The Scot's Spy

by Keira Montclair

  “Quiet day in the burgh,” Els said when the innkeeper joined them, clearly a Scot.

  “It seems so, but ’tis market day. Many Scots used to come to the burgh, spend the night here, but now they come for what they need, pay their tolls, and leave. By the time the English leave, I’ll have no business left.”

  “We’ll take another chamber for the morrow. My brother is coming, so I’ll reserve it now. The English will not bother us if we are shopping in the market, will they?” He didn’t know if or when Alasdair would return, but he suspected Dyna, at least, would arrive at some point. He wanted to be sure they had the room for whoever showed up.

  “Do be careful. They say Robert came ashore at Turnberry with over thirty galleys. They captured his brothers and hanged them last moon, but they could not take him. He’s gone south into the rough terrain with his forces. Has the English a bit jumpy, I say, especially Baron Percy, who was forced out of Turnberry.” They were still the only ones about, but he spoke in a whisper as if he feared being overheard.

  “King Robert is here then? In Ayrshire?” Joya whispered back, her eyes dancing with excitement. “We hadn’t heard he’d landed.”

  “Somewhere south of here, though no one knows for sure. The English have gathered over a thousand men, saying they’ll hunt him down. ’Tis part of the reason the burgh is more deserted than usual—too many English walking about. But I’ll tell you…” he whispered, blessed himself, then continued, “I’ve seen many Scots come through without bringing much attention to themselves, and I believe they are looking to support the Scottish King. You’ll see if you go into town. There are Scots about, all right, but they’re not wearing their plaids.” He nodded his head with emphasis, glanced over his shoulder, then returned to the kitchens in the back.

  Joya’s eyes widened. “’Tis our chance. If Robert just came ashore at Turnberry, he may not know how many men are hunting for him. We can find out for him. You must give me the opportunity to sidle up to some Englishmen today, ask where their camp is located. I’ll say my brother is with them and I wish to get word to him about our mother. They’ll lead me straight to it. I can sneak in and find out what they’re planning. But I must ask you again. Els—” She reached for his hand under the table. “Can you not be jealous? Would it be better if I do this alone?”

  “Alone!” he bellowed, then blushing from his burst of temper. “Nay, you’ll not go alone. I can hide well, I’ll be there in case anyone mishandles you. Joya, you must allow me to protect you.”

  “All right. But you must promise to trust me.”

  “I promise. Finish your pottage. We have to move along, but no matter what takes place, we must return this eve in case Alasdair or Dyna send any news.”

  “Aye, I hope to be in your arms again,” she said, licking her lips suggestively.

  He went hard instantly.

  No other lass had ever affected Els in such a way. He was falling for her and falling hard. While he’d said he could watch her with other men, he had to wonder if he’d be able to do it.

  He had no choice.

  Once they finished, Joya wrapped her shawl over her shoulders and they left, walking into town and leaving their horses behind. He held her hand until they arrived at the market on Sandgate, the main thoroughfare in Ayr. It wasn’t overly busy, so they meandered from shop to shop, purchasing a few items along the way.

  They stopped in front of a booth showcasing ribbons and other pretty adornments for ladies. “I’d love to purchase some lovely ribbons for your hair, my dear,” Els said, playing the part of the doting husband.

  “Many thanks to you. I’ll take two lavender and two in forest green,” she said, batting her eyelashes at the vendor.

  “Good choices, lass. They’ll suit you,” the man said, the deep burr in his voice telling them he was a true Scot. Joya gave Els a pointed glance, and he squeezed her waist and stepped into the street for a moment, pretending to look for a different vendor. Truthfully, she still had his full attention, although he could only look at her from the corners of his eyes.

  Joya leaned forward, dropping her shawl to give the man a view of her cleavage. “Do you know where the English are? I hear they are camping in droves. We plan to leave on the morrow. They’ll leave us be, will they not?” She smiled sweetly, playing the part as if she’d done it forever.

