Chapter 3

When Sir Hugh learned at the high table that morning that the maidservant who attended young Baroness Easdale had likewise gone missing, he said dryly, "Do your people make it a habit to run away from Annan House, my lord?"

"Dinna fash yourself, lad," Dunwythie said. "My lady wife has sent for her own maidservant. She's a friend o' Peg's, and will likely ken where she has gone."

"I'd think Peg must be with her mistress," Hugh said, nodding to a gillie to fill his mug from the jug of ale the lad held.

"You are mistaken if you think Peg is Janet's servant," Phaeline said. "She is ours and answers to me… or to my lord," she added with a coy look at Dunwythie that stirred in Hugh only a wish that her husband would occasionally slap her.

Repressing the thought, he said mildly, "It would hardly be unusual if Peg's loyalty has shifted to the young woman she serves."

"I should be most displeased if that were so," Phaeline said. Frowning, she added, "You would please me more, brother, had you taken the trouble to dress properly before joining us at this table. To present yourself in riding dress—"

"Dinna scold him, my love," Dunwythie interjected. "I have persuaded him to go after the lass. He'll leave as soon as we learn which direction he should go."

Fiona said, "I think—"

"Hush, Fiona," Phaeline said.

Hugh saw Mairi touch Fiona's hand in clear warning as Phaeline went on: "Mercy, but it must be plain to the simplest mind that one must ride north to go anywhere from Annan House but into the sea. I expect Jenny grew homesick and is foolishly trying to return to Easdale. That is north of here, is it not?"

"Aye, it is," Dunwythie said, patting her hand. "But she may not ken that as clearly as ye do, my love. She may have thought that she could more easily elude pursuit by crossing the river straightaway."

"Such speculation is useless without facts on which to base it," Hugh said, helping himself to some rare sliced beef. "It is true that her most likely direction is north, but the lass—indeed, both of them—may have gone anywhere and must be some distance away by now. We would be wise to learn as much as we can before I set out after them. I can go in only one direction at a time, after all."

Phaeline said with edged calm, "I still fail to see why her departure should interest you, sir. Our brother is quite capable of retrieving his own betrothed wife."

Taking a manchet loaf from the basket, Hugh took a bite without replying. He was hungry and had no interest in discussing his decision or Dunwythie's with Phaeline. As he chewed, he put down the roll and applied his knife to his meat.

Dunwythie said then, "As I told ye, my love, I asked Hugh to see to the matter. Sithee, I want no scandal, and thanks to his years of service with Archie Douglas, he has more experience with such delicate matters than Reid does."

"But this is Reid's business, not Hugh's," Phaeline said. "He should at least go with Hugh if Hugh is to find Janet."

Hugh continued to eat, but his jaw tightened at the thought of having to deal with his brother on such a mission. It was enough that Dunwythie expected him to run after their baroness and drag her back without saddling him with Reid, too.

Apparently Dunwythie agreed, for he said in the mild tone he seemed always to use with Phaeline, "I fear ye'll find Reid in no shape this morning to ride out for anything, my love. He never made it to bed but slept here in the hall with the men. I had two of them carry him to an empty bedchamber before I went to wake Hugh."

"Why did you not have them carry Reid to his own bed?" she asked.

"Because I did not think the sight of him would aid me in persuading Hugh to see to this matter for me," Dunwythie said with more bluntness than usual.

When she bristled at his tone, he added soothingly, "Nay, my love, dinna fidget yourself trying to defend Reid. I will own that he is young and deserved to enjoy his betrothal feast. But, believe me, he would no thank ye for rousing him now to ride after Jenny. Only think what his reaction to her disappearance will be, and ask yourself if ye want him tearing off in such a state to find her."

"It would serve her right if he did," Phaeline said. "She wants beating."

"One surely cannot blame him if he is angry with her," Fiona said. "It was wrong to leave without permission. But surely he does not have the right yet to—"

"It was indeed wrong of her, Fiona," Phaeline interposed. "But, prithee, do not interrupt us again. You know better than to do that."

"She spoke nowt but the truth, my love," Dunwythie said. "However, until we talk to Jenny, we canna tell what drove her to leave. Ye must admit that such behavior is most unlike her." After a pause, he added, "Hugh suggested that perhaps she doesna want to marry Reid."

