Page 73 of The Witch of Threadneedle Street

The door bounced off the limewashed-wall as the captain of the queen’s guard and two of his men strode into the room, their armor jingling as their boots struck the floor.

“Eldric?” the captain snapped.

“Aye,” Doughall answered upon the tailor’s behalf.

“Take him.” The captain nodded at his men.

Taran narrowed his eyes as the men lunged forward, each to grab the tailor by an arm.

“Why?” Doughall heaved off the table, his gray braids swinging to his waist.

“He’s an imposter,” came the man’s clipped reply. “If the rumors are true, he’ll be swinging from the gibbet before morning.”

Alarm ripped through Taran.

“My lord?” the captain turned to him. “What business do you have with the man?”

Taran cocked a brow. He owed the man no explanation. “Take him if ye will.”

The captain shot him a look but bowed. ‘Twas clear he knew better than to press the matter further. “If you’ll excuse us.”

He strode out the door and his men followed, taking the tailor with them.

“Seems the man will hang either way,” Doughall grunted when they’d gone. “The queen’s captain has been itching to use his fine gallows since the moment he had them built.”

‘Twas exactly what Taran feared. Let the tailor meet his own fate, he didn’t care a whit—as long as he didn’t drag Moll down with him. Taran ground his teeth. How quickly the world had changed. There would be no long, boring winter within Haddon Hall’s walls. The castle was no longer a cage but a trap, and a trap he had to escape before its iron jaws closed tight.

They had to leave. He couldn’t wait until the queen chose to let those within free as she most likely would within days. With the tailor likely squealing already, every hour counted.

All that mattered was that they left. ‘Twould result in a scandal, of course…not that he cared. The king would likely brand him an outlaw when he got wind of the matter. The clan? He drew a sharp breath. Aye, they’d choose his cousin to succeed him. He bowed his head. ‘Twould only be fitting when he’d placed his own welfare above theirs.

“My lord?” Doughall’s deep voice queried.

Opening his eyes, he met Doughall’s questioning gaze with a cool, steady one of his own. “Follow Eldric,” he ordered curtly. “See he doesna speak of Moll.”

The Highlander cocked a brow. “And why would he now?”

Taran shrugged. The less the man knew, the better. As a clan elder and one of the most influential, he couldn’t ruin Doughall’s standing by dragging him into this particular affair.

“Aye then,” Doughall muttered, then paused and said, “I trust ye well enough, lad.”

Taran left the laundry. Four queen’s men now protected the postern gate instead of Lord Haddon’s usual two. ‘Twas impossible to take out four men by himself, silently and all at once. He’d have to find another way.

Gritting his teeth, he sprinted to the north tower and headed up the steps. Once outside the gates, he’d need horses, saddled ones, in order to make good his escape. But the children? ‘Twas unlikely they knew how to ride…and even if they did, wee Charlotte’s delicate health only complicated the entire affair.

Taran paused before his bedchamber and rested his forehead against the door.

‘Twas impossible. There was no escape, at least, not so quick a one. Yet, what choice did he have? With Queen Elizabeth, he had no power. The risks were far, far too great. If she chose to hang Moll…he couldn’t finish the thought.

Charlotte looked up with a grin as he stepped inside the room. ‘Twas a sight to see and one that warmed his soul, and for a blessed moment, he simply let himself enjoy the wee lassie’s delight.

“Athair!” She held out her small hands. “I’ve missed ye so.”

“And I, ye.” He smiled and then glanced at the children arranged in various locations around the chamber. “Where’s Moll?”

“She’s with Lady Haddon,” Francis replied from his post near the window.

Taran drew his brows into a line. Again? Or had she never returned? A new complication was the last thing he needed. Wishing to avoid upsetting the younger children, he nodded at the door and murmured to the twins, “Lads, follow me, will ye?”