“Say we were but going for a swim.” She shrugged. “It wouldnae be the first time I have taken them down there at night.”
“And what of the satchels yer carrying?”
“A change of clothes.”
He nodded again, satisfied that she had things well in hand. “All right then, stay safe, my friend. I will see ye again soon.”
“Aye, ye will.”
After they went their separate ways, he made his way down to the courtyard, only for Bartholomew to cut him off.
Reeking of whisky, the Sassenach narrowed his eyes and slurred, “Do you ever sleep, Scotsman? For you always seem to be skulking about in the shadows where you do not belong.”
As if he would know despite not being here the past fortnight.
“I’m but out for a wee bit o’ fresh air,” he replied cordially. It would be so easy to slice his dirk across the man’s soft neck. Quickly. Smoothly. Bartholomew would never see it coming.
“I think we both know you have no interest in fresh air,” Bartholomew bit out. “Greer is my wife, Scot.” He shook his head sharply and looked down his nose at Teagan. “Even if she were not, do you honestly think she would ever marry the likes of you?”
“I know she would,” he nearly said. “Because she is not your wife.”
Fantasy still in play, he would plunge his blade deep into Bartholomew’s blackened heart before the Sassenach had a chance to fall to his death.
Though Teagan nearly trembled with repressed rage, somehow, he managed to keep control. Rather, his mind brought him back to the village that awful day. He once again saw the brutalized women. Just like Greer might be at the hands of this man.
That and that alone kept his demons at bay.
His needed to see Greer free of this monster. Free of the life she would suffer with him. So he fought his rage to give her freedom. A chance to be the woman she should be rather than the lass she was becoming with men such as this.
He kept his expression cordial and spoke with a level of calm and respect he by no means felt. “I cannae imagine Mistress Greer ever looking my way. Her honor wouldnae allow it.”
“Yet she did look your way, did she not?” Bartholomew’s eyes narrowed. “Because you lured her somehow, you filthy—”
“Ah, t-t-there you are, Lord Bartholomew,” Alfred said, joining them. “I was h-hoping, I might s-speak with you for a m-moment.”
“What would I ever have to say to you?” Bartholomew didn’t bother looking his way. “You are too simple to hold a decent conversation.”
“Quite r-right,” Alfred stammered. “’Tis m-my uncle who s-summons you, though. For he has something dire to d-discuss with you.”
“Dire, you say?” Bartholomew frowned at him. “Why not speak with me earlier then?”
“I d-do not know.” Alfred shook his head. “He awaits you in his c-cabinet chamber.”
Bartholomew looked from Alfred to Teagan and back before he muttered under his breath about poor timing and strode off.
“Come on then, simpleton,” he snapped over his shoulder, never looking back.
“Y-you must go now,” Alfred whispered urgently to Teagan. “You p-proved you were a good man years ago, so t-take Greer and g-g-go as far as you can from this p-place before ’tis too late. Randolph means to betray his s-sister.”
Just as they suspected he might.
“Join us,” Teagan said without thinking but meaning it. He had no way of knowing where Alfred’s allegiances lay as a whole but knew him a man of good conscience. And, because he clearly paid attention, one of stealth and intelligence. “Ye need not stay here with these people.”
“And w-where would I g-go?” Alfred shook his head. “Your lot w-would not want me around anymore t-than this one.” He gestured in the direction of the river. “Now g-go and keep her s-safe.”
“My lot would be happy to have ye,” he assured. “And I could use another fighting man to get the lasses and wee bairns out of here safely.”
Alfred thought about that before he nodded. “I will try. Until then, ’tis b-best I remain here and l-learn what I can of their p-plans. Perhaps even d-distract them.”
He nodded, seeing good sense in that. “Aye, wishing ye the verra best of luck, friend.”
“T-to you as well.” There was no missing how much Alfred cared for Greer. “Please see her well c-cared for.”
He would if it was the last thing he did.
Once Alfred hurried after Bartholomew, Teagan stuck to the shadows and made his way into the woodland behind the estate. He was never more grateful Randolph’s castle lacked a moat and second curtain wall. Otherwise, this plan would have been impossible. As it were, the men posted further out tended to scout the land betwixt the watchtowers fairly regularly. At least the two in four he and Greer had discussed.
He caught up with her and the others just over the river, relieved to find everyone well, if not nervous. Though he’d spoken to them about what they needed to do to get out safely, it didn’t make the mission any less dangerous.
Fortunately, Cecille and Ada could wield a blade. Though all three of them had given Greer pointers over the past few weeks, it did little to ease his mind. Having watched everyone practice, he knew they weren't ready for what might come at them tonight.
Worse yet, they traveled with bairns.
“Which will very likely make these lasses fight all that much harder,” Edmund would say.
As requested, everyone kept quiet and fell in behind him single file. He’d walked these grounds several times over and saw well at night, so made his way without much issue. The key was to watch their step and remain perfectly quiet. Sneezes and coughs must be muffled. No dragging one's feet through dried leaves.
Once they were beyond Randolph’s men, he’d get them where they intended to meet Edmund, then pray his friend made it before the Sassenach came looking. Something he feared would happen quickly.
Or, alarmingly enough, far sooner still, based on what happened next.
Chapter Sixteen
When a twig snapped just ahead, and Teagan went still, Greer froze along with the rest of them. Teagan shook his head once, the signal to stay put, and crept forward with his dirk at the ready. The cool night smelled of sweet wildflowers and springtime growth, at odds with the cloying darkness and metallic taste of danger.
“How very exciting!” Margery would whisper. “And granted, a bit frightening.” Then she would soothe Greer. “I’m sure Teagan will be just fine, though. He’s a seasoned warrior, after all, who, might I add, is in remarkably good shape.”
“Now is not the time to admire his physique,” she would reply. “For shame!”
“Quite right,” Margery would agree. “Though one could argue I’m attempting to put your mind at ease. That no warrior of your uncle’s could take down such a magnificent—”
Margery’s voice halted when Teagan stopped creeping and sprinted forward. Seconds later, she heard a faint grunt. Her heart leapt into her throat. Was that him? Was he hurt? She was about to go after him, but he reappeared and urged them to follow him once more.
“I think his blade drips with blood,” Margery would whisper.