Chapter 10

Sorcha flung herself from her horse and rushed to Rory's side, but Hugo caught her as she reached him and pulled her back.

"Wait, lass, let me," he said. "He's breathing, but he's been hurt, and sometimes when a man regains consciousness after such an experience, he can be violent without realizing he strikes one who is trying to aid him."

Relieved to know that Rory was breathing, she was willing to let Hugo attend him, but she hovered over them until she heard Rory groan.

"Thank heaven," she exclaimed as she knelt swiftly beside him, appalled to see deep purple-black bruises on his face. "I thought you were dead! Speak to me, Rory. Why did you leave? What happened to you?"

"Easy," Hugo said. "He's barely conscious." As he began to untie Rory from the tree, he shouted to his men, "Einar Logan, fetch some water, and you others keep watch lest the lad be bait for a trap!"

"You don't really think they would attack us here on the highroad," Sorcha said, looking about for any sign of villains. "We've only come a few miles past Dunblane, but I see a great castle in the distance, on that massive outcropping."

"Aye, that's Stirling," Hugo said, holding Rory by the shoulders as another of his men knelt by them to help untie the bindings. "I don't think we need fear attack here," he went on. "But I don't want to be too confident where Waldron is concerned. My guess is the lad got too close to some of his men, but where they could have come by that pretty bauble on his head, I have no notion."

"That's Adela's chaplet," she said quietly. "I'm sure of it."

"It is just a simple one," he said, taking it off Rory's head and handing it to her. While she examined it, he helped Rory, untied at last, to lie more comfortably on the ground. "Are you sure it is hers?"

"Aye, because it was our mother's, and her initials are engraved here on the band," Sorcha said, moving to make room for another of his men, a wiry-looking one with a dark, neatly-trimmed beard, who brought him a jug of water.

"Get something to slip under his head, Einar," Hugo said as he took the jug, poured water in one hand, and sprinkled it on Rory's face.

"He can ha' me jerkin, sir," Einar said, shrugging it off.

As she watched him ease the bunched jerkin gently under Rory's head, Sorcha said, "Rory cannot have caught up with those villains unless they are traveling much slower than we thought they were."

"True," Hugo agreed, but he said no more because, as he tried to give Rory a sip of water from the jug, the lad stirred convulsively and tried to sit up.

"I think he's going to be sick," Sorcha warned, stepping back.

Hugo did not pause to question her judgment but shoved the jug at Einar Logan, seized Rory again, and turned him just in time to prevent him from spewing the contents of his stomach all over Hugo and himself.

Einar, just as quick, snatched his jerkin from harm's way in time to spare nearly all of it. Without comment, he sluiced the small portion that did not escape with water from the jug, then rubbed it clean against the bark of the chestnut tree.

Rory's face was whiter than ever around the horrible bruises as he fixed his gaze on Sorcha and muttered, "Sorry, m'lady."

"Sakes, I'm just glad you aren't dead!" she exclaimed. "When I first saw you, I was as sure as I could be that you were. Whatever happened to you?"

"Not here, lass, and not now," Hugo said. "We'll get him on his feet first and see if he's fit to go on with us."

"I'm fit, sir, though 'tis likely ye'll be ripe t' flog me," Rory said miserably.

"What did they give you?" Hugo asked.

"A rare beating first of all, then summat bitter to drink. I dinna ken aught about what happened after that. Next thing, I were here and ye were a-holding me."

"Were they ordinary brigands or otherwise?"

"They'd ha' been the ones we be following," Rory said. "Leastwise, they said I were one o' the men following them, so they must ha' been."

"All right, let's see if you can stand up," Hugo said.

Sorcha wanted to insist that they let him recover before they made him move about, because she was afraid Hugo did mean to punish him for leaving the camp. That he had not reassured him suggested that Rory was right to be fearful.

She knew better than to question Hugo in front of his men, but she could not let him hurt Rory more than Waldron's men already had. He was clearly in pain, because he could hardly stand, even with Hugo propping him up.

To stall for time, she held out the silver chaplet so Rory could see it, and said, "How came you by this?"

