Page 91 of Sins of the Highlander

“I’m your father, lass.” His voice held a hard edge. “If I say ye’ll wed him, ye will.”

Elspeth tried to control the tremors that threatened to take her, but failed. She’d been reluctant to wed before, but her parents had coaxed her into it with gentleness. Always indulgent, her father didn’t seem the sort to force her into a match.

“Lord Drummond and I have made some solemn agreements, and…” Alistair Stewart must have noticed the way she shivered. He poured a horn of wine and pressed it into her shaking hands. “All right, daughter. I’ll see what I can do.”

Elspeth grasped his hand and pressed a kiss on it, relief making her slightly light-headed. “Thank ye, Father. Now, I know ye dinna approve of the Sight, but I must tell ye I’ve had a visit from my Gift.”

Stewart shook his head. “Oh, lass—”

“Please listen. I’ve had this same vision half-a-dozen times but never understood why I was shown it. Now its meaning has finally become clear to me. Believe me when I tell ye, ye’re in mortal danger.” She set down the drinking horn, heedless that it bobbled and overturned. The red wine spilled, pooling like a bloodstain on the camp carpet. Elspeth dropped to her knees before her father. “If ever ye bore me the slightest filial love, call your lieutenants to ye. Ye must strike the camp and be ready to ride at first light.”

***

“The siege is lifted! They’re leaving,” Hamish called down from the battlements.

Rob sprinted across the bailey, strapping on his sword and buckler as he went. Hamish’s summons had been so urgent he hadn’t even taken time to check on Elspeth before he threw on his clothing and bolted out of his chamber. He’d peeked under the tapestry last night and saw her still form in the bed. After her terrifying outburst in the Great Hall, he’d decided to let her sleep undisturbed.

“Come see for yourself!” Hamish shouted and looked through Rob’s “Grandsire’s Eye” again. “Stewart has struck his colors. He’s withdrawing.”

Rob climbed the steps to the ramparts, taking them two at a time.

“Wait! Who’s that with him?” Hamish said, still peering through the system of lenses. “A woman!”

“Wherever there’s an army, there are always camp followers,” Rob said, snatching the looking device from him and bringing it to his eye.

“That’s no camp follower,” Hamish said. “That’s a noblewoman.”

Rob recognized the hooded cloak, and his gut sank with foreboding. The woman reined in her mount and turned to look back at the castle. Her face came into sharp focus in the center of his wavering lens.

“Elspeth,” Rob whispered.

“Aye, I thought as much, but I didna wish to say so until ye’d had a chance to see for yerself,” Hamish said with a heavy sigh. “All that unholy racket she made at supper must have been a ruse to lessen our watchfulness of her. But she didna slip out any of the gates. We’re locked down tight as a tick. How the devil did she manage to escape?”

Rob knew, but he couldn’t say. He’d trusted her with the secret known only to the lairds of the castle, and she’d used the secret passage. Now she was riding off behind her father on the mare Rob had bought for her in Lochearnhead.

“Elspeth!” he shouted. His voice echoed back from the surrounding peaks. She didn’t turn to look this time.

Rob handed the Grandsire’s Eye back to Hamish. Then he raced down the steps to the bailey, bellowing for his groom to saddle a horse for him.

“What are ye doing?” Hamish dogged his steps. “Stewart may be leaving, but Drummond’s men are still out there. If ye set foot outside the castle walls without a flag of truce, they’ll cut ye down in a heartbeat.”

“Then get me a white flag.”

A glossy bay was led from the stables with just a simple saddle on its back. Rob was glad the lad had realized there wasn’t time to adorn the horse with the MacLaren’s showy accoutrements.

“Ye’re no’ thinking clear,” Hamish said, blocking the way. “With the Stewart leaving, Drummond willna honor a truce. And the man willna give ye the fair fight ye deserve now that ye no longer have anything he wants,” He lowered his voice so only Rob could hear. “Think, Rob. Ye’re no’ a man who can do as he pleases. Ye have a whole clan depending on ye. If the lass wished to stay with ye, she’d still be here. Ye canna risk yer life to go after her like a lovesick pup.”

“Ye presume too much on our friendship.” Rob glowered at him. “Get out of my way.”

When Hamish didn’t move, Rob threw a punch. His fist landed on his friend’s jaw with a bone-crunching thud. Hamish might be built like an oak, but his jaw had always been brittle as Frankish glass. He reeled and staggered out of the way.

Rob started to mount the horse, but someone clubbed him from behind, knocking him solidly at the base of the skull with a blunt object. He dropped to his knees.

Pinpoints of light burst in his brain, and Rob’s vision tunneled. Before he winked out completely, he heard Hamish say, “Now look what ye made me do, Rob. I broke yer Grandsire’s Eye on yer thick skull.”

***

Mrs. Beaton bustled into the chapel, looking for Father Kester.