Chapter 10

As it had been only ten days since he had seen the knacker, Rob wondered if Dow had been back to Annandale yet or was stopping back by to tell him of something he'd seen that Lady Kelso might like, before returning to Dumfries. Receiving him in the hall, and seeing him big with news, Rob felt his hopes rise.

"I am gey glad to see you again," he said, shaking the knacker's hand. "Fin Walters assures me we have more work for you if you're looking for some."

"Aye, sir, Fin did tell me ye'd ha' more lambs for slaughter when I were here afore," Dow replied. "But I'll own I didna think I'd return so quick. See you, I went to Castle Moss in Annandale after I'd finished at Kirkcudbright. And there I heard such news o' Dunwythie that I could scarce credit it."

"Indeed?" Rob said, lifting an eyebrow.

"I did, aye, and as I kent fine that ye'd had business wi' his lordship none so long ago, and I never want to bring ye news that might prove wrong a day later, I betook m'self to Annan House as fast as I could go."

"What news was this?"

"'Tis a dreadful thing. His daughter the lady Mairi has vanished and nae one kens what became o' her. His lordship be beside himself."

"Aye, he must be," Rob said sincerely.

"See you, he'd gone north in the dale. So he didna learn o' the lass's disappearance till three days after the event."

"How long ago was this then?"

Counting on his fingers, Dow said, "I make it about a sennight that she's been gone, laird. I came straight here when I heard, it being gey strange that we'd talked o' the lass such a short time afore. Her da asked did I ken aught o' her, but I couldna help him, for I'd heard nowt but that she had vanished. That were nae help to the man, but I said if I learned aught I'd tell him straightaway."

"I'm sure you will," Rob said, hoping he could trust his people as much as he thought he could. "Did you learn more, then, during your trip back here?"

"Aye, sure, but nowt o' the lady Mairi," Dow said.

"We are about to dine, as you see. You can tell me all you think I'd enjoy hearing whilst we take our meal together."

Accepting the invitation, Dow regaled him with information, mostly gossip, much of which was amusing. Then he said, "Bless me if I didna forget, though! Ye'd be friendly wi' young Will Jardine, aye? Old Jardine o' Applegarth's son?"

"I am," Rob said, wondering what mischief Will had got into now.

Dow chuckled. "Seems he has set his heart on the lady Fiona, Will has."

"Fiona Dunwythie?"

"Aye, the same. At least, that be what folks be a-saying, 'cause his lordship caught him sniffing round her young ladyship near Annan House. After ringing a rare peal over the lad, his lordship ordered him to stay off his land entirely."

"I don't blame him," Rob said. "I'd not want a daughter of mine to catch Will's eye, either."

They continued chatting until they had finished their meal. Then Rob turned the knacker over to Fin Walters, knowing Fin had a list of tasks for him.

Knowing, too, that Fin was unlikely to say aught to the knacker save what was necessary to set him to his duties, Rob returned to his chamber to think.

Little thought was necessary, however, to persuade him that Dunwythie was in just the frame of mind he had been expecting, and that Will Jardine's mischief had likely put the poor man in an even better mood to do as Rob wanted.

He might even offer to talk to Will, say that he'd heard of the lad's mischief with the lady Fiona and knew that such an alliance would be unwelcome. Sakes, but Old Jardine would have the hide off Will if he learned he was sniffing after a lass with few prospects. Jardine wanted his heir to gain a wife with a healthy tocher.

If he rode to Applegarth, he'd be away at least two and a half days. As the moon was nearly full, a spring tide was due, so he could get to Annan in less than four hours. He was unlikely to get home on the same day again, though, even if he talked only with Dunwythie.

He had about decided that he could not leave at all until Parland Dow had gone when he remembered that Dow would sleep at Fin's cottage. With luck, he could count on Fin Walters to handle Dow so the knacker never knew his host had left Trailinghail. In fact, if all went as Rob hoped, no one would know he was gone save Fin Walters and his boatmen.

Then he realized that Mairi would have to know of his absence, because she would miss him and likely set Annie to asking others where he was. That meant Annie should know, too. He'd warn Fin to talk to her.

With a sigh, Mairi set aside the piecework she had been stitching and wondered what hour it was. The afternoon had passed slowly, and the overcast sky threatened rain. A glance at Annie told her the other young woman was also thinking of something other than her stitching.

"Is aught amiss?" Mairi asked her.

Annie's head jerked up as if her mind had been miles away. "Och, it be only that me mam were sick this morning. But she's a strong woman, so I warrant she's herself again by now." She smiled. "'Tis just she's rarely ever sick. Says she has nae time to be ailing, what wi' me and me brothers to look after, and me da."