Shifting position enough to see how Phaeline would react to that statement, Hugh saw that Mairi, sitting between Phaeline and Fiona, had apparently done likewise to see Dunwythie.

As their gazes collided, Phaeline said testily, "Do not fidget so, Mairi. If you have finished breaking your fast, you may go upstairs and see to your duties. You, too, may be excused, Fiona."

Fiona, standing, looked as if she might protest, but Mairi turned as she stood up, and gave her sister a gentle push. Making their curtsies, they left the hall.

Phaeline, still irritable, said, "How did you come to think that Janet does not want to marry Reid, Hugh? You must agree that 'tis an excellent match. After all, you made it plain these two years past that you will not marry again. So if Thornhill is to remain in the family, Reid must produce an heir to succeed, himself."

"Did you ask Mairi and Fiona if Lady Easdale had confided her plans to them?" Hugh asked, wanting to avoid discussion of his position and seeing naught to gain from pointing out that any benefit from the match between Reid and Janet Easdale would clearly be Reid's. "I'd think she might have talked to them."

"Of course, I asked them," Phaeline said. "I was not surprised, though, to learn that Janet had said naught to them of her intention to leave. She does not seem to converse easily with anyone, and therefore has had much to learn since she came to us. I am sure her father meant well by her, but he was only a man, after all, and scarcely equipped to teach any daughter how to get on in life."

Dunwythie said, "I find Jenny sweet and charming, but she did have an unusual upbringing. Still, she is a gey competent lass, so I warrant she will manage to look after herself until ye find her, Hugh."

Looking toward the lower hall, Phaeline said, "Whatever can be keeping that girl? Oh, there she is," she added as a plump young woman hurried into the hall. "Sadie, come and tell us what you know of Lady Easdale's whereabouts."

The maidservant hurried forward, pushing stray dark curls back up under her cap as she did. Without stepping onto the dais, she curtsied, saying, "I ken nowt o' her ladyship, me lady. Be she not in the house?"

Sensing Phaeline's impatience even from two seats away, Hugh looked at Dunwythie, but his lordship had already put a calming hand on his lady's.

He said, "Sadie, lass, we depend on ye to aid us. Peg doesna seem to be in the house this morning. D'ye ken where else she may be?"

Color flooded Sadie's cheeks, and her eyes widened, but she remained mute.

Dunwythie said, "Come now, if ye ken aught, ye must tell us."

Biting her lower lip, Sadie glanced at Phaeline.

"It becomes clear, Sadie, that you feel some mistaken notion of loyalty to Peg," her ladyship said. "Let me remind you—"

"My love," Dunwythie said gently, "this morning has been a most unrestful one for ye, and I'd have ye consider our wee son's well-being. I'm thinking we should let Hugh talk with Sadie whilst I see ye laid down on your bed. Come now, and I'll take ye up m'self," he added with a speaking glance at Hugh.

To Hugh's surprise, Phaeline made no objection to her husband's decision but rose at once and let him take her from the hall.

Alone with a nervous Sadie, Hugh said, "I must order my horse saddled, lass. Stay a bit whilst I finish this fine beef, and then you may walk with me to the stable."

If it occurred to her that he could easily shout for someone to take his order to the stable, Sadie did not say so. She just nodded and waited patiently until he had finished his meal. He did so without haste, as usual, and tried to decide how much he should tell her. When he stood at last, he noted with satisfaction that she looked less fearful albeit much less patient as well.

"You'll do, lass," he said approvingly. "I suspect we'll get on well. So, as we walk, I want you to tell me all you know or suspect about where your friend Peg may have gone. I vow you'll not suffer for the telling. Whatever the tale may be, I'll make all right for you with his lordship before I leave Annan House."

She glanced up at him as he touched her shoulder, urging her toward the stairway to the courtyard. "We'll go this way," he said. "If my man comes looking for me, I want to be sure someone tells him where I've gone."

Motioning a gillie over, he gave his order, then turned back to Sadie. "Now then, tell me what you know," he said, gesturing for her to precede him.

"Aye, sir," she said. "I canna tell ye much, except Peg canna ha' meant to be gone for long. Certes, but she never said nowt about going away overnight."

"But she was going somewhere, I think."

"Aye, for her brother Bryan be one o' the jugglers wi' the minstrel company that performed here yestereve. Peg had been busy all day and had nae time to talk wi' him, she said. So she meant to walk a wee while wi' them after they left."

