Page 113 of A Scot on the Rocks

“And keep clear of the gallery.” She lowered her voice, which forced everybody else to listen. “That’s where the woman walks. They say she has no face, and that the wee one who follows her is worse.”

The youngest officer, who’d ventured inside to warm his hands, looked toward the window before remembering he wore the king’s coat. Jamie almost felt sorry for him. There were times when Morag’s imagination deserved a warning of its own.

Robertson slapped a coin onto the counter, though he hadn’t ordered a drink.

“I’m going to Dunarraidh. If Campbell is there, I’ll have him. If he’s gone, I’ll see what he’s left behind.”

“Mind the arch,” Morag called after him.

The door banged hard enough to rattle Mairi’s glasses. For several heartbeats nobody spoke. Then the cooper bent double over his mug, and Morag set down her stocking with the dignified air of a woman who’d completed an ordinary afternoon’s work.

Mairi opened the pantry door. “They’ll take the long road because of that cart. You’ve time if ye use the footpath by the kirk.”

Jamie emerged brushing flour from his coat. “Ye might have warned me Morag intended to finish him off before he reached the castle.”

“He’s still breathing,” Morag said, gathering her knitting. “Though I can stab him with my needle if the need arises.”

Jamie followed Morag, who’d insisted on coming, along the narrow path behind the cottages. She was quick on her feet for a woman who never tired of telling him her knees were ruined, and he had to lengthen his stride to keep up. The path cut between stone walls and climbed through a stand of dripping birches, joining the upper path well beyond the road Robertson’s men must take. By the time Dunarraidh’s broken towers showed between the branches, the rain was falling harder now and a storm was brewing, he could feel it in the wind.

At the courtyard wall, Ewan stood beneath a dark plaid, listening for the horses below. He took one look at Jamie’s flour-dusted coat and shook his head.

“Ye’ve been helping Mairi bake?”

“I was assisting the Crown with its investigation.”

“From a flour barrel?”

“A position of considerable strategic value. What of the castle?”

“Empty as a miser’s purse.” Ewan pointed toward the west passage. “Alasdair’s taken the ponies down to the lower byre. Sorcha took away the bedding and all the pots but the kettle, and Olivia has us running about with lanterns like servants in a grand house.”

“Then all is well.”

“She says we need a third apparition.”

Jamie stopped. “We have three.”

“She says the tall one’s a shadow and doesna count.”

“Saints preserve me. We’ll have to send for more dead folk.”

Ewan grinned, but the amusement faded when he looked down toward the road. The first lantern was visible through the trees, bobbing with a horse’s stride. Jamie quickly went inside.

The great hall was almost unrecognizable. Every trace of their last supper had vanished, the hearth was now cold, the bench hauled into the sheltered wing, and rain fell steadily through the open roof onto bare flagstones. There were no fresh footprints in the mud by the door, because Olivia had made them use the dry passage behind the chapel. She stood beside the concealed lantern, tying the blue, green, and black shawl close about her shoulders beneath the embroidered wool cloak he’d bought her. The cloak’s hem was wet from the stone, and the little thistles worked around it flashed whenever the lantern moved.

“You made it,” she said, relief showing before she could smooth it away. “Ewan said Robertson went to the tavern.”

“Aye. Morag entertained him.”

“Is he angry?”

“Aye, ye could say that.”

She gave him a brief smile and held up a loop of rope.

“Sorcha’s ready above the stair, Fergus is behind the chapel, and Morag has the western passage. Ewan’s staying with you. When the first woman reaches the middle of the gallery, I change the light, and the little one appears at the stair while the bells sound from the tower. The big shadow comes last.”

Jamie knew the plan. He’d helped hang every blessed thing. But he listened while she walked him through it because her hands had steadied on the ropes, and because he liked the sound of her voice even when she was telling him what to do in his own castle.