Out in the hallway, she heard a voice. Her heart leapt in her throat. Had Ross followed her? Her heart beat wildly and her gaze found the window Robert had climbed in before. She wished with all her heart that he was with her now. She would feel safer.

There are no princes ready to ride up on a white horse. If I want to talk to Robert, I will have to go to him. She kicked off her slippers, jammed her feet into some sensible boots, and scooped up her cloak.

She blew out all of the lamps, plunging the bedchamber into darkness. Her heart pounding, she opened the window; then with a deep breath she climbed onto the windowsill and stepped out onto the ledge. The icy wind clutched at her, swirling her cloak and stealing all of her warmth. Moira took a hesitant step.

Was that a sliver of light through his curtains? She took another step, releasing her hold on her own window as she did so.

Robert had claimed that the ledge wasn’t narrow, but it certainly seemed so, especially in the dark. Well, she’d just have to take her chances. It was fortunate that the rough-hewn stone would provide decent handholds.

She edged along, one foot after another, and soon she was halfway there. One step. Another one. Another—her foot hit something hard, and for a horrible instant she teetered before regaining her balance.

Panting, she looked down to find a gargoyle sneering up at her at the edge of the ledge. Gritting her teeth, she stepped over it. Her heart pounded in her ears. She was so far up, and there was nothing to break her fall if she slipped.

God, what had she been thinking? This was crazy! The gravity of her situation held her immobile, her feet seemingly locked into place.

The wind whipped up the castle face and sent her robe and skirts swirling, cold air rippling up her bared legs. Damn it, Moira, move!

She took a deep breath, and began to edge toward Robert’s window again. One step. Another. Yet another. She sang along in her mind. One step. Another. Yet another. Finally, she found herself right where she wished to be.

She reached down to tap on the glass, then realized she could hear two masculine voices inside the room.

She pressed against the cold stone wall. What do I do now?

CHAPTER 20

A letter from Triona Hurst MacLean to her sister Lady Caitlyn Hurst MacLean, a month ago.

Hugh wishes to go to Edinburgh and then to London in the near future, which I would enjoy above all things. Pray see if you and Alexander and the children can come, as well. It will give us the opportunity to find out what is going on with those brothers of ours. They are too close with their information, sharing nothing unless you drag it out of them.