"If she is still sick tomorrow, you should stay with her," Mairi said. "Gibby can attend to my simple needs for a day, or even two if necessary. The laird also sees to my comfort."

"Aye, 'tis true, that is," Annie said with a smile. "He's a kind man, is the laird. Still, it isna right ye should be here without another woman, m'lady. Me mam says, by rights, he should be hiring maidservants, now he's got a kinswoman wi' him here. 'Tisna right, she says, that ye keep to your room as much as ye do."

Tempted to remind Annie that she was not a kinswoman, Mairi held her tongue. If Rob's people had decided that she was respectable, now was hardly the time to quibble about it. As it was, Annie and every other person who depended on him at Trailinghail believed he could do no wrong.

So Mairi said with a slight shrug, "I do not mind solitude, Annie. In troth, at home I am busy from the time I get up in the morning until I go to bed at night. This makes for a nice change, although it can grow tedious sometimes."

Sakes, she thought, much as she liked Annie, being in the chamber always grew tedious, with her or without her.

The truth was she could talk freely only with the laird himself. Even trying to persuade anyone else there to aid her would be foolhardy. Knowing how his people felt about Rob, how could she trust a promise any one of them made to her?

"Well," Annie said, "I do thank ye, m'lady. If me mam still be ailing, I'll likely bide wi' her the morning at least, as I did today. Then, if she be better in the day, I'll come to ye. Otherwise, I'll come to you Thursday. I ha' nae doots the laird will ride wi' ye again in the morning, any road."

"I expect so," Mairi said, although with Parland Dow there she doubted it.

Annie left earlier than usual that afternoon at Mairi's urging. When the maidservant apologized, Mairi said, "I see naught amiss in a daughter seeing to her mother's well-being, Annie. It is right for you to do that."

Even so, the next hour crept so slowly that when the door opened and Rob stood at the threshold, eyeing her speculatively, she cast aside her work and rose to her feet with relief. "I let Annie go early," she said. "And I stupidly neglected to remind her to have someone bring up my supper."

"I'll have Gib bring it or I'll bring it up myself," he said, crossing the threshold and leaving the door open as he moved nearer. "I just came to tell you that I'll be away tomorrow and mayhap a day or two after that."

Disappointment stirred, then dismay. "May I ask where you are going?"

"You may," he said with a smile. "The knacker Parland Dow arrived today."

"Annie told me, aye," she said. "He visits us, too. Had he news of Annan?"

"He did. I think your ordeal here may be nearing its end, lass."

Seeing no point in fighting a position from which she had been unable to move him since the beginning of her captivity, Mairi felt only despair.

When she did not reply, he said, "Come now, I expected the news that you will soon go home again to cheer you, lass."

"You ken fine that I do not believe that is going to happen," she said more fiercely than she had intended. But having begun, she went on, "I know my father well, sir. And do not call me ‘lass'!"

He touched her cheek, and his touch stirred the usual warmth through her, despite her annoyance. It did not alter her certainty that Dunwythie would act as he always did when challenged, however.

Gently, Rob said, "You may know him, Mairi, but I know a few things, too. And when a father has such a daughter as you, believe me when I say that if he loses her, he will swim the sea or move a mountain to bring her home again. My only regret in this is that I enjoy your company. That is one more detail I did not anticipate. By my troth, though, I will miss you when you go home."

Trying to swallow the ache that crept into her throat at his words, she could not reply. To care about one's captor was the act of a fool, and she was no fool.

Every woman knew that most men behaved differently with women than they did with men. In her time at Trailinghail, thanks to Gib and Annie, she had heard more than one tale of the laird's short temper, his proven skill with a sword, and his occasional ruthlessness.

That she had seen little of such traits meant nothing. His certainty that Dunwythie would do as he had predicted was bound to increase the fury Rob would surely feel when he learned the truth. Then what would he do?

Would he return chastened, ready to take her home simply because, having failed in his undertaking, returning her would be the right thing to do?

Her inner self sneered at the thought while she fought to retain a calm expression. It was far more likely that he, like so many other men with volatile tempers, would vent his on the person nearest at hand. She did not fear him, but the fact was that no one else was going to help her. She would have to help herself.

He was looking at her now much too shrewdly.

"When will you leave?" she asked, only too aware that he often read her expression even when she was sure she had it under control.

"If that sky sheds its cloudy blanket soon, as it looks like it may, I mean to leave whilst the early tide is stemming up," he said, still eyeing her narrowly. "If all goes well and nowt delays me, mayhap I will return tomorrow night on the ebb."

