17
“Mistress Keira, milady.”
Dougie strode up to the two women in the courtyard as they were going toward the stables to go for a ride. His eyes lingered a moment longer on Adaira, and Keira’s womanly intuition did not miss the tiny smile, a mere twitch of the lips, that she sent back to him.
He bowed. “Murdoch has asked me if you are both well?” he asked. “He is very anxious about both o’ ye.”
“Yes, we are,” Keira took his arm, then led him onto the staircase, where they climbed slowly as they talked. “I have a plan, but the word must spread very quickly because I do not wish to leave anyone behind. The laird is going to come and question you soon. I have put as many obstacles in his way as I can by keeping him very busy and having a lot of visitors in to see him, and not always welcome ones.” She grinned, then her face became solemn again. “Let me tell you what I have in mind.”
By this time, they had reached the first tier of turrets, and while Keira stood on one side of him, Adaira stood on the other, so close that their bodies were almost touching.
As Keira explained her plan, Dougie listened and nodded, occasionally nodding and asking some questions, then he frowned.
“How long dae I have tae dae this, mistress?” he asked, frowning.
“One day,” Keira told him.
“One day?” Dougie’s normally deep voice was a squeak.
Keira nodded firmly. “You know how fast servants’ gossip spreads?”
He nodded.
Keira went on. “That is how we will spread it: by word of mouth. Take some of your most trusted men and make it spread even faster. Tell it to all the crofters and have them tell it to their friends. Before long, it will be everywhere.”
“What if we get to the ears of the wrong people?” Dougie asked anxiously.
“Most of the guards are with you, are they not?” Keira raised her eyebrows in a question.
“Aye,” he replied.
“I am quite sure there are enough of you to deal with any who try to stop us.” Keira was confident. “Now, should you not be on your way?”
Bemused, Dougie looked at her, saluted, and walked away, and Keira watched her friend follow him with her eyes. They were enormously sad.
“You can always get an annulment of your marriage to my father,” Keira said gently. “Dougie would make a fine husband.”
“He would,” Adaira agreed. “And if our plan does not work, we will elope.”
“But you would still be married to my father!” Keira cried.
“No one will know that,” Adaira pointed out. “I love Dougie. He means the world to me, and I cannot live with your father any longer.”
“Can you try the legal way first?” Keira asked. “I would not like to see you both shamed and disgraced.”
“Of course,” Adaira replied, “but we will have to be out of this castle first, and I will not mind if I never see the place again!”
* * *
Dinner, as usual, was an icily polite affair. That evening the cook, Mrs. Donnelly, had made one of her famous duck pies but had obeyed Keira’s instructions and made a small adjustment to the recipe. A mixture of the herb dwale, with alcohol and a few other ingredients, was added to the laird’s portion of the pie.
The ladies watched as he slowly drifted off to sleep. They could have achieved the same effect with whiskey, but not so quickly. The laird knew exactly what was happening to him just before he passed out since he roundly cursed both of them, but he could do nothing about it. In a few more moments he was soundly asleep, and the two women took a moment to gaze at him while they finished their pie in a leisurely fashion.
“He is drooling,” Adaira observed, as a small pool of saliva began to spread over the table. Then she giggled and clapped her hands gleefully.
“So he is,” Keira agreed, then she laughed, too, and in a moment they were indulging in a fit of laughter that neither of them could stop.
“Look at him!” Keira was pointing to the laird’s wine glass, which had tipped over and was coloring his cheek a fetching shade of burgundy and dripping onto his white shirt, which was the same color.