"I expect she saw no reason to seek permission for this walk," Hugh said, glancing down at her as she stepped aside to let him go ahead of her into the yard.

Her color rose again at his words, telling him she was still nervous.

"Well?" he said when she did not reply.

"She didna mean to beg leave," Sadie said. " 'Tis why I ken fine that she didna mean to be away overnight. She'd lose her place did she do that a-purpose."

"I cannot speak for what his lordship will do about Peg, but I will do what I can to protect her. I can tell you that he is most interested in finding her."

Sadie was silent until they reached the stable, where she paused to look up at him. "The lady Phaeline did speak earlier o' Lady Jenn… Lady Easdale."

"Aye, for it looks as if she went with Peg, or Peg with her," Hugh said.

"I dinna ken, sir, but I do mind one other thing Peg said about the minstrels."

"What was that?"

"That they be bound for the town o' Dumfries."

Hugh frowned. "If that were so, would they not follow the Roman road that fords the river a mile or so north of Annan and goes straight on to Dumfries?"

"I expect so," Sadie said. "But Peg didna say that. The only other thing I can recall be summat she told me a time ago. I doubt it would help ye now."

"Tell me," Hugh said.

"She said the company be going to entertain the Laird o' Galloway a few weeks hence, when his great new castle on the river Dee be finished."

"I hope that information will not prove helpful to me," Hugh said with a grimace. "I want to find her long before then."

"Aye, sure, sir, but I warrant she'll be back soon now. She'll no want to lose her place, I can tell ye. Forbye, I doubt she would ha' taken Lady Easdale with her, or that her ladyship would ha' consented to go in such company."

Hugh doubted it, too. He tried to conjure up an image of the elegant young noblewoman he had seen, traveling with assorted minstrels and players, some in patchwork motley and all easily recognizable as common folk.

He dismissed Sadie, certain that he had learned all she could tell him and uncertain whether it helped him. Dunwythie and Phaeline both assumed that Peg's disappearing at the same time Janet Easdale had meant the two had gone together.

The assumption was logical, but he put no faith in Lady Easdale's doing what was logical. His experience with the fair sex was limited, but those he knew tended to put feelings ahead of logic when it came to taking action. He thought it was just as likely that Peg, finding her mistress gone, had gone in search of her.

Returning his attention to the present, he entered the stable to find that his man, Lucas Horne, had already set things in motion there. Their horses, saddled, waited with another horse for her ladyship and a sumpter pony with its two baskets already laden and tied in place. Lucas was not there.

When Hugh's bay whickered softly, he moved to stroke the animal's soft muzzle and murmur nonsense to it. Hearing a sound behind him, he turned to find the lady Mairi Dunwythie eyeing him uncertainly.

"May I be of some aid to you, your ladyship?" he asked.

"I'm thinking I may be of aid to you, sir," she said. "I was coming to find you in any event when I met Sadie going in. She told me what she said to you."

"If you know something more that will help me find your cousin before she falls into a scrape, it is nobbut your duty to tell me."

"I ken my duty fine, but I do not want to betray Jenny if she is truly trying to get home again. She does not say much, but one can easily tell that she has not been happy here. And she does not—"

Stopping abruptly, she looked rueful, as if she had said more than she had meant to say.

"If you believe she does not want to marry my brother, you need not keep it to yourself, lass. I suspected as much myself when I saw them at their feast."

"I did think you looked like a sensible man."

"What possessed her to accept him?"

"Phaeline, of course. I'd best tell you the rest now, sir. Sithee, Jenny took great interest in the minstrels. She wondered how they lived, and tried to imagine traveling about as they do. I told her I thought it must be a horrid way to live, but I don't think she agreed. And now, Sadie tells me that Peg meant to walk just a short way with her brother. So I'm thinking…"

"… that your unhappy cousin went with them," Hugh said when Mairi paused. "If she did, one can only think that Peg and her ladyship have no notion what such a life is like, or into what sort of company they are likely to fall."

"I don't know about that," Mairi said. "But I am sure Peg did not mean to be gone long. And we must find her, sir, because before I came looking for you, I learned that some of our guests are missing valuable jewelry."

Following the trail through dense shrubbery, Jenny paused at an icy-looking rill. Still seeing no sign of the Joculator's tent, she tried to collect her thoughts.

