by Wylie, Diane
“Speak up now. If you have knowledge of William Ogilvie, and I know you do, please put his long-suffering mother out of her misery and relieve her anxiety.” Major Morgan’s dark eyes flickered from Isobel to Fin and back.
“Well, Miss Graham?”
“We, uh—”
The door opened with a creak behind them. Derek Sinclair rushed in, stopping short as Isobel and Fin turned to see who had entered. Derek’s brown eyes widened, and his face turned red. Then, apparently remembering military protocol, he saluted Major Morgan.
“Permission to enter, sir. Please excuse the interruption.”
Morgan frowned but said, “Of course, Captain Sinclair. I did summon you. Kindly remember to knock before entering next time.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“At ease, Sinclair.” The colonel turned his attention back to Fin and Isobel. “Miss Graham, you were going to tell Lady Ogilvie what you know of her son.”
Two could play at this game. “First, I would like to know how you have been treating the Ogilvies.” Isobel crossed her arms over her chest and met the colonel’s gaze defiantly.
Lady Elizabeth’s eyes widened and she leaned forward to place a hand on Isobel’s knee. “I am truly grateful that you are concerned for our welfare. Thus far we’ve been treated with respect, and our every need has been met. I am much aggrieved to be without my child. If you can restore him to us, we would be most grateful.”
Sir George jumped up and paced the room. He ignored Derek, keeping his attention on the Grahams with a quick glance at Morgan. “We have Major Morgan’s word that Willie will not be harmed, should he come home.”
Fin grunted. “Excuse me if I dinnae reach that same conclusion so quickly. Ye are holding the Ogilvies against their will. What else could they say?”
From the moment Derek entered the room, Isobel had to fight an inner desire to rush into his arms, to touch him, to kiss him, and to wipe away the lines of anxiety on his handsome face. She won the fight and only now was able to look at him with a mask of indifference as he stepped forward to stand beside her.
“Aye, er, I mean yes. I had a chance to speak privately to the Ogilvies, and I told them about William. Knowing the concerns surrounding this whole situation, I pressed them for their opinion regarding the boy’s return to Dunnottar. They both assured me that they do feel safe here, even with the English army in charge, and wish their child to be returned to them as soon as it can be arranged.”
Isobel watched Derek closely as he spoke, looking for any sign that he was being less than truthful. He stood ramrod stiff beside her. His fists at the end of those red sleeves with white cuffs clenched and unclenched as he spoke with his eyes strictly on Major Morgan.
He was so close she could feel the heat from his hard muscled body under that uniform.
“If this is true, neither one of ye will object to stepping out of the room and allowing us to speak to the Ogilvies alone.” Fin’s voice, calm and reasonable, shook Isobel out of her daydreams.
“Why of course, of course. I’ll need a moment to post guards at the windows.” Morgan waved a hand at Derek, who quickly walked to the door and relayed instructions to the soldiers outside.
A tense silence fell over the room. Derek remained at the door while Major Morgan moved to the tall narrow windows and looked out. As they were on the second story, and the windows were too narrow for a person to squeeze through, Isobel could not see any reason to post guards below. In a few minutes, Morgan turned back toward the Scottish group.
“The guards are in place. Come, Captain Sinclair, let us leave these people alone as they requested. We will be right outside the door. Please give word when you have finished your discussion.”
* * *
Derek knew Major Morgan was not acting out of the kindness of his heart with his offer to help bring little William Ogilvie home to Dunnottar. How had he even learned of Derek’s conversation with the couple? The castle had very big ears. Perhaps the Ogilvies had revealed their communication to a servant or someone who had told Morgan. Regardless of the source, somehow Morgan knew about the Graham family and their connection to the Ogilvies.
After allowing Morgan to exit ahead of him, Derek glanced back at Isobel. She had no expression at all. He attempted a reassuring smile, but she didn’t react. Sighing inwardly, he stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him.
That woman drew him like a siren’s call to a sailor. Her mere presence lit up the room, and he yearned to touch her, even on her fingertips.
