Page 61 of The Witch of Threadneedle Street

A cluster of men had gathered around the postern gate. Moll bit her lip. Had they been seen? She frowned, worried.

Then, something moved in the corner of her eye. She jerked and whirled as a figure stepped out from the shadows. In the dim light, ‘twas too difficult to see, but she recognized the cloak.

‘Twas the man who had chased her in the woods.

With a gasp, she dove back into the laundry and slammed the door shut. As the bolt slid safely home, she sagged against the wood in relief.

Ruin

Five of the queen’s guards stood in a half circle around the steps leading to the postern gate. Alarmed, Taran quickened his stride. Had the MacKenzie clansmen been discovered masquerading as the queen’s guard?

“What madness is this?” he barked as he arrived.

The guards stood aside at once.

To his relief, the clansmen were already gone. Only the man he’d knocked out before sat on the ground, rubbing his jaw in confusion.

“’Twas an attack, my lord,” the man said.

“An attack of the wine bottle, mayhap” another snorted dryly.

“Mayhap two.” Another guard held up a flask before giving it a whiff. He grimaced. “Nay, ‘tis stronger than wine.”

“Nay, ‘twas an attack,” the man insisted. “I was struck down. Ask Eldric. He saw them himself, those who struck me down. He saw them when he roused me.”

Taran arched a brow. Eldric wasn’t part of the plan. Who was the man? What had he seen? ‘Twas a loose end he’d have to handle.

Turning to the men, he snapped, “’Tis clear ye canna protect Her Majesty unaided.”

To the man, they began to object. He didn’t care. ‘Twas the perfect excuse to involve his own men and insure the matter died, then and there. He gave a shrill whistle.

At once, Doughall and several clansmen stepped out from the shadows.

“Mind the gates.” Taran ordered.

After taking one look at the gray-braided mountain-of-a-man, the grumbling of the queen’s guard subsided, and Taran knew the matter would die quickly enough.

With a jerk of his head for the nearest clansmen to follow, Taren strode across the courtyard to the base of the north tower.

There, he pulled the man aside and murmured, “There’s a queen’s man here, one named Eldric. Find him and learn what he knows.”

“Aye, my lord.”

Taran ascended the steps and stepped out onto the wall, wary and on edge. Until he found Eldric and learned what he knew, danger still hung over their heads. He ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes. When would the nightmare end?

The castle bustled with life, more than he’d seen since he’d first stepped foot in the place months ago. Servants bustled to and fro, bearing chests and other household items from the carts parked in the lower courtyard to the keep. Apparently, the queen planned on staying in Haddon Hall for quite some time.

Absently, Taran leaned against the wall to wait for news and to watch.

‘Twas some time later when he saw the five men hurrying out of the keep and across the castle grounds. Their long, purposeful strides and squared shoulders caught his eye. As they passed into the torchlight, he spied Lord Haddon at the forefront with the captain of the queen’s guard close on his heels.

When they neared the laundry, they suddenly veered toward the door.

Taran launched himself off the wall and dove for the tower stairs.

Moll. Had someone seen her? By the time he burst through the door, it was to find her cowering on the floor, her hands covering her mouth in horror.

The sight hit Taran like a punch to the gut. “What is this?”