Free The Night Side by Melanie Jackson Page A

to journey back south almost immediately, I fear.”
    “Aye?”
    “The remaining Balfour men must be brought home, of course. I suspect you’ll find them somewhere near Blar-na-leine.”
    “And how shall you arrange their freedom from the queen’s service? She’ll be reluctant to let any of her men go,” MacJannet said. He was not challenging Colin, only seeking enlightenment.
    “I believe that the Bishop of Orkney may be of some help. He can probably persuade the regent that the royal child’s interests are better served by allowing the men to return north and defend the castle.”
    MacJannet blinked. “I didn’t know that you included the bishop among your many acquaintances. You generally do not involve yourself in religious matters.”
    Colin smiled. “He doesn’t like Beaton, you see. And any enemy of the cardinal can be made good use of.” Seeing MacJannet frown, Colin added: “My friend, it is nice to know that I still have some secrets from you.”
    MacJannet shook his head. Plainly he did not agree. “I cannot say that I care for this plan. There are too many variables to calculate, and any of them may go disastrously awry.”
    “Nor do I love it,” Colin agreed. “But it is the only one that has presented itself, so what choice have we? You can’t be suggesting that we leave these innocents to the MacLeod’s tender mercies.”
    MacJannet shook his head.
    “At least the castle is sound enough,” he said after a moment, trying for something cheerful to say. “I doubt that anything larger than a hare could get in or out of it with the yett in place—and not even that if the gates are barred. They look strong enough to hold back the ocean.”
    Colin gave his friend a playful look. “I hope that you are wrong, my friend, for I fear that we are going to face some heavy rain and I’d prefer it escape the castle, for I would as soon not get my feet wet when I explore the dungeons this evening.”
    “You won’t like drowning, either,” MacJannet said unhappily.
    “You think the dungeons may flood when the tide is in?” Colin clarified. “But I shouldn’t think the tide would often get that high. And it will not, unfortunately, rain so much until December. I’ll likely end up playing gowff every bloody day.”
    MacJannet shook his head. “I was speaking of the drop-hole down to the sea. It is almost certain that they have one. No Scottish dungeon is truly complete without one,” he added without irony.
    “You have a point. It has to be examined, though. A sea egress is an improbable choice of entry for a malefactor, but it is something else to investigate in order to say with certainty that the castle is secure.” From human enemies, at least.
    “It is best examined from a safe distance,” MacJannet warned. “And with a torch.”
    “Of course, my friend. Of course. I’ll use every caution.”
    MacJannet snorted, not at all reassured. “You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

C HAPTER F IVE
    They had not saild a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
Until she espied his cloven foot,
And she wept right bitterlie.
    — “The Ballad of the Daemon Lover”
    Frances watched tiredly as one by one the ribbons of dying light were pulled down from the clouding sky and tucked below the horizon. It was night again. At last their daily labors were at an end. Only the cook and sculleries still had heavy work before them; she had ordered that as sumptuous a dinner as the larder could bear was to be prepared that evening in honor of the new arrivals.
    All afternoon while Frances had worked at the loom, her thoughts had been dwelling upon her new Master of the Gowff. Silly of her to be so distracted by him. Even though he was obviously of good birth, it was not as though he was a potential suitor, particularly not in her present situation when she already had too many men pursuing her. Still, she dwelled upon his face. She was even annoyingly weak of knee and careless of hand, which