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Mayhap, she’d been supposed to leave by the time Hamish arrived.

Or, mayhap, MacDougall didn’t care about his daughter. That may be, with the man’s cold, distant gaze. Hamish knew people like him. His foster parents had looked at him and Fiona, his foster sister, in the same manner.

As though they looked at farming tools.

Hamish felt sorry for Amy.

Still, she was on his side. She playacted so well, he’d doubted her until he saw her looking through the storeroom.

The tunnel was somewhere there. Mayhap, under that rock with the carvings. Mayhap somewhere else. But that must be why Craig had put guards there. He was afraid Amy would run away. And that someone else might find a way in through the tunnel.

Now that Hamish knew where the entrance was, he didn’t need Craig anymore.

He could free the lass from him.

He watched as Craig and Amy rode through the village. Although he couldn’t see their faces in the darkness, their postures were relaxed. When they jumped from their horses, they stood close to each other. They even looked happy.

Then Craig had kissed her.

Poor lass.

Hamish clenched his fists. She must be pretending to tolerate his touches, only for a chance at freedom.

Like Fiona had. Pretended the work wasn’t too much. Pretended she wasn’t tired. Pretended she wasn’t in pain. Anything so that their foster parents wouldn’t beat her. He’d done her work, too. As much as he could but not so much that they would notice.

But Fiona was weak. She’d needed rest and care. None of which she got.

And then he’d buried the only living person who’d been kind to him, who’d given a damn about him, who was like him.

Suppressed. Imprisoned. Used.

Like Amy.

Tonight, Owen had gone into the village with Lachlan and a few others and invited half the village for a feast. There wouldn’t be a better opportunity to do what Hamish had come here to do. Most of the men would be drunk and busy with willing lasses.

No one would suspect.

Time to finish his mission. Tonight. Get his money from John MacDougall, take his daughter back to him.

Then Hamish would finally be able to buy a small piece of land with farms and a keep or a castle. Mayhap, an island. And live there peacefully.

He’d already let go of the only woman he could imagine marrying. It had been nine years ago, in the Borderlands, that he had fallen in love with Deidre Maxwell, daughter of the Maxwell clan chief in Caerlaverock. She was of gentry. He was a nobody. He’d just started looking for missions at the time, not a penny in his pocket. And yet he’d seduced her, and she’d given him her virginity. Their love affair had been the happiest time in his life.

And then he’d left her. He’d run away. Because she’d wanted him to marry her.

And he just couldn’t get attached to someone like that only to lose them. Like he’d lost Fiona.

He shook his head in an attempt to shake off the painful memories. He needed to concentrate on the mission. Part of it was to join Bruce’s army and undermine them from the inside. John MacDougall only kent from Lord Comyn that there was a tunnel, not where it was.

And if the auld MacDougall lord didna care about his daughter, it was an even bigger reason to protect her.

Aye, her misery would end tonight.

He watched as Amy and Craig went into the stables, then after a while, they ran out into the Comyn Tower, holding hands, their clothes wrinkled and hay straws stuck to them.

His jaw tightened, his teeth grinding. Poor lass. She had to sleep with the man.

Hamish would free her.