Hugo frowned, but he did not say Rory should not answer.

Rory looked bewildered. "I didna come by it, m'lady. I never saw it afore."

" 'Tis likely they put it on his head after they'd tied him, and after whatever they gave him had already rendered him unconscious," Hugo said.

"Sakes, sir," she said, "what manner of men are they that they could have such a potion with them?"

"I've told you, lass, we must assume they are capable of anything."

Sorcha shivered but said nothing more, bending to pick up the jug as Einar moved to Rory's other side. Between them, he and Hugo helped him walk back to where the others waited with the horses. Rory's pony was nowhere in sight, so she was glad Hugo's men had brought extra mounts.

Hugo scanned the nearby area. "We'll make for that thicket yonder," he said, pointing to a grove of trees a quarter of a mile from the road. "We can rest for an hour and have our midday meal. The lad should be able to ride by then. I'll put him up with one of you other men for now and perhaps later, too, unless he feels stronger after he eats."

"He can ride wi' me, sir," Einar said. "The pair o' us willna tax a horse as much as it would did the lad ride wi' one o' them other great louts."

The man who had helped unbind Rory had been following them, and Hugo turned the lad over to both of them.

Then, to Sorcha, he said, "Come, lass, I'll help you mount."

She hesitated, glancing about to be sure the other men and Sidony were not close enough to hear. Then she said quietly, "You won't flog him, will you?"

"He disobeyed me," Hugo replied just as quietly. "I'll have some things to say to him that he will not like hearing, because I want to make certain he won't do such a thing again, but I won't do more."

"Thank you," she said with relief as she turned toward her horse.

He stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Don't mistake me," he said when she looked back at him. "I am not sparing him to please you. I may need him, and he won't be of any use if he cannot recover quickly from his injuries. My men know me well, and they will understand that. I mean to make sure that Rory does, too."

Sorcha was silent, knowing he meant to make sure she understood as well. Then, realizing he was waiting for some sort of response, she nodded.

Satisfied, he released her and, putting a hand to her shoulder instead, kept it there as they walked to her horse. Still silent, he lifted her to its back, steadied the animal while she gathered the reins and settled herself, and then strode to his own mount and swung himself onto the saddle.

The ride to the thicket took only minutes, and once there, the men prepared a hasty repast. By the time they had eaten, Sorcha thought Rory looked more alert and moved with greater ease. She kept a close watch on Hugo, though, and saw that he watched the lad nearly as closely as she did. She hoped Rory's quick recovery would not lead him to change his mind about punishing him.

When Hugo finished his meal and stood, then walked toward Rory, Sorcha quickly followed, determined to be near enough to intervene if necessary.

Hugo cast her a quick, measuring glance but made no objection. Squatting to his heels beside Rory, he said, "We'll talk some now before we ride on."

"Aye, sir," the lad replied, eyeing him warily.

Sorcha opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Hugo held up a hand and said, "If you want to stay, you may, but only if you do not speak."

Shutting her mouth, she nodded.

"Now," he said to Rory, "I want you to tell me everything that happened to you. Begin with how and why you slipped away."

Rory swallowed hard, visibly frightened about making such a confession. But after a brief silence, he said, "I heard ye tell them three they might come upon signs o' her ladyship's abductors, so when they went to get horses, I followed, 'cause Lady Sidony be worrying so about the lady Adela, and I thought I could learn summat. One man guarding the horses did ask what I were about, but them three had mounted, so I… I told him ye'd said I were to go wi' them."

"I see," Hugo said in a tone that neither Sorcha nor Rory could mistake for anything but strong disapproval, but all he added was, "What then?"

Swallowing again, not taking his eyes off Hugo, Rory said, "I followed them easy, sir, on account o' the moon being so bright. Whilst the road wound amongst them hills beyond the loch, I didna fear them seeing me, but when it straightened, I feared one might look back, so I lagged back more. I dinna ken how long we rode, but I were passing one o' them patches o' forest and… and the woods closed in to the road on both sides o' me till the place seemed fair haunted, so I'd kicked me pony to catch them up a bit when five horsemen rode out and surrounded me."

