Page 15 of The Scottish Bride

“Where are we going?” Edith asked.

“Shh!” Kirsty said. “Just come with us, my lady.”

“Hey! Harper!” The brewer called from his cart. “Do you need a ride? I am off home while the bridge is down.”

The harper walked toward him. “Master Brewer, might you have room for more?”

The man leaned forward to talk quietly. “Scotswomen? Och, aye. Get in the back.” He gestured, and the harper waved the ladies toward the cart.

“The man is a friend,” he told them. “He will take you outside.”

“In an ale cart?” Lady Edith asked indignantly. “We will wait for our escort.”

“We cannot risk that, dear.” Tamsin looked over her shoulder. Sir Malise and the others were talking, now gesturing toward the keep. Malise turned, glancing around the yard with interest. She touched the harper’s arm. “Please, we must go!”

He did not question, only drew her toward the cart to boost her inside. His touch was warm and strong; somehow Tamsin felt the tingle of it along her spine.

Sitting in deep straw, she curled her legs under her cloak. Within moments, Kirsty sat down beside her, helped by the harper. Then he turned to Lady Edith.

“Allow me to help you, madam, so you can all leave.”

Edith pursed her lips. “Very well. Only because the girls want to do this. And I do not like this place. Nor do I like that one over there.” She pointed to Sir Malise.

“I agree, my lady.” He helped her to clamber up to the bench beside the brewer.

“Ye’re safe here, luv,” the brewer told her. “I may need yer help if ye sit there. Just smile and wave at the gate. You could help save us all, my luv.”

Edith raised her brows and began to speak. Tamsin held her breath, but the older lady nodded. “Whatever we must do to get away from that fellow.” She looked again at Sir Malise.

The harper stood by the cart. “Keep quiet and out of sight. All will be well.”

“Are you coming with us?” Tamsin asked.

“They expect me to leave alone, and they are unlikely to question the brewer. Duck under the straw.” Tamsin and Kirsty complied, hefting straw and cloaks to cover themselves.

She heard him hit the side of the cart. “Go!”

Chapter Five

The cart rumbledahead, slowing at the gate. Tamsin heard the brewer say goodnight and then heard Edith—Edith!—simper and laugh, letting the guard believe she was with the brewer, as his wife or his leman. The guard did not seem to care.

“She is enjoying this,” Kirsty whispered.

“I am glad,” Tamsin laughed faintly as the cart moved ahead, rattling over the drawbridge and then rolling out over the meadow path.

“Come out,” the brewer said after a while. Pushing away the straw, Tamsin sat up, feeling a cool, damp breeze from the castle loch. All was bathed in moonlight.

Kirsty sat up too. “Where is the harper?”

Tamsin looked back. “There, coming down the hill toward us.”

As the brewer drew the cart into a grove of trees, she saw the harper striding toward them without much of a limp. Was that false too? He came near, pointing in the distance. “Is that your escort there?”

Peering toward the far end of the meadow, Tamsin saw three riders coming at a good pace, bringing three riderless horses with them. She nodded. “That will be Sir David Campbell with Dalrinnie men.”

“Then they will find you safe here.” He stepped back, shifting the harp’s bag.

“Must you leave?” She felt a sense of alarm, remembering the odd flash of vision that she had seen—the harper on the ground, injured or dead. She was tempted to pull on his cloak and urge him to come with them. “Wait here with us.”