Page 13 of Much Ado About a Scot

“Good night,” she softened her voice a little and continued, “Xander.” She stood there a moment more, staring at the man who had this day become her husband, before she shut the door. In the short time she had known him, he had been drunk and belligerent, but also kind. Much kinder than she had been to him.

Who was this man she had taken into her life? Perhaps on the morrow he would reveal more of his true self to her. In the meanwhile, to make certain she and Jamie would be safe from him and other dangers tonight, she stopped in her sitting room for the crossbow and bolts she kept stashed there.

That she didn’t want her young son to carry a weapon did not mean she did not believe weapons had a purpose. Never again would she or Jamie suffer as they had at Ezra’s hand. She would do whatever it took to keep them safe.

*

Hours later when Xander was certain everyone was asleep, he crept out of the house through the kitchen doorway. If someone woke while he was gone, he would use the excuse of gathering more wood for the fire in his chamber. It was plausible enough since the night air held a chill.

Moving silently through the rye stalks, Xander wrapped the tail of his tartan about his shoulders to warm him as well as conceal the whiteness of his shirt beneath. Stealth would be vital as he approached Dunbar Manor. Overhead, the sliver of moon did nothing to light the world below, for which he was grateful.

As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he reached the treeline and waited, listening. He could hear nothing but the hoot of an owl in the distance. He came to the edge of the back of the house and paused. He could hear male voices coming from within.

The guard at the back was standing with his back to Xander, searching the darkness on the opposite side of the residence for something he’d heard. It would be surprisingly easy to creep behind the guard and take him down, but the guard’s absence would only alert those inside to Xander’s spying on them. Instead, he stayed in the shadows and was continuing toward the front of the house when a splash of light spilled into the night.

Xander’s heart skipped a beat and his muscles tensed as he pressed himself against the cool stone of the house, becoming one with the shadows as three men exited the front door. Immediately, he recognized the Earls of Atholl, Montrose, and Gowrie. The three men had openly allied themselves with the establishment of a new confederacy. Their goal was to depose the king and place Bothwell on the throne of Scotland. The king’s greatest fear of losing all that was his was exacerbated by these men, and also the realization that Bothwell’s cause was gaining popularity among the people.

Xander kept himself concealed as the men waited there in the swathe of light. The sound of carriage wheels on gravel rumbled in the distance. The vehicle was obviously en route to take the men away. As they waited, the darker haired of the three men stepped before the others. Atholl’s features were grim. “He treats us as though we are a den of thieves. Doesn’t he realize the risk we are taking in supporting him? Does he not appreciate our efforts on his behalf?”

“Be patient.” Montrose clapped Atholl on the arm. “If we are successful in our endeavors, you know he will raise you to a worthy position within his court.”

“If we are successful,” Gowrie snorted. “Too long have we dithered over attacking the king outright or creeping upon him when he least expects us to strike. Every day we wait, the higher our chances of discovery.”

The red-headed Montrose gestured to their surroundings. “We are in the middle of nowhere with no one to witness our comings and goings.”

Atholl fixed the older laird with a hard stare. “What about the widow and her servants?”

“The three of them are no threat to us.” Gowrie leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Any possible threat has been eliminated over the past few years.”

Even though his words were muted somewhat by the noise from the approaching carriage, Xander could still hear them. Any threat has been eliminated. What had Gowrie meant by that? Had these men somehow been partially responsible for the loss of Isobel’s husbands?

The carriage stopped and the coachman stepped down from his box to set the step for the men to enter the vehicle. Within moments, the men were gone as was the guard at the front of the house. Taking advantage of the lapse in security, Xander moved in closer, careful to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

As the carriage disappeared from sight, the sounds of the night could be heard more clearly. An owl continued to hoot in the distance and chirps from frogs came from the direction of a pond behind the manor. Making his way along the front of the house, Xander could see that only a few rooms were illuminated by candles, yet he could not locate either Bothwell or Graham in them. Judging from the men’s conversation, Bothwell had to be inside.

Xander made his way back from where he’d started, searching for some way to climb higher, when a shuffling sound came from the doorway. A flash of light spilled through the darkness, illuminating two four-legged beasts for a moment before they scurried out into the shadows to perform their duty, guarding the house from intruders like him.

The light from the sliver of moon was dim, but he could still make out the dogs’ shapes as they lifted their noses into the air then turned his way as though picking up his scent.

Whatever else he had planned for tonight was over. These were no dogs out for an evening jaunt before bedtime. These were guard dogs. A growl issued from one of them as they both started in his direction. Xander’s hand drifted to his sword but then he pulled it back. He could not fight the dogs without alerting the household that they’d been watched.

Xander’s stomach tightened. The best course of action was to run, and run fast. The moment he started heading back toward the property line, the dogs followed. Their slim build told Xander they were made for chasing down their prey. Fortunately, Xander was quick on his feet as well. He managed to stay a healthy distance ahead of the now-barking beasts. He broke through the rowan trees with his heart pounding in his ears.

He crashed through the rye, searching for someplace to hide as the dogs broke through the treeline behind him. He couldn’t go back to the house, not like this. Nay, his only option was to hide and wait them out, then continue back to the house when they were gone.

The dark silhouette of the barn rose before him. Xander headed for the door, throwing it open. He slammed it behind him just as the dogs reached him. They jumped and barked, digging at the wooden barrier for what felt like an eternity until they finally quieted down.

Slumped against the door, Xander waited for another quarter of an hour before he peered outside to find the dogs had given up and headed back home. Quickly, Xander scouted the area, gathering a stack of wood before he crept back toward the kitchen door. He eased the door open and slipped silently inside before closing it. The room was still illuminated somewhat by the dying embers in the hearth. He turned, ready to head to his chamber when he flinched to see a crossbow bolt aimed at him.

“Why were you outside?” Isobel asked, not lowering the weapon.

“Why are you awake?” He swallowed roughly at the steadiness of her hands. “Put the bow down before you loose a bolt by mistake.”

“If I loose a bolt, it will not be in error,” she retorted with a hint of annoyance in her voice. “I ask again, why were you outside?”

“I needed wood for the fire in my chamber.” He raised the load in his arms.

“The stack next to the hearth wasn’t enough?”