"Five?"

"Aye, sir, and they seemed t' ken who I were, too. One o' them told their leader I were your man."

"He named me?"

"Aye, sir."

"What manner of man was their leader?"

Rory looked thoughtful, then said, "About the size o' Einar Logan, mayhap not quite so tall but lanky and tough-talking—younger than what Einar be wi' light hair and a big nose as sticks out like a hawk's beak."

"You use your eyes well," Hugo said. "What else did you see?"

"Nobbut them, sir," Rory said. "They pulled me off me horse into the woods, where the hawk's-beak one said t' tell them all I could o' your men and your plan. When I said I kent naught o' such things, being I'd only just met ye all yestermorn, he said he'd ha' to teach me a lesson. He ordered his men t' beat me wi' their fists. Then they asked me again, but I had nowt to say but what I'd said afore, so they forced me to drink some nasty stuff that the hawk's-beak one carried in a wee vial in his pouch. After that, I were as I were till ye woke me. Me cousin's going to be gey wroth wi' me for losing his pony," he added with a grimace.

"Did they say anything else that you recall?"

"Nobbut what I said, sir, just wanting t' ken what I could say o' plans and such." He frowned in a puzzled way, then added, "Wait, though. One o' them did say Lord Waldron wouldna be pleased that I kent so little."

Hearing Hugo release a quick breath, Sorcha glanced at him, but he still watched Rory intently. When the lad made no further comment, he murmured, "Anything else? Anything at all? What is the last thing that you recall?"

Rory squinted as if by doing so he could squeeze more out of his memory.

Sorcha wanted to tell Hugo it was enough that he could name Waldron. But she was afraid he'd send her away, and she wanted to hear everything they said.

At last, Rory said, "There do be one wee thing, sir. I dinna ken when I heard it, or even if I did, but the word Ratho came to me. I ken naught o' what it means. Sakes, I canna even say I didna dream it."

"You've done well to recall as much as you have," Hugo said.

Sorcha had looked at Hugo the moment Rory said the odd word, and had seen that it meant something to him.

So when he turned casually to her and said, "You may leave us now, lass," she shot him a mutinous look.

"I would know more of this Ratho, sir," she said.

"I doubt that it means much," he said.

"Nevertheless—"

"That will do," he said curtly. "I have some things to say to this lad now, and he will not thank you for staying to hear them."

Rory looked miserable again, but Sorcha knew she could not help him. She could only trust Hugo to keep his word. Accordingly, she turned without another word and went to join the others.

Hugo and Rory soon joined them, and at a gesture from Hugo, Rory limped to Einar Logan, who helped him mount. Whatever Hugo had said to the lad had left him looking wretched, so when Sidony suggested that she and Sorcha might ride beside him and Einar, Sorcha shook her head.

"He would not thank us for our sympathy," she said. "Nor would he want us to fuss over him like anxious nursemaids. However, I do want to have a word with Sir Hugo, dearling, so if you want to ride beside Rory for a short time, you should do so now, but only if you can promise not to talk of his injuries or his ordeal."

Sidony agreed, and Sorcha watched to be sure that neither Rory nor Einar would object to her riding alongside them before she kicked her own pony and urged it on to where Sir Hugo rode in the lead.

"You should hang back amidst the others, lass," he said when she guided her mount up beside his. "You are too much exposed here for my liking."

"You have already said that no one will attack us so close to Stirling, sir," she said. "We'll be there shortly. And in any event, I want to talk to you."

"Ratho," he said, smiling at her and thus giving her a more encouraging reaction than she had expected.

"Just so," she said, returning the smile. "I know you recognized the word. What is it? Some sort of password or secret place?"

"You have a vivid imagination," he said. "Ratho is just a village."

"Between here and Edinburgh?"

"Nay, it lies southeast of Linlithgow near the Glasgow road."

"Then we must go straight on there from Linlithgow," she said. "Indeed, if it is not too far, we should strive to reach Ratho tonight. They must be going there if Rory heard them mention it."

