“Then the only thing that makes sense is Cameron somehow managed to abduct them,” Rory said slowly, not wanting to even think of the possibility. “He gained entrance at Strae Castle by bribing one of the new maids—”
“We have nae new servants,” Sima replied.
“And if anyone is disloyal, he or she kens well the consequences,” the laird added.
“Aye, but the fact is that Cameron and his men are gone. Did they leave because of the weather or because they had gotten what they came for?” Rory turned toward the door. “I am going back outside. There may be something I missed outside the walls.”
“Tracks will have been covered with this blowing snow,” Calum said.
“It doesna matter,” Rory replied. “I may still find something.”
He grabbed his plaid from the hook near the door and grimaced as he noted Juliana’s cloak still there. If that damn bastard had taken her wearing just a gown… He cursed profoundly as he opened the door and strode out.
The snow was falling so heavily he could hardly see the barbican from the castle steps. Calum had been right. There would be no trace of tracks, but there were other things to look for. If there were a trace of evidence that Cameron had been at the walls—fresh scratches on the stone from climbing, a rock or two that had come loose, a bit of earth loosened and not yet frozen solid—he would find them. But first, he would question the man at the gate and find out who else had done duty.
He was nearly to the steps that led up to the barbican when he thought he heard something. It was faint, and for a moment he thought it was simply the sound of the wind. And then he heard it again. An odd lament that floated high above him.
He looked up, his hand shielding his eyes from the swirling snow, but he could see nothing. Shaking his head, he started climbing the steps. What was he thinking? That a ghostie was floating about, wailing in distress? Then he heard it once more. And this time he could faintly make out words.
“Help me! Help us!”
He jerked around, staring upward once more. Was that something moving high on the tower battlement? He couldn’t make it out clearly, but he heard the call once more.
Leaping from the steps, he raced back into the castle.
Chapter Sixteen
Rory burst into the library, startling Calum and the laird.
“The tower! They’re in the tower!”
“What?” The laird rose from behind his desk.
Calum stopped pacing. “Why would they—”
“I doona ken, but I heard Juliana calling for help. With this weather we doona have time to waste. Where’s the entrance to—”
“This way.” The laird strode past him before he’d finished speaking. Rory followed him, Calum hard on his heels.
They went down a corridor off the main hallway. It was narrower, with no doors opening to rooms. Only one wall sconce had a torch lit, so he assumed this led only to the tower. The laird made a sharp turn, momentarily disappearing from sight, but when Rory came around the corner, he saw the entrance door only a few feet away. Why the women would want to go up there on such a blustery day was a mystery, but one that could wait to be solved. Right now, they needed to get to them.
The laird reached for the latch, and Rory prayed they had not bolted it from the inside. To his relief, the door creaked open, and that’s when he noticed that the dust on the floor had been disturbed before. There was a clear line where the bottom of the door had scraped against the stone. None of the servants searching the rooms would probably have thought to come this way. Rory swore beneath his breath. If he’d inspected the castle himself, he would have seen this. Instead, he’d wasted time elsewhere. How long had the women been up there in the freezing cold?
Rory sprinted up the spiraling stairs, nearly running over MacDonnell, who had come to a stop at the top. A narrow platform in front of the door was barely large enough for the two of them. Rory knew from the way the old part of Strae Castle had been built that such a small space was meant to keep enemies from gathering to join forces to break down the door. It opened outward and most likely could be bolted shut from outside as well. He prayed again that it wasn’t stuck on the other side.
“Is it locked?” he asked as the laird rattled the handle.
“I doona think so.” He pushed at the latch. “It seems to be loose, though.”
“Loose? Let me try.”
The other man lifted a brow but stepped aside. Rory knew he had practically insulted him with his demand, but he’d make amends later.
“Juliana!” he yelled, hoping she could hear him through the thick door as he rattled the handle, too. It did indeed feel loose. And then he heard her faint voice.
“Rory? Is that you?”
“Aye. I’m here. We’ll have ye out in nae time.” At least he hoped they would. What in hell was wrong with the handle? It felt like it wasn’t attached. “Juliana?” he called again.
