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.She abruptly stopped.Grunting, Duncan tripped over her and grasped her shoulders before she could fall.“What the blazes?” he grumbled.“Wheesht.” She held up her palm while her heart hammered.His fingers wrapped around his sword.Slowly, he pulled it from the scabbard with a soft hiss.“How many?”She shrugged.He placed a hand on Meg’s shoulder and moved her behind him.Voices carried from the wagon.She recognized an English accent and stood on her toes.No use; she couldn’t see.Duncan crept forward and gazed out through the trees.“Only one,” he whispered, beckoning her.“Do you recognize him?”Meg peered through the crook in Duncan’s arm, but the mounted man cantered his horse away before she could glimpse a good look.“Did you see his face?” she asked.“Nay, he had his back to me.”“That’s a good thing, is it not? You didn’t want us to be seen.”Duncan sheathed his sword.“I suppose it is.No one would ever suspect us of riding with a mob of unsavory Gypsies.”Meg looked toward the beady-eyed man who’d been staring at her all day.“I can understand why.”It appeared Isaac had lost the trail in Peebles.Though it was a guess, he’d been fairly certain they had stopped to spend the night in the village.If they had continued on, they would have needed a fresh horse.And only God knew how they would have stayed awake all night.They.Though he’d seen only one set of tracks, Isaac felt confident the single horse was the one with Lady Meg and her knight.Did the maid already know the man with whom she was riding? Was there some other skullduggery at work here? Was the bastard aiming to profit from kidnapping Lady Meg himself? Isaac pinched the bridge of his nose.None of his misgivings mattered.Lord Percy had tasked him with uncovering the identity of the interloper, and that was all.Isaac could barely feel his toes, and he continually blew on his fingers to keep them from turning to ice.What he wouldn’t give for a steaming bowl of pottage or a tankard of hot cider.He’d camped in a copse of trees outside Peebles, not far from the main road.He’d nearly frozen his cods during the night, but he couldn’t risk letting a room in town.If Lady Meg recognized his face, he’d have little chance of trailing the maid and her bloody accomplice.This Scotsman had been heading west.Riding his horse in a zigzag tracking pattern, Isaac puzzled at the lack of new tracks.Had the blighter doubled back? That was a possibility, especially if he had Lady Meg in tow.Doubtless she’d need to return to her brother in North Berwick.Taking the road to Glasgow made no sense at all, but Isaac’s instincts told him to keep heading west.Now the trail had gone cold.The bloody Gypsies he’d just encountered spoke broken English at best.Hell, he had no idea if they’d seen a man and a woman on horseback or not.Isaac pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders.If he’d misjudged and chosen the wrong trail, perhaps one of his other men had been successful.But there was no turning back now.He may as well see out his plan.At least he’d let a room and treat himself to a warm meal in Glasgow.Isaac sighed.After that, he’d need to come up with a plan.Perhaps he’d take a detour through Carlisle on his way home to see if he could find employment there.Lord Percy would surely torture him if he returned with nothing.Chapter TenThe wagon shifted from a rocking motion to a steady rattle when the wheels hit the cobblestones of Glasgow.Duncan had never been so relieved to be rattled.The sooner he stepped out of the carriage, the better.However, considering the throbbing pain in his arse, there might not be any place he’d be able to find comfort.For the past hour or so, he’d been shivering from the cold.Christ, he never shivered.This whole mission was bungled from the outset.Fortunately, when the wagon rolled to a stop, daylight still shone through the canvas.Duncan stretched and stood, crouching under the low roof.He pushed open the rear flap and shaded his eyes.The sun shone low in the western sky.’Tis nearly sunset.The smell of fish and stagnant water wafted into the wagon.They’d stopped alongside Clyde Street, which meant he and Lady Meg wouldn’t have far to go to find a transport.He hopped down and grunted.Bollocks, the pain in his backside was worse than a cut with a blade.He didn’t care to be tended, but he’d send for the healer once they reached Kilchurn if it hadn’t improved.Straightening, he reached up to Meg.“M’lady.”She allowed him to lift her down without so much as a purse to her lips.Perhaps she was growing accustomed to him.When he again grunted, Meg gave him a concerned look.“Are you well?”Duncan tried not to grimace.“Never better.”“I do not believe you.”He offered her his elbow.“Complaining never did anyone a lick of good.” He nodded his thanks to the Gypsy family and led Meg toward the bustling pier, the odor of fish strong on the air.There were only a few small boats moored.Large ships couldn’t sail up the River Clyde, but they only needed to find a birlinn headed north, preferably to Inverary.There he could borrow his uncle’s horses and ride to Glen Orchy.“Come.” He inclined his head toward a galley being loaded with barrels.“Let us see who’s sailing north this eve.”The bell from Glasgow Cathedral knolled the hour as Duncan led Meg through the crowd of busy laborers, all smelling of sweat and seaweed.They stopped to allow a sailor to pass as he rolled a barrel up the gangway.Duncan pulled Meg behind him.“Ahoy there, mate.”The man rolling the barrel mumbled and continued on.A Highlander draped in red plaid stood upright from the deck and gave Duncan a deprecating once-over.“What is your business?”Duncan had forgotten about his shabby cloak.He looked far more like a peasant than the heir to a baronial estate—not that his appearance bothered him.“My wife and I are looking for a transport to Inverary.Would you be headed north?”Meg cleared her throat behind him.She’d made it clear she didn’t care to be passed off as his missus, but presently it was the best way to ensure her safety.The sailor squinted.“Aye, but we’re heading to Mull.Inverary would take us too far off course.”Duncan scanned up and down the pier and saw no other seaworthy boats moored, blast it all.“Are there any transports heading up Loch Fyne?”“Not certain.Even if there were, you’d not find any sailing until the morrow.”“I’d be willing to pay handsomely if you’d take us to Inverary.”“Cannot do it.This shipment is heading straight to Durart Castle.I could take you to Dunollie or Dunstaffnage.”Duncan scratched his chin
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