Page 83 of Sins of a Scot
It took no more than a minute for them to spot Iseabail and Owen. Immediately afterwards, the sound of the guard’s yelling voices travelled up to meet them.
“This is yer last chance,” Iseabail said, piercing him with an intense gaze. “Any moment now, guards will be sent out o’ those gates tae meet us. Ye can still go. They’ll be too interested in me arrival tae follow ye.”
Facing her with a determined look of his own, Owen shook his head. “Nae, Iseabail. I’ve told ye already. I’m nae leaving yer side. I’ll never leave yer side. Dae ye understand me?”
A sad frown lined her brow, and then she said. “If that is the case, then I will remind ye firmly. Dinnae remove that crystal from around yer neck. Ye heard what Ada said. The laird can cause ye a great amount o’ pain.”
They continued on then, and, as they both knew would happen, four guards came thundering toward them on horseback, meeting them half way.
“What is yer business here?” the lead man barked.
“Me name is Lady Iseabail Mackay. I am here on request o’ Laird Sutherland. I am in possession o’ something he wants.”
The guard nodded immediately, clearly recognizing the name. He jerked his head to Owen. “And him?”
“He is me manservant,” Iseabail said calmly. “He accompanies me everywhere. I willnae come and see the laird without him.”
The guard scowled at Owen and eventually nodded. “Fine. Follow us tae the castle.”
Inside the huge courtyard, their horses were taken by stable hands. Owen had no choice but to relinquish his sword, but the guard assured him it would remain with the horse and be returned when they were leaving. As much as Owen did not like it, not wanting to make this situation any more distressing for Iseabail, he agreed. The same guard then led them towards the castle entrance.
Once inside, the guard took long strides, but Iseabail refused to hurry, and on several occasions, he had to wait for her to catch up.
Good fer ye, Iseabail.
Inside, the castle was little different to Owen’s own home. Tapestries and swords hung on the wall, tables and furniture were placed at different areas in the corridors, and large ornate candelabras held many candles to light their way. As they continued down the corridor, servants and maids stood to the side, letting them pass, all bowing their heads respectfully.
All the while they were being led, Owen was keeping a keen eye on the direction they were going. His gut told him that things were not going to go as smoothly as they ought, and thus, he wanted to make certain that if they needed to make a quick escape, he knew the way out.
He noticed several places where small doors were situated, and imagined them to be the entrances and exits of hidden tunnels that ran through the castle, very much like home.
They may prove useful at some point.
After turning down yet another corridor, the guard eventually came to a stop outside a wooden door. Lifting a fist, he knocked firmly on it.
“Enter,” a dulled voice came back.
The guard opened the door and led them in. “Lady Mackay tae see ye, me laird,” he announced.
Laird Sutherland stood from his desk and moved around it slowly, a scowl sitting upon his thin lips. He was a large man, but more rotund than muscular, with a flabby jowl and protruding belly. Similar to his father, though his father was in far better condition, Owen guessed the laird was nearing middle age.
“And who is this?” he demanded, pointing to Owen.
“He is me man servant, me laird,” Iseabail repeated her earlier explanation. “I need protection when I travel, and I dinnae go anywhere without him.”
“That isnae true,” Owen declared. However this was going to go, he wanted to let Laird Sutherland know who he was dealing with. “Me name is Owen Sinclair, son o’ Laird Sinclair from the Clan Sinclair. I have been accompanying Lady Mackay tae ensure her safety.”
In his peripheral vision, he could see Iseabail glaring at him, clearly struggling to believe what she had just heard. No doubt, she had been trying to protect him, but he was no coward, and never had been. It had been necessary to get him inside the castle, but now that he was there, the necessity for pretense was over.
“It was ye on South Ronaldsay,” the laird barked.
“Ye mean where yer men nearly killed Lady Mackay?” Owen spat back. “Fine men ye have, me laird. Attacking a defenseless woman.”
The laird eyed him carefully, before turning back to Iseabail. “Dae ye have what I sent ye fer?”
“Aye, I dae. But ye willnae see it until I see me faither and braither,” Iseabail replied caustically.
“Ye are in nay position tae be making demands, Lady Mackay,” Laird Sutherland growled.
