The Viper (Highland Guard #4)(35)

Nigel lifted a brow. “You know about that? Aye, it still exists. The well dried up years ago and ’tis no longer needed since the new one was dug at the base of the Snow Tower. The passage hasn’t been used in some time; I would not vouch for its state of repair.”

Lachlan explained his plan. They would leave from the postern gate before dawn and enter the sunken stepped passageway that descended the steep wall of the riverbank to the cistern chamber and emerged on the other side in a tunnel to the abandoned well-house. They would disguise themselves with dark cloaks over plain clothing, and travel on foot until horses could be procured.

“You will not be able to take much,” he said.

None of the women said anything. They didn’t have much left. Most of their belongings had been left behind after Methven.

“But it must be over sixty miles to Moray,” Christina Bruce cried. “My son will never be able to walk that far.”

“We’ll find horses as soon as we can. Until then we’ll take turns carrying the young earl,” Lachlan said.

He had a plan for everything, Bella thought glumly, wishing a reason could be found not to go.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught a movement. A man of about forty years with enormous arms—rivaling those of Robbie Boyd—passed by the table with a sack of grain on each broad shoulder. Another man soon followed. And then another.

She waited until the men had finished discussing their plans before asking Nigel, “What are they doing?”

“The blacksmith and his sons are helping to move the grain into the Great Hall for the siege.”

Her eyes widened with understanding. The Great Hall was built of stone and wouldn’t burn as easily if fire were pitched over the walls.

The gravity of what had befallen them knotted in her chest.

Bella lingered at the table after many of the others had left to start preparations. Her cousin and a few of the other ladies had returned from putting the children to sleep, and Lachlan had gone over to inform them of the plan. She could see from their pale faces that the news was not being received well. They were all exhausted and scared.

He seemed to be trying to ease their worries. How gallant of him, she thought with a pinch in her chest. A pinch that grew worse when she saw him lead them out of the Hall. She watched them go, not knowing why she suddenly felt so forgotten.

“He’s not interested in them, you know.”

Bella turned to find William beside her. She hadn’t even heard him approach. Her cheeks flushed. “Who?”

He smiled at her attempt to feign ignorance. “MacRuairi. He’s relaxed around those women because they’re safe.”

And I’m not?

William laughed, guessing her thoughts. “Exactly. He avoids you on purpose.”

Embarrassed, she tried to dissuade him, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. “It doesn’t make any difference to me. He’s hardly the sort of man a lady would be interested in.”

Something she needed to remember.

Though it was the truth, Bella felt a pang of conscience in saying it. She sounded priggish. But a bastard, a heartless mercenary, a disreputable scourge, wasn’t an appropriate suitor for ladies of their ilk. Even if he wasn’t as wholly unredeemable as she’d initially thought.

William frowned. “Don’t judge him too harshly. MacRuairi’s had a rough time of it.”

The dangerous spark of curiosity rekindled. “What do you mean?”

The young warrior shrugged. “Ask him. He’ll tell you.”

She hid her disappointment with indifference. “No matter. It’s not important.” Not wanting William to get the wrong impression, she changed the subject. “Will you be going with us?”

“Aye.” He gave her a sympathetic smile. “Norway isn’t all that far, my lady. It’s faster to get to Norway by ship from the Isles than it is to get to Edinburgh. If your daughter needs you, you can reach her. She’ll know you had no choice.”

Bella smiled, a fresh wave of tears brimming in her eyes. He was a kind man. “I know, but thank you for saying it. At least Joan knows that I did not intend to leave her. I can take solace in that. I’m grateful to Robert for thinking to take word to her.”

Gordon’s brows drew together. “Bruce didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“But he told me a messenger had gotten word to Joan.”

“Aye, but the king didn’t order it.”

“Then, who …?” Her voice slowed to a stop. Her gaze snapped to William’s in silent question.

He pushed back from the table and cast a glance toward the opposite end of the dais. “Who do you think?”

Bella was stunned, following the direction of his gaze. Lachlan had returned to the Hall and stood talking to Nigel. Had he been the one to take the message to Joan? But why, why would he do that?

It was kind and thoughtful. Two words that didn’t usually come to mind when she thought of him.

Had she misjudged him? Was he not the opportunistic brigand, loyal only to his purse, that she first thought? Was he not immune to what was going on around him? Did he care more than he let on?

Did he care for … her?

It shocked her how much she wanted it to be true.

Barely had the question formed when Nigel withdrew a small leather bag from the sporran at his waist and handed it to Lachlan, who quickly tucked it in his cotun.