Page 32 of Kidnapped By her Highland Enemy
Moray Firth
“Barclay!” Angus Hendry roared from the tree line towards the house on the edge of the sea. Dawn had barely cracked, and the sky was still gray when he and his party of six had arrived at the house Heather had guided them to. His body trembling with rage and the urge to finally get the upper hand on the damn Barclay. “Come out ye sniveling swine and hand me daughter over!”
The surge of the sea was his only reply. Nothing came from the house, not a sound, not a flicker, and no movement whatsoever. Fury marked Laird Dunn’s face and he grabbed the pommel of his claymore. “Get out here, ye miserable dog!”
When no answer came again, Angus spun to Heather, who was standing by his side and twisting her hands. Narrowing his gaze, the furious laird demanded, “Are ye sure this was where ye and Maisie were held?”
“Aye, me laird,” Heather nodded, as fear began to wrap around her heart. “I am sure of it.”
“McGrie!” Angus yelled to his man-of-war. “Get yer men and break that door down!” He then turned to Heather, “If ye are lying to me, I promise ye, ye’ll pay for it.”
“I havenae,” she swallowed just as McCrie kicked the door open and three men rushed into the house before Angus followed them.
Heather hedged up the doorway but even before she heard the laird’s furious shout, she knew the Barclay laird, his men, and Maisie were gone. She stepped aside from the doorway as the men came out and shrunk into herself when the laird came out last.
“Ye—” he jabbed a finger at her, “—are useless, just like yer mistress. Nay one is here an’ ye’ve made me look like a dobbering fool!”
“They were, I swear it,” Heather cried. “This is where they were. Miss Maisie was held upstairs, and I was held in the rooms below.”
“There is nay sign that anyone was here,” the laird snarled. “Every room looks abandoned for years. There are even coats of dirt on the floor.”
Struck about the revelation, Heather stumbled a few steps. “What? N—no, that’s nay right. It cannae be!”
He shoved past her, “Come on men, let’s head home. This place is worthless. And ye, Miss Cowie, ye will have some answering to do.”
Three days had passed with Maisie and Lucas on the road, keeping close to the road but just out of sight. At Lucas’s sudden change of direction, they slept and ate in the woods during the day and traveled at night. During those days though, Lucas had started teaching her how to handle the dagger, not only to defend herself but to kill as well.
On the fourth night, they had crossed over Mackenzie lands and were near the Chisholm territory when they came to the inn Oliver had mentioned. This place stood at least three stories and had two wings that ate up most of the large land it was built on.
The vivid red of the sunset glinted off the red clay tiles on the roof turning bloody under the glare of the rays and Maisie—though hardly gullible, prayed it was not an omen. Even from halfway down the road, the sound of fiddling and the loud booms of laughter confirmed that the inn had patrons.
As they neared, she saw that only the left wing was alight with activity, and through the windows spotted women with low-cut bodices weaving through the tables of games of dice and cards with pitchers of ale.
Lucas helped her down but just before they headed in, he said, “Lass, Oliver told me a way we can keep our identities a secret and let the lady into our plight. If we go by the names Hector and Coira Andrews, she kens we needs secrecy and privacy.”
Maisie blinked, “How is that?”
With a hand on her back, Lucas guided her into the inn. “A few years ago an emissary from Ireland came with a message to give to the king, but kent that if he traveled alone, he would be targeted, so he had a lass with him and they gave those names. The proprietors learnt of their secrecy and held it that anyone who gave those names had to be safeguarded.”
“If anyone kens about that, how would she ken that the matter is serious or nay? Cannae anyone use it?” Maisie asked.
“I must add that I’m told nothing passes by her,” Lucas added as they went inside; Maisie stood to the side while Lucas went to the lady who stood with poise and command over theestablishment. She looked calmly at them and while she looked only once, Maisie had the feeling that nothing escaped her glance. Maybe Lucas was right, nothing passed her,
“Welcome to me inn, gentlemen and lady,” the lady inclined her head. “How may I help ye?”
“Name’s Hector Andrews and this is me wife Coira—” Lucas said and instantly the lady’s eyes went sharp “—Two rooms, please, place in yer stable for three horses, n’ a spot over yer stable as well for one of me men,” Lucas asked while tugging out a few coins from a pouch. “A hearty meal tonight and on the morrow, feed for the horses, an’ no disturbance till then.”
The proprietress gave Maisie a long, level, searching look that made heat spiral up Maisie cheeks. What was she looking for? Even embarrassed, Maisie kept her head up and met the woman’s look with boldness.
The inn-keeper’s lips curved just so as she took the coins, “Very well, please come with me.”
She led them to where the other wing joined the tavern and gestured for a woman to come near. When the servant-girl did, the proprietress said something lowly that Maisie did not hear—and from a look at Lucas’s impassive face, he was not aware of it either.
“Please, follow me.” The girl curtsied to them and took them to the highest level where she unlocked a room. “Miss Sandra isgiving ye this room and the one below it. Supper will be sent up in an hour and a bath will be arranged if ye’d like.”
“Please,” Maisie blurted, then went red. “Please, I’d love one, thank ye.”
“I’ll do with one meself,” Lucas said.
