Page 49 of Highland Spy

Valan left the room in a rush. Once he was gone, Caleb sheathed his sword and pulled Bridget into his arms. Slink hopped out of the bag and onto his shoulder.

“Who was that, lass?” asked Caleb. “I’ve never seen him before.”

“That man is Valan Douglas, my ex-husband,” she told him. “I was married to the cur for two years when I was a young girl. I hate him and always have.”

“God’s eyes, why is he here? And why was he in this room? What did he want?”

“I’m no’ sure,” she answered.

“Well, there is no time to figure this out now. Let’s go.” Caleb took a few steps, then stopped when he saw his pine marten snooping in someone’s bag. “Get out of there, Slink,” he said, pulling him away. That’s when he saw something shiny. Peeking inside, he found a pair of shears, a needle and thread.

“What is it?” asked Bridget.

Caleb noticed the bag as being that of Ollie Fraser. “I’m no’ sure,” he said, thinking about the sole of Owen’s shoe.

“Caleb, where are ye?” came Logan’s voice from the corridor. His wolf was with him. Jack darted into the room, chasing Slink.

“Get him out of here!” called out Caleb.

“Jack, come,” commanded Logan, causing the wolf to run back out the door. “Caleb, the archery event has already started. If ye dinna get down there in time ye will be eliminated and Storm will have yer head. Ye ken that he plans on ye winnin’ the crown and title for him.”

“No’ to mention the money that the king has added to the prize,” said Bridget.

“Money? What money?” asked Caleb. “This is the first I’ve heard about it.”

“I thought ye kent,” said Bridget. “The king has decided the prize this year will be the title, the crown and brooch, and he’s added no’ only fifty gold coins to the prize, but also a small plot of land as well.”

“Och, then let’s go,” said Caleb, leading the way out the door.

* * *

As soon as they got to the archery field, Bridget saw her father sitting on a bench, and another man with him was flipping through the Highland Chronicles. Her heart jumped into her throat.

“Caleb,” she said, gripping on to his arm. “There is someone lookin’ at the Highland Chronicles. How could my faither let them do that?”

“Aye, so?” asked Caleb, focusing more on the contestants around them. She could tell he was eyeing them up and down suspiciously.

“I havena had a chance to write in the book yet about the broad jump,” Bridget told him. “No one was supposed to look in the book until I recorded the event.”

“Ye’d better get rid of him,” said Caleb. “Now, give me a kiss for luck, lass, and I’ll be on my way.”

She gave Caleb a quick peck on the lips and hurried over to her father.

“What is goin’ on?” she asked, snatching the book away from the man, closing it and clutching it to her chest.

“Bridget, this man is a chronicler, too,” said her father. “What was yer name, lad?”

“I’m Sorley of Clan Douglas.” The man stood up, and Bridget got a closer look at him. He was mayhap thirty years of age, had red hair and green eyes. He wore the blue-green Douglas plaid. A small beard and mustache graced his face. “I’ve been here recordin’ the events of the competition as well and thought we could compare notes. However, yer faither doesna seem to have written down anythin’ about the broad jump, and I dinna understand why.”

“That’s because my faither often likes to just observe and collect the information and then later write it all down at once,” said Bridget.

“Why would ye do such a thing?” Sorley asked her father. Bridget decided she’d better answer that before her father said something he shouldn’t.

“He doesna want to be lookin’ down at the page and miss somethin’ that might happen, that’s why. Right Da?”

“Aye, right,” said her father with a nod.

“I see,” said Sorley, not sounding at all as if he believed that. “Well, perhaps we can meet up later and compare our writin’s,” he said with a smile and a nod. “If ye’ll excuse me, I’m goin’ to sit nearer to the king, where I can relay any part of the event that he might miss. My travelin’ companion, Sim, is waitin’ there for me.”