"More likely, they mentioned it to put us off their track," he said. "Edgelaw, which is Waldron's seat, lies likewise to the southeast. But he will more likely ride cross-country through the hills than pass through Ratho. As you have doubtless noted, he avoids most places of habitation."

"I thought he was going to Edinburgh."

"He'll go where he pleases," he said. "I'm guessing the reason his men mentioned Ratho in the lad's hearing was to put us off the track so we don't catch up with him until he is ready for us. We've followed them with surprising ease, you know. If he had not wanted us to know where he was taking your sister, we'd not have heard a whisper about him or his men after they'd abducted her."

"Faith, sir, I do not think it is surprising that we were able to follow them. You know as well as I do how quickly news flies around the Highlands. Someone would have heard or seen enough to tell us their direction."

"Not if Waldron had not wished it," Hugo said.

"But they had to follow beaten tracks to avoid getting lost," she insisted.

"Waldron has no need of tracks to find his way. Had he desired secrecy, no Highlander would have seen him and lived to tell anyone else."

"Sakes, would he kill a man just for catching sight of him?"

"He would if he wanted to preserve secrecy."

"But you cannot be certain he does not mean to go to Ratho."

"I am certain he can have only one reason to have let Rory hear the name Ratho," Hugo said. "And that is because he wants us to go there. So we will not."

Instinct told her he was holding something back.

"You promised you would share any information you acquired about my sister's whereabouts, sir. And since she is with Waldron…"

"In fact, lass, my promise was to share information I acquired about the lad's whereabouts," he said, calmly meeting her challenging gaze.

"Aye, well, there is something you are not telling me about this village. I want to know what it is."

He shook his head. "Ratho is just a village."

"There is something," she insisted.

Hugo grimaced. He had hoped this moment would delay itself until they had made camp for the evening. However, he already knew her well enough to be sure she would not let the subject drop merely because he asked her to.

His thoughts leaped to the two most likely reasons Waldron had let slip the name Ratho. Either he was laying a trap or he meant to misdirect them. From that thought followed Hugo's instant awareness that he could waste no more time before getting Sorcha and Sidony out of harm's way.

With a glance back at the others to reassure himself that no one was near enough to overhear unless she shrieked at him, he said, "First, I am certain Waldron has no intention of riding through the streets of Edinburgh with your sister. I think his men told folks that just so we would know what direction to follow them."

"Then where is he going?"

"Most likely, to Edgelaw," Hugo said. "It lies three miles south of Roslin. Its walls are strong and his men well trained, so he can hold out there for some time."

"But if Ratho lies south of Edinburgh, and we go to Ratho, then we'll still be following him, will we not? Even if he continues past Ratho to Edgelaw?"

The time had come. He could see no acceptable way to avoid it any longer.

"We are not going to follow him after today," he said with gentle emphasis. "Now that we are closing in on him, I mean to take you and Sidony to Roslin and leave you in the care of my aunt, the countess Isabella. Tomorrow, at Torfinn's Crossing, a mile this side of the royal burgh, we'll turn southeast toward Roslin. Recall that I've sent ahead for reinforcements. They should meet us in—"

"I won't go to Roslin without Adela," she interjected fiercely.

He gave her a look, and although she met it bravely, her cheeks drained of color. He knew he need say no more. She understood him, and she understood, too, that she could do nothing to avoid obeying him.

Hoping to ease the sudden tension between them, he said quietly, "Try to understand, lass. My men and I cannot attend to rescuing your sister if we must also protect you and the lady Sidony. You do want us to set Adela free, do you not?"

"Aye, sure, I do," she said. "But she's going to need us! Why cannot we—?"

"As I told you, Edgelaw is only three miles south of Roslin. Whether we find him there or at Ratho, we can get her safely to you in a trice."

"If you are not killed, and if she is not harmed!"

"I shan't be killed," he said. "As to any harm that may have befallen her, I cannot speak to that yet. But Waldron does have his own sense of honor."

"Aye, he's so honorable that Isobel pushed him off the ramparts of Roslin Castle to teach him manners," she retorted scornfully.

