Amanda Scott (45 page)

“Why should you not?” he retorted. “We need keep no secrets from Molly.”

Bewildered, Molly stared from one to the other, surreptitiously trying to hold her bodice front together without Donald noticing.

He was paying no heed to her, however, for he watched his visitor narrowly.

Lady Percy gazed back at him in dawning astonishment. “Molly? Truly?” She clasped her hands to her bosom, glanced at Molly,
then back at him. “Pray, tell me that you would never jest about such a thing, sir, I implore you!”

He shook his head, still watching her closely.

She turned back to Molly then, and tears welled into her eyes. With a watery smile, she held her arms wide and said, “Molly?
My darling girl, you cannot know how I’ve longed to hold my beautiful daughter again.”

Shocked, still not understanding, Molly stared at her.

“Precious one, do not deny me the moment I’ve waited so long for. Oh, darling girl, embrace me, do! Know you not your own
mother?”

Molly’s knees threatened to fail her. She did not move.

Not far away, Fin lay stretched on his stomach on a hillside with Tam beside him. Thanks to favorable winds, they had made
excellent time, and they had learned soon after making landfall that Sleat had beaten them to the west march by only hours.
Lady Percy had done as she promised, too, procuring horses and a guide for them from a solemn Douglas kinsman who had asked
no questions.

Fin had fifty men with him, but he knew that Sleat had more, and by the solid look of the castle, it was shut tight and guarded
well. He had told Lady Percy that he meant to attack as soon as she could bring him information about Sleat’s defenses, but
he could see no way that an attack would do him much good. The castle, although supposedly abandoned for years, looked formidable.
It occupied the crest of a low hill, and although his present hilltop was nearby and he lay concealed, anyone on Dunsithe’s
battlements commanded every approach and would see him and his men if they moved any nearer.

Like Eilean Donan, Dunsithe’s well sat safely inside the curtain wall, and he knew that if Sleat had left men to guard the
place, they would be well provisioned. Therefore, a siege was unlikely to succeed, because Fin had few friends in the west
march even if Lady Percy’s kinsmen should continue to be helpful. It was more likely that the Kintail men would stand alone,
and if Sleat simply kept Lady Percy inside, Fin would not benefit by anything she might learn.

Movement stirred at the edge of his vision, but as usual, when he turned his head sharply he saw no one. At least… He narrowed
his eyes. There was still some sort of movement, hazy, uncertain, as if a breeze swirled dust about. The wind had died, though.
Not so much as a hint of a breeze stirred.

His men waited silently behind him, below the crest, confident that he would find a way to free their mistress and defeat
Sleat. Little did they suspect his uncertainty. He wished Patrick were there. Patrick always had ideas, and although most
of them seemed daft, they often worked. Fin started to smile, but the image of Patrick’s grinning face faded, replaced in
his mind by Molly’s serious one.

Where was she? What was she thinking? She would not be as confident as his men were that he would rescue her, and even though
the lass had heart, she was likely frightened. He had to get to her. The thought that Sleat might harm her terrified him,
and why else would the villain have seized her and brought her to Dunsithe but in the hope that she could lead him to her
fortune? Even if she could, how could Sleat keep it unless he stole it and murdered her to cover his theft?

Again, movement stirred just beyond sight. Again, he turned and saw…

“Tam, look yonder,” he muttered, pointing. “Do you see anyone near that thicket of trees? A figure, mayhap a countrywoman?”

Tam glanced obediently toward the trees but shook his head, saying quietly, “Nay, laird. We came that route ourselves, and
we ken fine that nae one were there then. I’ve been keeping a sharp eye out since.”

“Good man,” Fin said, frustrated. He could still see movement. Indeed, he could make out a figure in the shadows beneath the
trees, childlike in size but looking more like a woman old enough to be his long-deceased mother. Was she gesturing to him?
He squinted, trying to see her more clearly.

Beside him, Tam muttered, “Be aught amiss, laird?”

“Are you certain you see no one yonder?”

“Dead sure. What d’ye see?”

“We’ve got to get to the mistress,” Fin said harshly, still watching the thicket. It
was
a woman. He could see her more clearly and wondered why Tam did not, for she appeared to be jumping up and down now and waving
her arms madly. Surely, she was some odd hallucination.

He had scarcely slept since learning that Sleat had taken Molly. Doubtless his mind was playing tricks. She was clearer than
ever now, still waving and dancing. Her mouth was open. Was she shouting at him? Why could he not hear her? He had heard voices
when he did not want to. Why could he not…

What was it that Molly had said to him that night at the inlet when she had asked him if he believed in spirits? Something
about just listening, just allowing himself to see and hear what was before him. He was willing enough, but how?

“Wait here,” he said to Tam.

“Where be ye going?”

“Yonder, to the woods. If someone wants to help us, I must learn what she can tell us.”

“But there be no one there,” Tam protested.

“Be silent and wait,” Fin snapped.

Keeping low, he moved swiftly toward the thicket of trees and shrubbery that crowned that part of the hilltop. The rest of
his men waited beyond it. No one could have sneaked past them, so how could any woman possibly…

Molly needed him.

He should be studying Dunsithe, learning all that he could learn abut it, perhaps moving to the far side, using what vantage
he could from nearby hilltops, although he could not count on all of them to be as empty as this one. Had Dunsithe been his
to defend, he would have kept watchers on every nearby hilltop.

Had
Sleat kept watchers here? Was it possible that they had fled when they saw him and his men coming? Did Sleat know they were
here? Was he just waiting for Fin to make his move?

Realizing that he had lost sight of the little woman, Fin hesitated. He had reached the trees, and they provided sufficient
cover for him to stand upright, so he did. Doubtless, she had been only a figment of a wishful imagination.

