Page 69 of The Laird's Wicked Game
Rae’s gaze held hers for a moment before he growled a low curse. “The bastard won’t have gotten far … not after a blade to the balls.”
Kylie’s lips thinned. No, the warrior would be bleeding heavily and in pain.
“Send men out to where the storm drain exits,” he called down to Jack. “Tormod can’t be far away.”
His brother gave a curt nod before turning and barking orders to those at the gate. Meanwhile, both Kylie and Rae had fallen silent, their attention taken up by the mess the rising sun now unveiled.
It looked as if at least ten of their own men had fallen during the skirmish. Below, a woman started to keen. One of the cook’s assistants knelt on the cobbles next to her lover’s prone body.
The harrowing sound made Kylie wrap her arms around herself. Suddenly, she couldn’t stop shivering. “Come,” Rae said roughly. “I need to question those we’ve taken captive … but let’s get ye indoors first.”
He moved close then and put a protective arm around her shoulders. Leaning into him, Kylie nodded numbly. Together, they turned, but they had only taken a couple of steps when Rae came to an abrupt halt. And when she followed his gaze east, to where the pale morning sunlight sparkled on the Sound of Mull, she saw what had caught his attention.
A large cog, its black sail billowing as it headed away from the coast.
Kylie’s breathing caught, for she’d seen that cog before—the previous Bealtunn—at Moy Castle. It wasThe Night Plunderer.
“Those dog-humping bastards,” Rae growled.
“The Ghost Raiders have cast aside their horned skulls it seems,” she replied, even as a chill feathered down her spine.
“Aye,” he muttered. “It’s nigh impossible to climb a storm drain garbed like a demon.” He turned then, waving to Jack and calling down to him, “Ye’d better get up here, brother.”
Jack did as bid, taking the blood-splattered steps two at a time, and approaching the east wall. And when he spied the raider’s cog sailing away, he also spat out a curse. “So, that’s where Ramsay MacDonald ended up, is it?”
Kylie frowned. She didn’t recognize the name.
Rae shot his brother a quizzical look. “Ramsay MacDonald … wasn’t he the outlaw ye fell foul of years ago … the one who tried to rape Tara?”
“Aye … that’s him,” Jack growled back. He’d halted next to them, his gaze still trained east. The cut across his naked chest was oozing. It would need seeing to, but he paid it no mind. “He was also the warrior who tried to get into my quarters earlier.”
Rae’s brows drew together at this news. “Well, he won’t be giving ye any more trouble.” He paused then, his gaze flicking back to where the cog was quickly growing smaller in the distance. It sailed as if Satan’s fiends were chasing it. “I wonder if he and Ross Macbeth are one and the same.”
Kylie gave a soft gasp, and the brothers both glanced her way, surprised by her reaction. “I saw Ross Macbeth,” she explained. “From a distance last spring near Moy Castle … when Liza and I were out walking. It was just before the attack at Bealtunn. Is the man ye speak of big with a permanent scowl and wild dark hair and beard.”
“Aye,” Jack replied, his jaw flexing. “Sounds like him … although he’s now sprawled in the guard tower stairwell with a slit throat.”
Rae’s lips thinned. “MacDougall went looking for allies it seems,” he muttered.
“Aye … and once Ramsay learned that I captain yer guard, he couldn’t resist his chance for revenge.”
“And he would have had it too,” Rae said, his voice roughening, “if someone hadn’t raised the alarm.”
Both men looked at Kylie once more, and self-consciousness stole over her. “Well, luckily I was up early,” she murmured. Her gaze shifted away then, for she marked the way Rae’s eyes glinted. It was a reminder that she was supposed to be leaving this morning.
Kylie’s pulse quickened. She needed to talk to him alone.
“Maclean!” A man called from below, intruding on their conversation. All three of them turned from the wall to see one of the Guard, out of breath, skid to a halt inside the gates. He’d clearly just sprinted up the hill outside and across the drawbridge. “There’s no sign of Tormod … just two large abandoned rowboats. Three of us climbed up the tunnel to check, but it’s empty.”
Rae’s curse was blistering, echoing off the surrounding stone. Likewise, Jack’s expression was thunderous, while Kylie’s stomach clenched.
How was it possible? She’d delivered the warrior a grievous wound before pushing him off a wall and into a crowd of fighting men. He shouldn’t have been able to crawl to the storm drain let alone escape down it and disappear.
“Send more men north and south along the coast,” Rae ordered. “He’s not getting away.”
“But he might have swum out to the cog,” Kylie suggested. “We saw it set sail, but it was likely moored close to the coast earlier.”
Both Rae and Jack’s expressions pinched. It seemed unlikely, for Tormod was injured, but they couldn’t discount the possibility that he’d made it toThe Night Plunderereither.