Page 26 of The Scottish Bride
“I am doing enough,” Lady Edith complained. “What else?”
“Oonagh. Tell Sir Davey—privately, please—that he must put her somewhere safe, and ask him to take care of her. She will miss me, and I do not want Sir Malise to catch sight of her. Please do that. I will worry so.”
“Oh, fine. She is a good hound. I will tell Davey. Why are you taking more books? This is all madness! Here, you will need good shoes.” Edith crammed slippers in with the books as she spoke.
Tamsin knew it was a mad scheme. Silent, she took up her blue and green plaid cloak and drew it over her shoulders, fastening it with the heavy silver and amber pin that had belonged to her mother. The pattern of dark colors would blend in the forest on her way to Selkirk, where she now realized she must go.
She would have to travel cautiously, even hide at times. Rebels lived in the forestland that covered the hills. If she encountered them, she could only pray they would aid a Scottish lady escaping the English.
Picking up a little book of hours, its boards wrapped in red leather, she handed it to Edith. “This too. And this.” She took up a book of remedies that sat on a table.
“You and your books,” Edith said, stuffing them in the sturdy bag of boiled wool. “This is too heavy for you to carry.”
“I will be fine.” She latched the buckle on the leather bag.
“Sir Malise will have an apoplexy when he finds you gone.”
“Which is why I must leave while the castle is asleep.”
“What if you meet outlaws?”
“I will pray they are friendly.”
“You have an answer for everything. But this is a foolish thing you are doing.”
“It may be. But I have to try.” She rummaged in a small enameled box on a table, taking from it some coins, a jeweled pin, and two gold rings, which she dropped into the embroidered purse on her belt. She would need to pay her way here and there.
Her heart pounded. Truly, she was terrified. But she had no choice.
“Edward of England will be furious.” Lady Edith gave it a final try.
“He has worse troubles than a young woman running from a marriage.”
“He could take out his anger on your brother. And your sisters.”
Her hands stilled on the pouch. Fear rose again, but she shook her head. “Henry is in the king’s good graces. He has some privilege now. I did not agree with his choice to ride for Edward, but he was wise to seek protection there.”
“Perhaps, but where is he when you need him?”
Malise had hinted that Henry was in danger. Hands shaking, Tamsin opened another box tucked on a shelf and took out a slim leather sheath with a small ivory-handled dagger within. The engraved steel blade gleamed in the candlelight.
“Veritas vincit,” she read. “Truth conquers. The ancient motto of the Keith clan.”
“Being truthful is not always helpful to you Keiths,” Edith muttered.
“Aye well.” Tamsin looked toward the window, where light infused the darkness. “I must go before dawn breaks.”
She embraced Edith, who clung to her. “At least try the door. If you can go that way, you will not risk a broken neck. Silly lass.”
“Very well.” Shouldering the leather satchel and the heavy woolen bag, she went to the door, eased it open, then closed it quickly.
“There is a guard outside,” she whispered. “Sleeping by the steps. Malise must have sent him. I must go out the window. Please, Edith, help me.”
She went to the window, pulling open the shutter to a fresh blast of cold air. “I knotted one end of the linens to the stone pillar. Help me test it.”
Together they tugged on the fabric. “It will hold,” Edith declared. “But it is a far drop to the ground.”
“Henry taught me to climb ropes when we were children. It was a game we played. Our mother hated it,” she added, kneeling on the seat beneath the window that was set with thick glass above and shutters below. She opened the shutters farther and leaned to look out.
