Highland Captive (36 page)

Still,
she thought crossly as she struggled to stand up, there had to be something she
could do that would satisfy the sudden extreme restlessness that had lately
afflicted her. Plying her needle was certainly not enough. Suddenly, she knew
what she wanted to do and, she mused as she started out of the hall, without
Parlan about, she just might be able to accomplish it.

Partway
to the stables she had to fight the impulse to giggle. She had been trying to
be secretive, to slip away unseen. The whole idea was ludicrous, and she
suddenly saw it that way. She was far too pregnant to move about stealthily.
Everyone was keeping a close watch upon her as well, far too close for her to
elude it completely. She was the laird’s wife, carrying his first child which
was now past due and Rory was still alive, had even been spotted a time or two
far too close to her for anyone’s comfort. Finally, chuckling over how she
could have ever thought that she could sneak about Dubhglenn, she stepped into
the stables and moved toward Elfking.

“What
do ye think ye are doing?”

Gasping
and pressing a hand over her rapidly beating heart, Aimil whirled around. “Artair,
dinnae frighten me so.”

“I
didnae mean to.” He eyed her very protuberant belly warily as he stepped
closer. “Do ye feel all right?”

“Aye,
I willnae have the bairn here and now, though, if ye scare me so again,
t’wouldnae surprise me if I did.”

“Then
I shall be verra careful not to frighten ye again. Now, answer me. What are ye
doing?”

“I
intend to go for a wee ride.”

“Are
ye mad?”

“Aye,
with boredom.”

“Now,
Aimil, I ken how ye must feel...”

“Nay,
ye dinnae. Ye could never ken. ‘Tis as if I am a prisoner again. Nay, ‘tis
worse. I had more freedom when all I carried was ransom value. I cannae abide
sitting still, doing needlework and just waiting for another moment. I must do
something.”

“Fine,
but that doesnae mean going for a ride.”

“Aye,
it does.”

“Ye
could hurt yourself or the bairn.”

“Aye,
and just mayhaps I will shake this wee one into recalling that a bairn is
supposed to come out sometime.”

“Exactly,
and he could decide to do so whilst ye are out there somewhere, nowhere near
the women ready to aid you.”

The
way he was standing before her, his arms crossed and looking down at her as if
she were some errant child reminded her a great deal of Parlan at his most
overbearing. It annoyed her just as much. However, she hid her annoyance for
she knew that, unlike Parlan, Artair could be persuaded to change his mind. The
younger MacGuin was susceptible to subtle pleading.

“Artair”—she
laid a hand upon his arm—“a wee ride, a gentle wee one, cannae hurt the bairn.
I have been riding all my life. T’willnae hurt me to do something I have been
doing all my life. Aye, and whilst I carried the bairn, right up until I grew
too round to mount with ease. Ye can help me mount. I can do it. I just need a
wee bit of help.”

“If
ye need help to get into the saddle, then ye shouldnae be riding.”

“Nonsense.
There are a lot of ladies that willnae even try to mount a horse without aid
yet they are never told not to go riding.”

“They
arenae big and round with Parlan MacGuin’s heir. I am certain Parlan has told
ye to do no more riding.”

“Weel,
ye are wrong in that. He hasnae ordered me at all, never said I couldnae go
riding.” She decided that was not really a lie for Parlan had never told her
not to, even if he had made it clear that he was about to when she had ceased
her rides all on her own. “I stopped because I was beginning to feel verra
silly and awkward atop Elfking, looking as I do.”

“Then
why do ye suddenly need to ride now?”

“Because
I cannae abide another moment of doing naught!” she snapped then sighed,
honestly sorry to be so short-tempered with him. “Sorry. ‘Tis just hard to be
so verra big and so verra restless. The twa dinnae go together weel at all.”
She smiled hopefully at Artair. “Can ye help me with the saddle?”

“Aye,
I can,” he grumbled even as he did so, “though I ken weel I will be sorely
regretting this. I should make ye wait until Parlan returns.”

