Page 12 of Tangled in a Highland Conspiracy
“I will follow you at a discreet distance. I will not make my presence known, so do not fret.” Ramsay spoke in a tone that brooked no argument, and John sighed and bowed to the inevitable.
Ramsay had got his way.
5
“Are you ready?” Molly asked Ailsa as she entered her room as quietly as she could, closing the door softly behind her.
Ailsa was standing in front of the full-length mirror draping a greyish-brown cloak around herself. Underneath it, she was wearing a light grey woollen dress that she hoped looked both pretty and inconspicuous.
“I am about as ready as I ever will be.” She turned to face her friend. “What do you think?” she asked doubtfully.
Molly smiled at her and put a reassuring hand on each of Ailsa’s shoulders. “I don’t think you should wear that to your next ceilidh, but it is perfect for a romantic tryst in the woods,” she declared warmly. “He will think you are gorgeous, which of course you are, Ailsa. You will charm him so thoroughly that he will do anything for you. Wait and see.”
Ailsa laughed. “Molly, what would I do without you?” she asked. “Every time I feel as though I might trip up, you are there to stop me.”
“You will never fall down as long as you carry on being yourself, Ailsa.” Molly smiled and looked her up and down one more time then nodded. “Perfect.” She looked out of the window and saw that the sun had almost disappeared.
“Here is the plan,” she began. “I have bribed the youngest stable lad, Peter, to create a commotion in the stall of that very excitable black stallion Diablo at the end of the row, about as far away from Maisie as you can get. When he starts to neigh in that ear-splitting way he has, he will start all the other horses off, and in the meantime, I will arrive to see what is going on. I will pretend that one of the other horses has kicked or bitten me, and then I will start weeping, and by that time there should be utter chaos! Nobody will be looking your way at all.” She laughed gleefully and clapped her hands. “I am actually looking forward to this. Am I wicked?” Her eyes were glinting with mischief.
Ailsa giggled, then took a deep, steadying breath. “I am so scared,” she said, “but I know this is for the best, Molly.”
Molly hugged her briefly. “You will be fine, Ailsa. I have faith in you.” Then she opened the door and they both crept out into the corridor. They descended by the little-used back staircase and emerged in a small side passage not far from the atrium and courtyard. Now was the dangerous part of their short journey, when Ailsa had to cross the open courtyard without being seen. She felt her heart begin to race.
As soon as she heard the mayhem begin in the stables, she quickly pulled the opening of the cloak across herself, flipped the hood up, and bent down. Then she dashed across to Maisie’s stall. She found that her horse had already been saddled, probably by the stable lad that Molly had bribed, and mounted quickly.
She kept Maisie on a walk until they had crossed over the moat, then speeded up to an easy canter. Hopefully, John would be there before her, and she was surprised to find that she was looking forward to meeting him again. Granted, she would rather have been having a tryst with his handsome half-brother, as the Laird had made sure was known by all—but John was by no means ugly. It was merely that while he had a very pleasant face, his brother had the kind of looks that made women swoon. Yet there was something else about Ramsay that attracted her, something which she could not put her finger on.
She had seen them both again at a peace conference they had been holding the previous week on the Ormond’s side of the Braeburn, and they had both been engaged in a mock ferocious boxing match. Each of them had their hands wrapped in swathes of cloth so that they could both minimise the amount of damage they were doing to each other and receiving themselves.
Ailsa had winced as she saw the blows falling. They landed with such enormous force that she could not begin to imagine what they felt like. Both men hurled insults at each other all the while, and Ailsa wondered for the hundredth time why men always felt it necessary to be so horrible to each other! Perhaps it was some sort of twisted expression of affection.
In the end, John had been the victor in that bout after knocking Ramsay to the ground. He had fallen on his backside and then stood up, rubbing his buttocks before promising revenge on John. Then he grinned and walked away. He had not noticed Ailsa at all, but John had.
He had walked up to her, flicking dirt off his clothes in a vain attempt to make himself look a little cleaner. He looked a trifle embarrassed but straightened his shoulders and smiled when he approached her.
“Forgive my appearance, Mistress Ailsa,” he apologised. “Had I known you would be here I would have tried to look a little more presentable.”
“As you said, you were unaware of my presence.” She shrugged and smiled at him. “And even if you had been, you need not have dressed up on my account.”
John bowed his head and cleared his throat. “How are you?” he asked awkwardly. He looked as though he would love to have been anywhere else.
“I am very well, thank you,” she replied politely as she watched his discomfort.
“I am glad to hear it,” he replied. “Will you excuse me? I must go and make myself presentable.” Without waiting for an answer, he bowed, turned, and marched away, leaving Ailsa feeling disappointed and a little annoyed.
She could see Ramsay in the distance talking to another man, but as John went up to him he put his arm around John’s shoulders and smiled at him. It was obvious to her then that the love between them was as strong as any two brothers who shared both parents.
At that moment Ramsay looked up, and their gazes met over a distance of a hundred yards or so. As before, there was a moment when both of them were mesmerised; Ailsa felt rooted to the spot, but in the same way that he had done the first time, Ramsay turned away. He and John disappeared amongst a crowd of people and she did not see him again that day except in the distance.
Ailsa returned her mind to the matter at hand. The distance to the burn was only about a quarter of a mile, but the shadow of the thick spruce trees along the path made it difficult to see, and she was obliged to pick her way through the forest agonisingly slowly.
Damn!she thought in exasperation.I should have left earlier.Still, it was too late to do anything about it now, and it was not as though the burn was a million miles away. She gritted her teeth and focussed on the task at hand, hoping that John had not given up on her.
Presently she came out of the trees and saw the shape of a man on a horse silhouetted against the sky in the last light of the setting sun. She breathed a sigh of relief, glad that all her efforts had not been in vain. A woman being caught sneaking out on her own would have caused all sorts of uncomfortable questions to be raised.
She moved closer until the rustling of the tree branches next to her caused the figure to turn and look at her. His face was in darkness, but Ailsa had the impression of a smile.
“Mistress Ailsa?” John asked tentatively. “Is that you?”