The man clearly led the minstrels, and what she had seen of his juggling skill indicated a person worthy of respect. Although his extraordinary dexterity offered no clue to how astute he was, she knew she would be wise to tread lightly.

The other tents all stood near the cook fires. That his stood at such a distance from them suggested he had a particular fondness for privacy.

The woods were silent, the shrubbery muffling the murmur of conversation from people near the fires. The narrow rill chuckled low as it tumbled downhill to join the river Annan. A low-pitched voice, although speaking quietly from shrubbery on the other side of the water, was loud enough to startle her.

"They do say the King may be at Threave to see us," a man said.

"I dinna want to talk about Castle Threave or the King o' Scots," a second, female voice retorted. "Not after being in such a fidget all through the night, me lad, wondering where ye might ha' run off to this time. I expect ye were wi' that—"

"Now then, Cath—"

Jenny cleared her throat loudly, hoping to prevent further such comments in what sounded like the beginning of a lovers' spat, comments she knew would likely embarrass all three of them.

The man stopped speaking at once. She had not heard any other sound of their approach, over that of the chuckling water, before he'd spoken. But clearly, they were nearly upon her, so catching up her skirts, she jumped across the rill.

Despite her subtle warning, her appearance on the path clearly unsettled them, so she sought to put them at ease. Recognizing the gleewoman Cath, Jenny wished her a cheerful good morning. " 'Tis a chilly one, though, is it not?" she added.

Plump Cath smiled then and agreed that it was very chilly. "But just now, any day without snow be a good one," she added. "Ha' ye missed your way to our encampment, lass?"

"Nay, for I'm to see the Joculator," Jenny said. "I hope I'm on the right path."

"Aye, sure, ye are," the man said. He was smaller than Cath, in every way. With a gesture, he added, "His tent be off the path near that tall beech tree yonder."

"I thank ye, sir," Jenny said with a polite nod.

"This be my man, Cuddy," Cath said. "Ye'll be Jenny, if I remember right."

"Aye," Jenny said, wondering a little nervously if anyone in the company might yet remember, or recognize, her as Janet Easdale.

She had not worried about that the night before, in darkness, when she'd had her hood up against the chill. But morning light was more revealing, although she wore no headdress, had plaited her hair so soft wings drooped from its center part and nearly hid her high, shaved forehead, and although Peg had drawn eyebrows on her.

Nevertheless, it remained possible that by daylight the Joculator or someone else might recognize her. Cuddy did give her a searching look but then nodded and grinned when she smiled. She remembered hearing his name the night before and recognized him as one of the searchers she had seen after the attack on the knacker.

Bidding them both a good day, she went on. But as the Joculator's green tent came into view, its very isolation suggested that Cuddy's quizzical look might simply have been a reaction to learning her destination.

When Lord Dunwythie had agreed to Reid's suggestion and Phaeline's insistence that they hire minstrels for the betrothal feast, he had commented that, of all the folks who traveled to make their living—tradesmen, craftsmen, even beggars and such—only minstrels had developed a reputation for honesty. Nevertheless, Dunwythie had said, when one hired them, it was sensible to watch the men in their troupe, if only to preserve the dignity and virtue of one's maidservants.

He had told his people, therefore, to stay vigilant. But he had treated the minstrels with the respect he showed tradesmen he trusted, such as the knacker Parland Dow, who enjoyed first-head privileges at Annan House and at Dunwythie Hall, the much larger Dunwythie estate to the north. Dow came and went as he pleased, especially when it was time to turn Dunwythie cattle into Dun wythie beef.

As Jenny neared the green tent, her uncle's warning echoed in her mind, making her hope the Joculator would not insist that they talk alone inside. Her steps slowed, and she was contemplating the wisdom of shouting to him when the tent flap opened and he stepped outside, ducking considerably to do so.

He wore a long red-and-black striped robe that made him look even taller than he had looked the night before. His soft, flattened black cap tilted rakishly over one eye, and the shoulder-length hair that had looked golden by the light of the hall cressets, and silver-gray in the darkness afterward, was pale flaxen by daylight.

As he straightened, his gaze swept over her, piercing and shrewd. "So ye wish to stay with us, do ye?" he said.

"I do not ask to stay long, sir, but I'd not refuse an invitation to bide with your company for a few days," she said, relieved to detect no indication that he recognized her as the young woman whose betrothal he had helped celebrate.

