"Well, at least come back to the keep for a few minutes. Lachlan can provide supplies, food and wool blankets. In this weather, 'twill take a long while to travel to Durness."
"I'm well aware. My plan is to ride west, through Stirling, then head up the west coast by galley or ship. If the weather is decent, I can travel most of the way by sea." But the wind and rain, which had been near unnoticeable when he'd left Draughon Castle a quarter hour ago, was now turning into a gale.
"I'm coming with you," Rebbie said, his determined jaw hardening.
Rebbie was a proficient and skilled former soldier, up to any battle that might come their way, but the harsh Highland winter was a different matter, and so was the murderer. "Nay, I think it best if you stay here and help Lachlan."
"Och! 'Tis not safe for anyone, even someone so fearsome and trained as you, to travel that far alone. There are highwaymen, savage pirates and outlaws. Sometimes large bands of them." Rebbie's brown eyes narrowed, giving him the look of the pirates he talked about. "Come. Let's discuss it back at Draughon, out of this rain. Rushing off unprepared will be of little help. You need supplies. Extra wool clothing."
Dirk's stomach clenched with dread. 'Haps his friend was right. He'd planned to buy supplies in Perth or Stirling. But taking them from here might be more practical; he wouldn't have to waste time looking for the items he would need.
"Very well." It was still early morn. If they didn't tarry too long, they could make much progress today.
They quickly rode back to massive Draughon Castle with its four, round, gray stone towers and large rectangular keep. The guards at the black iron gates allowed them entrance to the high-walled, stone-paved barmkin. They circled around the side of one tower to the stables.
Rebbie swung down, his feet landing with a clunk on the cobblestones. "Prepare our horses, along with two more, for a long journey," he told the stable lad.
"Two more?" Dirk asked, dismounting. "Lachlan can't leave Lady Angelique and his clan."
"I ken it, but the two of us will need servants to care for the horses, run errands and such."
Dirk rolled his eyes at the coddled nobleman. "I have no servants. And the fewer in our party the better."
Rebbie waved him off. "We'll discuss it later."
The two of them proceeded around the side and up the front steps of the keep.
Once inside the expansive, two-story great hall, Dirk approached the massive burning fireplace near the high table to warm his back, while Rebbie sent his manservant, George, to wake Lachlan. Dirk ran his gaze over the large tapestries depicting Drummagan family history that decorated the walls. They reminded him of the ones at Dunnakeil.
Female servants lit candles and carried food up from the ground level kitchens, preparing for breakfast at the long wooden tables.
Rebbie and Dirk pilfered a couple of buttered bannocks while they waited.
A few moments later, Lachlan MacGrath-Drummagan, wearing a belted plaid, emerged from the narrow turnpike stairway. "Angelique is sick," he murmured for their ears only.
"What's wrong?" Dirk asked.
"Nausea, vomiting."
Dirk and Rebbie exchanged a concerned but curious glance.
"'Haps she is with child," Rebbie suggested.
"Aye." Lachlan gave a wee joyful grin. "I'm hoping that's what it is." His sandy-blond hair glinting in the candlelight, he glanced back at the stairs briefly, making it clear he wanted to be up in the bedchamber with her. Facing forward again, he asked, "What are you two doing? Looks like you've been out riding in the rain."
"Aye, Dirk is headed to Durness and I'm accompanying him," Rebbie said. "We need provisions and supplies, if you can spare them. Wool blankets, mantles and enough food for a sennight."
"God's teeth!" Lachlan's light brown eyes widened. "Why in blazes would you need to go to the far north?"
"I'm not entirely certain." Rebbie looked to Dirk.
He merely grunted, heavy dread hanging over him like the dark gray clouds outside. He didn't mind his friends knowing, but it was the act of telling them he wasn't looking forward to. Talking about his past stirred up all sorts of painful emotions. He hated emotions because he felt them too sharply and too deeply.
Lachlan sent two kitchen maids in search of food Dirk and Rebbie might take with them—bread, hard cheese, oatcakes, dried fruit, wine and apples.
"We'll go into the library." Lachlan led the way down a short corridor, then closed the door behind them.
Though no fire burned in the small hearth, Dirk had always found this smaller, low-ceilinged room cozy and comforting, maybe because it reminded him of his father's library at Dunnakeil, a place he'd felt safe as a lad.