Page 66 of Once Upon A Haunted Castle
Chapter Three
“She is inthe tower there, nearest the cliff,” Brodie explained. “The maid said she is accompanied at all times by the laird’s leman and has a guard posted at her door.”
“So her father trusts her not?”
“Just so.”
Brodie nodded and turned away, blocking Alex as several MacLeod warriors passed them. For safety’s sake, Alex lowered his head and tugged his hood down over his forehead. He could take no risk of being recognized here and now.
“The leman sleeps in her chamber or returns to The MacLeod’s bed?”
“Lara says she remains in the lady’s chamber. I would guess the chieftain is not happy over the lack of a warm body in his sheets.”
“Lara is it then?” Alex watched the ruddy man’s face color even more at his question. For all his burliness and rough ways, Brodie had a soft heart for the lasses. Much as Alex had until he had met Isabel that day some months ago.
“Aye. Lara.”
Alex left that alone for now. He knew that Isabel’s father would guard his daughter against any possible further disobedience. The presence of the woman in her chamber was a difficulty but one he must overcome. The moon would be dark on the morrow’s night, so that was their best chance of escape without being seen.
“We make our way past the guards by bringing in a wagon of goods for the kitchen and then hide until nightfall,” he repeated to Brodie. “Lara will get the sleeping draught to Isabel. Once the leman and the guard sleep, we will get to her chamber and get her the hell out.”
It sounded so simple and yet it was a plan riddled with the possibility of failure. And failure meant death for him and, most likely, for his wife and any who dared defy The MacLeod. Brodie studied Alex for several silent moments before shrugging and nodding. That was the blunt man’s way of agreeing. Now, they need only wait until the morrow and then find the wagon and ride it into the keep.
Alex and Brodie walked down the pathway away from the gates and guards and turned a corner heading towards the place where the maid’s brother would wait for them at midday on the morrow. Although Brodie seemed willing to trust the maid and her willingness to be part of this, Alex knew that the small sack of coins inside his tunic would ease their way for both the brother’s help and any else who needed gold to convince them.
As they walked, something made Alex look at the keep. There, in the small window on the tower closest to the cliff, he saw Isabel, her blond hair streaming around her from the breezes. So small due to the distance, Alex could not be certain she gazed at him, but he pushed back his hood and nodded to her, hoping she saw him. He watched as she pushed open the window and leaned her face out of it.
I am coming, Isabel. Wait for me.
He sent the thought up to her, praying her heart would hear it and ken he had not forsaken her. When she turned away and tugged the window closed, he knew not if she had.
Damn, but waiting for another day before he could take her from here to safety would nearly kill him.
*
It was Alex!
Isabel fought not to reveal her joy and relief as she closed the window as Evanna ordered her to do. Her message had made it to him and Alex was here to help her. She took a deep breath, pushed her hair over her shoulders and turned to face the dreadful woman in her chamber.
“I did not realize how cold it was when I opened the window,” she said softly. “Pardon.” She longed to grind her teeth over the insult of this woman’s presence near her, but the whipping had taught her to resist her impatient urges.
What her father saw in this woman of plain features and a nasty disposition, Isabel knew not. Even with her auburn hair arranged neatly and a new gown covering her curves, Isabel saw nothing that should appeal to a man like her father. He usually favored women with dark hair and voluptuous curves. And women who raised not their voices to question or to plead or to request. This one, though, was none of those things.
Isabel used all her control to nod in a polite way at her father’s whore and walk to the chair in the corner. Picking up her embroidery, she let her thoughts free even as her fingers flew over the fabric, weaving a plan as her threads wove a pattern. She must wait on his word, though how it would reach her, she knew not.
The silence grated on Evanna’s nerves, Isabel realized, and the woman grew more moody with every hour she spent here, banished from Isabel’s father’s bed and forced to watch over his daughter. Whatever threat or promise her father had made to his leman must have been serious and impressive for her to accept this absence.
Even though it was not a topic worthy or appropriate for the chieftain’s unwed daughter, Evanna made no secret of her appetite for pleasures of the flesh. There was not a woman in the keep or village of Dunvegan who had not heard the stories of excess. Most likely, even The MacLeod’s wife was privy to the knowledge of it, for neither the chief nor his lover practiced discretion around Elizabeth Matheson, Lady MacLeod.
Another hour passed before she calmed enough to slow her work. A glance around the chamber revealed that her gaoler had fallen asleep in her chair. Isabel rested her hands and the fabric and needle on her lap and let out her breath for the first time all day.
He was here.
Though a good distance sat between them, she would have—and did—recognize him even so. Isabel would admit, only to herself, that a small bit of doubt had entered her heart during the worst moments in these last weeks. He had promised his love, his name and his protection, but here, deep in The MacLeod’s control and demesne, she did worry. Murmured promises in the dark were not always the most reliable; she had both understood and feared that.
Now, a peace filled her for no matter what happened, they would face it together. Her hand slipped down over her belly before she could stop and only the knock at the door startling her saved the gesture from being seen by Evanna. The woman woke with a start and glared at Isabel as though she was the cause of the disruption. Finally remembering that she was not the nobleborn woman in the chamber, Evanna walked to the door and lifted the latch.
“You are late,” she scolded as she pulled it open wide. The guard standing there turned to watch the kitchen maid enter. From the way he sniffed at the tray the girl carried, he must be hungry as well. “Put it there.” With a pointing finger, Evanna directed the servant to the table before the hearth.
