Page 39

“Come nay closer,” he called. They stopped and waited as he made his way into the yard. “Who are ye? What are ye doing here?”

“Me name is Arran Mackinnon. I am from the castle, a henchman of the laird.”

“And what d’ye wish with me, melaird?” The man called to his dogs who came stand by his side, growling.

“Ye’ve good loyal guards there, old man.”

A faint smile passed over the man’s face. “They’re me companions. The best.” He leaned on his shepherd’s stave a quizzical expression on his face. “Mayhap me old eyes deceive me melord, but are ye and yer lady wearing only a cloak with naught on underneath.” He broke into a grin as his eyes focused.

“Och, man. Ye’re correct. Some black-hearted churl has stolen our clothing.”

The old man’s grin widened. “Stole the clothes right off yer backs when ye werenae paying attention?”

Arran’s face reddened. “Aye. That’s all ye need tae ken.”

Dahlia found herself smiling. Of course, the old man could guess exactly what they’d been doing and why they hadn’t noticed their clothes were being stolen. But for the life of her, she couldn’t fathom how he’d be able to help them with something to wear. Judging by the ragged state of his trews she doubted if he had a second pair, he’d be willing to give them.

“I suppose ye’d better come in, then.” The old farmer said, unlatching the gate so their horses could enter the farmyard.

Arran swung out of the saddle and reached up to lift Dahlia down. Despite their best efforts it was impossible to keep bare legs and arms hidden by their cloaks. The farmer stood watching their efforts with a grin on his face.

It was only when they were inside out of the rain, in front of the fire burning in the middle of the room and seated at a wooden table in the corner that Arran asked for help.

He twisted off a large gold signet ring from his middle finger. “I have only this tae offer ye, master, but if ye can find us some clothing tae cover us ye’d be doing us a great service”

The old man reached for the ring and studied the Mackinnon crest carved into the gold. “Why, indeed, ‘tis a precious object.” He threw a hard look at Arran. “’Tis a ring tae be worn by the Mackinnon laird if I’m nae mistaken.”

“Aye. I was that once,” Arran said without offering any further explanation.

The old man placed the ring on the table in front of Arran. “Keep yer fine ring, melord. ‘Tis rightfully yers and of nay use tae me.”

“Ye could sell it. The gold would bring a pretty price.”

“And who would risk their neck buying the laird’s ring? I’d be accused of stealing and they’d string me up in a flash.”

Dahlia’s heart sank. “Oh please, cannae ye reconsider and help us?” She’d said nothing until now, but sheer terror took over and she spoke out.

He swiveled and looked at her. “Dinnae fash, lassie. I didnae say I wouldnae help ye. I only said I didnae want the ring.”

She took a deep breath and breathed out slowly. “Then ye will aid us?”

The old man got to his feet gesturing for them to follow. He shuffled across to a large wooden chest situated in the corner. “This is where the good clothes for church were kept when me wife, God rest her soul, was still with me.” He blew the dust away and opened the lid. “I dinnae have any use for them these days as I’ve nae time fer priests and bell-ringing and prefer tae keep me own company on the Sabbath. Ye’re welcome tae any ye find that will fit ye.”

“I thank ye, sir. Ye are more than kind. I shall reward ye one day soon.”

Dahlia smiled to herself at the sight of Arran in his peasant’s smock and britches as they rode back toward the castle. Therain had gone and she was now happily clad in a blue kirtle and undershirt wrapped in her still-damp cloak.

“We cannae be seen in these clothes. It would set tongues wagging, and soon the news would get back to Bairre and the obvious questions would be asked.”

“Ye mean, why did we exchange our clothes for peasants’ garb?” He chuckled. “It wouldnae take much tae work it out.”

“That we were naked in each other’s arms by the loch, ye mean?”

“And once Bairre came to that conclusion…”

“…our lives would be cut short.”

“Aye, ye’re right. We must make our way intae the castle without being seen.”