“Parlan
willnae be back until ‘tis far too late for me to go riding.”

“I
ken it. I just pray he comes back late enough for me to have got ye back safe
from this folly.”

“Ye
arenae heeding what is said at all, Parlan.” Lagan exchanged a grin with Leith
before nudging Parlan.

Parlan
grimaced as he silently acknowledged the truth of that. He had come to a
meeting of the Mengues and their allies not only to assure the lot of them that
he considered his marriage to Aimil Mengue a treaty of sorts with all of them
but to hear whatever news had been gathered on the elusive Rory Fergueson.
While he felt sure he had done the former, his intention to listen was sadly
wavering. He could not keep his mind on the business at hand. His mind wished
to busy itself thinking of Aimil and the child she carried.

“I
dinnae like leaving Aimil when she is so near to her time.”

“She
has been near her time for almost a month. I begin to think the bairn plans to
wait until he can walk out.”

Chuckling
over Lagan’s remark, Parlan nodded in amused agreement. “Aimil has puzzled over
that as weel.”

“Here,
heed what old Simon Broth is saying,” hissed Leith, urgency tightening his
voice.

“I
tell ye I am certain it was him, that whoreson, Rory. I dinnae mean to bring ye
pain, Lachlan, old friend, by stirring up the painful memories of the past, but
the lass they found was murdered in the same manner your wife was. Who else
could it have been? The killing held his mark. T’was clear for even an old man
like me to see.”

“Do
they ken who the lass was?”

“Nay,
Leith. None had seen her before, not until she arrived a few weeks past,” Simon
Broth answered.

“They
must have had some knowledge of her.” Parlan knew that few people ignored a
stranger in their midst. “Some information that might lead us to ken who she
was or someone who did ken.”

“Do
ye think it is important?” Simon asked.

“It
could be.”

“Weel,
‘tis said she was a fair and fulsome brown-haired lass, twenty years of age or
older. They couldnae say exactly. What little she had to do with the plain
folk, even the ones at the inn where she stayed, didnae make them feel she was
the friendly sort. Haughty and shrewish, they said, though she did favor the
innkeeper’s son who be a braw, handsome laddie.”

“That
could be any of a thousand lasses. Was there naught else? Naught upon the body
to give any clue?”

“Ooh,
aye, aye. I meant to show it before I had finished my tale.” Simon dug a ring
from a pocket in his pourpoint and held it up for all to see. “I dinnae hold
much hope for it to help. I couldnae place it and I ken most all about here who
would wear such as this.”

“Lagan,”
Parlan whispered, his gaze fixed upon the ring he suddenly recognized.

“Aye,
I fear so.” Lagan rose and slowly moved to take the ring from Simon. “She
wasnae from about here, old man. That is why ye couldnae recognize her or this.
She was Catarine Dunmore, a cousin of mine. What was done with the body?”

“T’was
buried proper. Any in the village can tell her kin where to find her. What was
the lass doing ‘round here, with him?”

“After
betraying Aimil and Parlan to Rory, she had no place to go and no one else to
go to. Did none see anything or hear anything where she was murdered?” Lagan
was not surprised to find Parlan and Leith flanking him for the village where
Catarine had been murdered was very near the border of the Highlands and the
Lowlands, placing Rory uncomfortably close to Dubhglenn.

“Little
of worth. They do feel it was the man who came to visit her from time to time
but they couldnae say what he looked like for he and the short one, as they
called his constant companion, slipped about like shadows, never letting any
get a good look at them. The lass was bound to the bed and gagged so she wasnae
able to alert any to the danger she was in. The inn was quite raucous that
night as weel. They ken when the man came but none saw him leave. She was found
in the morning. As I said, the manner of her death tells me she died by that
whoreson’s hand,” Simon insisted.

“Aye,
it tells me that as weel. Where she died tells me that Rory draws too near to
Aimil. I am returning to Dubhglenn now. Do ye come with me, Lagan?”

“I
ache to, Parlan, but duty commands me to ride and tell Catarine’s kin of her
death.”

