Page 77 of The Witch of Threadneedle Street

“Opening the gates?” Taran queried sharply.

“Aye,” Doughall’s deep voice boomed from the shadows. The next moment, the torchlight reflected off his long, gray braids. “’Tis time to hurry.”

Taran’s head snapped back. “I’m leaving Haddon Hall,” he said grimly. “With Moll.”

“Nay,” Doughall grunted. “We’re leaving, lad.”

Taran’s brows rose. “Nay, ye dinna understand. I intend to make Moll my wife—”

The bear of a highlander snorted. “Are ye calling me a fool?” He paused and bowed low before Moll, then straightened with a grin. “’Strewth, but the lad has taken his time. I’d wagered good coin his lordship would have made his move long afore now.”

“We must hurry.” Lady Haddon rushed to the door.

“The clan—” Taran began as they quickly followed.

“Ach, dinna be a fool, lad,” Doughall snorted under his breath. “We follow you, not the king, and not even your father. He’s been gone too long from home. As for your wee lady? Ach, ye couldna have made a better choice. Now, let’s be off, aye?”

Taran fell silent as they hurried through the door where Lady Haddon waited on the step outside.

“I must return to my chambers now,” she whispered and then reached for Moll’s hand. “Go safely. We shall meet again.”

Moll had scarcely squeezed her hand in return, and then she was being bundled forward, toward the wall.

“The children,” Moll whispered.

Doughall held up his hand as two shadows separated from the wall.

“Moll?”

Moll inhaled in relief. ‘Twas George and Francis. “Charlotte?” she whispered. “The children—”

“They’re already through,” George rushed to reply.

“They carried her and the younger ones out first,” Francis added.

“Aye,” Doughall interrupted, again holding up his hand, but this time, in the demand for silence. “The lads wait already in the wood with the wee ones and horses.”

Taran shifted. “’Tis dangerous to aid me,” he began in an undertone. “The king might well outlaw the lot—”

Doughall snorted. “Then let him try. We protect our laird and his lady.”

Several men shouted from the direction of the gate.

“Hurry,” Doughall said then. “The queen’s men walk the walls, but Lord Haddon’s hold the gate. They’ll provide cover. Once you’re through, wait for the hoot of an owl, only then, ‘twill be safe to run for the forest where the lads wait. ’Tis time for silence, now. Follow in a line, aye?”

Silently, they followed him, keeping to the shadows, the twins first, then Moll, with Taran bringing up the rear.

Lord Haddon’s men lined either side of the wide-open gate, standing shoulder-to-shoulder, but the men on the left stood several feet from the wall.

‘Twas a path, leading from the castle to the road outside.

Moll swallowed. So, Lord Haddon had come to their aid. Quickly, they ducked behind the row of men and pressed forward. They’d nearly reached the gate when several men shouted from the direction of the great hall.

Doughall paused and crouched.

Moll held her breath and glanced back, between the legs of the men she hid behind.

The queen’s guards approached, the moonlight glinting off their helmets as they dragged a limp body forward between them as the foremost man broke away from the others to stride toward the gates.