"Ye speak uncommon well for a maidservant, if so ye do be," he said. "How does our Bryan come by a cousin wha' speaks like a lady?"

Feeling heat flood her cheeks, Jenny said, "If it offends ye, I'll keep to me old ways, sir, but ye should ken that I ha' served the lady Mairi Dunwythie for many months past, and I do try to speak as she does."

"I've nae objection, lass. I've made my fortune by learning to speak as my betters do whenever it will serve me, in this country and in others. Bryan tells me ye claim to play several instruments. That, I own, does interest me. Did he speak truly?"

"Aye," Jenny said. "But I warrant ye'll want to judge for yourself."

He smiled then, the sweet smile she remembered from the night before. "I will, lass. I certainly will. Let me just fetch out my lute."

He dove back into the tent and emerged seconds later with two lutes, one of which he handed to her. Moving to a rocky outcropping, he used the skirt of his robe to whisk off dirt and pebbles, then indicated that she should sit.

"Play whatever ye like and sing, too, if ye can," he said. "I want to judge your skill, but ye needna try anything difficult. 'Tis not the nimbleness o' your plucking that will impress me but your ability to entertain others."

Nodding, she swiftly reviewed the songs she knew and selected the Border love song she had been playing the first time Phaeline had commented on her skill. As Phaeline rarely said anything kind to her, that moment had impressed Jenny. Moreover, the love song had been one of her father's favorite tunes. But whether the song would impress this man, she could not know.

His lute was a fine one, its strings true of sound. Delighting in the instrument, she soon lost herself in the song. She was used to playing and singing for others, generally those she knew well, so she felt no self-consciousness now.

When she glanced at him and saw that his eyes had shut, an image of her father looking just so made her smile.

Opening his eyes, he looked as if he had detected the smile in her voice. Then, nodding, he reached for the other lute, plucked one string, then another, and soon was playing along with her. When the song ended, he began another one that she knew, and she quickly joined him, thoroughly enjoying herself.

When that song ended, he said, "Ye play well, and ye've a pleasant voice. Ye'll need to learn to flirt with your audience though, if ye would please them."

"Flirt?"

"Aye, sure, for how else do ye think to stir listeners to throw their gelt to ye? We dinna entertain for nowt, lass, and the more ye impress your audience, the more they'll fling. A tithe of all ye earn, by the bye, goes into the company fund to purchase aught we might need. Ye'll keep the rest for yourself."

She had not thought about making money, and the thought now stirred only discomfort. "Might not some listeners expect other things of me if I flirt enough to make them throw money at me?"

"They may think about such other things, lassie, but nae one here will expect ye to act on their thoughts. One of our gleewomen invites liberties, the others do not. It is all one to me. We'll play only a short while here at Castle Moss before we depart for Lochmaben, so this be a good place for ye to show us your worth."

"What about the hurdy-gurdy? Bryan did say that you have one."

He smiled again, but this time she detected sadness in him. "I do have a vielle á roué that belonged to my son, but 'tis an instrument that requires two to play it. We'll see after Castle Moss if ye'll bide with us long enough to try that, or not."

"I want to see Lochmaben," she said. "But I am unsure what I should do about Peg. This was all my fault, but I fear she may lose her place if she returns alone."

"She made a choice, just as ye did. Ye didna force her to come all this way."

Jenny nearly corrected him, knowing that Peg would have refused to go back without her. But she knew she could not explain that without revealing who she was and why Peg would feel obliged to stay. Remorsefully, she realized that she ought to have thought it all through before deciding to accompany the minstrels.

She had acted on impulse, a fault she had thought she'd long outgrown. Her father had been quick to condemn her impulses whenever she had succumbed to them. She could almost hear him scolding her now from the high cloud on which, since the day of his death, she had often imagined him sitting.

"Take that lute with ye, lass, and practice whilst we make ready to go. Choose two songs—one to sing and the second to sing if they like ye."

"How will I know to play the second one?"

"I trow ye'll ken that fine, lassie, just as ye will if they don't."

In the Annan House stable, Hugh looked long at Mairi before he said, "How many of your guests are missing jewelry, my lady?"

"I do not know, sir. I heard our steward telling my father and Phaeline only that Lady Johnstone and her daughter had missed things. It did seem to me, though, as if they had been discussing the subject before I entered the room."

