“That is a terrible idea,” Ilisa whispered.

Night had fallen, and most of the guests had settled in their tents to prepare for bed.

“Many thanks,” Braden replied drily. Part of him agreed with her, for if he was caught...

The idea didn’t bear thinking about. Yet after what she’d learned from Arabela earlier, he’d determined the time had come to take action. The knowledge that Graham had plans for all of Scotland was alarming. The celebration was half over and what did he have to show for his attendance and all the risks that it entailed?

Nothing.

Bold action was needed, but whether attempting to enter the keep after most people had sought their beds for the night was the right action, he didn’t know. To him, it seemed the ideal time to meet would be when everyone else was asleep.

Ilisa’s reaction to his plan fueled his doubt. But his mind refused to rest. Surely that was a sign he was doing the right thing. Besides, he’d heard Lord Graham tell the Earl of Rothton that he’d speak with him later. That might mean yet this night.

“I’m coming with you.”

Braden stopped abruptly at the tent opening. “Nay.”

“What if you’re caught? If I’m with you, I can provide aid.”

“How?” His thoughts took flight at her words. An image of the two of them stuffed into Lord Graham’s dungeon filled his head, nearly making him shudder. “That is a truly terrible idea.”

Ilisa rose from the bed where she’d been sitting. “Think upon it. I could attempt to find Arabela’s chamber while you do what you hope to do. If one of us doesn’t come out, the other can help.”

Braden shook his head, amazed at her audacity. “That is no plan.”

“He’s right,” Alec whispered. He drew open the tent flap to look at them both, his brow marred with worry. “What am I supposed to do if you’re both caught?”

“We’re not—rather, I’m not going to be caught,” Braden said. “Ilisa, you need to remain here.” He could see from her stiff lower lip that she had no intention of doing so.

“I have a better chance of gaining information from Arabela than you do from whoever you hope to overhear. Especially since you don’t even know who that is.”

“I intend to find Graham and whoever he’s meeting with, but to do so, I need to know you’re both safe,” he ground out. How could he explain that the idea of Ilisa or Alec taking a risk that might put them in harm’s way made his blood run cold?

“We will be if we’re with you.” Ilisa raised her brow as though daring him to deny it.

Braden shook his head. He had the distinct feeling that if he ordered them to remain behind, they’d soon follow anyway. Ilisa had made progress with Arabela earlier. He couldn’t deny that now might be the time for her to try further. Alec could linger in the shadows where no one noticed him. If the lad kept watch, both he and Ilisa’s chances of remaining undetected were greater.

“I’d rather you both stayed here.” He had to try one last time.

As though Ilisa sensed him weakening, she reached for her cloak. “I’d rather you stayed here too. That makes us even.”

“We can’t all walk toward the keep at once. Most everyone is settling in for the night.”

“Let us go as far as the stables together,” Alec suggested. “If anyone asks, we can say I wanted you to check your horse again.”

Braden nodded. “Very well. We’ll leave Alec there while Ilisa and I continue to the keep. I’ll enter first. Wait a short time before you enter, Ilisa. Alec, remain at the stables until we return. If we don’t do so by the time you think we should’ve, come and look for us.” He paused before stepping out of the tent, hoping he wasn’t making a terrible mistake. His attention held on Ilisa. “Do you know where Arabela’s chamber is?”

“I’m guessing ’tis in the tower.”

“Very well. Let us see what we can discover. No one lingers overlong. We meet back at the stables as quickly as possible.” He reached out to graze a finger along Ilisa’s cheek. “Take great care. Information is not worth your life.”

“I would ask you to remember that as well.”

They walked to the stables, the quiet of the evening at odds with the nerves tingling through Braden.

When they made it close to the stables without encountering anyone, Braden directed Alec to remain there. He and Ilisa moved toward the side of the keep and paused. No one was in sight. At least twenty steps led to the massive front door. Once they started to climb them, they’d be visible to any guards posted at the inner bailey gate. Luckily, there had been none when they walked past moments ago.

“Wait here before you enter.”

Ilisa nodded, then Braden made his way to the steps, taking them two at a time.

Relieved when the door opened, he continued inside, pausing to listen as he peeked into the great hall. Many slept on the pallets spread along the floor, the glow of the fire providing enough light for him to make out the forms of those already sleeping. A few men still sat at a table, their voices only a murmur. But Braden knew they were not the men he sought.

He’d noted a door earlier between the great hall and the kitchen that might lead to a private solar, a chamber, which would serve as the perfect place for Graham to meet others without anyone the wiser.

He walked past the door, noting a light glowing from under it. Moving slowly, he continued to the kitchen, pleased to find the room deserted. The scent of the evening meal still hung in the air, the fire little more than embers. He paused to listen but heard no one moving about. With careful steps, watching for anyone’s approach, he returned to the closed door. Though he listened carefully, he couldn’t hear any voices through the portal. Did that mean any meeting was already over or had they met somewhere else?

Frustrated, he remained by the door, straining to hear while keeping close to the wall in the shadows, hoping he’d at last learn something useful.

 

~*~

 

A brief time after Braden left, Ilisa entered the keep. She walked at an even pace that she hoped suggested she belonged there despite the lateness of the hour. She turned left, the opposite direction of the great hall, thankful for the rushlight that lit the landing, and climbed the stairs.

