Page 63 of The Witch of Threadneedle Street

As his men lifted Moll to her feet, Taran turned away. There would be time—soon—to comfort her, but he hadn’t a second to spare if he wished to keep her from hanging outside the castle gates.

Furious, he strode from the laundry. He stopped at the postern gate first.

Doughall took one look at his face, then asked, “And what have the fools done, lad?”

“Keep her safe,” Taran ordered after a quick explanation of the events.

“Aye, my lord.”

“And Eldric?” They needed to reach the man first.

“No word, my lord.”

Taran nodded and turned away. At least, Moll was safe. If matters came to a head, he’d battle his way out of the castle gates and ride off with her to the Highlands, but ‘twas a dangerous path. And the children? He gritted his teeth. Nay, diplomacy was the only way to keep them all safe, unharmed.

Scowling, he strode into Lord Haddon’s private chamber behind the great hall. ‘Twas a simple room. Comfortable. Several cushioned wooden chairs stood before the fire with a chess table betwixt them and a table with books by the door.

Lord Haddon looked up as he arrived.

“And how are you settling this matter?” Taran asked, driving directly to the point.

“I’ve sent for the pig-scalder,” the man replied. “’Tis the only witness.”

Taran said nothing but folded his arms.

Silence reigned. Neither man spoke. Indeed, what was there to say? That he thought the man a foolish weakling the way he bowed to the captain’s will? ‘Twould hardly serve his cause.

An hour passed, one in which Taran stood only a hairsbreadth away from leaving to rush to Moll’s side instead. Then, at last, the captain of the queen’s guard stood at the chamber door.

“Eldric cannot be found, my lord,” he announced.

Taran looked up from where he leaned against the mantle and gave a snort of contempt.

“Then, we’ll readjourn in the morning, when he is found,” Lord Haddon announced, rising to his feet.

“And Moll?” Taran asked softly.

“She’ll stay the night where she is, MacKenzie,” Lord Haddon replied, refusing to meet Taran’s gaze. “’Tis safer for us all.”

Taran’s lip lifted in scorn. Lady Haddon had made a foolish choice of husband. Disgusted, he watched the man stride down the hall, his head and shoulders bowed, with the arrogant young captain at his side.

The return to the castle laundry was a quick one.

Two MacKenzie clansmen stood guard at the door. They nodded in the silent assurance that Moll was still safe within, and then stood aside to let him pass. Mayhap Lord Haddon had a point. With his men standing guard, Moll was much safer than imprisoned elsewhere within easy reach of the queen’s guard.

Her guards looked up as he entered, but he ignored them entirely.

Then, he was at Moll’s side, gathering her in his arms.

“Charlotte,” she whispered, burying her nose against his chest. “I fear she will not last the night.”

Taran cradled her close, her body as tight as a bow. Of course, her thoughts would be for the children first. He pressed his cheek against the top of her head, never respecting her more.

“I could have healed them both, Taran.” Her tears dampened his shirt.

“Both?”

“Lady Haddon. She suffers the same malady,” came the heartrending reply.