"Surely, neither Dunwythie nor Phaeline would suspect a servant in their household of theft," Hugh said.

"I know not what they suspect, sir. I do know Peg, though, and I am sure she would not steal from us or our guests. My sister, Fiona, was also present then, however, and she has a knack for making mischief even when she does not mean to. She demanded to know if our steward suspected Jenny of taking the jewelry."

Although it was clear to Hugh that Mairi thought that unlikely, he did not know Janet Easdale. "Might she have taken it?" he asked her.

"She has no need, sir. Indeed, I should think it more likely that one of the minstrels, or even a servant, took it. But Lady Johnstone says she is nearly certain she put her necklace away before she went to bed. The minstrels had gone by then."

"Sakes, lass, so had Lady Easdale and your Peg if you are right about them leaving the house with the minstrels."

"I know that," Mairi said. "I am merely repeating what I heard, sir. I do not have any notion what became of the jewelry. Nor do I know how much is missing."

If the two young women were indeed with the minstrels, Hugh had no doubt that he would quickly find their trail, wherever they had gone. It occurred to him, though, that before he left, he should learn more about the missing jewelry.

Mairi might be wrong about when it went missing. But, even so, if anyone raised a hue and cry to find the women or the minstrels, it would considerably impair his chances of resolving anything quietly.

Leaving word with a lad to tell Lucas he would soon return, Hugh escorted Mairi back to the house and went in search of his host. With a gillie's assistance, he found Dunwythie in a small chamber off the hall, looking over his accounts.

Gently raising his eyebrows, Dunwythie said, "Ye still here, lad? I thought ye'd be well away by now."

"I expect to be away shortly, my lord," Hugh said. "I just learned, however, that some jewelry has disappeared."

"By the Rood, I learned that myself only twenty minutes ago. I am coming to believe that rumors fly through the air on their own wings!"

" 'Tis only a rumor, then?"

"I wish it were. At least five people have reported missing items, most last night but others this morning, my own wife amongst them."

"Phaeline has lost something?"

"Aye, her pearls, if she didna misplace them," Dunwythie said with an affectionate smile. "She does forget what she's done with her things, as I expect most of us do. But she nearly always has one hand on her pearls and is sure she put them away early this morning. She says she awoke, realized she had not done so, and got up to attend to them. I suppose she might have dreamed all that, but…"

" 'Twould be a most coincidental dream, and Phaeline is not fanciful."

"Nay, although she does seem more forgetful when she is with child."

"Still, it seems unlikely that the minstrels or your Peg had aught to do with the thefts if things went missing after they left," Hugh said.

"Aye, and minstrels do take care to keep their reputations clean, lest they lose all chance of plying their craft. My lads searched them even so, and I dinna want a fuss. I've told everyone who lost jewelry that I'll investigate the matter, and each has agreed to leave it to me. Only one suggested reporting the thefts to the sheriff."

"I trust you persuaded that person to wait," Hugh said. "It makes no sense for me to act quietly if the Sheriff of Dumfries will be sending his lads out and about to make noises about stolen jewelry, minstrels, and missing maidservants."

"I agree, and I did make it plain that I'll take responsibility for the outcome. We must recover the jewels in any event. Much as I hate to think it, I fear we may have a thief here in the house. My lads wouldna ha' searched one of our own."

"Aye, well, I'll see if I can glean any useful information," Hugh said.

"You find Jenny," Dunwythie said. "That she was unhappy here disturbs me."

"Unhappiness is scarcely sufficient cause to raise such a dust," Hugh said. "I'd say that what that young woman needs—"

"Now ye sound like Phaeline," Dunwythie said. "But I dinna mind telling ye, lad, if this riot and rumpus causes her to lose our bairn, I may well take a strap to both of our missing lasses when ye find them."

Hugh had been hoping for some such declaration, if only because he found it a damned nuisance to be going after them. But when the mental image presented itself—of Dunwythie beating the self-contained young woman who had refused to let Reid intimidate her—an unexpected stirring of sardonic amusement banished it.

As he and Lucas Horne rode away from Annan House, it occurred to Hugh that had anyone asked him to explain that amusement, he could not have done so, except by admitting a growing suspicion that the lass would deal as easily with Dunwythie as she had with Reid.

She would not, however, deal so easily with him.