  The vendor leaned over to whisper to her, his nose a wee bit too close, but Els stood back, hoping she was getting the information she’d set out to receive.

  She batted her lashes one more time with a light, “Many thanks.” She twirled, enough to lift her skirts and show a bit of ankle, before joining Els.

  They regrouped and headed to an empty area in the street. “What did you learn?” Els asked.

  “They’re south of here. He claims there are more than a thousand English rustling about in the forests south of here, all throughout Ayrshire, hunting for Robert and his men. We must move out of the burgh, or we’ll not find them.”

  Els stared up at the sky, thinking. “Robert will have use for this information, but mayhap we don’t need to go to the main camp. Why don’t we sidle to the end of Sandgate, then find our way to the edge of town and see if we can slip into the forest unnoticed? I’ll use my tracking skills to see if we can locate a group of them, learn more about their plan. We have a few hours before we must return.”

  They started to move through the trees, Els searching for signs of horses, boots, and recent activity. While they didn’t hear any loud activity, there was plenty of evidence of horses and humans trampling through the forest, up and down the hills they traveled. Els also pointed out other, less obvious signs—human hairs stuck in the branches of thick bushes, horse droppings, and deer prints.

  It took nearly an hour for them to come upon a large group, several men who were clearly Englishmen. Camped and cooking rabbit, they made an obvious target for anyone moving through the woods.

  “Do they not try to hide?” Joya asked in a whisper. “Or are they merely daft?”

  “Plenty of English are that daft, but there are too many for you to handle. We need to backtrack to find a smaller group. Follow me,” he said, taking her hand as they crept away from the gathering. They continued onward until they noticed a large clearing ahead. “See that?” he said, “We’ll creep around the periphery. There’s someone nearby. If you listen carefully, you’ll hear the horses munching on any branches or greenery they can find.”

  He led them straight to a group of four men gathered in a small clearing, sitting on logs and talking openly about the king as they passed around a skin of ale. Els and Joya could hear them perfectly from their hiding spot amidst the trees.

  “The Bruce has to be here somewhere. And if we can find him, bring him to the Earl of Pembroke, we’ll be handsomely paid for our troubles. He’s not far from here, deep in the forest. We’ll find him ourselves, bring him to the earl, and be done. Then they can hang the bastard like we did his brothers.”

  A different man said, “You think we’ll be able to bring him to the earl? Nay. I’m not risking my own life. We’ll have to bring his location to the earl. He has enough men to track him down.”

  “Fine, so we look for him. I’ll bet he’s in that same spot we saw him in before.”

  They said nothing more, so Joya reached over to squeeze Els’s hand, telling him she meant to approach the men.

  Before he could say or do anything, she disappeared. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and the old, familiar fears came back. If anyone tried to hurt her, he’d have to fight four men. And he’d have to win.

  What if he failed?

  What if he couldn’t protect her?

  She circled around entered the clearing from a different direction. “Greetings to you. I seem to be lost,” she said, dropping her shawl just enough to show a touch of her creamy white cleavage.

  She had the attention of all four men, so much so that they probably wouldn’t notice she was Scottish. But Els wouldn’t have been
able to tell either since she had dropped into a perfect English accent as easily as if she donned it every day like her slippers.

  “I was looking for my brother. He said he was going to relieve himself.” She dipped her head, as if embarrassed, and giggled, her hand lifting to cover her mouth. “He never returned. Could something have happened to him?”

  So she’d changed her story. Els suspected she was good at improvising given her experience as a spy.

  One man moved closer to her, eyeing her cleavage and nearly drooling. “Dangerous times to wander these woods. If he found Robert the Bruce, he’s probably dead by now.”

  She gasped and stared at the man with wide eyes. “But I thought he was dead? Aren’t all of his brothers dead, too? Where is he?” She glanced over her shoulder for effect.

  “Now, lass,” the one man said, touching her arm. “We won’t allow anyone to hurt you. He’s in the forest near Loch Trool, not here. We’ll protect you.”

