Page 83 of The Forest Bride
“Only if your answer pleases him,” Duncan said. “It is far too risky.”
“I agree. You cannot consider this, Meg,” her brother said.
“I will go. It could change everything if I can find her. And he has something that he promised to return. The blue stone brooch,” she told Henry. “Thomas’s brooch.”
“How did he get that?” He looked astonished.
“Menteith had it and gave it to him. I was wearing it when the escort was taken down, and it was torn away. That is strong proof that Menteith is behind this.”
Duncan leaned toward her. “Margaret, you cannot do this.”
“And you cannot convince me otherwise. Make your plans. My plan is to see Sir William and uncover Lilias’s whereabouts as fast as possible.”
Walking through thebailey at a quick pace, Duncan looked left and right for Margaret. She had left the hall while he had remained with the others to discuss the situation further. Now he wanted desperately to find her, and talk her out of this folly. She was not in the tower, and he was hoping to find her in the bailey.
Hearing his name, he stopped and turned to see Dame Agatha coming toward him. “Sir Duncan! Have you seen Lady Margaret?”
“I was looking for her myself,” he said.
“I was hoping for the chance to visit with her. We are old friends, you see.” She smiled, and he noticed the scar on one side of her face that pulled at her smile.
“Perhaps you can find her in her bedchamber,” he suggested, smiling too, though he had run up those steps already to find an empty room.
She nodded, glancing around. Liam Seton’s sister was young to be a prioress, and Duncan could not help but notice her beauty; she was lovely and clearly intelligent, and he wondered why she had chosen the veil. The Setons would have found an advantageous marriage for such a daughter.
Yet the deep scar that ran along one side of her perfect face, eyebrow to chin, told a silent tale of trouble and tragedy. Perhaps that had led to her choice. Perhaps some had rejectedher despite her beautiful face and character. The thought made him want to make her feel even more welcome at Brechlinn.
“Thank you, Dame Agatha,” he said. “Did you know Bishop Murray is staying with us as well? I am sure he would want to meet the prioress of Lincluden. I will make sure he knows you are here.”
“Bishop Murray of Moray? I am delighted to know that. I will look for Lady Margaret in the tower, as you suggest.” With another smile, she hurried away.
He turned in the bailey, wondering where Margaret might have gone. Her intention to see De Soulis alarmed him—perhaps she had no idea of the danger that might bring her. He wanted to talk to her, convince her that she need never see De Soulis again.
Ahead, he saw the archery butts, but the area was deserted. Seeing a familiar quiver and bow leaning against a straw bale, he had a thought and turned for gate, hailing a guard.
“Alan MacFarlane,” he called. “Have you seen Lady Margaret?”
“Aye, sir. She was at the butts, but went out a while ago. Lost arrows over the gap, sir, as often happens.”
“She went out without a guard?” That, too, was alarming.
“Alone, sir, but took Mungo with her. A grand guardian. If she does not return soon, I will look for her.”
“I will go now. Open the gate—thank you,” he said gruffly.
Moments later he was striding over turf and hillock around the span of the wall toward the forest. The sky was turning leaden gray and looked to rain. Rounding the wall past the stone-filled breach, he entered the woodland.
Soon he heard the dog’s woof and saw Mungo trotting among the trees ahead. Then he saw skirts the color of a blue jay’s wing sweeping between the birches. He headed that way, wanting to bring her back inside for her own safety. There was always a chance—perhaps she did not realize it—that De Soulis or evenMenteith could come to Brechlinn. Margaret should never be alone outside the castle.
It also occurred to him that he could have a private moment with her out here, away from others, and talk some sense into her.
“Margaret!” he called. The air was damp, the rain hanging in the clouds, cool shadows making greens vibrant. The blue of her skirt was bright too, and the bronze and copper hue of her hair brilliant in the soft gray light.
She stepped into a gap between trees, just under arching branches, looking like a queen of faery. His heart lurched. He caught his breath.
“Are you looking for arrows? It will rain soon. Come inside.” As he spoke, Mungo trotted up to him. He patted the great head almost absently, staring at Margaret.
“I lost two arrows. I found one. Go back. I will be there soon.”
