Bride of the Solway. Joanna Maitland

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СКАЧАТЬ water. He was whole again. He could go forward. Like an adder, he had sloughed off his old damaged skin. In its place was a new whole one, strong and supple, with a clear warning pattern.

      He forced his shoulders to straighten into something resembling his normal upright carriage. He must look to the future, however threatening it now seemed. He had come to Scotland to solve the mystery surrounding his family and if…when he managed to escape from this prison, that was exactly what he would do. No one, however noble, would be able to look down on him in the future. He would still be an officer and a gentleman, but he would find a family to be proud of. It would be a new life.

      In that new life, he would keep his heart well-armoured against tender feelings. For any woman.

       Chapter Three

       S tooping, Cassandra muttered darkly under her breath. There was light coming through the keyhole. James had clearly taken the precaution of removing the key. Perhaps he suspected that Morag had helped her to escape?

      She crossed to the single chair and dropped heavily into it. She must protect Morag from James. The maid would be prepared to take risks for Cassandra—out of love and devotion—but she must not be permitted to do so. For James was a cruel and vindictive man. He would take pleasure in dismissing Morag and in doing everything in his power to ensure she starved.

      There must be another way.

      Ross Graham was in Dumfries gaol. He was to be brought to trial. That meant an appearance before the provost, perhaps even before the Sheriff himself. The provost would believe Jamie’s accusations of abduction. He would authorise a trial. He had no reason to doubt the Elliott laird’s word.

      Unless the Elliott daughter herself disputed it.

      She had to find a way of persuading the provost to call her as a witness. She had to tell him what had really happened. Perhaps Morag…? No. Too dangerous. Not Morag. Besides, the maid would have no plausible reason for going to Dumfries, and no means of travelling there, either.

      Cassandra leant her elbows on the table, picked up her pen and began to chew the end of the quill. She must do it herself. Somehow.

      She could write a letter, of course, but there was no one to whom she dared entrust it. Morag was the only one who would take her part. And using Morag for such a hazardous task was out of the question.

      She raised her hand to wipe her damp brow. She must have caught a chill from being out in that thunderstorm. She felt a little hot. But what did that matter? It was but a minor indisposition when a man’s life was at stake. She felt in her pocket for a handkerchief.

      Her fingers found, not fine linen, but a tiny scrap of paper.

      Alasdair! The fifteen-year-old youth from the nearby estate who fancied himself in love with Cassandra. The lad who wrote her bad poetry in which he swore to serve her unto death. Would he dare to serve her now, in spite of the risk of crossing her fearsome half-brother?

      She must try. If Alasdair were caught, James would give him a thrashing, but nothing more. Even James would not dare to do real harm to a gentleman’s son, especially when they were such near neighbours. James could not afford to make even more enemies in Galloway.

      Cassandra swallowed hard. If only she could escape! She had absolutely no wish to put Alasdair in danger, but what choice did she have? None. She was about to wager a beating for Alasdair against a hanging for Ross Graham. She could not allow her rescuer to die.

      She rose and began to pace, planning what she must do. She must write a careful note to the provost. But not now. Not yet. There was always the chance that James would have her chamber searched, or walk in on her, as he had done when he found her with Alasdair’s poems. No. The note must be written just before it was despatched.

      But how to despatch it? She could drop it out of the window, perhaps, but only if Alasdair were already there. And the lad knew better than to be found on Elliott land. What if—?

      A tiny knock on the door interrupted her ravelled thoughts.

      ‘Miss Cassie!’ The strident whisper could be clearly heard. Morag must be at the keyhole.

      Cassandra ran to the door. ‘Morag!’ she whispered urgently. ‘Be careful! If my brother hears you—’

      ‘Dinna fret, Miss Cassie. The master’s at his meat. And Tam is waiting on him. I’ve told Tam that ye need feeding too, but—’

      ‘Never mind that, Morag. Listen. I need you to get a message to Alasdair. Tell him to come here as soon as it’s dark. I’ll drop him a note. He’s to take it to Provost Scobie. Tell him it’s urgent. Can you do that? Please, Morag? I know that—’

      ‘Wheesht, lassie. Of course I can do it. I’ll tell Tam I’m away to see the cook at Alasdair’s house, that I need to borrow—’

      Even through the barrier of the heavy bedroom door, Cassandra heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Oh, God! Morag would be caught! And it was Cassandra’s fault. She held her breath, waiting for an outburst from Tam, or from her brother.

      None came. Instead, she heard weary footsteps toiling to the top of the stairs and then plodding along the corridor to her door. It could only be Tam. Her brother was younger, and much lighter on his feet. Slightly relieved that Morag seemed to have escaped detection, Cassandra moved quietly back to her chair and sat down, resting her head on her hand and breathing deeply in an attempt to calm her nerves. She must not let Tam see how frightened she had been that Morag might be caught. She must appear to be totally downhearted at the turn of events, and at her brother’s victory over her. She must appear to be cowed.

      Tam did not knock. He simply unlocked the door and walked in.

      That changed Cassandra’s mind completely, for she knew better than to permit such behaviour from her brother’s servant. She rose from her place and glared at the man. ‘You did not knock,’ she said coldly.

      ‘I thought I heard somethin’. I had to see that ye—’

      ‘Nothing of the kind. I’ll warrant you marched into my chamber in hopes of finding me in a state of undress. Do you know what happens to such men, Tam? Peeping Tom was struck blind, remember?’

      Tam began to bluster.

      ‘Enough of your lies! I shall tell the laird of your unseemly behaviour as soon as I see him. He will not believe your excuses, either. He knows full well there is no escape from this room, now that the windows have been barred.’

      Tam’s colour had fled at the mention of the laird. ‘There’s no need to say anything t’ the laird, mistress. He— I was coming up to see ye anyway, to find out what ye was wanting for yer dinner. There’s fresh-baked bannocks. And Morag’s made a great kettle o’ venison stew, if ye’d like. And—’

      ‘That will do me very well, Tam, for I have not eaten today. Perhaps tomorrow you will be more mindful of your duties towards me. It falls to you, after all, to ensure that I am well enough fed that I have no grounds for complaining to my brother.’ She stared him out until he looked away.

      ‘I’ll fetch yer food right away, mistress,’ he said, slinking out of the room.

      Cassandra listened. Tam was not so intimidated that he failed to lock the door. A pity. But at least he would СКАЧАТЬ