The Highlander's Thief

Chapter Eight

The clip-clop of the horse's hooves against the drawbridge echoed eerily as Rosa and McWilliam crossed under the portcullis. There was just enough moonlight to see the metal spikes hanging threateningly over their heads, and a trill of panic surged through her stomach before they stepped clear into a large, shadowy courtyard.

Rosa had read about these old-fashioned castles, but she'd never realized people actually still lived in them. The looming tower houses with their conical spires and narrow windows looked terrifyingly gothic and not at all like the drawing rooms of the Wrights' townhouse and absolutely nothing like the houses she'd seen on Mayfair.

Headline: Kidnapped thief stolen back in time to rat-infested dungeon. London journalist Bennie Cooke would be having a field day if he could see this.

"Nothing to say?" McWilliam asked "You've hardly shut up for the last two days."

"I've plenty to say," Rosa snapped. "But nothing you'd like to hear, my lord."

"You find my home displeasing?" he asked, humor instantly replaced with anger. He raged from hot to hotter with nothing in-between.

"It's not what I was expecting."

He let out a deep breath—she felt his chest heave against her back. "Now that I do actually believe."

Stopping under the eaves of a low-hanging roof of what could only be a blacksmith's workshop, McWilliam reached up to help her down. Rosa rested her own hand on his shoulders, her mind preoccupied as it repeated his words over and over again—that I do actually believe.

"You're back." Another kilted man strode across the cobbled courtyard, leaning heavily on a walking stick. He was older than McWilliam by at least twenty years, although there was an air about him that reminded Rosa of her kidnapper. He stood only half a head taller than her, smaller than McWilliam, but he had McWilliam's angled jawline and square shoulders.

The laird nodded in greeting, a full-blown smile capturing his mouth. Rosa blinked. She hadn't known he had it in him. The older gentleman must be a relative.

Rosa was intrigued. If this man could make McWilliam smile, then he might hold some sway over the laird. If she could get him on her side, he could help convince McWilliam of her innocence.

She forced herself to also smile in greeting.

"You're up late," McWilliam said.

"You mean early. It's almost morning now. I've been busy looking after everything since ye rushed off without a word of goodbye."

"I know." McWilliam's smile softened, and he ran a hand through his hair. "There was something I had to do."

The older man's gaze moved to Rosa, and she felt distinctly as though she were under examination. Even in the darkness, his eyes glinted keenly, his gaze sweeping over her too-tight bodice and muddied hem. She widened her smile.

Read all about it: English governess seeks ally amongst enemies.

For a moment there was only silence except for the sound of rain hitting the wooden shingles overhead. Then, with his eyes still on her, the older man said something in Gaelic.

McWilliam said something in return with a slight shrug of his shoulders. Rosa heard her name.

The older man shook his head, anger flashing in his murky brown eyes.

It was blatantly obvious McWilliam hadn't told him about his plan to kidnap her.

Rosa's smile halted. If she didn't act swiftly her chance at persuading the older man of her innocence would be lost. First impressions and all that.