He met Lachie’s watchful, concerned stare. “Give Shadow a quick rubdown and a feed.”
Lachie lifted the reins. “If you ride to Newport on the Tay you can stable Shadow there and secure a ferry to cross the water into Dundee.”
Lachie urged the horse on to the stable while Glenna hurried alongside Lennox as they headed into the house. “I have readied a saddlebag with supplies. Is there anything else that you need?”
His thoughts turned back to Chloris, his mind racing. “A quill, ink and paper.”
Glenna glanced at him with curiosity.
“I will explain.” He had been intending to inform them that Chloris would be joining them soon and why. The time was nigh for him to lead them all north to safe haven in the Highlands. In his heart and mind he determined that would be with Jessie and Maisie in tow. He took strength from that ideal. Wits, magic and brute force may be needed to loose Jessie before she was put up for trial, but he would make it happen and soon. He would be across the Tay and in Dundee before the day was out.
First he had to alert Chloris of his unavoidable departure. A note had to get to her before the day was out. He could not risk her arriving at the meeting point with her answer or worse still, prepared to leave with him, while he was away.
Dark thoughts rose at the back of his mind—doubts borne of his concern about leaving her under Keavey’s roof a moment longer than necessary—but he had no other choice than to ask her to wait until she heard from him again, and to not doubt his promises to her.
* * *
Tamhas Keavey spied the young woman approaching his estate from an upstairs window. At the time he was being measured for a new frock coat and he had stationed himself by the window so that he could admire his land in the morning sunshine during the tedious task. That’s when he caught sight of her passing through the gates.
His sight was sharp and, although he could not recall her name, he recognized her. She was one of the pitiful women that allied herself with that heathen, Lennox Fingal. A lusty sort she was, with long raven hair and eyes that left him in no doubt that she was capable of evil—eyes that were not of this world. A witch, he had little doubt.
What was she doing on his land? Curiosity and suspicion built steadily as he saw her darting toward the house. She did not walk on the gravel track as most visitors did. Instead she sought the shelter of the trees and moved from one to the next with apparent caution. It was clear to him that she did not want to be seen.
“Enough,” he said, and gestured the tailor away.
Both the tailor and his assistant froze midmaneuver. “Begging your pardon, sire, but I have only half the measurements I need for a good fit.”
“My measurements are still the same as they were last time you measured me. I am well aware that you come up here and repeat this ridiculous performance just so that you can add another charge to my account.”
The tailor flushed and stammered. “I assure you, sire—”
“I have urgent matters to attend to. Use the measurements you have on record.”
Without waiting for the tailor’s response, Tamhas Keavey turned away and strode out of the room. Quickly, he went along the corridor and down the stairs to the ground floor. The young woman had been headed for the servants’ entrance. Was she in league with one of his workers? If that was the case it might be useful to know. Even the slightest bit of evidence of their craft would give him an excuse to go up to that lair they had in the forest with the bailiff and his men. Together they would uncover their evildoings for the purpose of bringing them to their just end. If one of his manservants was tupping the wench, all the better. A few well-placed coins would get him some snippet of information to warrant the bailiff’s investigation of Lennox Fingal’s property.
Marching through the kitchens, he pushed the cook out of his way as he headed past her along another corridor to the rear entrance, where servants came and went and deliveries were made. He arrived in time to see one of the servants, a girl called Maura Dunbar, accept a letter from the hands of the strange-eyed wench.
“I’ll take that,” he stated, snatching it from Maura’s hand as he stepped between them. The strange-eyed woman acted fast. She snatched the letter back from his hand and made an attempt to run. Entertained by her game, Tamhas grasped her wrist and held her tightly. “The letter or your life. It is your choice.”
Relishing his power and eager for a sign he could use, he watched her carefully.
She turned to face him and stared at him. Those eyes of hers darkened, anger shining from them. She glared at his hand on her wrist. “Let me go. I will not give it to you, the letter is not yours.”
“Ah, but it is, for you have delivered it to my house.”
“It is not for you.” She tugged this way and that, attempting to break free of his grasp. As she did her eyes glowed brighter, as oddly luminous as the garden pond shot through with sunlight at dawn.
Tamhas found himself unnerved by the strangeness of her appearance. Those eyes that had made her memorable now seemed to roil and surge with dark forces, and he knew for certain that she was evil to the core. He almost lost his grip on her, but then his deeper cause made him hold fast. “You will obey me,” he bellowed.
He reeled her in against him, then clasped her around the throat with his free hand. She lashed out with one hand—the other keeping the letter locked tight to her chest—scratching at him with clawed fingers. When she drew blood on his face, he pushed her to arm’s length. Fighting him tooth and nail, she kicked him in the shins, but he was a bulky man in comparison to her slight form and she could not get the better of him by brute resistance alone.
That’s when she gasped for breath and then muttered words in a strange tongue.
Witchcraft. His hand tightened on her throat.
“Maura, you are witness to this.” He glanced back and saw that Maura was huddled against the door frame, clutching at it, her eyes rounded and afraid as she observed the scene. “Look at her, remember it well, for you will be called upon to describe this demonic woman’s change in appearance to the bailiff.”
The witch clamped shut her eyes.