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Robbie found her obvious irritability somewhat odd since the MacKinnons and the Douglases were on friendly enough terms, and courtly etiquette required at least a modicum of courtesy be afforded a laird of his clan. But he had weightier matters on his mind so let it pass.
“Aye, perhaps ye may. I cannae seem tae find my wife. I introduced her tae ye, earlier, in the receiving chamber.”
Lady Margaret sniffed. “Indeed. A fine-looking young woman.”
“She surely is, my lady. But she seems tae have wandered off. This is her first visit tae Holyrood, so she may have lost her way. Have ye seen her at all?”
Lady Margaret thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I do not think we have. Is that not right, Joan?”
“Well…” Lady Joan appeared to be less certain.
“Joan?” Lady Margaret snapped. “We have not seen Lady Roxburghe at all this afternoon. Is that not correct?”
“No, we have not,” Joan agreed at last. “Not since you introduced her to us, my lord.”
Robbie hesitated. There was something not entirely convincing in the younger woman’s apparent lack of certainty. “Lady Elisabeth? Have you seen Lady Katherine?”
In sharp contrast, the other lady was perfectly emphatic. “No, not at all.”
“Are ye quite sure?” Robbie pressed them. “She might have been on her own as she doesnae know many here.”
“We are perfectly sure, my lord.” Lady Mary gathered up her velvet and pearl-studded skirts. “Now, if you will excuse us.”
Robbie had no option but to allow them to pass. He watched as the three ladies picked their way along the gravel path leading back to the main abbey building, unable to dispel the uneasy sense that he had been lied to.
He completed another circuit of the gardens, even venturing as far as the ornamental lake and summerhouse at the very bottom of the grounds. Here, he observed the footprints of several people in the grass surrounding the summerhouse but found no sign of his missing wife.
He peered within the wooden structure, just in case she had decided to rest inside. He entertained the fast-dwindling hope that she might have fallen asleep and not heard him calling out for her.
The tiny cabin was empty. Robbie had known it would be. He retreated, pulling the door to, only to find it would not close properly. Something was catching on it. He investigated further.
“Holy fuck!” He quickly discovered the cause of the problem. A lady’s coif was trapped under the door, preventing it from closing. He bent to release the object, then swore again.
It was Katherine’s coif which he held in his hands, a wedding gift from Flora. He had watched her pull it over her gleaming mahogany locks this very morning. It had clearly taken quite a battering since then. The fine linen was ripped and soiled from being trampled on the earthen floor, and the lace trim had been all but torn off. The silk headdress she had been wearing over the coif was nowhere to be seen at first, though a quick search into the corners of the summerhouse revealed it crumpled beneath the bench
He dashed back outside to scan the surrounding gardens. Nothing seemed amiss. No one was around.
“Katherine,” he called out. “Kat? Are you here?”
There was no answering shout. No breathless lady came rushing from the trees to reclaim her dropped headdress. Only silence echoed around him.
With a growing sense of sickening dread, Robbie examined the footprints more closely. Two men had been here, he thought, perhaps three. And he found several smaller prints also, just at the entrance to the summerhouse. Ladies, perhaps…
Something had happened to Kat. He was sure of it. Something which had caused her to disappear without apparent trace and leave her headdress behind, trampled upon the floor. Robbie set off at a run.
“Katherine is missing.” Robbie burst into the king’s private solar, disturbing a meeting between James and the Bishop of St Andrew’s.
Both men stared at him, but the king was first to react.
“Missing? In what sense is she missing, Robbie?” He got to his feet and came around the table to where Robbie stood panting in the doorway. “Is something amiss?”
“Aye. She is gone. I found these in the summerhouse.” He held out the ruined coif and headdress. “They are hers.”
James grasped the implications without further need for explanation. “In here!” he barked into the hallway beyond the solar. Three guards charged in, their swords drawn.
“Lady Katherine of Roxburghe has disappeared, possibly abducted. You,” he jabbed a finger at the guard closest, “see to it that all exits from the grounds are barred.”
“Aye, Your Majesty.” The man hurried off to do as he was bid.