A flickering frown as he added the last part made her say, "Do you anticipate a delay?" Then, more sharply, "Surely, he will give you your answer quickly. I shouldn't think it would take him five minutes to refuse you, although it may take much longer for him to tell you what he thinks of your reprehensible demands."

"Less of that, if you please," he said curtly. "I believe I know more than you do about men, just as I am sure that you know more about how women think than I do. As to what might delay me, I was just wondering if I should tell you."

"Good sakes, why should you not?"

"Because the news may distress you," he said just as bluntly. "However, as you will soon be home again and able to add your mite to any discussions that may ensue there, I expect I should tell you. Sithee, Parland Dow also told me of a row between your father and Will Jardine."

"At Annan House?"

"Aye, sure. Dow said he went to Annan House, so one must suppose the land your father ordered Will to keep off was the Annan property. I expect his lordship meant every Dunwythie estate, though, come to that."

"I expect he did." She turned away, dying to ask more but reluctant to say anything to him that might disparage Fiona or make him think the worse of her.

"Dow said his lordship caught Will with your sister," Rob said.

Whirling back to face him, she said, "What can you mean by that?"

"Easy, lass," he said, resting his hands on her shoulders.

"Sakes, do you not listen? Not only do you persist in calling me so, but now you address me as if I were a nervous mare," she snapped. Hearing the echo of her own words, she pressed her lips firmly together and glowered at his broad chest.

"Then don't always assume that I mean the worst," he retorted. "I meant only that I may be able to help. I could speak to Old Jardine. He won't want mischief between Will and your sister any more than your father does."

Biting her lower lip, Mairi shut her eyes, wondering at her own angry outburst and knowing that it was directed as much at Fiona as at anyone else.

It was not the first time in their acquaintance that Rob had wanted to give her a shake or a kiss, or wished he had the right to do both.

Firmly gripping her chin, he tipped her face up, making her look at him. "Mairi," he said evenly, "I did not mean what you thought I meant."

"Release me."

He held her chin, and her gaze. With an audible edge to his voice, he said, "What Dow said, exactly, is that your father told him he had caught Will sniffing around the lady Fiona and ordered him to stay off his land. Does that answer you?"

She started to nod but found she could not free her chin. Licking her lips, she said, "Aye, sir, it does. Now will you release me? You are bruising my chin."

Stifling a curse, he relaxed his hold and gave her chin a rub with a forefinger, as if he could erase the bruise before it surfaced. "I'm sorry, lass," he said.

"I angered you. Again."

"Nay, you only irked me, and it is not wrong to speak up. I should fetch your supper before we fratch more, though. I'll bring mine up, too, if I may."

Her eyebrows arched upward in an exaggerated way. "Now you ask my permission? Good sakes, sir, how is this?"

He chuckled. "Put away your stitching, you unnatural termagant, and wash your face and hands whilst I'm gone. I'll bring a game board, too, and chess pieces."

"'Twould doubtless be wiser for us both to get to bed early," she said. "I believe the tide will be stemming up about two hours after midnight."

"So, you heed the tides," he said. "You are right."

"Aye, well, when one has little to occupy one's time, one does become aware of changes in one's surroundings. Mark you, I would not recognize the sounds of rising or falling tides from anywhere but this chamber. However, from here, I can now tell you without looking how high the water has risen or fallen."

Chuckling at her air of wisdom, he left her and hurried down to tell a gillie to put their supper on a tray, while he hurried to his bedchamber to wash and don a clean shirt and doublet. As he tied the cord lacing of the latter, he realized he was far too eager to sup with her. Annie, he recalled, would not be there.

Going more slowly down the stairs than he had come up them, he took the tray from the gillie who waited with it at the hall landing. Then, seeing Gibby put a jug on a nearby trestle table, he said, "Gib, leave that and come with me."

As soon as Rob had gone, Mairi bustled about, thrusting the quilt pieces she had been stitching together into their basket, then tidying herself and her chamber.

To the voice in the back of her head that wondered why she should care, she retorted that she did not want anyone mistaking her for a disorderly woman.

She had pulled the little table into place and drawn the stool up to it when footsteps sounded on the stairs. Sitting quickly on the settle, she strove to look as if she had been relaxing there quietly, if not demurely, since he had gone.

The door opened, and he stepped across the threshold, carrying a laden tray. Pausing, he frowned at the open window. "That breeze seems to have freshened since I left," he said.

"Aye, perhaps," she agreed. "Mayhap more rain is coming."

Only then did she see Gibby following him. The boy looked at her curiously, even warily, and Mairi realized she must be frowning, too. She smiled at him and said, "I see that the laird brought you along to protect him from my temper, Gib. He stirred it earlier, so mayhap now he thinks he needs protection."

