Page 19 of Tangled in a Highland Conspiracy
She was coiling her hair into a neat bun at the back of her neck when she heard a tentative knock at the door. She opened it to admit Molly, who looked as though she was about to faint with relief.
“Thank god you are back,” she breathed. “Your mother came to see you after you had gone last night to ask you about your wedding dress, and I had to make some feeble excuse for you. I told her that you had a bad headache, took some valerian tea then went to bed and asked not to be disturbed.
She did not believe me, though. She went into your room with your father and they looked everywhere for you. Then she pressed me and pressed me to tell her where you were, and I told her over and over again that I did not know, until eventually I began to weep. I think she believed me then. She and your father are going to send out a search party as soon as it is light enough.” Then she looked at Ailsa’s dress, horrified. “Did you meet John? What did he say?”
Ailsa hugged her friend tightly. “Thank you, Molly,” she said relieved. “You are a good friend.” Then she flopped down into a chair and sighed. “He did not appear.” She was so nervous about lying that she kept her face turned away from Molly to avoid looking her in the eyes. “I waited and waited, and after a while I became scared that a wild boar or a bandit would come and attack me, so I came back.”
Molly was horrified at first, then she became thoughtful. “He did not come to meet you?” she asked, her voice high with indignation. “What do you think happened?”
“I think the most likely explanation is that he took fright and thought better of it,” Ailsa answered, becoming more and more confident as she went on with her tale.
“Perhaps he regretted it, or someone talked him out of it,” Molly suggested. “He is very close to his brother… What is his name?” She thought for a moment, then raised her forefinger as she remembered. “Ramsay, the one who has no idea who his mother is.” Her tone was scornful.
A sharp spear of anger pierced Ailsa. “He cannot help what he is,” she protested. “And being born out of wedlock is not a crime.”
“No, I suppose he cannot,” Molly conceded, then she went on: “I am sorry. That was very cruel of me. You must have been there quite a long time. I have been waiting for you for hours and hours.” She saw Ailsa fumbling with her hair, so she took the ivory comb from her and began to slowly draw it through the silky strands.
“I had to go very slowly,” Ailsa told her. “The path is narrow, quite overgrown in some places, and almost impossible to see in places, so it took a long time. I am sorry you were worried about me, Molly.”
“Are you sure you did not miss each other?” Molly sounded puzzled as she began to secure Ailsa’s hair with pins. “As you say, it was dark.”
“It was mostly dark under the shadows of the trees,” Ailsa told her. “The moonlight was bright on the riverbank. If he had been there I would have seen him. No, Molly, there was no mistake. He simply did not come.”
Molly was standing behind her, and there was a brief silence until she put the final pin into her hair. “Well, we can do nothing about that,” she said mildly. “But we must do something about this dress. What on earth were you doing? You look as though you had a bath in the burn!”
“Not quite,” Ailsa replied. “I tripped on a rock and fell in, but only up to my knees.” She silently congratulated herself for her ability to lie fluently, but she did not meet Molly’s eyes.
While she was speaking, Molly had been stripping Ailsa’s soiled dress off. Although most of the blood had gone, there were still spots here and there, and it was absolutely filthy. With Molly’s assistance, she washed as best she could at the washstand, and having put on a clean dress, looked in the mirror.
She looked presentable enough to pass, she thought, although she was longing for a bath. However, she could attend to all that later.
“There. You are fit to see the world now.” Molly declared, but she was frowning. “Where did those spots of blood on your dress come from?”
“I had a few accidents with tree branches along the way,” she said carelessly, unable to think of anything better to say. Ailsa stood again and looked at Molly, then frowned and asked curiously; “Who brought the letter?”
Molly looked confused. “One of the guards gave it to me. He said as I told you, that a messenger from the Ormonds was waiting for an answer. I had almost given up searching for you when I finally found you. It was the very tall guard; Kenneth, I think his name is. He is quite well known for being very smitten with you, Ailsa.”
“Is that the one with the red hair and beard?” Ailsa asked. “He has very dark eyes, as I remember.” She shuddered. The man had always made her flesh creep.
Molly nodded. “Yes,” she answered. “He is very hard to miss. He told me that he was on patrol at the border of your father’s land and he was given the letter.”
“But who gave it to him?” Ailsa asked. “Did he say?”
“No, and in my haste I did not ask him,” Molly confessed.
“Then we have to find him,” Ailsa said firmly. “He has to tell us who sent the letter since someone is obviously up to some mischief.” She tried to sound irritable rather than furious, as though the letter had been a mere annoyance. However, she was trembling inside with rage, and was determined to get to the bottom of the mystery for John’s sake—-and for Ramsay’s.
* * *
However, they had to postpone the search since Ailsa had to tell her mother and father that she was alive and well. As well as that, she had been active all night without anything to eat and was so ravenous that she was beginning to feel dizzy from hunger.
“I will have to eat or I am going to faint,” Ailsa declared. “Come with me to my father’s study, Molly. I must tell them I am hale and hearty first before I do anything else.”
They quickly made their way to the study but discovered that her father was not alone. When they opened the door, Ailsa’s parents were both there talking earnestly to each other. They stopped abruptly as the two young women entered the room. Lady Davina leaped up and ran around the desk to embrace her daughter. “Where have you been?” she asked, beginning to weep tears of relief as she kissed Ailsa’s face over, and over again. “We have been worried sick!”
Ailsa’s father, however, had a different reaction. He put his arms around both his daughter and his wife, but although he kissed Ailsa and gave a great sigh of relief, he had a thunderous frown on his face. He had been afraid, then relieved, but now he was furious.
“I think we are owed an explanation, lass,” he said angrily to his daughter. He pulled out chairs for Ailsa and Molly, then poured out a glass of ale for each of them.
