Page 93 of Love with a Scottish Outlaw
Letting out a sigh, Cat picked her way up the path in the gloom, glad that each passing moment brought more and more light. Her skirts caught on bushes, she tripped once over a rock that blended in to the dirt, but with every step climbed, she felt more confident. She came up at last to the open area in front of the gatehouse, lifting her skirts, ready to march in there and drag Finn back by the ear if necessary—
And then she saw Finn running straight toward the path, toward her. The terror on the girl’s white face made Cat’s lungs seize, her heart kick in to a wild beat. She only had a moment to realize she would protect brave, wonderful Finn until the day Cat died. Then the true danger revealed itself. A stranger on horseback galloped behind Finn, his cloak swirling in the wind, his head lowered over the horse’s neck, one arm reaching for the girl.
Chapter 21
Cat wasn’t in the cave when Duncan appeared for breakfast. It was Melville who told him that Cat had followed Finn to the horses some time ago.
“It’s barely light out,” Duncan said, frowning. “How long is some time ago?”
Melville swallowed hard. “’Twas dark outside, sir. And I might have . . . closed me eyes a bit.”
Or perhaps not cared much, since in the older man’s mind, Cat was competition for the foolish dreams he was encouraging in his daughter.
Duncan gritted his teeth. “Do not allow such a thing to happen again.”
The man gave several bobs of the head as Duncan strode past him outside. The night guard confirmed that Cat had gone to the paddock, but Duncan couldn’t find her there, and her favorite horse—all the horses—were accounted for. Had she gone for a stroll in such dangerous times? He searched the entire outdoor encampment and found nothing. He had to have missed something. Back inside, he tried the pool cave, where he surprised Torcall floating contentedly on his back, naked. Upon seeing Duncan, Torcall flailed and sank beneath the surface.
But no Cat. Maeve was waiting in the great hall when he returned.
“I cannot find Finn, either,” Maeve said in a low voice, twisting her hands in her apron. “Mistress Catherine has disappeared before, Laird Carlyle.”
“Aye, but usually with me or the men. There are no missing horses,” Duncan added with frustration. “I cannot believe they would just start walking to the village.” And then he stiffened. “The castle.”
Outside, he hurried up the steep jagged path, then jogged across the open grounds and through the gatehouse.
“Catherine?” He wanted to call her by her real name, as if that would make her appear faster. “Finn?”
There was no answer but the wail of the wind through the reeds. Cat and Finn were gone.
He went back through the gatehouse and, to his surprise, saw fresh hoofprints. He didn’t know when the last time he’d ridden here had been, and no one else came this way. The hoofprints seemed to head right for the path, which no horse would have an easy time of—and then he saw a woman’s shoe lying in the mud.
The shot of fear was almost shocking, paralyzing. Cat’s shoe. Or was it? He picked it up and began to run down the path, jumping over bushes, climbing through rocks, sliding through scree near the bottom, anything for a more direct trail straight down. He ran into the cave, holding the shoe high.
“Maeve!” he barked.
Everyone jumped and froze.
“Is this the shoe ye gave Catherine?” he demanded.
Maeve began to nod before he even reached her. “Where did ye find it?”
“Up at the castle. She and Finn are gone.” He looked at Torcall and Angus. “Pack provisions for a several-day journey. I’ll ready the horses.”
He turned.
“Laird Carlyle,” Maeve called.
He glanced over his shoulder.
“Do ye think someone took ’em?”
“Aye, I do.”
Her look of fear only echoed his thoughts. Had someone realized who Cat was and took her for ransom? He told himself that since they hadn’t killed her, they surely had no plans to. But since Finn was also gone, he had to consider that Sheriff Welcker and his men might have succeeded in stealing another child right out from under his nose.
He and his two men rode off, knowing there was only one road up to the castle—only one way down for horses. The kidnappers couldn’t have much of a start, and they had two very unwilling prisoners.
Cat never would have been exposed to such danger if he’d just taken her home right from the beginning. His selfish need for vengeance might have put her in the path of a man so bloodthirsty he didn’t care what happened to children, as long as his pockets grew heavier with gold.
