blinked his eyes open, and he heard what had garnered Red’s attention.
The loud crank and rattle of chains echoed on the breeze as the portcullis was raised.
Red passed to the front of the battlements facing south. Ciaran joined him.
From this tower, the portcullis could not be seen, but they did have an unimpeded view of the courtyard.
A lone man with a horse and a wagon headed toward the front gate. It was late. Most of the castle was asleep, and the village was dark. Only two torches lit the courtyard at this time of night. The only real activity was on the south tower, where the men were watching the cattle. Ciaran glanced across to the other tower, but it too was quiet. He could just make out the top of one of his warrior’s head.
“Probably Stuart visiting his lady love again.”
The horse disappeared under the bridge leading across the gatehouse, and Ciaran frowned down at the wagon. The wagon was covered with a brown hide tarp. As Stuart passed into the shadows under the brick bridge, the tarp moved.
“Did you see that?”
“Aye.” And he did not have a good feeling about it. His first thought was Ian and Fiona…. This was exactly something they’d do. Steal away so they could blab to everyone where Stuart was going.
Red glanced back at him. “What do you think is in the wagon?”
They were close, so close Ciaran could kiss him, but the mood was ruined. In the place of anticipation and excitement resided leeriness. The hair on Ciaran’s arms stood on end. “I dinna ken, but something tells me we better find out.”
§ § § §
“That old man has a hell of a libido,” Bannon said as he sat on his horse, waiting for the portcullis to be raised to allow him and Ciaran to pass. He’d had a bad feeling when he’d seen that tarp move. Ciaran thought it was Fiona and Ian, but Bannon wasn’t so sure. The two were wild and daring, but what would they gain from spying on Stuart? Unless they thought to blackmail him into getting the council off Ciaran’s back. Actually, that wasn’t such a bad idea. Bannon wished he’d thought of it.
Ciaran gave a half chuckle, half snort. “Or he’s up tae something.”
Ah-ha! I’m not the only one who thinks there is something fishy going on.
The steel bars rose enough for them to pass, and they rode out under it side by side. Ciaran raised his hand, thanking the warrior up in the gatehouse.
The man waved back, and the rattle of chains started up again as the gate was lowered.
Stuart was a good twenty minutes ahead of them by the time they’d climbed down from the tower, gotten their horses saddled, and waited for the gate to be opened again. But they knew where he was going, so it shouldn’t be too hard to follow.
The hooves of their horses clicking on the wooden drawbridge sparked Bannon’s imagination just as it did every time he heard it. He could almost pretend he was a knight of old, except without the shiny metal armor. And really that was the best part. Well, and the handsome lords vying for the knight’s favor.
“I thought you said you feared Fiona and Ian were in the cart?”
“Aye, that tae, but why does he take a cart tae visit his lover? Wouldnae it be easier tae hide a horse?”
“Why not walk? It’s not that far to the seamstress’s house. He doesn’t seem that frail.”
“Nae, he isna.”
They rode out toward the village in companionable silence, both searching their surroundings but not encountering anyone. The village was quiet, much as it had been last night when they’d come back from the base. It was quaint, like a picturesque fairy-tale village, with thatched roofs on the cottages and small fenced-in yards. A few even had flower boxes on the windows. It reminded Bannon of the village around Eversleigh Manor, only there the roads were cobblestone instead of dirt. One could almost forget the harshness of Skye looking at this place—if they had indoor plumbing. The stench of excrement was… well, not at all pleasant. The sweet floral scent just couldn’t compete. Bannon made a mental note to underline instruction manuals on indoor plumbing on his bring-back list… twice. He could live without electricity and even computers, but he had to do something about the garderobe. One should not feel air on one’s arse while using the necessary.