  “Glen Trool? But where are all the English? There’s only four of you. How will you be able to protect us against the savage Scots?”

  Els nearly snickered. His Joya was a skilled spy, no doubt about that.

  “No need to worry, pet,” a third man said, “There’s fighting English all through these forests and all of the district of Ayrshire. We’ll surround the bastard in Glen Trool. Two days from now and the Bruce will be no more. You’ll see his head hanging on a pike in Ayr, just outside the royal castle.”

  Joya visibly sighed for effect. “My thanks to you. Now, I must find my brother.” She turned away, but one man grabbed her arm.

  “Come now. There’s no reason for you to rush off. We have not seen a woman in many a day. We’ll give you a coin if you don’t mind spending a little time with us.”

  As if on cue, another man moved up behind her, his hands going to her bottom. A third moved to her side, grabbing her arm and holding her tight. “You’re not going anywhere until we take what we want. You offered and we accept.” Their threat didn’t surprise Els—men like these had no sense of right or wrong—but he hadn’t expected two of them would pull out daggers.

  Els saw red. He unsheathed his sword and burst out of the brush at the same time as Joya delivered a swift kick to one man’s bollocks and a fist to another’s privates, doubling them both over before they could do anything with their paltry weapons. Els drove his sword into the first man’s back, then pulled it out and struck the second across his side just as he lunged for Joya with his dagger. A third tried to run away, so he pulled his dagger out and hit him in his left flank, dropping him to the ground.

  “Get out of the way,” he said to Joya, who quickly stepped aside, giving him clear aim at the fool who’d dared to touch her bottom. “She’s mine,” he said, just before driving his sword into the man’s heart.

  He stood back gasping, scanning the area for anymore, but all four men were down, three of them clearly dead and the fourth close to it.

  “Why did you do that?” she whispered, staring at the carnage around her. “I had it under control.”

  “The hell you did. They were planning to do much more than touch you, or didn’t you notice the way they had you surrounded? Or that two of them had daggers? They each planned to take you.” He fought to control his fury, which was somehow greater because he could see she was still quite calm. Her lack of fear told him she’d been in much worse situations than this before. The truth of her past life was perhaps more than he wished to know.

  “Els, I saw their daggers, but believe me, men rarely use a weapon against a woman. They just use them to put the fear of death into their victim,” she said, moving in front of him. “I kicked two where it would hurt them the most and the other two were next. You didn’t need to come to my defense, but look how quickly you reacted. Can you not see that you had no hesitation at all?”

  “What do you mean they don’t usually use weapons against a woman? How many times have you been threatened by daggers?” Hell, but she’d be the death of him yet. She had no respect for danger.

  She touched his forearm and said, “Enough times to know they’d be more likely to use their brute strength against me than their daggers. Robert taught me this. ’Tis why he uses lasses as spies in enemy territory. A man they’ll strike down, then ask questions. A woman, they’ll ask questions first. It has never failed me.” She squeezed his arm a little more. “But more importantly, you didn’t fail either of us. You never hesitated when you came to my defense.”

  He cleaned and resheathed his sword, then wrapped his arms around her. She was right, he’d had absolutely no fear, no doubt, and no hesitation. He hadn’t frozen or stopped once. He kissed the top of her head and said, “Aye, it seems you bring out the best in me, lass.”

  She snuggled into his embrace, kissing his chin from underneath. “I know. This is where I belong.”

  He couldn’t argue with that.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When they returned to the inn, it was nearly dark. Joya was surprised to see two more horses there. “Is that not Alasdair’s stallion? And Dyna’s?”

  “Aye, ’tis their horses,” Els said, his brow furrowing. “I hope all is well.”

  “This is good. We can tell them what we’ve learned and search for King Robert on the morrow.”

  “We shall see.” The look he gave her told her he didn’t believe this was good news at all.

  Joya had so enjoyed their time alone that she hated to see it end, but they had work to do. She had work to do. She would get the information to Robert before it was too late.

