Page 42 of Love with a Scottish Outlaw
“And do you offer the same to her?”
He arched a brow. “She’s a married woman with a husband and three bairns. I don’t think there’s much I can aid her with.”
“That’s not true. You’re a wanted man, and yet you make time to see her, risking your freedom. I’m sure she appreciates that.”
He shrugged.
He was obviously uncomfortable with the subject, so she turned to face the castle. “I’m here, so I’d like to go in.”
“And if I say no?”
“You won’t, will you? I’m fascinated by history.”
“Ye’ve remembered that, too?” he asked dryly.
She lifted her chin, sensing victory. “I’m fascinated right now, so no memory is involved. When was it built? If you know, that is.”
“Of course I know. ’Twas finished in 1230.”
“That’s almost—” And then her voice caught, as she realized she didn’t know what year it was.
His voice sounded just a bit softer as he said, “In three years, ‘twill be five hundred years.”
“Ah, so it’s 1727.” She tried to sound matter-of-fact, but the sadness came through. “At least mathematics hasn’t failed me.”
He let out his breath. “Very well, we’ll enter the courtyard, but when I tell ye ’tis too dangerous, ye’ll listen or I’ll throw ye over my shoulder and carry ye out.”
She eyed his broad shoulders and thought, You promise? But it wouldn’t be fair to say those words aloud. “I’ll obey your every command.”
He rolled his eyes.
She put a hand to her chest in mock outrage. “Do you doubt my honesty?”
He didn’t say anything, only strode past her toward the gatehouse. Excitedly, she fell in behind him. Within the gatehouse, the darkness smelled dank and unused, perhaps with even the remains of a dead animal.
She looked up at the black hole that was above her. “No one let the portcullis down?”
“With the walls breached, it matters little.”
She winced, hating to appear stupid. Apparently she could suffer the sin of pride about some things. They came out into the courtyard, where weeds and grass grew as high as her waist. The towerhouse, the main building, was part of the wall opposite her, and there were lower buildings along other walls. Everywhere doors were missing, and the weeds seemed to continue right inside.
“How was it damaged?”
“In the war between the Royalists and the Covenanters almost a century ago. After the walls were breeched, my family tried to remain, but a civil war involving Scotland, England, and Ireland made it dangerous to be so unprotected. When the war had ended, my grandfather moved to a manor home in the nearest village, and there we’ve been ever since.”
Left unsaid was that there had obviously not been enough funds to repair the castle.
She eyed the towerhouse again. “You must have kept watch here, since there doesn’t seem to be much damage.”
“It helps that there are rumors of ghosts.”
She shot him an astonished look. “Ghosts? How intriguing.”
The wind picked up, and the wail she’d heard from the caves was so much louder, warbling and eerie.
“Ah, I see now. You did that deliberately.”
He said nothing.