With one hand along the wall to keep her balance on the dark, uneven steps—something many keeps had to give invaders a disadvantage—she made her way to the upper level. The center of the spiral stairs of the tower was open to the floor below, not so different than the governor’s keep in Berwick where she’d lived for many years.

If she were Arabela, she’d want her chamber in the highest part of the tower, just as Ilisa had when they’d lived in the keep at Berwick. The tower chamber provided the most seclusion and the best view. That meant climbing three stories.

The sound of a shoe on the steps below caught her notice. She paused, listening carefully but the sound stopped when she did. A glance behind her revealed only shadows. Uncertain if someone followed her, she took a few more steps then stopped again.

If someone trailed her, wouldn’t she be better off in Arabela’s chamber than lingering on the stairs, looking guilty? The thought had her hurrying up the rest of the steps to the top where she knocked on the chamber door, hoping she’d been right. “Arabela?” she called quietly, breathless from the climb.

The door opened, revealing a startled maidservant. “Who are ye?”

“I was hoping to speak with Lady Arabela if she hasn’t already retired for the evening.”

The maidservant looked behind her then Arabela appeared behind the older woman, her expression nearly as surprised as her servant’s. “Lady Cairstine? Is something amiss?”

“I hoped for a moment of your time.”

Arabela nodded at the maid who opened the door wider.

Again, Ilisa heard footsteps on the stairs below. Why it created such a feeling of panic within her, she didn’t know. But she found herself quickly entering the chamber, pleased to close the door behind her.

“You’re certain all is well?” Arabela asked.

“Aye. I wanted to know if...” She paused. What did she want to know? What could she say that would justify this late-night visit to the lady’s chamber? She glanced at the maidservant then at Arabela, wondering if she dared say anything of relevance in front of her.

“Will you give us a moment, Edith?” Arabela asked.

“Aye, my lady. I’ll refill the pitcher while ye have a visit.” The older woman smiled kindly at Arabela then fetched the pitcher and left, closing the door again.

“I hope I’m not causing you a problem with my visit,” Ilisa began.

“Nay. Edith is well aware of my upset over my upcoming marriage.” Arabela gestured toward a bench under the window. “Would you care to sit?”

“I won’t stay long,” Ilisa said as she and Arabela sat, “but I just wanted you to know that I understand how difficult your predicament is. If there is anything I can do to aid you, anything at all, I would be pleased to do so.”

“How kind of you.” Her warm smile eased Ilisa’s concern that once again she’d overstepped her bounds with the woman. “My father can be overbearing at times.”

Ilisa debated how much to reveal, knowing that admitting anything carried a risk. Saying nothing did as well. “Rumors say he has detailed ideas on who should rule Scotland.”

Arabela stilled, her surprised silence revealing more than she could possibly know.

“’Tis said that he wishes to see those with English ties punished,” Ilisa continued, finding it more difficult than she could’ve guessed to discuss his intent. “Though punished might be too tame of a word.”

Arabela pursed her lips. “His hatred for King Edward and all things English runs deep. I don’t believe ’tis a secret.”

“Rumors also say there are others who agree and will do all they can to see anyone suspected of siding with the English murdered.”

The lady looked away. “Murder is a strong word.”

“But a true one.” Ilisa refused to downplay the facts. ’Twas all she could do not to state that she was one of those at the end of that ‘strong word.’ Instead, she waited, hoping she’d said enough to convince her to share what she knew.

“These are difficult times. Full of unrest and uncertainty.”

Arabela might be unhappy with her father and her situation, but she wasn’t dull-witted. As frustrated as Ilisa was with Arabela’s lack of response, she understood her respect—or fear—of her father and her unwillingness to say anything more.

Then again, she might not know more. Ilisa couldn’t imagine Lord Graham sharing much with his daughter or his wife.

“Indeed, they are. We must all take care.” Ilisa reached out to pat Arabela’s arm. “Including you.”

Arabela returned the squeeze. “Aye.”

“And we women must help each other. Men may rule our world, but that doesn’t mean they truly know what’s best for it.”

That coaxed a smile out of Arabela. “On that, we agree.”

“If I can aid you in some way, please let me know.” Ilisa rose, certain that if she said anything more, she’d only make Arabela suspicious if she wasn’t already.

A sense of unease came over Ilisa, sending her thoughts to Braden. Worry suddenly raced through her, and she couldn’t help but wonder if something was amiss. “My thanks for taking the time to speak with me.”

“Of course.” Arabela rose as well. “I appreciate your words. Please know I will keep them in my heart.”

Ilisa nodded. “Good. I meant every one of them.” Unable to resist she gave Arabela a brief hug, surprising the lady and herself as well. “I will see you on the morrow on the list. I look forward to watching the jousting.”

“I would more so if your husband were competing.” Arabela chuckled.

“Who am I to disagree?” Even the memory of watching Braden ride with the lance was enough to heat her blood. “Sleep well, Arabela.”

“And you, Cairstine.” Arabela opened the door, allowing Ilisa to step out before closing it behind her.

An odd scent filled Ilisa’s senses as she started down the stairs. She paused, trying to think of where she’d noted the smell before. The same scuffing noise that had followed her up the stairs sounded once again.

She started to turn, her heart racing, when she felt hands shove her in the back. Then there was nothing but the rush of air filling her ears as she fell off the uneven stairs down to the stone floor far below.