  Alasdair and Dyna came out as soon as they saw them walking toward the inn. Although Alasdair appeared well enough, the looks on their faces where hardly joyful.

  Something had happened.

  Els clearly saw it too. “Why are you here?” he asked. “I don’t like the expressions on your faces.”

  Alasdair motioned them inside. There was no sign of the innkeeper, but apparently they’d already arranged for a second chamber—Alasdair led the way up the stairs and down the passageway to the chamber opposite the one Els and Joya were staying in. He opened the door and pointed to a table and four chairs. “Sit and I’ll tell you. The innkeeper is a true Scot, aye?”

  “Aye. I believe he is,” Els replied, his gaze locked on Alasdair’s.

  “And are there English everywhere as he said?”

  Els nodded. “Go off Sandgate and they seem to be everywhere in the forests. We only encountered two groups on the main paths, but we could hear rustling all around the outskirts of the burgh. I’m sure there are many hiding in the forest. We’ll tell you what else we’ve learned, but not until you explain what happened.”

  Alasdair sat down heavily. “The English kidnapped John. We received word that they will return him in a trade for Grandsire. They want Alexander Grant.”

  Joya paled at the thought of that sweet laddie in the hands of the English. “Oh, nay…” She gripped Els’s hand, holding it so hard, he rubbed her arm as a silent message to lessen her hold. Her mind had gone back to the day the reivers had chased her, and how awful it had felt to be pawed, manhandled, and treated as if she were no better than the fly in the stables.

  Until then, she’d had no idea men could be so cruel. She buried her face into Els’s shoulder, praying the bastards wouldn’t hurt a lad so small.

  As if they had a conscience. She’d have to help him. They would help him. She and Els together.

  Because there hadn’t been anyone to help her until it was too late. She couldn’t allow anything to happen to that wee lad. Nay. She would find her way into the English camps and search for him. Whatever it took.

  Els asked, “How could that happen? You have guards everywhere. How could they possibly have gotten him out of your keep without being stopped?”

  “A verra clever trick,” Dyna said. “One of the sheriffs must have been aware of the battle we fought in with your brother, Joya, because the bastard went to MacLintock Castle ahead of
us with several guards and informed Emmalin that both of us were dead.”

  Joya couldn’t contain her gasp. She’d dealt with heartless, vindictive men in the past, but this…this was beyond anything she’d ever experienced or even heard about.

  “My wife said she nearly fainted,” Alasdair said. “When the men arrived, John was in the courtyard playing with his sword. In the chaos that followed, he must have followed her to the gate, and it seems someone scooped him up and shoved him into a sack or something because he was never seen leaving the gates.”

  “Shite,” Els said, running his hand through his hair. “That wouldn’t be difficult because he’s so small. Which sheriff was it? I’ll kill the bastard myself.”

  “No one knows for certes. ’Twas one of the three who arrived before, but three strangers were with him, and we had mixed descriptions from the clan members.”

  Dyna nodded. “They were so undone over all that happened. Mayhap after they’ve had a chance to calm down, discuss it among themselves, they’ll come up with a better description.”

  “Ailith?” Joya asked, afraid to hear the answer.

  “Ailith is fine. She was inside asleep in her cradle,” Alasdair said. “Emmalin won’t set her down now.”

  “The poor woman thought she’d lost her husband and then her son disappeared. ’Tis a wonder she survived such pain,” Joya said. And all of this after her first husband had attempted to murder her. Her heart hurt for Emmalin and her poor wee son.

  She turned to Els and said, “We have to find him.”

  Dyna got up and paced around the table. “Do you think you could uncover where he is being kept? Because we have to return. They sent word to Grant Castle also, so we both expect Grandsire to arrive soon. Details about the location for the exchange in Ayr will be brought to MacLintock Castle in two more days. We need to be there. To stop Grandsire and to intercept the messenger they send.”

  “Grandsire won’t be able to go to MacLintock Castle let alone Ayr,” Els said. “Have you gone daft? He rarely ventures off Grant land anymore. Do the fools not know how old he is?”