Page 62 of Devil Black

Meg turned her mount and started away, quick enough to outrun the wind. Dougal urged his own mount to follow. He had no need to hear more. Heart nearly bursting, he passed and then outdistanced Meg, Lachlan and the rest of the group. He reined up in the forecourt of the keep just as a number of his warriors appeared, Rab among them.

“MacNab has your lady wife,” Rab greeted him. “We followed the tracks that curved round into the woods and then joined up wi’ the long trail that leads across the moor, westward. No sight of them, ahead, but that way leads to MacNab’s keep and no mistake. We ha’ one man dead.”

Lachlan, arriving in time to hear, said, “That skirmish in which we were caught, on the far border—that was just a distraction. This was planned.”

“Of course ’twas planned.” Viciously, Dougal rounded on him. “But how could they know she would be outside?”

“They must ha’ been watching,” Rab said, “from some point high in the hills, waiting for a chance to strike.” He hesitated. “And she did go out ever’ so often. We thought you knew.”

“I did not!” Dougal felt sick. Isobel, snatched against her will, frightened and alone…the last place he could bear her to be.

He glared at his men. “I cannot believe no one saw anything, heard anything.”

“Only Ian,” Rab said laconically, “and he is dead.”

“Is it possible they could have coaxed her away?” Meg suggested.

“Nay,” Dougal denied it, remembering her in his arms last night, clinging to him as if she would never let go.

Meg said emotionlessly, “If they had her father with them and he persuaded her, convinced her she could save you from persecution, and possible death? She might so sacrifice herself.”

Everyone stared at Dougal accusingly. He met Meg’s gaze and saw she knew. Meg knew that Isobel loved him. His wife had never spoken the words, but the truth was reflected from her eyes, it told in her touch. He knew he deserved no such devotion. He was a ruined man with a savage heart, capable of loyalty and nothing more. Poor lass. Would she truly sacrifice herself for such a worthless specimen as he?

“We are wasting time sitting here blathering,” he said viciously. “Come on, show me this trail.”

The falling rain, icy as it was, had nearly obliterated the sea of tracks when they reached it. Dougal’s own men milled about, restless for action, and the light already waned in the west. Dougal set men to search the immediate area again, but knew it to be an exercise in futility.

“What to do?” Lachlan asked uneasily.

“If MacNab wants war, he shall have it.” Dougal felt desperate at the thought of Isobel spending even one night in MacNab’s hands, yet demanding her back, as every impulse bade him, was not the best strategy. That would come, aye, but not yet.

Lachlan offered, “Surely, if her father is with her, she will be protected from the worst of MacNab’s perversions?” Lachy, knowing what had befallen Aisla, knew the demons that haunted Dougal.

Aye, there was that, the faintest glimmer of hope. And if it came to it, Isobel was no timid Aisla, to let herself be used cruelly. She would fight like a wildcat.

Yet even a strong woman could only fight so hard.

“Lachy, I want you to ride and fetch O’Rourke. He will prove valuable to us now—the only proof my marriage is valid. Should he be found and murdered, ’twill be easy for MacNab to wed Isobel to that damned whelp of his, and ’tis a thing to which Isobel’s father might well agree. Can I trust you in this?”

Lachlan nodded. “I promise my best efforts. But, the rest of you?”

“We are going cattle raiding,” Dougal said grimly. An ancient activity from the Highlands to the borders, cattle raiding represented far more than mere thievery. It was a goad, a dare, a taunt, and an act of one-upmanship no clansman could refuse to answer. It had, in the past, started many a feud or war, for cattle represented wealth.

Lachlan departed into the gloom, and Dougal quickly organized his men. They were gathered in the forecourt, ready to leave, when Meg rushed out.

“Are you mounting a rescue?” she demanded, pulling a shawl up over her hair.

“Not yet.”

Meg ignited like dry wood. “You cannot intend to leave her there—”

“I do not!”

Meg ignored him and completed her thought, “the way you left Aisla!”

The forecourt went suddenly silent, all Dougal’s men shooting crosswise looks at him before gazing elsewhere.

Dougal leaned down from his horse to speak directly into his sister’s face. The pain rising inside him made his voice harsh. “Do not ever make such a suggestion again. Do you trust me so little?”