toward the door. “He is not pleased the bastard is threatening Lady Rhoslyn’s grandfather.”

Rhoslyn barely stifled a gasp. Were they speaking of Aodh Roberts? How could he—understanding flashed lightning fast, followed by a fury so hot she envisioned thrusting a dagger into Aodh’s gutless heart. He hadn’t forgiven her for refusing his offer of marriage, and now that King Edward had married her to an English knight, he believed she would have no way to avenge her grandfather’s death. The coward must believe St. Claire would welcome her grandfather’ death, for that meant he would take possession of all his land.

A thought stopped her. The warrior had said that St. Claire wasn’t pleased that Aodh was threatening her grandfather. Was the knight going to help her grandfather? There had to be something she didn’t know. The man who had sent the brute that kidnapped her was not an honorable knight. But—she shook her head to ward off confusion. None of this mattered. She had to get to Longford this night. Not Longford Castle, she realized with horror. If Aodh was there and St. Claire was on his way, it was too dangerous for her to go there. She would go to her grandfather’s castle. She would be just as safe there as Longford.

Rhoslyn eased forward and peeked around the corner. The men had gone. Lifting her skirts, she hurried down the last few steps and pulled a torch from a wall sconce. She held her breath as she quickly lit the torch from the small flame in the hearth, then hurried into the scullery. Along the far wall, she pressed a panel that opened to steep, narrow stairs. Rhoslyn took the first few steps, turned, and pulled the panel closed behind her.

Carefully, she descended the stairs to the first level where she turned left. A lone door was located on the far wall. Rhoslyn grasped the door handle and held her breath as she pressed the latch. Locked. She closed her eyes and released the breath while sending up a prayer of thanks to Saint George for protecting their valuables.

Rhoslyn pulled the key from her belt pouch, quickly unlocked the door, then slipped inside. A cupboard stood against the far wall near the left corner. Swords, axes, crossbows and shields were mounted on all visible walls. Additional weapons leaned in corners. A chest sat against the left wall, filled with larger valuables, including the dagger she sought. The coin, however, lay hidden in a smaller chest inside a secret panel.

She crossed the room to the wall on the right and knelt. Deftly, she ran her fingers along the bottom of a stone until she felt the latch. She pressed and the stone clicked open. Relief flooded her when she found the chest unmolested.

“I wondered if there was a hiding place where more coin was hidden,” said a male voice behind her.

Rhoslyn shot to her feet and whirled. The beast who had kidnapped her stood, shoulder leaning against the cupboard. Where had he come from? She had closed the door behind her. He couldn’t have entered without her knowledge. She cut her gaze to the corner behind him. It was the only place he could have possibly hidden. How had he wedged his broad shoulders between the cupboard and wall? How had she missed him there?

His eyes dropped to the chest. “Is that money entered into the accounts?”

“Ask your laird,” she retorted.

His gaze jerked up to meet hers, surprise in his dark eyes, and Rhoslyn realized her mistake. Her eyes flew to his right arm, covered with a linen shirt and chainmail, where was rumored to be painted a picture of St. Claire’s sister who had died as a young girl.

Rhoslyn lifted her gaze to his face. “You.”

He didn’t reply, only stared at her with intense brown eyes. A strange flush of heat reached her cheeks. She startled upon realizing his attention lingered on her mouth.

“You murdered my grandfather’s men—then kidnapped a defenseless woman,” she said.

His gaze lifted to hers. “Defenseless? You stabbed me.”

“Ye are a common thief.”

“Have you counted the coin?” he asked.

She frowned. “What?”

“I wonder that you can call me thief when you have yet to confirm that a single silver coin is gone.”