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Still, he couldn’t quite shake the fact that she seemed to be behaving strangely so he continued to parallel her path, casually, moving down the wall as she moved into the kitchen yard.

The fighting platform ended by the time it reached the kitchen yard, however.

He watched as she slipped into the kitchen yard, discarded the torch, and stopped to speak with the half-dozen men on guard at the postern gate.

It was difficult to see what was transpiring through the mist, but he could see the outlines of men and the outline of Madeline as she spoke with them.

He had only been watching a minute or two when the men who had been guarding the gate began heading away from their post. Madeline, however, remained. She simply stood by the gate, like a sentry, as the men made their way out of the kitchen yard and into the bailey.

Vastly confused, Jamison wondered if she intended to guard the gate all by herself.

Given the arrogance of the woman, he wouldn’t have been surprised, but he didn’t approve of that particular situation.

That gate needed at least a dozen men on it and he intended to tell her just that.

Heading for the nearest ladder that led down to the bailey, he cast a final glance into the kitchen yard in time to see Madeline slip from the postern gate.

In the blink of an eye, she opened the gate swiftly and was gone.

Startled, Jamison flew down the ladder and ran into the kitchen yard, hardly believing what he had just seen.

Why on earth the lass would leave the safety of the castle was beyond him.

Was she out checking the perimeter wall?

It was a foolish notion at best and he began to build up a serious rage thinking that Madeline believed she knew better than anyone else on this misty, cold night.

Going outside the walls was lunacy at best.

Charging through the narrow tunnel that comprised the postern gate, he emerged into the other side, outside of the walls, expecting to see Madeline walking along the tall, stone perimeter.

He was surprised to see that she wasn’t there and as far as he could see down the wall, she was nowhere to be found.

Greatly puzzled, he turned to the path that led down the side of the slope and into the foliage below.

There was a small river down there, he knew, and it took him a moment to realize he caught a glimpse Madeline far below, heading down the path.

She disappeared from his line of sight almost as quickly as he saw her and, like a flash, Jamison was after her.

He wanted to know where the woman was going.

Into the trees he followed her, deeper and deeper still.

Spending the first ten years of his life in the Highlands, he had been taught the art of tracking from his father and grandfather.

He knew how to be quiet and unseen. He was excessively good at it and was able to follow Madeline without her knowing.

Wrapped up in his wool brecan , he was concealed by the darkness and the trees, and easily blended in.

Madeline was far enough ahead of him that she had no idea that someone was behind her although she did stop once or twice to glance behind.

Jamison simply froze, shielded by a tree trunk or a bush.

Not seeing anything, Madeline would then turn about and keep going.

She headed down by the river path and he followed, moving in stealth.

He honestly couldn’t imagine where the girl was going.

She’d never come across to him like a wanderer so her behavior was most puzzling.

Still, he had to see where she was going.

It could have been something completely innocent– or it could have been something more than that.

What was it Havilland had said to him earlier in the day?

I believe we may have a spy within our ranks .

To be truthful, Jamison hadn’t taken her seriously until now.

Was it possible there really was a spy and was it further possible that the spy was her very own sister?

He was about to find out.

Up ahead in the misty trees, Jamison heard Madeline yelp but she was just as quickly silenced as Jamison heard a male voice.

It was faint, but it was definitely male.

Then, it hit him– had Madeline snuck out to meet a lover.

Seized with the possibility, Jamison lost himself in the vines and leaves and bushes, creeping closer to the voices. They were soft but unmistakable.

Creeping closer still, he ended up on his belly, his head covered by his dark wool brecan , peering out from beneath some bushes as Madeline and a tall, slender young man whispered and passionately kissed in the darkness. He could hear bits and pieces of what was being said.

Why did you not come to before now…there is much you should know… tell me now while I touch you.

Jamison didn’t want to move, didn’t want to chance that he might be seen, but he very much wanted to hear what Madeline had to say. He was trying to ignore the fact that the man was intent on having his way with her as the woman tried to speak.

It was de Lohr who helped us fight off the Welsh … he left five hundred men behind to reinforce our ranks, including four knights… one is a Scotsman… the men are saying that he is called The Red Lion and that he is the best knight in all of Scotland.

Jamison’s heart sank. Whoever this man was, Madeline was freely telling him about the situation at Four Crosses.

With every kiss or touch from the man, she would tell him more and it was quite clear to Jamison that the man wasn’t part of any allied force.

If he was, he wouldn’t be hiding out here in the trees and meeting with Madeline in secret.

She was providing him with intelligence as he put his head beneath her tunic and did things to her that were making her writhe and gasp.

He is seducing her , Jamison thought, feeling a spark of anger deep in his belly. And… she is letting him . Fool!

After that, it grew even more uncomfortable and infuriating for him. The man was all over Madeline, using his mouth and hands to violate her. Madeline continued to stammer out more information as Jamison listened… he is sending out patrols again… he knows there are Scots among you….

By the time the man bent her over a tree, dropped his breeches and took her from behind, Jamison had heard enough.

He’d even heard a name– Evon – a name that was decidedly Welsh.

As a logical man, the evidence of this rendezvous was overwhelming– Madeline was evidently the spy that had cost many lives at Four Crosses.

There was no other conclusion he could come to.

As he listened to the sounds of lovemaking, Jamison decided to retreat.

He wanted to make it back to the castle before her because he had much to discuss with the knights.

They needed to know that there was, indeed, a spy in their ranks because now, the situation had changed dangerously.

Everything they said and everything they did would make it back to the Welsh rebels who were very much trying to destroy them.

Therefore, they had to plan.

They couldn’t let one of their own sink them.

Moving in the dark, the fog, and the wet, Jamison made his way back to Four Crosses Castle.