Page 42 of Much Ado About a Scot

Xander kept his grip on his sword light and focused on his breathing, preparing himself for hand-to-hand combat. For he knew Bothwell would not come with them without a fight. At the closed door they paused and on the silent count of three, they threw the door open and surged inside. To find the chamber empty.

But the bookshelf that led to the secret passageway beneath the two estates was pushed aside.

“I thought you barricaded the passageway?” Rhys asked beside Xander.

“I did.” Xander stepped closer to see that Bothwell had broken through the wattle and daub that had not yet fully dried. With a groan he turned to the others. “Rhys, Malcolm, follow that passageway to see if Bothwell is inside. The rest of you come with me.”

“Where to?” Reid asked, as they followed Xander down the stairs.

Xander’s hand tightened on his sword. “The other end of that tunnel comes out in Isobel Seaton’s front parlor.”

*

Isobel paced back and forth in the kitchen of her home with long, irritated strides, gathering worried glances from both Jamie who sat at the table breaking his fast and from Freya who stirred a pot that hung over the hook in the hearth.

“Mummy, why are all those men here? Are we having another party?”

“Nay, Jamie. No more celebrations.” They would most likely never have a celebration again even if by some miracle she managed to hang on to the estate. She could never allow herself to be that distracted again. If she hadn’t been so relaxed and comforted by the feel of Xander’s arms around her, she might have stopped the fire sooner.

Or you would have been asleep and all would be lost.

Isobel scowled at the counter thought and launched into yet another trek across the kitchen floor.

“Wearin’ a trench in the floor will nay solve yer problems.” Freya raised a brow as her gaze followed Isobel’s path.

“I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin. This is my farm. I need to do something.”

Freya frowned. “The best thing tae do is be patient and wait fer those men tae do what they came fer.”

“Mummy? Will my puppy be all right if those men attack Laird Graham’s house?” Tears glistened in her son’s eyes. At the sight, Isobel realized that her discomposure was not helping to lessen her son’s anxiety at all.

Isobel came to the table and knelt down beside her son, taking his small hands into her own. A surge of protectiveness welled up inside her as she reached up to stroke a curl of his hair away from his wide, frightened eyes. “Both you and your puppy will be fine.”

Jamie thrust himself into Isobel’s arms and nestled into her body. Her arms came around him. She rocked back and forth until the motion calmed him. A slow warmth curled in Isobel’s stomach, her muscles relaxed, and her own anxiousness lessened. She closed her eyes as she pressed her cheek to the top of Jamie’s head, and she knew without a doubt if she’d been home instead of with Xander she would have still woken when she did. Her mothering instincts would have kicked in because no matter what the challenge or the situation, she would never let anything happen to her son.

After a time, Jamie pulled away and stared up at her, his gaze filled with innocence. “Do you want to go upstairs and play for a while?” she asked.

“I want to go outside and help Xander fight the bad man with the sword he gave me. All the other warriors have swords.” Jamie jumped down from the table and opened the leather pouch he carried with him everywhere he went, retrieving the small dagger inside and flashing it before her. “I want to be strong and brave just like Xander.”

“Nay, Jamie. Put that weapon away.” Any warmth that had filled her evaporated in a heartbeat. “You cannot go outside. When you grow up, you can fight the bad men.”

Jamie’s lip came out in a pout. “That will take forever!”

She guided his hand back toward the pouch and slipped the dagger inside. “Not as long as you think, sweetheart.” Isobel stood and turned to Freya. “Will you take him upstairs? I’ll join you both in a moment.”

Freya nodded and swung the pot she was stirring out of the flames, letting it simmer instead. “Come with me, Master James. Ye can show me yer fightin’ skills upstairs.”

Jamie seemed pacified with her suggestion and followed Freya from the chamber and up the stairs. When they were gone, Isobel stepped outside the back door momentarily and saw that the warriors still surrounded Dunbar Manor.

Back inside she locked the door, when a loud crash reverberated from inside. “Jamie? Freya?” Worried that Jamie’s swordplay had become too animated and that he’d knocked something over, Isobel hurried toward the stairs only to stop in her tracks at the sight of a dark-haired man rushing toward her. She recognized him as the man she’d seen in the window. Bothwell. He grabbed her, his hands locking cruelly about her arms.

“Let me go!” she shouted as a warning for Freya to remain upstairs.

“I have no intention of doing any such thing.” His fingers bit viciously into her arms as he swung her around, pulling her back against his chest. The whisk of drawn steel sounded a moment before the deadly edge of his dagger pressed against her throat. “You, my dear, are my ticket to safety.” He dragged her toward the door.

Isobel wasn’t about to make his escape an easy one. She kicked her foot back, connecting with his shin but instead of releasing her, the blade edge bit into her skin.

Bothwell’s breath was hot and moist against her ear. “You’re going to lead me past your husband’s army—”