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“Aye. Ye’re coming with us.”

“Nae.”

Amber touched Muireach’s shoulder. “You must. De Bourgh will know you helped us escape. He’ll kill you. Come back to the Highlands. Don’t die here with no purpose.”

Muireach let out a long sigh. “Aye. Ye’re right. But it will be more difficult for us to get out of the castle with me. Guards ken I’m the warden and needed here day and night. Why would I suddenly leave in the middle of the night? They’ll smell a foul play like vultures smell carrion.”

“I wilna leave without ye, man,” Owen said. “We’ll think of something.”

Muireach grunted and continued saddling the third horse. When it was ready, they walked back out into the night. Amber’s long, strong legs brushed against him as he helped her mount. She looked at the horse as though it were a kelpie, but she didn’t say anything. Mayhap she didn’t know how to ride, which wasn’t surprising, considering she was from the future. Amy grew up on a farm and could ride, but Kate, Ian’s woman, had learned to ride here.

“Everything all right, lass?” Owen said, his hand still on her ankle. “Ye can ride, canna ye?”

“Yep. Yep.”

“We’ll go slowly until we reach the forest. Then I’ll take ye on my horse. I dinna want yer wounds to reopen from hard riding. We dinna want ye to bleed again.”

“Okay. I’ll try not to bleed to death.”

Muireach and Owen mounted, and they slowly rode down the hill. They passed the castle buildings, the dark palisade, and went into the outer yard. The thatched houses were quiet until a dog barked a couple of times from somewhere. Owen put one hand on his sword, but the night fell quiet again, the only noise the soft thumps of the horses’ hooves against dry dirt.

Finally, walls as tall as mountains stood before them. The gatehouse had two square towers on either side that loomed over them and seemed to support the black sky. The small windows on the first floor were illuminated from the inside with the golden glow of torches. Owen wondered how many sentinels were up there.

He glanced up and cleared his throat. He needed to do his best impersonation of an English accent. “Open the gates!” he called.

Someone appeared in the window. “Who goes there?”

“William and I have been sent to accompany Muireach on a mission from the commander,” he said.

Owen was a good singer and could mimic people well, but he could hear his accent slipping.

The dark figure was silent for a moment. “But the commander left. He never said anything about letting anyone else out.”

Owen almost said, aye, but stopped himself. “Yes. But he gave me the mission before he had to go. Open the gates. We must make haste.”

“Why must Muireach go? He never leaves the castle.”

“It’s none of your concern,” Owen said angrily.

“It is. He’s a Scot.”

Owen gritted his teeth. “One of the Bruce’s men was caught in Caerlaverock. Muireach knows him and must confirm his identity.”

The guard grunted. “Wait there.”

The guard moved from the window, and Owen saw two shadows on the wall. The man was probably talking it through with another guard.

Owen rubbed the back of his neck. The skin around his eyes tightened as he peered into the darkness trying to see what was going on upstairs. His gut stiff, he exchanged a glance with Amber, who sat like a log and held the reins like they were her last hope.

The shadows in the window disappeared, and after a while, two guards came out of the tower. One of them looked at Owen. Now that the soldier was closer, he could probably see Owen’s injured eye and the bruise. Amber turned her face a little to the side and bowed her head. Sweat tickled down Owen’s back.

“Got in a fight, I see?” the guard said.

Owen chuckled. “Some people cannot keep their mouths shut when they’ve had a few mugs of ale.”

The guard nodded, looked at Amber, and frowned. “I don’t recognize you. William, is it? Are you new?”

“New, yes,” she said, doing her best to make her voice sound hoarse and English. “Friend, we must away.”