“I need to speak to you, Sinclair.”
Derek turned and walked to where Morgan sat in a wingback chair. Coming to attention in front of the man, he snapped a salute. “Yes, sir.”
“When those red-haired brutes leave, I want you to go with them. Convince them they need you.” He rubbed a pale boney hand under his jaw. “When you get back to whatever hole they crawled out of, find the regalia.” Cold black eyes fixed on Derek. “Do what you need to do, but bring back the Scottish crown, sceptre, and sword and then bring them back here with the boy.”
“What about the Grahams?”
Morgan buffed his nails on his trousers, looked at them, and then up at Derek. “If you cannot find the regalia, bring the Grahams back with you. I have ways to make them talk.”
A slow grin spread across his sharp features, but no joy reached the major’s eyes. Derek’s heart skipped a beat then pounded in his chest. But Morgan had not finished. “And I will be sending five of my best soldiers with you, Sinclair, just to make sure my orders are followed. That girl is a tasty wench. When her brother is out of the way, I know just how to entertain her … my way.”
Chapter 21
After taking leave of Sir and Lady Ogilvie, Isobel and Fin were escorted out of the palace by a new set of guards. Derek and Major Morgan had not been waiting right outside. In fact, five English redcoats had barged in and ordered them out.
Blinking in the sunlight, Fin and Isobel found themselves in the Dunnottar courtyard, surrounded by soldiers. Isobel wasn’t sure what kind of threat she and Fin posed, but clearly Morgan was taking no chances.
Fin drew her closer to him. She saw his hand go to where he normally carried his knife, but it had been confiscated when the first group of redcoats captured them.
“What do ye want from us?” Fin demanded.
The jingle of spurs and bridle heralded the arrival of someone on horseback.
Derek, resplendent in the hated red uniform, buff trousers, and highly polished knee-high boots sat atop a sleek black gelding. “My men and I will escort you to where you are keeping the boy, William Ogilvie. We will bring him back to his parents. The military escort is necessary to ensure your cooperation.”
Humiliation burned Isobel’s cheeks as the soldiers surrounded them as if they were criminals or cattle to be driven along. She and Fin walked side by side in silence. The tension in her brother was palpable. Catching his eye, she gave her head a little shake of warning. He grimaced and turned to gaze straight ahead. They ignored the jeers and pointing from the castle inhabitants.
Once outside the castle and down the steep road, they both relaxed a bit. Derek had been riding in front of the little procession from the beginning. When the dirt road became a narrow path and then disappeared altogether, he reined in.
“Halt.” Swinging off his horse, Derek let the reins drop and walked back to Isobel and Fin. “I need someone to show me the way. Miss Graham, will you do me the honor of sharing my ride?”
He gave a little bow then waited for her answer with dark brows raised. Giving her a barely perceptible nod, he gazed at Fin. The expression on his face was plainly a plea for acquiescence. Derek was planning something.
“Nay—”
“Aye—”
Fin and Isobel responded at once.
She smiled. “’Twill be fine, Fin. My feet are aching and I could use a rest.” Brushing past him, she touched his arm before joining Derek.
Isobel’s heart r
acing and her palms grew moist. She was going to be close to Derek. Touching close. Whispering close. Sitting up against his body close.
Linking his hands together, he bent to give her a place to step up. With one hand on the saddle and the other on his shoulder, she put her foot into his hands and mounted the horse.
Derek took the reins and easily mounted behind her. He raised one hand and motioned. “Forward.”
* * *
Heat and excitement flooded his senses the moment Belle’s adorable derriere touched his groin area. His manhood reacted, eliciting a small squeak of surprise from her.
“Don’t turn around, you are angry with me.”
She picked up two handfuls or horse mane and held on. “You are right about that part.”
He pitched his voice even lower. “Are your falcons free somewhere above us? Can you call them to you?”
“Why?”
“Morgan is planning to use you and the boy as pawns to find out where the regalia are located. I don’t mean to allow it.”
“Are ye turning traitor?”
