Mad for the Plaid (32 page)

Greer blew out his lips in a blustery puff. “My lady, you cannae hope to negotiate with these bloody arses.”

“I'm nae going to negotiate. We're going to pay the ransom, retrieve the captives, and then get home as
quickly and safely as we can. That is, we will do so
if
the abductors do nae do anything foolish.”

Greer chewed his lip, while Rurik's heavy brows snapped down and his jaw tightened. Even Gregor, who was trying to look supportive, but failing miserable, revealed all with his expression. Only one person at the table was successfully hiding their thoughts, and Ailsa realized with a sinking feeling that she valued that opinion the most.

Gregor sighed. “I fear we could end oop with neither the money nor the hostages. It would be a more sensible plan if we found this camp and attacked it while the abductors are off guard.”

“How would we do that, Gregor, and keep the captives safe? Are you going to storm in as if we were putting a castle under siege, guns blazing and cannons firing, and leave it to luck and hope that an elderly man and woman will find safe cover?”

“If that's what it takes, aye.”

She gave a frustrated “Nonsense!” and then added, “That would put the lives of the captives in extreme danger. I will nae have it until 'tis our only recourse.”

Gregor slid a look at Nik. “What do you think?”

Nik felt the weight of Ailsa's gaze, and recognized the flicker of hope in her eyes. She wanted his support here, before her men. And God, how he wanted to give it. He wanted to see those amazing eyes light up, see her full lips part in a smile that was for no one but him.

But he had to tell the truth. “I cannot agree with paying the ransom.”

Her jaw tightened. “But—”

“It is not a good policy. If we locate the camp where the prisoners are being held, we should attack as soon as possible, before those fools have time to flee with our loved ones and leave us with naught.”

Ailsa's brows lowered. “This is
my
rescue effort. You joined me and my men, nae the other way around. Things will proceed as I say. We will nae participate in a raid until we know for certain if paying the ransom will yield results.”

He would have given his left arm to be able to agree with her. He could see from the tension in the stiff set of her shoulder, the tightness of her jaw, that she was heels down on this idea.

But all of his experiences, all of his instincts told him she was wrong. “
Krasavitsa
, we are speaking about my grandmother. I must do as
I
think best.”

“And what makes you think you know best?”

“Because just as you have more experience with brigands, I have more experience with abductions.”

Her gaze narrowed. “How many abductions have you dealt with?”

He silently counted, then said, “Sixteen that I can think of. I'm sure I've missed a few.”

“Sixteen—I cannae believe that.”

Nik shrugged and took a drink from his flask.

“Ailsa, it's possible he's telling the truth,” Gregor offered cautiously. “I daresay members of royalty are more often the target of abductions and worse than the rest of us.”

Nik put the top back on the flask and handed it to Rurik. “Whoever took Lord Hamilton and my grandmother
did not make up the term ‘abduction.' It has happened since ancient times. And it happens far more often than you might imagine.”

Ailsa frowned. “It costs us nothing but effort and some gold to pay the ransom. If we do, and the prisoners are nae released,
then
we can attack these fools in their camp.”

“But paying that damned ransom costs us much more than that,” Nik replied. “If we pay the ransom, we lose our chance for true surprise.”

“It's worth the risk. You forget that it is verrah possible someone is trying to push my family into a clan war. I cannae allow that. We
must
free the captives and bring them home safely. 'Tis a sad plan if all you can think to do is attack the camp and hope our own people are nae hit by stray bullets or have their throats slit before we can reach them!”

Nik bit back a sharp reply. She was strong and passionate in her beliefs, and God help him, beautiful when her ire had been raised. Beautiful and as sharp-edged as a new knife.

Keenly aware of their audience, he picked up his map and folded it. “Let us think on this some more. We will discuss this again once Greer has returned from scouting the location where the ransom is to be delivered. We'll have more information then.” And hopefully cooler heads. He met Ailsa's gaze directly. “Agreed?”

It wasn't a satisfactory answer, and he knew it. But to his relief, after a stilted moment, she gave a curt nod.

A noise came from the hallway, and the innkeeper
arrived to announce that food would be served shortly, a hearty soup and fresh bread made only that morning.

Greer went to get the others from where they were settling into their quarters off the stables, and Gregor pulled Ailsa back to the long table near the fire, where he spoke to her in a low voice, obviously attempting to cheer her up after the tense discussion. When Rurik started counting through the weapons they'd need for a possible raid, Nik listened with only half an ear, distracted by Ailsa's concerned, disappointed expression. He wished with all his heart he could change her countenance from dark to light, but he couldn't. Not when his grandmother's life was at stake.

Across the room, his gaze met Ailsa's, and he inclined his head, hoping she at least knew this wasn't a matter of trust or regard, but rather of expediency and experience.

To his deep disappointment, Ailsa merely turned away and did not look back.

Chapter 20

Hours after retiring, Ailsa found herself wide-awake. Her bed was a poor excuse for comfort. The feather pillow was flat, and the straw-filled mattress was so hollowed in the center that she couldn't sleep anywhere but the dead middle of the bed.

