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The thudding thread of feet stomping hurriedly to and fro.
From outside, the icy rasp of steel raking steel.
It was the last sound that trickled down Gabrielle's spine like a drop of melting snow. She couldn't tell from which direction any of it came, she only knew that the ruckus was close. Too close. Was there even time to pose a question?
"Light a candle so the lass can see what she's aboot," Mairghread hissed.
"Nay, I dinny dare it."
"What we dinny dare is to tarry here o'er long. Use yer head, Ella. Without light, how much longer will it take for her to put on unfamiliar clothes in the dark?"
By her tone Gabrielle knew Ella grumbled something uncomplimentary. After a brief hesitation, the redheaded girl lit the candle beside the bed. Gabrielle stifled a sneeze with her fist and blinked quickly against the sudden light. Her gaze volleyed between the two Scotswomen. Their worried expressions encouraged Gabrielle's already hammering heart to beat in double rhythm.
Dropping the bundle of clothes onto her lap, Gabrielle quickly sorted through them. There wasn't much. A pair of men's trews, a baggy beige tunic, soft leather boots that looked three sizes too large. If there were undergarments, she couldn't find them. Nor did she waste time asking for any. The way Mairghread watched her with keen impatience said time was of the essence.
For once not overly conscious of the rounded figure beneath the white linen folds, Gabrielle yanked the nightgown over her head and tossed it to the floor. She shivered when the cold, damp night air hit her flesh like a vigorous slap. The tunic felt rough against her skin as she tugged it over her head, the trews rougher still—and a good deal tighter!—as she yanked them up over her hips.
She was right, the boots were far too large. For her size, her feet were small; they fairly swam in the leathery depths. The tunic stretched tightly across her breasts, and the trews felt uncomfortably snug, provocatively revealing. She tried not to notice the ripe aroma clinging to the clothes, and now to her.
"I'm ready." Dressed, Gabrielle stood and faced the women, her concerned gaze touching briefly on the scabbard hanging at Ella's side, and the leather-wrapped hilt peeking out of it. Mairghread had come around to the other side of the bed while she was dressing, and now stood beside her niece.
Remembering Ella's argument about lighting the candle, Gabrielle licked her forefinger and thumb and doused the wavering teardrop of flame. Perhaps it was a trick of light and shadow, but she could have sworn she saw a glint of respect in Ella's eyes an instant before the dim glow was abruptly extinguished.
To her aunt, Ella said, "Margie, ye take one of her hands, I'll take the other." More harshly to Gabrielle, "'Tis maun important ye dinny let go, no matter what ye see or hear. Do ye understand?"
Gabrielle nodded, forgetting for an instant that neither woman could see the gesture in the dark. "Aye," she whispered. "I understand."
Mairghread grasped her left hand, Ella her right. Even in the dark, the feel of each was unmistakable. On one side, her fingers wrapped around leathery skin and brittle bones, on the other enviably slender fingers and skin that felt softer than the inner petals of a rose.
The softer hand gave an unexpected, and not at all gentle, yank.
Gabrielle stumbled into step behind Ella. She winced, her shoulder smarting as she strained at an awkward position to make sure the same impact wasn't put on the older, more fragile bones in Mairghread's hands.
"Where are we going?" Gabrielle whispered as they inched their way in the dark toward the door.
"Outside, where 'tis safe." It was Mairghread who answered.
"Excuse my ignorance, but it doesn't sound like outside is a safe place to be right now." Gabrielle tried to swallow back her alarm. The men's voices had grown louder, the sound of rushing footsteps and scraping steel closer. Were these two women insane that they would purposely seek to go out into that uproar?!
"Because ye're Sassenach, we excuse maun," Mairghread replied. "Keep in mind, ye dinny yet ken the ways of the Border, lass. Trust us, 'tis a fine muckle safer to be outside Bracklenaer's walls than trapped inside should Johnny Maxwell—God rot 'im!—have his way and capture the castle."
They reached the door. Ella made a sharp, hissing sound through her teeth, indicating they should stop whispering between themselves. Only once the girl was positive the other two would obey did she slowly lift the latch and ease the wooden panel open a crack.
A sliver of sconcelight cut a swath through the opening, slicing over the floor even as Ella pressed her face to the crack and scanned the hallway. Something else intruded in the room as well: the thick, cloying aroma of burning wood.
Gabrielle's breath snagged in her throat; she had to concentrate hard not to give in to a bout of coughing. Good heavens, they were burning the castle! Nothing in all her years of training in Elizabeth's court had prepared her for anything like this! A surge of panic swelled inside her, almost overwhelming her. Almost. As though reading her mind, Mairghread's bony fingers tightened, clasping Gabrielle's hand in a painful grip. The bite of the old woman's fingers was painful but oddly comforting and enough to still her panic. For t
he moment.
"'Tis clear," Ella informed them from over a delicately molded shoulder. "Come, we maun hurry. If I ken Johnny Maxwell, 'twill not stay so for long."
Ella slipped through the door, with Gabrielle close on her heels. While Gabrielle had worried about Mairghread keeping up with the two younger women, she found out quickly that her concern was misplaced The old woman might be stooped and crooked from age, but there was nothing wrong with her legs; she hustled along the hallways as fast, if not faster, than both of them, more times than not bumping into Gabrielle's back as though urging them to a quicker pace.
The smell of charred wood was growing stronger. Since her nose was still stuffed, Gabrielle wondered exactly how potent the odor really was. Just as quickly she decided it was a question she'd no desire to have answered. She was frightened enough, thank you very much! A sneeze tickled her nose; she turned her head and trapped the brunt of it with her shoulder, grimacing when her mouth and nose came into contact with the smelly, grimy cloth of the tunic.
They didn't head toward the central staircase, as she'd somehow expected, but instead turned down the hallway and headed away from it. Gabrielle didn't question Ella. Not only didn't she dare risk talking right now—the sounds of fighting were too uncomfortably close—but no matter what the girl thought of her, Gabrielle was certain that Ella would not put herself and her aunt in jeopardy of being taken prisoner by going toward the enemy instead of away from them. Obviously the girl had a plan. Gabrielle had no idea what that plan could be... except to get out of the keep and away from the clutches of Johnny Maxwell.
Johnny Maxwell.
