The Highland Chieftain by Amy Jarecki

Author:Amy Jarecki [Jarecki, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2018-07-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Dunn headed across the courtyard, returning from a sparring session with Curran, but he stopped short when pounding came from the main gate.

“Open these doors at once by order of Her Majesty the Queen!” a voice bellowed from the other side.

Dunn tightened his sword belt and changed direction, heading up the barbican stairwell and straight to the chamber housing the cogs for the portcullis. Placing his feet carefully, Dunn made no sound as he moved to the medieval arrow slit where he could observe unawares—not the first time he’d assumed such a position.

Curran met Mrs. Struan at the big wooden gate that was reinforced by an iron portcullis built to keep out clan enemies.

“What on earth do you want now?” asked the matron, opening the small wooden window allowing only her face to peek through. “You have already searched the entire castle.”

A red-coated officer tightened his reins, making his horse snort and stutter-step. “We have heard rumors that the laird has returned.”

Dunn’s gut clenched. Aye, it was a risk to bring Mairi to his castle, but he trusted his kin to remain quiet. Did he have an informant in his ranks? Or had a redcoat with a spyglass seen him? He had been careful, but if the government troops had a soldier watching the castle, there might be a remote chance he was spotted when in the courtyard.

“Rumors?” asked Mrs. Struan. “So now the queen’s dragoons have nothing better to do than roam across the Highlands, chasing rumors?”

“Hold your tongue, madam. We have probable cause and will search the premises. Mind you, if you try to stand in our way, I shall personally have you locked in the stocks.”

Curran pulled on the portcullis chain and looked up—straight through the gap in the floor, good lad. Dunn circled his finger, indicating the “tour” should start at the kitchens, which would allow him time to spirit Mairi out of the matron’s chamber and into the hidden crevice above the chapel.

While the noise of raising the gate rattled the barbican wall, Dunn hastened for the keep.

Mairi set aside her book as he entered, her expression immediately concerned. “What is it?”

He strode toward the bed to straighten the comforter and pillows. “Dragoons are searching the castle, acting on a rumor that I am in residence.”

She dashed to the other side of the bed to help. “They ken you’re here?”

“They’re fishing. ’Tis likely some Sassenach outside the walls thinks he saw me.”

After fluffing the pillows, he scanned his gaze across the room. “This chamber looks far too much as if it has been recently occupied.”

“The fire.” Mairi strode to the washstand and fetched the ewer. “We must douse it.”

“Nay.” Dunn grabbed the garments from the back of the chair and rolled them. “Wet coals will make them think we were here and received warning.”

She replaced the ewer and smoothed her hands down her skirts. “What about the tray?”

“Come. Put everything in the trunk. Haste. We must head above stairs. I have a false ceiling in the chapel.

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