months. Probably not since Kincairn took possession of the castle.
Weaving his way through servants bearing trays and coming-and-going diners, Jamie advanced toward the head of the lengths of tables that formed a T-shape. Several men sat along the width of that table section. He r breath held, Enya waited to see who Jamie approached.
Incredibly, he stopped before a man who had to be as old as or older than her own father. Both the man ’s hair and beard were grizzled with gray. The stern set of his mouth betokened a man accustomed to authority. As Jamie talked, she felt, rather than saw, the older man’s eyes shift to her. With a curl of his finger, he beckoned her.
Ire rose like sour mash in her mouth. Who was he to summon her like a servant girl? Still, the better choice was to comp ly, at least, for the moment.
Picking up her skirts, she walked down the long aisle between the tables. A frowsy-looking servant girl in brown kersey cap and gown darted her a glance of curiosity before turning her attention back to the trencher of bread s he set on one of the tables.
Head high, Enya paused beside Jamie, who introduced her. "Father, this is Lady Murdock. Ranald ’s . . . guest. Lady Murdock, my father, Ian Cameron.”
Closer, she could see the deep furrows across the bridge of the man ’s nose and high forehead. His lids were lowered, as if he perpetually squinted against sunlight. His bird-claw hands clutched a haunch of venison.
“ I trust you will find comfort here at Lochaber Castle," he said, his gravelly voice betraying a weariness that echoed her own.
She used a tone of authority reserved for minions. "How long am I to be held hostage?"
The brows rose like ladder rungs on his forehead. "My nephew hasn’t informed you?"
She wasn ’t certain who was in high command here. She hedged. "Ranald Kincairn discussed the, uhh, terms, not the length of my . . . stay."
He flicked a questioning glance at Jamie, who said, "Ranald took three men with him to scout out Fort William. He hasn ’t returned yet?”
Ian Cameron shook his head. "Ye hear no bagpipes, do ye?” He rubbed his temple with grotesquely gnarled fingers. "I could sorely use the comfort tonight."
“ I’ll install Lady Murdock in the undamaged wing."
It was more a question, and Jamie ’s father responded with a nod of his head. “Do that. I’ll speak with Ranald when he returns.”
Rush torches lit another staircase that spiraled up several flights. Following Jamie and two other kilted men, she inventoried her chances for escape. Even with access to the occasional cluster of weapons along the walls, flight from th e castle would be nigh impossible tonight.
Perhaps tomorrow, with the aid of disguise . . . but that thought was banished by Elspeth ’s crusty admonishment to Mary Laurie, both of whom hurried to keep up with her. "Fall behind and ye’ll find yeself the sport of some of the Highland churls."
The old woman spoke verily, for several armed men, dicing at one end of the hall, looked up with interest glinting in their eyes. They rose from where they knelt, but, at Jamie ’s negligent acknowledgment, resumed their gaming.
Not only did she have guards with which to contend, Enya realized, but she also had Mary Laurie and Elspeth to consider. And where had Duncan been taken?
They passed another room, the iron-studded door open. A big man sat at a desk hunched over a book. He nodded at Jamie, who returned the nod and continued on down the hallway. His spurs clinked against the stone floor.
The room in which she was to be incarc erated was chilly, with no tapestries to warm the stone walls and only a small window to let in the waning light. A steward scurried to light the candles. Shadows receded from the gray, sepulcher-like room, revealing little more than a bed with tattered curtains that would be little use against the coming winter’s errant drafts. Rafters crisscrossed the room at a low height.
"It could be worse,” she
Weaving his way through servants bearing trays and coming-and-going diners, Jamie advanced toward the head of the lengths of tables that formed a T-shape. Several men sat along the width of that table section. He r breath held, Enya waited to see who Jamie approached.
Incredibly, he stopped before a man who had to be as old as or older than her own father. Both the man ’s hair and beard were grizzled with gray. The stern set of his mouth betokened a man accustomed to authority. As Jamie talked, she felt, rather than saw, the older man’s eyes shift to her. With a curl of his finger, he beckoned her.
Ire rose like sour mash in her mouth. Who was he to summon her like a servant girl? Still, the better choice was to comp ly, at least, for the moment.
Picking up her skirts, she walked down the long aisle between the tables. A frowsy-looking servant girl in brown kersey cap and gown darted her a glance of curiosity before turning her attention back to the trencher of bread s he set on one of the tables.
Head high, Enya paused beside Jamie, who introduced her. "Father, this is Lady Murdock. Ranald ’s . . . guest. Lady Murdock, my father, Ian Cameron.”
Closer, she could see the deep furrows across the bridge of the man ’s nose and high forehead. His lids were lowered, as if he perpetually squinted against sunlight. His bird-claw hands clutched a haunch of venison.
“ I trust you will find comfort here at Lochaber Castle," he said, his gravelly voice betraying a weariness that echoed her own.
She used a tone of authority reserved for minions. "How long am I to be held hostage?"
The brows rose like ladder rungs on his forehead. "My nephew hasn’t informed you?"
She wasn ’t certain who was in high command here. She hedged. "Ranald Kincairn discussed the, uhh, terms, not the length of my . . . stay."
He flicked a questioning glance at Jamie, who said, "Ranald took three men with him to scout out Fort William. He hasn ’t returned yet?”
Ian Cameron shook his head. "Ye hear no bagpipes, do ye?” He rubbed his temple with grotesquely gnarled fingers. "I could sorely use the comfort tonight."
“ I’ll install Lady Murdock in the undamaged wing."
It was more a question, and Jamie ’s father responded with a nod of his head. “Do that. I’ll speak with Ranald when he returns.”
Rush torches lit another staircase that spiraled up several flights. Following Jamie and two other kilted men, she inventoried her chances for escape. Even with access to the occasional cluster of weapons along the walls, flight from th e castle would be nigh impossible tonight.
Perhaps tomorrow, with the aid of disguise . . . but that thought was banished by Elspeth ’s crusty admonishment to Mary Laurie, both of whom hurried to keep up with her. "Fall behind and ye’ll find yeself the sport of some of the Highland churls."
The old woman spoke verily, for several armed men, dicing at one end of the hall, looked up with interest glinting in their eyes. They rose from where they knelt, but, at Jamie ’s negligent acknowledgment, resumed their gaming.
Not only did she have guards with which to contend, Enya realized, but she also had Mary Laurie and Elspeth to consider. And where had Duncan been taken?
They passed another room, the iron-studded door open. A big man sat at a desk hunched over a book. He nodded at Jamie, who returned the nod and continued on down the hallway. His spurs clinked against the stone floor.
The room in which she was to be incarc erated was chilly, with no tapestries to warm the stone walls and only a small window to let in the waning light. A steward scurried to light the candles. Shadows receded from the gray, sepulcher-like room, revealing little more than a bed with tattered curtains that would be little use against the coming winter’s errant drafts. Rafters crisscrossed the room at a low height.
"It could be worse,” she
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