grew moist as he ran a finger over her lips. “I do adore you.”
“And I you.”
Chapter Nineteen
Come morning, James allowed Ailish to break her fast below stairs. Thank heavens. No matter how much she wanted to remain in his arms for the rest of her days, she must never lose sight of her quest to find her brother and the oath she’d sworn to protect him.
She took a bite of porridge and watched James across the table, not feeling a whit of remorse for what she’d done. He’d been rather quiet since she’d come awake when he’d tapped on her door. No, he hadn’t slept beside her as she’d wished. She guessed he’d slept in the corridor to keep up appearances. Either that or he harbored regrets, which was possible since he hadn’t kissed her this morn.
And now he shoveled porridge in his mouth as if she weren’t there. But there was no time to fret about what he was thinking.
Beside him, Davy pushed his bowl away. “The sooner we leave this place, the better.”
“Why is that?” James asked, his voice low. “Too many Englishmen?”
“Too many scoundrels if you ask me. Every city is the same on market day. Plenty of swindlers out to rob you of your coin and Lord kens what else.”
Torquil and Caelan pushed through the alehouse doors. James stood as Ailish clasped her hands over her heart, praying they had news of Harris.
Torquil took the lead, sauntering toward them in his cocksure manner.
“What news?” asked James. “Tell me they have him.”
“The only child incarcerated in the tollbooth is a lass of six, caught for stealing bread.”
“How awful.” Ailish imagined a poor gel only wanting to help feed her family. “Did you pay her fine?”
Torquil snorted. “Are ye daft, woman?”
James grabbed the man’s arm. “She’s a lady, mind you, and your better. I’ll not tolerate a coarse word toward her.”
“Forgive me. I spoke out of turn.” Yanking his arm away, Torquil looked anything but sorry. “The clerk did offer up a tidbit of information.”
Ailish leaned in. “About Harris?”
“Not exactly about the lad, but he said a retinue rode in two days past. Looked as if they may have had prisoners of the crown—nobles and the like.”
“Was there a child among them?” asked Davy.
“He wasn’t certain. But he did say any prisoners of noble blood were kept in the castle—the tollbooth didn’t have proper accommodations for the aristocracy.”
Ailish nodded. It was common practice to imprison those of noble blood in chambers with latrines and the like. Though from what she knew, there were few comforts. High-ranking prisoners in the Tower of London were treated the same. Rather than being thrown in an overcrowded pit or worse, they enjoyed a locked chamber with a cot, plenty of rats, and perhaps a barred window looking out over the Thames.
“Not much to go on,” said James.
“But at least it is something.” Ailish pushed to her feet. “I saw some washerwomen heading for the castle when we arrived. I’ll wager if I venture down to the river, one of them may know more.”
“Washerwomen?” asked Torquil. “They might be able to tell ye what the Lord Warden ate for breakfast.”
“Aye,” Caelan agreed. “Because they’re the ones who clean his linens.”
James held up his palms. “Wheesht.” Then he turned to Ailish. “’Tis too dangerous for you to venture to the river alone.”
“But—”
“I’ll go.”
“Where? To speak to the washerwomen?”
“The smithy shack. There’s no better place to have a wee conversation with a soldier than when he’s waiting for a repair.” James shook his finger under her nose. “Wait above stairs and bolt the door. I have no intention of chasing after two Maxwells.”
Ailish would have argued but decided not to waste her breath. She’d come to read James better than he realized and, right now, he thought he knew better than anyone. Just as he had said the day prior, he was the general and everyone else must mindlessly follow even if he made the most egregious decision imaginable.
Some things he said made no sense whatsoever. If only he would recognize her worth, her ability to think on her own. But no, he expected her to hide in a chamber while they were no closer to finding her brother.
Poor Harris must be beside himself with worry, terrified he might never see his sisters again. She clapped a hand over her mouth while images plagued her mind of how he might be suffering or even tortured.
Well, I will not sit idle and do nothing!
***
Wearing the nun’s