path. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“I—ah…” She glanced down at the laundered shift in her hands. “My lady needs this straight away.”
“But it is wet.” Curling his lips, the man looked her from head to toe and leaned in as if he were interested in more than her purpose. “Surely she will not need the shift until after it has been hung out to dry.”
“But you don’t understand. My lady is expecting me to return forthwith.”
“Not before you pay the toll.”
“Toll? There was no toll when we arrived yesterday.”
He pursed his lips, his breath sour like distilled spirit that had gone off. “Come, wench, just give us a kiss and I’ll let you pass.”
Ailish shrank. The man was vile.
“I haven’t all day.”
“Do you promise to let me pass?”
“After you pay the toll, aye.”
Wrinkling her nose, she darted in and gave him the briefest of pecks. “There, now I’ll be on my way.”
He grabbed her shoulders and snarled. “Am I not fair enough for the likes of you?”
“Forgive me, but I am not accustomed to being accosted by guards.” Ailish tried to twist away, but he only gripped her tighter. “And a man who is supposed to be protecting the people, not mistreating them.”
“Ye disrespectful shrew, I ought to—”
Not listening to another word, with all her might, Ailish thrust her knee into his loins. Grunting, the guard released his grip and doubled over.
Ailish ran.
“Stop that woman!” bellowed a woman from behind. “She’s a spy for the outlaw Bruce!”
A rush pulsed through her blood as she quickened her pace, racing for the inn. Where was James? Where were the other men?
Approaching a turn, she glanced over her shoulder.
No!
At least a half-dozen soldiers were chasing her.
She wasn’t going to make it.
Hide!
As she turned, she smashed into a wall of a knight, hitting him with such force, her head spun. Staggering, she mumbled an apology and skirted around. But he grabbed her arm.
“No so fast, spy.”
“I am not a spy. I’m searching for my brother.”
The guards surrounded them, flanked by the traitorous washerwoman. “That’s her. Lady Ailish Maxwell. She’s the one asking questions, Lord Warden.”
At the use of his title, she glared up at the man who was responsible for countless Scottish deaths. Aye, Andrew Harclay earned his position in Carlisle for his ruthless plundering of poor border clans and kin.
“Maxwell, aye? Any relation to the earl?”
“That imposter is my uncle,” Ailish spat. “The true earl is my brother, Harris, son of Johann.”
“Ah, the traitor King Edward hung from the walls of Caerlaverock if my memory serves.”
Ailish bit the inside of her cheek as the guards tied her wrists behind her back. If she said another word against her uncle or spewed a slight about Edward, she’d be hung without trial or worse, burned. And there was only one thing she truly needed to know. “I demand you tell me what you have done with my brother!”
“Well, well.” The man’s eyebrows arched mockingly. “You, my lady, are in no position to make any demands whatsoever. Tell me, surely you did not travel all the way to Carlisle alone.”
“You boorish brute. Do you not believe me able to walk across the border on my own two feet?" Ailish fought against her bindings but they only cut into her flesh. “My brother is my only care. He was taken from the priory during mass, of all things. Please, he’s only a wee lad of nine. He would hurt no one.”
“Interesting thing about displaced Scottish nobles. They grow up to be rebels and traitors. Right thorns in the king’s backside.” The knight beckoned the guards. “Take her to the postern tower.”
“Straight away, my lord.”
Led away by an escort of a half-dozen guards, Ailish frantically searched for any sign of James or his men. If only she could shout his name, but doing so would betray him to her merciless captors.
Chapter Twenty
James walked into the chamber, and then his throat constricted and his heart with it. Leaving the door ajar, he dashed inside and turned full circle. “Where the devil is she?”
Davy leaned against the jamb. “I thought she was to wait for you here.”
“So did I.” Every muscle in James’ body tensed as he marched to the window and pulled the fur aside. “The lass may be bonnier than a spring rose, but she will never make much of a soldier.”
“Why is that? From what I saw, she’s quite skilled with a bow.”
“Talent does not make a lick of difference when she cannot