“I suppose I am.”
“Ye were lying about the Ogilvies’ treatment by the English.” Isobel released the horse’s mane and placed her right hand on his thigh.
“Yes.”
“And they were lying about wanting William with them?” Her nails dug into the skin on his leg, and he let out a grunt.
“Yes, Belle, mo leannan,” he whispered.
The sharp daggers of her nails retreated, and he rubbed the sore spot. Bending his head down to hers, he quietly told her of his plan.
She nodded once and slapped him across the cheek. “Let me down, ye wicked bugger, before I throw myself off the horse.”
Derek pulled back on the reins, laughing loudly. “Whoa, there.”
The men behind him stopped. “Suit yourself. What a spirited little filly this one is … a fiery redhead.”
Isobel swung one leg over the horse’s neck and jumped down just as Fin moved forward with fists clenched.
Picking up her skirts, she hurried toward her brother, moving around two soldiers who had blocked Fin’s progress.
“Nae worries, brother, God on high will punish these soldiers for their actions.” Isobel resumed her earlier position beside Fin. She waited until the redcoats had returned to their formation around the two of them, then tugged Fin’s arm.
His blue eyes focused on her. Holding her hand close to her belly where the soldiers were unlikely to see, she pointed one finger up then turned her hand to point down.
Fin smiled and nodded. A gleam of anticipation shone in his eyes.
The trees around them increased in number as they moved further into the dimness of Dunnottar Woods. Lush green leaves sprouted from every branch above them and last year’s leaves and pine needles carpeted the ground and muffled their footsteps. The contingent of soldiers was forced to walk with two behind Derek and the remainder behind the two Grahams.
Isobel glanced up. A peregrine falcon soared overhead. Fin followed her gaze and nodded.
In unison, the brother and sister put their fingers to their mouths and let out three sharp whistles.
“What are you blighters—”
The redcoat didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. Isobel’s falcon, Latharna, dropped from the sky to sink her talons into his scalp. The man shrieked and dropped his weapon.
Fin grabbed it up and stuck the pike into the man’s belly.
Before any of the other soldiers could move, another falcon appeared. Grizel had joined the attack, driving a second soldier ahead as he screamed and threw up both hands to try and defend himself.
Isobel picked up that man’s weapon and whirled around. Derek had come into the fray on foot. He and one of his very surprised soldiers were dueling, their sword blades clanging.
Latharna circled around and flew at a yelling English soldier as he ran away with arms flailing. Isobel smiled to see her falcon drop down, grab hold of his hair, and lift. A wad of dark hair rested in her claws. The soldier didn’t look back.
A young man with freckles obvious against his stark white face, the fifth soldier from the detail stared at Isobel.
“Run!” she said.
He didn’t move.
Isobel pointed the pike at his torso. “Run!” she repeated.
This time he did. The bushes closed behind him as he crashed through the dense undergrowth.
Fin, panting heavily, came up beside her. On his arm sat his falcon, Grizel. “Where is Sinclair?” He accepted the rifle Isobel held out to him.
Isobel put her fingers to her lips and whistled. “I dinna ken. He was here a moment ago.” She held her arm up as a perch for Latharna, who promptly dropped down from the sky for her mistress.
“Good girl, Latharna.” Stroking the bird’s breast feathers, Isobel gazed around the scene. One redcoat lay dead on the ground, and three others had run away. That left Derek and the soldier he had been dueling the last time she saw him.
“Away, Latharna.” Isobel jerked her arm up, sending the falcon into the air. “I need to find him, Fin. He saved our lives and William’s, and he is likely to be saving The Honours from the English as well. Major Morgan intends to kill us and use William as a pawn to force the Ogilvies into revealing the location of the Scottish crown jewels.
Giving a nod, Fin also released his bird into the sky. “Aye, if that is true, I’ll help ye. Though ’tis hard to let go of the hate.”
She smiled at her towering little brother. “I hope ye will get past it in time. Derek is a good man, he’s just convinced me of it. He’s become a marked man with the English now. They’ll execute him for a traitor, if they catch him.”
