Highland Scoundrel (Campbell Trilogy #3)(70)

But more and more, he hoped he didn't find anything.

True to his word, over the next week Duncan transformed the castle and its occupants. Jeannie couldn't believe the changes he'd accomplished in so little time. In addition to personally attending to the training of the guardsmen, he'd organized regular scouting parties, reinforced the sentries, fortified the gates, and ordered the repair of the barmkin wall, which had been allowed to fall into disrepair over the past few years.

After a party of cattle reivers had been met by Duncan and his men at the beginning of the week, the air around the castle had changed. Word had spread that attacks against Aboyne—against Jeannie—would be met with resistance. Lethal resistance.

Even Adam, the captain of the Gordon guardsmen, who'd been initially reluctant to cede his authority in any way to Duncan, had been won over. Mostly because Duncan gave the credit for the changes to him, though everyone knew who was responsible.

Jeannie smiled as she exited the keep into the yard, despite the bone-chilling blast of wind and the dark clouds hanging overhead. For the first time since Francis had died she felt safe. Safe. She hadn't realized how oppressive it was being locked behind the walls of the castle like a princess in a tower until the weight was gone.

And she had Duncan to thank. It was hard not to admire the man he had become, just as it was hard not to imagine what might have been.

She wrapped her plaid around her shoulders and trudged across the courtyard, misty wind pelting her face with needles of ice.

Another week or two and she might even be able to resume her morning rides. Duncan would take her now, but he'd been so busy she hadn't wanted to ask him.

After the meeting with the Marchioness he'd removed himself from the keep and joined the other guardsmen in the barracks. She knew it was the right thing to do, but …

But what? She missed him? No.

Then why did she find herself waiting for opportunities to catch a glimpse of him? Like now, timing her trip to the garden to select the vegetables for the evening meal, right around the time he was expected back from the morning hunt.

If the dark skies were any indication, this might be one of the last hunting excursions. She inhaled deeply. The promise of an early snowstorm hung in the air.

She treaded carefully along the damp path, frowning as she passed the group of women gathered round the well. Apparently she wasn't the only one with thoughtful timing. Turning the corner, she entered the small vegetable and herb garden located on the west side of the old chapel.

Not surprisingly, it was crowded with young, unmarried women, and a few married ones as well. She was surprised, however, to see Beth. Jeannie glanced around, but didn't see her daughter.

“Where's Ella?” she asked the nursemaid.

Beth gave her an odd look. “I thought she was with you. She left about an hour ago to join the other children for their lessons.”

The hair at the back of Jeannie's neck stood on end and gooseflesh ran along her skin, but she forced herself to stay calm. “She begged off her lessons, telling me that you were taking her to see Mary's new baby.”

Jeannie saw her own rising panic reflected in the young nursemaid's face. Beth's eyes widened and she shook her head.

There's no reason to panic, Jeannie told herself. Oh God. Her heart raced in her chest but she wouldn't allow herself to think until they searched the keep.

A quarter of an hour later, however, she knew there was no mistake. Ella was gone.

“Where could she have gone?” the distraught nursemaid asked, her face white and tears barely repressed.

The possibilities ran through Jeannie's mind and stopped on one.

Duncan and his men had gone hunting in the forests near the Grampian Mountains and Ella must have followed him. She thought Ella had forgotten. In the security of Duncan's taking control of the castle, Jeannie had forgotten her daughter's stubbornness—and her resourcefulness. During the day it wouldn't be difficult for her to slip away. People passed through the gates all day and the guardsmen were more concerned with who was coming in than going. She would be on foot, unless—

“One of the ponies is missing, my lady,” Adam informed her on cue, his face somber. “She must have taken it when they were grazing outside the gates.”

Now panic set in. Ice-cold panic that chilled her blood and penetrated her bones. Panic that made her unable to think. She felt as if she were spinning in a whirlpool trying to claw her way out.

Think …

“How could you let this happen?”

Jeannie turned at the sound of her mother-in-law's voice. The Marchioness had been roused from her embroidery to join Jeannie in the yard when the hue and cry had been raised to search the castle for the missing child. “I warned you that something like this could happen. Helen has been allowed to run wild—”

“Not now!” Jeannie snapped, for once heedless of offending the older woman. “You may chastise me to your heart's content when we find Ella, but right now you are only wasting precious time.”

To say the Marchioness was taken aback would be an understatement. Profound shock was more apt. But she took Jeannie's set down with surprising grace. They might have their difficulties, but in their love for her children they were united.

“What can I do to help?”

Jeannie would remember to be shocked by her capitulation later. “We need to organize search parties.”