Page 8 of A Highlander's Vow

Chapter Four

Francis had losthis joy in drinking and fondling the maids who so easily offered themselves up to him. Gregory was counting on him, so he had to remind himself this was not a party, but a serious attempt to find out where Lady Sinclair was being held and how determined her guard was.

So far he’d learned that the lady of the manor was in her bedroom and he just now learned from another lass that the door was locked. This pretty little one waved the key to Lady Sinclair’s room that she kept on a chain around her neck, in his face.

“Why would the laird trust ye with the key?” he asked as he slid his hand up the inside of her leg.

“Because he kens I will go to his bed anytime he asks.” She giggled. “Some of the others avoid him because he can be a bit rough at times.”

Francis frowned. “And that doesna bother ye?”

She shook her head, but there was a definite sense of pain in her eyes. “He gives me the easier jobs and time off that the others doona get.”

He grinned to himself. It appeared he would have to make the sacrifice and entice the lass into one of the bedrooms in order to relieve her of the key. It would be necessary to make sure she had enough to drink so she wouldn’t raise an alarm after he left.

He placed his hands on her face and pulled her close.

“What are ye doing?” She giggled again.

“Kissing the prettiest lass in the room.”

She sighed. Obviously, the lass received very little in the way of praise from The Sinclair when she was warming his bed. She settled for the easiest jobs and extra time off.

While he was busy with her mouth, he waved at one of the lasses to bring them the whisky that she was handing out to the other warriors.

If this was a clan they wanted to conquer, all they had to do was attack at night. The few warriors he saw up on the ramparts when he easily slipped into the keep were too busy sipping ale and bragging to each other to pay much attention to what was going on outside the castle. ’Twas information to pass along to Gregory.

It took him no more than a half hour to douse the lass with whisky, have her take him to a bedroom, do what he needed to do—oh the sacrifice!—and leave with the key in his pouch. She was naked and snoring when he left. He’d pulled a cover over her body then looked at her for a minute. ’Twas a sad life for the lass to be sure. He was almost tempted to bring her with him, but they didn’t need that complication.

He walked the distance to where he’d left his horse and headed back to the other warriors, whistling a tune. ’Twas too bad not all his assignments were such as this.

“It took ye long enough,” Gregory groused when he returned and slid off his horse. “I still need to get the lass out and as far away as we can get in the dark.”

Francis raised his eyebrows and dangled the key in front of Gregory. “’Twas no’ an easy assignment. However, Lady Sinclair is in her bedchamber upstairs, with the door locked.”

Gregory placed his fists on his hips. “And what good is the key to the lass’s bedroom? Am I to stroll into the keep and make my way up the stairs and bring her down?”

Francis nodded. “That’s about it. Ye wouldna’ ken how sloppy thekeep is. I doona think there was a sober head in the place. Even the men up on the ramparts were chatting away like a couple of old women and drinking ale.”

“What about The Sinclair?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. I met one of the lasses who services him—she is the one I got the key from, and doona ask how—and she said he rarely appears downstairs after the evening meal.”

“I canno’ believe the mon I spent time with at Dornoch Castle would allow such a thing in his keep,” Gregory said.

Francis shrugged. “The mon ye spent time with is dead, but I will say things couldn’t have changed that much in the few weeks since he died.

“However, when questioned, the lass I got the key from mentioned that Robert Sinclair had stepped back and the uncle had been acting as laird since the old laird died.”

Gregory shook his head. “All this chatting away is no’ getting us Lady Sinclair and on the road.” He gestured to Peter. “Go steal a horse from the Sinclair stable for Lady Sinclair. We might as well get this over with and on our way.”

Gregory urged his horse forward and swung his leg over the animal’s back. “Be ready to leave the minute I return with the lass. I want to get as far away from here as we can and with it being dark, it will be slow going.”

’Twas a short ride to Sinclair Castle Girnigoe. He could hear the noise of the gaiety long before he approached the gate to the castle, which was wide open. There were no men on the ramparts. Chances were, from what Francis told him, the men were fast asleep by now. He shook his head, thinking that either the Sutherlands or the Mackays should take over the Sinclair land. Such a lax in guarding their castle actually made it dangerous for the clans surrounding it.

He walked into the great hall with his hand on his sword, not sure if things were as bad as Francis said.

They were.