The boy's expression relaxed. "I ha' me doots about that, m'lady, but if ye look too fierce at him, I'll step betwixt ye. Where be the wee terror a-hiding?"

"Why, I don't know," she said. "He may be sleeping behind the bed curtain, or he may have slipped out whilst the door was open."

"Look for him later, lad," Rob said. "Come sup with us now."

"Cor, sir, I ate me supper. As I'm here, I should serve ye, I expect."

"Nay, I'll do that," Rob said. "You take a chicken leg then from the tray, and find your wee terror. He'll be hungry if you are not."

"I can always eat a chicken leg," the boy said, grinning. "But I'll share it wi' him an he behaves himself."

His hunt for the kitten soon took him onto the stairway.

Mairi said, "If you brought him with you to ensure propriety, sir—"

"Nay, just to remind me of my promise to you," he said. "I'll not deny you tempt me, my lady, but I will keep my word. That the lad could reappear at any moment should be sufficient."

She smiled, sure she was safe with him. He had made her feel so from the start. That she attracted him was no bad thing. That he attracted her as well was unfortunate, because she must not let him keep her captive if she could escape. It went right against nature to let him use her so, or to lead him to think she did not mind. Moreover, if she could escape, it would be a good lesson to him.

That she even found it necessary to have such a discussion with herself was unsettling, but she liked the man. She could not say she had liked him from the start, because she had not. Attraction and liking, after all, were different things. But in the time that she had spent at Trailinghail, despite being his captive, she had come to like him. She could not say, however, that she understood him.

Even now, he was eyeing her with what looked annoyingly like amusement.

Keeping her tone light, even disinterested, as if she merely made conversation, she said, "Does the knacker stay long?"

He paused with a bite-size chunk of mutton on his knife, halfway to his mouth, and said just as casually, "Oh, a few more days, I think. He'll take his meals with Fin Walters and his wife at their cottage, though, as he usually does unless I invite him to eat with me. I doubt he'll even be aware that I've gone."

It was all she could do not to gnash her teeth, especially when his eyes glinted and his mouth twitched as if he were now struggling not to smile or even chuckle. Turning the subject to the weather, rather deftly she thought, she asked if he thought it was likely to rain again before his return.

He said it well might, and they continued to chat until she found herself thinking again how comfortable she felt even when he disconcerted her as he just had by seeming to know her thoughts. She could so easily say what she wanted without considering how he might react. If he fired up, she could fire right back at him and naught would come of it except a better understanding.

After he bade her goodnight, though, her thoughts shifted back to his upcoming departure, its likely result, and her own need to act.

Gibby returned with the kitten in his arms not long after Rob had gone.

Smiling, Mairi said, "I see the two of you have declared a truce."

"Och, aye," the lad said. "The wee beast likes to play wi' string, and I were a-twitching one for him by the hall fire. But Fin Walters said I should bring him up now, so ye could go to bed. He said ye like to ha' him with ye in the night."

She thanked the boy, bade him goodnight, and began to prepare for bed.

As she did, her thoughts returned to her dilemma. Totting up details such as Parland Dow's presence, Trailinghail's nearness to Kirkcudbright and Castle Mains, and her knowledge of the tides, she concluded that if she were careful, and lucky, she might just succeed in escaping while Rob was on his fool's errand if only…

On the thought, she stepped to the chamber door and touched the latch. Hesitating long enough to send a prayer aloft, she lifted it.

Gibby had not locked the door.

Rob made a mental list of things he needed to do before his departure, then sought out Fin Walters to tell him to look after things in his absence.

"Don't share this information with anyone," he added. "Especially Dow."

"Aye, sir," the steward said, nodding. "I'm mum."

Rob then told his oarsmen to slip out of the tower without drawing attention. "Prepare the galley now," he told his helmsman, Jake Elliot. "I'll meet you at the beach as the tide begins to turn unless a storm blows up. If we row out of the bay then, we'll be ready to sail toward Annan on the spring tide."

The helmsman nodded. "A good notion, sir. We'll find ourselves against the outflow from the Firth for a time, but 'tis better than fighting a spring tide out o' the bay. If ye truly want to go quiet, though, we could leave from the beach and pick ye up in the cavern afore the tide gets too low. Then none would ken that ye'd gone."

Agreeing to that plan, with full confidence that Jake could get the men to the boat without drawing attention, Rob retired to his chamber to prepare for bed.

As he did, an enticing image of Mairi as she had looked at supper captivated his thoughts. The candlelight had turned her smooth skin golden and her hair to silver-gilt. She had not worn a veil or caul that evening but had worn her thick plaits simply, coiled at her nape.