There being nothing to say to that that she would accept, he kept silent.

A moment later, she said, "What made him as he is, if he is your cousin?"

Welcoming a change of subject, he said, "As I told you, he is the baseborn son of a deceased French Sinclair cousin. Michael's father did not learn of his existence until he was five, and saw no reason then to remove him from France. But he had my father collect him when he took Henry, Michael, and me to study in France years later. That is when we learned the kinsmen who'd provided his early training had passed on some regrettable notions from forebears who took part in the Crusades."

"What sort of notions?"

"They believed that a soldier of God answers only to God and that God will forgive anything that man does in His name. Many factions at the time believed as much," he added. "But Waldron's instructors taught him that God not only forgives but rewards each of His soldiers when the man enters heaven."

"Sakes, do you mean to say that your cousin believes he will receive his reward no matter what horrors he perpetrates in the meantime?"

"That is just what I mean," he said. "That is what makes him so dangerous."

"But if he believes he can do anything he likes to Adela with impunity, how can you say that he has any notion of honor?"

"Because he can claim an even greater reward if he does not touch her," he explained. "He once told us the reward in heaven for a soldier of God who stayed celibate would be all the pleasure he'd sacrificed in holy service, and more."

She gaped at him. "So such a man would forever have women to pleasure him? What of those women, though? That does not sound like heaven for them!"

With a wry smile, he said, "He would assure you that they'd enjoy it. Indeed, when Michael asked the same question, Waldron said that the maidens—for so he promised that all of them would be—would know what an honor such a position was for them and would glory in serving such brave and noble men."

Wrinkling her nose, she said scornfully, "Those maidens would none of them be Scotswomen then. That's certain!"

As he stifled a nearly overwhelming urge to laugh, it occurred to Hugo that the discussion was a highly improper one. But he had never known a woman he could talk with as easily and openly as he talked with her. She was so forthright that even when she annoyed, nay, infuriated him, he felt as if he had known her and discussed such forbidden subjects with her all his life.

His three sisters had rarely had a real conversation with him, certainly never on any topic such as this one. His sister Eliza was three years older than he, Kate and Meg seven and eight years younger, and all had fostered with kinsmen after his mother died. If he thought of them at all, he thought them all rather silly.

But Lady Sorcha, as maddening as she could be, was never silly. Nor did she put on airs to be interesting, and if she realized now that their conversation was unseemly, she did not care a whit. Nevertheless, he decided he'd be wiser not to reply to her comment about Scottish women.

They rode in thoughtful silence until she said abruptly, "How on earth does a man come by such a notion even in such odd places as Crusaders must have seen?"

So easy did he feel with her that he nearly told her, but knowing that further explanation would lead only to more questions, including some that he could not in good conscience answer, he said only, "There are many places in the world where people believe things we do not believe, lass. My father did what he could to put such outrageous notions out of Waldron's head, but I'm afraid he failed."

Wanting to divert her, he added ruefully, "I can tell you that we all smarted after he overheard one member of Waldron's fascinated audience exclaim that a bevy of maidens at one's command sounded like a prime reward for any man."

"Which one of you said it?"

"I'd prefer not to answer that."

"I see. Well, I hope you had to take your meals standing for a fortnight."

Chuckling, he said, "I don't think it was quite as long as that."

The chuckle had a warming effect on Sorcha and stirred an urge to see if she could make him laugh again. He had a most attractive smile, too. And so, as much as she would have liked to argue further with him about his absurd decision to send her and her sister to the countess at Roslin, she did not.

It had become clear in the short time she had known him that once he made up his mind to a course of action, persuading him to do otherwise was difficult. However, delighted as she was to have stirred his sense of humor, she had no intention of sitting helplessly at Roslin while Adela remained in danger.

Accordingly, when he asked her to tell him what she liked to do to entertain herself at home, she said she loved riding about, exploring the countryside.

"Do you make a habit of riding alone?"

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Pray, do not be so tiresome as to say I should not. 'Tis exactly why men lead more interesting lives than women. If a man wants to go somewhere, he goes. He does not have to beg permission or have escorts. He simply orders someone to prepare a horse or a boat for him and he goes."

