Urgent, sharp knocking rapped against the door. "Dirk!"
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dirk muttered a string of mindless curses, annoyed beyond measure to be dragged from this paradise of drowsy sexual arousal while he was nestled with Isobel in bed. His shaft was stone-hard and he needed her now.
"Dirk, are you in there, lad?" Sounded like Uncle Conall's voice.
"Aye," Dirk yelled back, then dragged himself from the bed. The room was near pitch black, except for a few orange coals in the hearth. Where the devil were his clothes? He slid one of the wool blankets from the bed and wrapped it around his waist.
The door opened and Conall entered, carrying a lantern.
"I'm coming! Wait in the corridor," Dirk said, trying to prevent Conall from seeing Isobel in bed behind him.
"What's happening?" Isobel asked, stirring and turning over.
Conall's brows shot up his forehead.
Hell. Dirk rolled his eyes. "If you could give us some privacy, Uncle, I'll get dressed. Leave the lantern."
"Indeed. But hurry, lad." Conall set the lantern on the floor, then exited, closing the door behind him.
"What is it?" she asked again.
"I know not yet. I have to get dressed and find out." What damned timing. It had to be important or Conall wouldn't have burst in. Dirk opened a trunk, removed several items of clothing and quickly dressed. "You stay there. I'll return and let you know what's happened when I can."
She sat up, her brows furrowed. "I hope you'll be careful."
"Of course." He wanted to kiss her but that might tell her he was feeling emotions he didn't want her to know about. "Bar the door and allow no one in."
She nodded. "Hurry back."
Taking the lantern, he met Conall in the hallway. "Not a word about this to anyone, Uncle," Dirk warned.
"Much as I'd love to tease you about the lass in your bed, there are more important things afoot."
"What?"
"Haldane and some others broke all the prisoners out of the dungeon, including McMurdo."
"How the hell did they accomplish that?" Dirk asked, quickening his steps.
"They killed two of the MacKay guards and a third is injured."
"Iosa is Muire Mhàthair. That little bastard. I'm done giving him second chances and treating him like a brother. I can't overlook murder."
"Agreed."
"How many with him and who were they?"
"We know not for a certainty, but they took ten horses. And someone did see one of Lady MacKay's guards with them as they fled. Once we searched for the rest of her guards, we found them all missing."
"She's behind this of course."
"Without doubt. 'Haps one of her maids took a missive to one of her guards or Haldane."
"I've been too lenient with her and Haldane."
Conall nodded.
"I'll be right back. I have to speak to the guards I placed at the witch's door." After hurrying along the corridor and up a different flight of stairs, Dirk arrived at Maighread's bedchamber. The two guards stood on either side of the door.
"Who entered or left this room?" Dirk asked.
"Her maid took supper in to her last night," one of the guards said in a hesitant tone.
"Allow no one else to enter. She's to have no contact with anyone. No talking and no missives. Make sure she hides no notes beneath or inside anything that leaves this room. Two guards are dead because of her scheming. This is a matter of utmost importance. Do you understand?"
"Aye, m'laird," the two guards said in unison.
They'd best obey his command or he'd send them packing. He wouldn't tolerate insubordinate or slovenly guards.
Moments later, Dirk rejoined Conall in the lower corridor and they descended the narrow stairwell to find several angry, shouting men in the great hall.
"Which way are they headed?" Dirk asked loudly.
His clansmen quieted and turned to him. "We know not yet. Three men are following them."
"What is all the ruckus?" Rebbie asked behind him.
Dirk turned to find his friend fully dressed. "Thanks to Haldane, the prisoners have escaped. They killed two guards. We're going to find them." Dirk strode toward the exit, all the men following him.
They proceeded across the torch-lit bailey to the stables where the grooms and lads were already busy saddling horses.
"Each of the outlaws took a horse," one of the young grooms told Dirk. "I tried to stop him, m'laird, but your younger brother stole your horse."
A lit fuse of outrage burned through Dirk. "What? Haldane stole Tulloch?"
The groom shied back. "Aye. He forced me to saddle him at sword point."
"Damn the little bastard," Dirk growled. If Haldane was here, Dirk didn't know if he could stop himself from strangling him. He hoped Tulloch tossed the upstart into a bog.