The Highland Laird (Lords of the Highlands #8) - Amy Jarecki Page 0,36
needs to stretch his legs.”
Ciar smacked his head with the heel of his hand. The lass was astonishing. Good Lord, Emma would be nice to an asp. He gave her hand a squeeze before she was ushered out the door. “Always remember your safety is all that matters to me.”
The door shut in his face and the lock screeched into place, and he watched through the tiny window as she walked away, chatting with the guard.
God save she do something we’ll both come to regret.
* * *
“Do I hear the gentle waves of a loch behind us?” Emma asked as the sentinel’s keys jangled.
“Aye, Loch Linnhe,” he said.
“Let us start there, shall we?”
“I’m here, miss,” whispered Sam, following. “The fort is surrounded by stone ramparts. ’Tis as sound as they say it is.”
Emma had assumed as much. Regardless, she continued to persevere. “Do you receive your stores by water?” She counted three steps from the door to the corner of the building, then eight to the rear.
“Some,” said the sentinel.
They stepped off a gravel path onto grass. Albert stopped when they reached the wall.
The man’s steps slowed. “This way.”
“Why turn right and not left?” she asked innocently.
“Because the pit is south. No lady such as yourself ought to venture near it on account of the smell.”
Emma sniffed. “I smell horses.”
“That’s because the stables are on our right.”
She counted forty-five paces to the corner of the ramparts—and it was hidden by the horse barn. How fortuitous. “Since the wall abuts a loch, is there a sea gate for unloading supplies?”
“Aye, ’tis just up here along the north wall.”
“North? Isn’t that odd?”
“Oh, no, the River Narin empties into the Linnhe, and the inlet is a good place to moor our galleys.”
“Does the governor have a galley?”
“Several royal boats owned by the crown, of course.” The sentinel stopped. “Here it is, we call it the sally port—on account of its security.”
There were eleven paces from the corner to this gate. That summed up to seven and sixty steps from Ciar’s cell to the sally port, which was much better than the one hundred twenty she’d calculated from the main entrance.
“How interesting. Have a look at that, lad,” she replied. “The fortress is very secure, is it not, sir?”
“Indeed, miss. ’Tis the most secure garrison in the Highlands.”
She affixed a genuine smile. “You must like it here.”
Sam grunted. Evidently he didn’t care if the sentinel liked his situation or not.
“The cold annoys my rheumatism a bit,” replied the man. “But it isn’t a bad post for an old soldier.”
“I imagine your knees ache terribly after standing guard outside Dunollie’s door hour upon hour.”
“He’s not going anywhere. His cell is sound with bars on the windows. Besides, this is a fort, miss. After sundown the gates are closed, and the wall is patrolled at all hours.”
“I see. Very impressive, indeed.”
Emma gave the soldier a polite curtsey. “Thank you ever so much. I truly had not realized how monumental Fort William is.”
Chapter Twelve
Are you certain no one can hear us?” Emma asked, listening to differentiate the myriad of sounds around them.
Sam’s spoon tapped his bowl. “We’re alone at the rear of the alehouse, and the crowd at the bar is making such a ruckus, I can scarcely hear you.”
“Good.” She ate a bite of stew. “Mm. This is delicious.”
“It is. But I’m so hungry, I’d eat anything at the moment.”
She washed down her bite with a sip of ale. “I’m going to need your help tonight.”
“After we return to Achnacarry?”
“We’re not going back. Not tonight, anyway.”
Emma slipped her hand into her satchel and pulled out a pouch of guineas. “First, I need you to purchase a horse.”
“For you to ride? How will you—”
“The beast is not for me,” she cut him off. “Ye ken who.”
“Dunollie?”
“Wheesht.”
“But he’s behind bars, guarded by an army.”
“Aye.” She found the lad’s arm, shifted her hand upward, and patted his cheek. “And that’s why I asked the sentinel to give us a wee tour of the fort.”
“Ye cannot be serious. I’m only sixteen and have never been more than twenty miles away from the stable at Achnacarry. And you, holy hellfire, Miss Emma, you are not thinking clearly.”
“I am of sound mind, and if we do not act, that horrid governor will hang an innocent man—an upstanding member of the gentry, no less.” Emma sipped her ale, scrunching her nose at the bitterness. “I have it all planned. We shall use the sally port. Remember, the sea gate? I told you to