"It is not always as easy as that," he said.

"Bah," she said scornfully. "You know it is. Moreover, if one asks a man a question, he is more likely to say the topic is not suitable for a lady to discuss than he is to answer the question. I detest that! If I ask a question, I want to know the answer. Adela says curiosity is unbecoming to females, but Isobel is the most curious person I know, so I do not think it can be odd that I should want to know about things. Do you think it is odd?"

"I do not," he said, smiling almost as if he understood. "But it is a fact that one cannot discuss some topics as openly as others."

Making a rude noise, she said, "Secrets! I loathe them."

He laughed. But he said, "I've told you there are things I cannot discuss because they are not my tales to tell. But I will answer any question you ask that I'm free to answer if you ask me privately. What would you like to know?"

A host of things, she thought, but settled for asking him about Roslin and his own home at Dunclathy in Strathearn. He described them for her, apparently having forgotten that it was unsafe for her to be riding in the lead with him.

"Is Dunclathy near Roslin?" she asked. "I own, I do not know Strathearn."

" 'Tis a day's ride to the north," he said. "Dunclathy is my father's seat, but for many years, I've generally spent more time at Roslin and Hawthornden."

"Hawthornden?"

" 'Tis another Sinclair castle about a mile down the glen from Roslin. It is little more than a stone keep on a high crag rising from the east bank of the river North Esk, but I liked to ride there often when I was a lad, so years ago Henry named me its constable. He did so in jest, but 'tis a picturesque spot, and I like it. For one thing, when Roslin becomes overcrowded with visitors, as it frequently does, Hawthornden affords me an occasional peaceful retreat."

If Sorcha recalled that Sidony still rode beside Einar Logan and Rory, she did not dwell on that. Instead she encouraged Hugo to continue and listened carefully to all he could tell her about the roads leading to and from Roslin. And if her thoughts drifted at all from their conversation, they drifted only to Ratho and her nagging frustration that he would not take her with him.

But it was not until that evening, as the setting sun painted distant puffy clouds to the west pink, gold, and orange, that it came to her what she must do.

By the time the sun slipped below the horizon, Adela could hardly keep her eyes open. They had got a late start again that morning, waiting for five stragglers, so his lordship pressed them hard all day. And since the road they followed passed through one town or village after another, they spent more time than usual riding around and about, rather than straight through them.

They traveled east for much of the day, then changed direction before stopping for the night. She knew they had turned south, because the setting sun was on her right, rather than behind them. So sleepy that she had all she could do to cling to his lordship and not fall off, she paid no attention to their surroundings until he drew rein at last and said, "Look yonder, lass. See the surprise I've brought you."

A chill of fear stirred, but she leaned obediently forward and peered into the shadows ahead. To her shock, her sister Isobel, great with her expected child, stood in the ambient glow of a cook fire between two men Adela had not seen before.

Isobel clearly had not seen her. She stared at his lordship, her expression reflecting Adela's own horror.

"Waldron," Isobel exclaimed, "I thought you were dead!"

"Greet your sister, Lady Adela," he said sardonically. "Then go to your own tent and stay there. I'll see to her comfort."

Sir Hugo's party had pressed hard all afternoon, too, even through crowded streets in the royal burghs of Stirling and Linlithgow. But Sorcha did not suggest slowing their pace. She wanted as badly as he did to shorten the distance between them and their quarry.

The road was good, and they made excellent speed, riding on after the sun had set and darkness shadowed the landscape. The moon, nearly full, was high even then, and lit their way almost as brightly as the sun had. The few puffy clouds that had lingered to create the splendid sunset had disappeared by the time they stopped near a small loch and Hugo ordered his men to make camp.

"Where are we?" Sorcha asked as he helped her dismount.

"About two miles short of Torfinn's Crossing," he said. "That is Loch Gogar."

She yawned widely. "I'm almost too tired to eat."

"It has been a long day, lass," he said with a smile. "You'll sleep well."

"Aye," she said, although she had no intention of sleeping.