“I suppose you’ve got the way of it now, Belle. We’ll both go together.”
Isobel pointed back the way they came. “I last laid eyes on Derek back there.”
Fin picked up the two confiscated English pikes again and handed one to his sister. “I ken ’tis too big for ye but better than nothing.”
In this part of the Dunnottar Woods, the trees grew thick and lush with plenty of shade-tolerant undergrowth supported by multiple streams and damp, springy soil. The air smelled of growing vegetation and musky rotting leaves.
Isobel and Fin walked carefully, mindful of rocks, toads, and snakes.
“Do ye smell that?”
“Aye,” Fin responded, “blood.”
A few feet away they found the body. For the second time in one day, Isobel feared that Derek had perished. The red-coated man lay face down, half buried in leaves. Unruly dark brown hair was visible.
Fin put a hand out to stop Isobel, and stepped forward. Flies buzzed around the deceased. Grabbing hold of the coat, Fin pulled the man over.
It wasn’t Derek.
She sent up a quick silent prayer of thanks.
“Where is he?” Fin gazed around.
Isobel did the same. Long shadows had developed, making the forest appear haunting and eerie.
“Are you looking for me?”
Out of the shadows stepped the uniformed officer, leading his sleek mount. The horse’s head bobbed up and down then it blew air out of its nose. Clearly, the smell of the dead man upset the animal.
“Whoa now, boy.” Derek patted the arched neck soothingly.
Isobel let out a cry of relief then stepped toward him.
Derek grinned.
She ran, slipping on the wet leaves, to meet him and flung her arms around his neck.
Wrapping his arm around her, he bent his head down to hers and kissed her. The kiss was hot, wet, and very passionate. She felt his hand rest possessively on the back of her head with his fingers splayed through her hair. He went deeper into her mouth with his tongue, touching the sensitive lining so gently that her body burst into flames.
“Mo leannan, how I’ve missed you,” he murmured against her mouth.
All Isobel could do was nod in agreement. Her hands seemed to take on a life of their own as she cares
sed his neck then slid them around to touch both whiskered cheeks. He had been clean-shaven earlier today, but dark whiskers now shadowed his jaw.
“I hate to interrupt,” Fin said loudly as he did it anyway, “but ’twill be dark soon. We need to get home and warn the others before those lads we set free make their way back to the castle.”
With her lips still tingling, Isobel broke the kiss and inhaled deeply to gain her wits about her. He totally addled her brain,
“Then this is where we must part.” Derek handed the horse’s reins to Isobel. “You two take the horse and go. Tell your family you must flee. Morgan will send soldiers after you … and me.”
“No, Derek! Come with us.” Isobel tried to shove the rains back into his hand.
“I’m sorry, Belle, I will not endanger you or your family. Catriona is pregnant and there is little William to think about. I need to try to lead the soldiers away from you. When the soldiers who survived tell Morgan of my treachery, he will want my head.” Shrugging out of the red coat, he dropped it on the ground and turned to leave.
“But I love you, Derek.”
He froze.
“I love you too, Belle. But we cannot be together. Not now. Not ever. I lied to you and your family. I put you all in great danger. Do not forget the pain I’ve caused. I don’t deserve your forgiveness or your love.”
As Isobel opened her mouth to reply, a shadow moved in the darkness behind Derek. Before she could call out a warning, a man stepped forward and slammed a rock in the side of Derek’s head, and he dropped to the ground.
“Fin!”
Chapter 22
Hearing was the first of his senses to return. Muffled voices of men and women filtered through the buzzing noise in his head. Gradually, Derek became aware of his body. He was lying down and felt no pain anywhere but his head. Without opening his eyes, he moved his legs. Still no pain. Then he raised his hands and touched his own face, feeling the bristles of a new beard.
“How are ye feeling?” A soft, lilting female voice—Belle’s voice—spoke. She was barely audible over the noise in his head. Groaning, he managed to open his eyes for a second then snapped them shut against the pain-inducing light.