He needed help. “Where are you?” he muttered desperately.

“Over here.”

He nearly didn’t hear her, and hearing her, he nearly didn’t see her. When he did, he had an urge to shut his eyes. She looked
furious.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Without answering—or answering so softly that he did not hear—she turned and walked away. She was much smaller than she had
seemed before, like a small child, and he was afraid he would lose sight of her if he did not hurry, although that seemed
ridiculous, because one stride of his equaled six of hers. Still, she moved swiftly, not having to duck and bend as often
as he did.

“Wait,” he said urgently, keeping his voice down and hoping she would hear. “Where are we going?”

She stopped and turned, hands on generous hips, scowling at him.

“Ye’re a one for chatter, and nae mistake, but we’ve nae time for it. Ye ha’ work tae be done. Can ye whistle up your lads,
or d’ye need tae fetch them?”

“Aye, of course, I can whistle them up, but why should I?”

She glowered at him. Could she be leading him into a trap?

Hands still on her hips, brows knitted, she said, “I were going tae take ye by yourself, but I ha’ thought better. Ye’ll need
more swords than your own, and that be plain fact.”

“But where—?”

“Whisst now, will ye whisst! I never saw such a one for talking when he should listen. Our Maid be in dire straits, so if
ye want tae help her, ye’ll do as I bid ye and nae more backchat.”

“But who are you?”

“I be Maggie Malloch, nobbut that’s tellin’ ye anything. Now then, will ye call your men, or will ye no?”

“Not until you tell me where you are taking me,” Fin said.

“Into Dunsithe,” she said. “Will that suit ye, d’ye think?”

Putting two fingers to his lips, he gave a low, trilling whistle. He could see Tam from where he stood, but he could not see
the others. Gesturing to Tam to follow him, he followed the tiny woman. The name Malloch meant nothing to him. He had never
heard it before, so he could not judge her allegiances, but she seemed to know Molly. For the moment, that was enough.

“What d’ye want o’ me, laird?” Tam said, coming up with him.

“We’re following her,” Fin said, pointing to his guide. “Who?”

Realizing that Tam still could not see her, Fin hesitated. When he did, the small, plump figure ahead seemed to fade. That
was enough to persuade him.

“Just follow me,” he ordered, “and be sure that the others do, too.”

“But where are we going?”

“Into the castle. I’ve found a secret way in. Don’t ask questions,” he added harshly. “Just do as I command.”

Eyes widening, Tam nodded, and soon fifty men were hurrying along behind the little woman. Fin had not realized that the thicket
extended so far. It seemed to follow the curve of the hill, but instead of moving up toward the top again, to head toward
the castle, they traveled steadily downward.

He wanted to ask more questions, but as the thought crossed his mind, her figure dimmed. Hastily, he decided just to go where
she took him. Her figure sharpened then, letting him follow easily. If he had to duck under branches, he was unaware of it.
So, too, was he unaware of the men behind him. He had eyes only for the hurrying figure ahead.

They crossed a bubbling burn, and just beyond it, the little woman disappeared into the hillside.

Breaking into a run, Fin followed, and he nearly ran right into a rock slab before he realized there was an opening behind
it. The opening looked too narrow for him, but hearing her voice beyond, urging him on, he walked into it, and to his surprise,
it seemed to widen to accommodate him. He walked into a tunnel.

He heard the men muttering behind him now and turned to tell Tam to quiet them. They had to be a considerable distance from
the castle, but without knowing what lay ahead, he wanted them quiet. It would not do for Sleat or any guards he had set at
the other end to hear them.

It occurred to him then that he could see more clearly than one ought to see in a tunnel. He could still see the tiny woman
ahead of him, but more than that, he could see the walls, ceiling, and floor. Something glowed in the dirt, some sort of low,
ethereal light. That someone had used the tunnel often at some time was clear. Passing an alcove with a pair of rusty trunks
of a type that generally contained weapons, he realized that the Gordons probably had built it as a precaution against siege.
The question was whether Donald the Grim knew of it. Lady Percy probably knew, Fin realized. And if she knew, it was possible
that Sleat did, too.

Hesitating, wondering again if they were running into ambush, he glanced back to see his worry mirrored on Tam’s face. Looking
forward again, he discovered that he had lost sight of his guide.

He stopped. What now? It was possible that she had just disappeared around a bend in the tunnel or perhaps into another alcove
like the one containing the weapons chests, but it was also possible that danger lurked ahead, and his men’s lives depended
on his making the right decision.

As that thought crossed his mind, an image of Molly banished it. What Sleat might be doing to her did not bear thinking about,
and with no way into the castle but this one, it would be folly to leave the men behind. They would go forward. He would put
his trust in the tiny woman, but he would keep his wits about him.

Fin drew his sword.

M
olly had allowed the tearful Lady Percy to embrace her, but she felt no sense of familiarity. She had no recollection of her
mother hugging her during her childhood. The memories she did retain of Eleanor Gordon were of a bright creature, flitting
hither and yon, never lighting anywhere, and certainly never sitting still long enough to hold her or her tiny sister, Bess.

Donald said dryly, “Your daughter does not appear to be overjoyed by this reunion, madam.”

Releasing Molly, Lady Percy stepped back and said ruefully, “She has little cause to greet me with joy, I fear. I did not
know what good fortune I enjoyed until Angus took it all from me. He stole my life,” she added bitterly.

“That would imply that you have been dead for some dozen years, madam, yet here you stand alive before us,” Donald retorted.

“Faith, sir, I lost my husband and both of my children in a matter of days. What more is there to a woman’s life?”

“You scarcely can blame Angus for Gordon’s death. Your husband died at the hands of one of his own tenants! As for the rest,
it appears to me that Angus paid you well for your loss by marrying you to the powerful Percy family.”