“Aye,
I understand.” He briefly clasped Lagan by the shoulder. “My condolences.”

“Weel,
I dinnae grieve for her even though she was kin. ‘Tis the manner of her death
that troubles me. Nay, Catarine wasnae one to leave many grieving for her
passing but she didnae deserve what must have been a hard, long death.”

“Nay,
no one does save for the ones who deal in such. Ye will be returning to
Dubhglenn?”

“Aye,
as soon as I have accomplished my sad chore.”

“I
will come with ye now.”

Glancing
at Leith, Parlan nodded. “That little surprises me.” He looked at Lachlan who
was already standing up. “Ye as weel? Do ye doubt my ability to keep Aimil
safe?”

“Nay,
lad, and weel ye ken it if ye but think a moment, so smooth down those ruffled
feathers. I dinnae mean to go along for that reason. Ye have been searching
about your lands and I have been searching about mine because we didnae ken
where that adder had slipped away to. Now we have an idea. Until that changes,
t’would serve better if we search together.”

“Aye,
verra wise. Let us hurry then before that sheep dung named Geordie talks a
moment’s sense into the madman he serves and all hint of Rory fades again.”
Parlan turned sharply and left the hall of Lachlan’s keep, the others hurrying
to follow.

They
were halfway to Dubhglenn, moving slowly for a change as they tried to pace
their mounts, when Leith moved next to Parlan, and struggled to find the words
to ease the increasing worry he could see in the man’s face. “Aimil is weel
guarded.”

“Aye.”
Lachlan moved up on Parlan’s other side. “The man cannae get to her within the
walls of Dubhglenn.”

“Nay,
not if she stays there.” Parlan could not find the words to explain the fear
that had begun to grip him and continued to grow.

“Weel,
where would the fool lass go? She must be verra large with child by now.”

“Aye,
Father, verra large.” Leith smiled faintly. “I saw her but days ago, and she
needs a hand to but rise from her seat.”

“Verra
true.” Parlan too fleetingly smiled, but his grim mood returned quickly. “Another
lass would be kept still by such a thing. They wouldnae even think on going far
when the bairn weighs upon them so heavily. I cannae be certain Aimil would act
so.”

“Nay,
and I cannae tell ye she would either.” Lachlan grimaced. “She has never been
as other lasses. A bairn coming wouldnae change that.”

“Nay,
it wouldnae. She has been growing restless of late and it now has me worried. I
cannae say what it is but I feel that something has gone wrong. That feeling
gnaws at me now and grows stronger each moment that passes.”

“Weel,
then, we best gain some speed.” Even as Lachlan spoke, he gently urged his
mount to a swifter pace.

Doing
the same, Parlan muttered, “If she isnae setting quietly in the keep, I shall
beat the wench, I swear it.”

“I
will hold her steady so that ye can,” Lachlan offered.

“I
think we shall find her in childbed. She is past due and that may be all that
eats at you.”

“I
hope ye prove right, Leith. Though I have my own worries about the birthing, I
would far prefer that than to find her outside Dubhglenn and mayhaps within
Rory’s foul reach.”

Aimil
took a deep breath and smiled at a frowning Artair. They had paused for a
moment so that she could enjoy the feeling of being outside of walls for the
first time in many days. It was far more wonderful to be in the glorious
weather than to acknowledge it while standing behind thick stone walls. Artair,
however, was proving a less than enjoyable companion for he made no secret of
his continuing disapproval of the ride.

“Come,
Artair, can ye not enjoy such a fine day? They are a pleasure that is too rare.”

“I
would enjoy it more if I kenned that ye were safe back in Dubhglenn with your
feet back on the ground.”

“I
am nearly as safe as that on Elfking’s back.” She patted her mount’s strong
neck. “He would never harm me in any way.”

“True.
Ye have spoiled that beast to your hand. Still, ‘tis not that which truly
troubles me.” He frowned darkly as he looked around. “I have a bad feeling
about our being out here. Parlan wouldnae like it.”