Free The Warrior Laird by Margo Maguire Page B

however, had shown his rage through the use of a stout birch switch to Maura’s backside when he discovered what she’d done. By then, Rosie had reached the age of two years, though she had not thrived like the Elliott children. Lord Aucharnie was disgusted with them both—at Rosie for being so backward, and at Maura for her defiance.
    The two sisters were outcasts within their own family. But at least they had each other.
    Maura walked on. The night was clear and there was sufficient moonlight for her to find her way without falling into the loch. She was a strong hiker, having walked all over the hills and glens ’round Aucharnie, and with an escort after being sent to Glasgow. She’d learned from experience that it was necessary to do her hiking off the beaten path or someone would surely find her.
    She pressed her tidy leather purse against her waist, reassuring herself that she had sufficient money for food and shelter during her travels, and eventually to take Rosie far away from Scotland. Once she was far enough away from Fort William, she was going to see how the highlander’s map fit against Argyll’s, and mayhap she would discover where to look for the treasure.
    Moving along as quickly as possible, Maura soon turned west where she took note of a shadowy village in the distance on her right. She kept her head down, stayed close to the cover of the trees that lined her path, and continued on the north bank of the loch.
    As practiced a hiker as she was, Maura had never before walked out in the middle of the night. The sound of the wind rustling through the trees unnerved her, and she huddled deeper within her cloak as she walked. And while she hoped that daylight would come soon, she wanted to put a good many miles between herself and the fort before Lieutenant Baird awoke and discovered she was gone.
    Thinking of her odious escort, Maura quickened her pace. She would walk as long as her legs would carry her, then find a place to rest while she hid from anyone who might come searching for her.
    D ugan woke from a restless sleep. ’Twas still dark, but his dream . . .
    He sat up abruptly and looked about the room. All his men were still asleep. As he should be.
    He rubbed the back of his neck. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones. He reached down below his knee and found his father’s dagger, his sgian dubh , still secure in his stocking. ’Twas the only thing of value—
    Dugan grabbed his pack and tore open the laces. He reached inside. “Where in hell is the map?”
    â€œWhat?” Lachann sat up and scrubbed his hand over his face as Dugan lit the lamps. “The map?”
    The other men awoke as Dugan looked in every corner, then searched under the cushions of each chair of the sitting room.
    It could not be lost.
    â€œYou put it in your pack,” Lachann said. “Did you wake up during the night and look at it?”
    â€œNo,” Dugan growled. He’d spent the entire night dreaming of a certain russet-haired beauty. “Someone took it from my pack.”
    â€œLaird, are ye saying someone slinked in here like a wee stoat and stole it from under our noses?” Archie asked.
    Aye, that was exactly what must have happened, and the thief might not have gotten far. Dugan started for the door, trying to think who might have heard Archie’s mention of the map and decided to search their belongings for it.
    Anyone in the taproom could have heard Archie before Dugan had quashed his loose talk. But who would have had the audacity to come into the room and dig inside his pack for it?
    Dugan stepped outside and looked all ’round, but saw no one. He realized the thief might still be inside the inn, sleeping contentedly until dawn when he could leave with impunity. Dugan had no authority to call for a search of the inn or any of the guests.
    He returned to the sitting room.
    Lachann stood with his arms folded across his