A few tendrils had escaped, and a long one had persisted in tickling her cheek. Again and again, she tucked it behind her right ear with a fingertip. It would stay for a time only to escape as soon as she gestured or nodded her head.

More than once he had nearly reached to tuck it back but restrained himself. He found it harder each day to remember that she was a captive and not a friend.

He knew now that abducting her had been a much graver mistake than he had realized, because no sensible woman would ever forgive such an act or the man who had committed it. At the time he had thought only of his goal, and Alex's, and his belief that he had hit upon the way to achieve it.

The best thing he could do for her now, and for himself, was to persuade her father to submit quickly, so he could take her home again. He could not hope that Mairi would ever forget what he had done, but perhaps, in time…

Rob's thoughts went no further, because he was sure that his lifetime—however long it might be—would not be long enough for him to win forgiveness, let alone to win her heart. He was a fool even to be contemplating such things.

He would do better to get on with the business at hand.

Accordingly, he retired, giving himself a mental order to wake before low tide. Then he slept deeply until his appointed time.

Awakening in a chamber filled with moonlight, and hearing the rhythmic sounds of the waves below his window, he got up, dressed quickly, and stole downstairs, past the hall where many slept but all was quiet and into the kitchen where embers in the fireplace cast orange-gold light on the hearthstones.

Taking a lantern from a shelf there, he lit a twig from the embers and used it to light the lantern. Then he went down one more level to the storage cellar.

A small room opened off the cellar, where they kept buttery stores—jugs of whisky, ale, and claret. At one corner a tall door led into the tunnel. He unbarred it, leaned the two heavy bars against the wall, and opened the door. Coming back on the long ebb, they would be unable to use the cave, so he did not bother to pull the latch chain through before he shut the door and rapidly descended to the wharf.

The galley awaited him there with several of the lads holding it against the swell. The water was already lower than he liked, so he doused the lantern, jumped in, and they were off. They emerged from the cavern without incident, and headed toward the mouth of the bay. By the light of the full moon, he could see that beaches below the northern end of the eastern cliffs were already showing.

A full moon or a new one produced spring tides, rising higher and falling lower than normal. Leaving before the tide reached low water meant a shorter, easier departure from the bay and opportunity for him to use the cavern.

Waiting outside the bay for the tide to turn would add time to their journey, but it would spare the oarsmen, because once it did turn it would be swift enough to carry them to Annan by dawn.

Spring tides were the most dangerous ones to ride up the Firth, because they ran so swiftly, and the initial inflow up the narrowing vee of the Firth could create a wall of water as high as eight feet. His men were all experienced, though, and they knew the Firth well. Even so, they would have to take more than usual care.

"Did you have trouble entering the cavern, Jake?" he asked his helmsman as they waited, rocking with the waves, for the tide to be right.

"Nay, laird, rode in as sweet and smooth as honey, we did."

"Aye, we did," a familiar voice said cheerfully, drawing his attention for the first time to the small shadow between two of his oarsmen. "I thought sure we'd crash on the rocks, laird, but we did nae such thing."

"What the devil are you doing here, Gib?" Rob demanded.

"Herself did say I ought to learn all I could whilst I were wi' ye, so I thought I ought to learn about the rowing."

"He said ye'd given him permission, laird," the helmsman said grimly.

Rob shook his head, but said only, "We'll see what Fin says to you about telling lies, my lad. I doubt you bothered to ask him if you could come along."

"It come on me after I heard ye talking," Gib said. "I didna like to trouble Fin, so I betook me out the window and followed some o' your men to the boat. We be rocking a good bit just a-sitting here, like. Will we be off and away soon?"

"I hope you enjoy yourself when we do, because if you get sick, I'll likely throw you overboard," Rob said sternly. "Sakes, but it would serve you right if I took you straight back now and woke Fin up to hand you over to him. I cannot do that, so I'll leave you to explain your absence to him yourself when we get back."

"Aye, sure," Gib said, undaunted. "It'll be grand, though, meantime."

Rob turned away to hide a grin, then glanced back at the tower, where doubtless the lass lay peacefully sleeping.

Mairi, dressed and wearing her cloak, waited at the window until she saw the galley row in toward the cave below the tower and depart soon afterward toward the mouth of the bay. In the moonlight, she saw Rob clearly, standing in the stern near the helmsman as he had before. She had no idea what time it was, only that it was late, the moon was high in a cloudy sky, and the tide had not yet begun to turn.

She made her bed, picked up a bundle of the few necessities she would need and, taking a candle to light her way, hurried downstairs. Tiptoeing past the hall landing, then on down and across the kitchen, she hurried down to the lowest level.