Worse were the thin sheets and blanket. Not only did they provide no warmth, but she was fairly sure that if she moved with any suddenness, her feet would poke through the threadbare muslin. She thought about fetching her bedroll from the stables, but the floor in the hall was too creaky, and would wake the others.

She flopped to her back, and stared at the ceiling. The inn was pitch-black, for everyone was asleep.
Except me
.

She sighed and crossed her arms under her head. Perhaps her wakefulness was due to more than the discomfort of the bed. It could have to do with how she was irritated over a number of things.

When she'd started out on this trek, she'd known it would become a test of her ability to lead her people. She was the lady of the manor, and at one time, she'd assumed that gave her complete say over their rescue
mission. But that was before she'd somehow been outranked by a too-certain-of-himself prince. Worse, the farther away they got from Castle Leod, the more things changed. Her men were far more willing to challenge her.

Perhaps that was the normal way of things. They'd faced extremely difficult situations on their travel here, which had changed all of them in one way or another.

She, for one, had a newfound respect for her men. She'd always thought them capable, but had no appreciation for Stewart's dry wit, MacKean's quickness, or Greer's willingness to take on the more difficult chores. From her desk in the study at Castle Leod, she would never have known their abilities. It was only when she worked side by side with them that she truly saw what they were capable of.

Perhaps one of the gifts she would take away from this venture was the realization that she'd been unwittingly isolating herself from her people. She would find a way to address that issue when she returned, for it would make Castle Leod more successful.

She loved her home and her charges. For now, at least, it was who she was, what she was meant to do.

She shifted restlessly in the hard bed, her thoughts settling on a far more troublesome issue—Nik. He was a very pleasant, amazingly sensual diversion, but that was all. From the little she'd garnered, it seemed his life was too complicated to be shared. It saddened her that he believed everyone in his world had an ugly motive for being there. She thought—

A creak sounded in the hallway. She lifted her head
to stare through the pitch dark at the closed door.
Was that a footstep?
No other sound could be heard.

But as soon as she relaxed her head on her flat pillow, she heard it again.

Someone was in the hallway.

Her heart gave a sickly thud. Twice now someone had tried to rob them, and both times Nik had been injured. What if it happened again? What if he was, even now, bloodied upon the floor of his bedchamber?

She threw off the covers and arose, her chemise offering scant warmth. Although it was made of soft wool, her skin prickled with goose bumps as she found the chair she'd placed at the side of her bed, where her pistol rested on top of her clothes, ready for the coming morning.

The weapon was cold and heavy as she carried it to the door. There, she pressed her ear to the cold wood and waited.

She waited, breath held, listening. There! Another creak, this time near the stairwell. Only she, Nik, Gregor, and Rurik were on this floor.
Had someone slipped up the stairs to do mischief?

She remembered the bitterness in Nik's gaze when Gregor had mentioned in such a matter-of-fact tone about royalty being abducted “and worse.”

She tightened her grip on her pistol and slowly turned the doorknob. It opened with a faint click.

She waited, but no sound answered it.

Thank goodness!
She let her breath out in a faint sigh, then peered into the hallway. Nothing but blackness
met her gaze. When she'd come to bed earlier in the evening, she'd noted that the hall floor had creaked loudly near the steps. If she stayed near the wall, the creaking should be much less. First, though, she held her place, waiting. Somewhere outside, she heard a low noise, but nothing else.

Perhaps she'd imagined the footfalls. Or perhaps—more alarming—whoever had been in the hallway had completed their evil task.

She looked in the direction of Nik's door, but she was too far away to hear anything.

If she listened at his door and heard him breathing, she'd know he was safe and her alarm nothing more than her own overactive imagination. She stepped into the hallway and quietly made her way to his door.

There, she pressed her ear to the rough panel, listening intently.

No sound met her efforts. Shouldn't she be able to hear him breathing, at least? She put her hand on the knob, wondering if she should chance a peek. Her heart beat rapidly. Perhaps something was indeed wrong. She had to find out or she'd never sleep.

She turned the knob as slowly as she could. Just as she went to push the door open, it swung back, and in one swift, blinding move, her pistol was jerked from her hand, and she was pinned chest out against a warm, hard wall, a hand over her mouth. “Shhh,” Nik whispered into her ear.

He needn't have worried; her tongue was as frozen as her mind.

He quietly closed the door and then eased his hold, bending to whisper, “You heard it, too?”

She grasped his wrist, pulling his hand from her mouth. “Who was it?”

“I don't know, but they are out in the courtyard now. I heard the front door below my bedchamber open and close.”

“Did you see anything?”

“Someone was near the stables. But it's a new moon and I couldn't make out who it might be.”

“Should we go see who it is?”

“
Nyet
. I don't hear anything now. Perhaps it was Rurik or your cousin searching for the outhouse.”

“Oh. I had nae thought of that.” She paused, aware of how warm his skin was against her chemise. “I . . . I should return to my room, then.”

But she made no move to do so.

And he made no move to release her.