Mad for the Plaid by Karen Hawkins

taste of more snow. Outside the stables, Nik placed his bucket of tools by his horse, D’yoval, who was tied to the paddock fence.
    The horse whickered softly as Nik patted the animal’s muscled neck. “Look at you, snorting at this cold. Have you been away from Oxenburg so long that you’ve forgotten how a proper winter feels ? ”
    D’yoval snorted as if outraged at the idea.
    Nik chuckled. “I thought not. Well, I found an apple, and you shall have it once Apraksin arrives to report on his findings. Hopefully that will settle your dislike for this damp chill.” It would have been nice to be able to meet his men in the stables, for it would have been warmer, but the other grooms were a loquacious group and were too enthralled with the horses—D’yoval in particular—to allow for privacy of any sort.
    Besides, despite the cold, both the fresh air and the view were invigorating. Castle Leod loomed at the top of the drive, square and silvery against the dark gray sky. Judging from the windows and the style ofbattlements, he thought it must have been built in the early or mid-seventeenth century. Three stories in height, narrow and square, the structure had as its centerpiece a fortified tower house.
    Though the castle was an ancient fortress, the lack of additions or embellishments led Nik to believe the Mackenzies to be of small means. The neatly dressed servants wore plain brass buttons rather than the gold ones many men of wealth demanded, and the stables, while sturdy and in good repair, housed only the most mundane of cattle. He’d counted six field horses, three hard-going hunters, and two sets of coach horses, one of them a showy set of grays that the grooms had said belonged to Lady Ailsa’s cousin, Mr. Gregor Mackenzie, who’d arrived earlier that day. As the inhabitants of Castle Leod don’t seem to be well-funded, it could mean they would be easy to bribe, so if they are not directly involved, they may have allowed Tata to be kidnapped.
    Before arriving, Nik had imagined Lady Ailsa as a dour, prune-faced spinster with gray hair and a permanently displeased expression, but he’d by chance overheard a comment by one of the footmen that the lady in question was none other than the clear-eyed, square-chinned miss who’d been standing in the window earlier. Though she didn’t qualify as a beauty in any way, she was much younger than he’d expected, with dark mousy-blond hair, a bold nose, and an unflinching gaze.
    The latter had told him all he needed to know about the lady whose strong, annoyingly neat handwriting had so plagued him. In some ways, she reminded him of the castle—small and sturdy, but unremarkable. Hadhe met her at a dinner party or some such event, he’d have never spared her a second glance. Even now, he was glad he’d have no commerce with her. He had no illusions about the souring effects of female stubbornness. Living with his own grandmother had taught him that much.
    D’yoval whickered softly, his breath puffing white. Nik dismissed Lady Ailsa from his thoughts and dropped the comb back in the bucket. That done, he pulled the apple from his pocket. As D’yoval eagerly took the treat, Nik saw Rurik walking down the path to the stables.
    The guard looked about him, his dark gaze flickering over the stables, the paddocks, the open fields, and thick shrubs. He stopped some yards away, pretending to examine the horse and ignoring Nik.
    Nik supposed it would look more natural if he were performing groom-type things, so he pulled a brush from the bucket and began working on D’yoval’s coat. Without looking at Rurik, Nik asked, “So? What have you discovered?”
    Rurik leaned against the paddock fence and pointed to the horse’s neck, as if giving Nik orders. “Apraksin will join us soon. He has more information than I.” He dropped his hand and flicked a careful glance at the stable