“Did you check the kitchen?” If the lad was hungry, he’d go in search of food.

“No.”

“What about the great hall?”

“Why would we look there?” McFarlane removed his jacket and wrung the water from his sleeve.

“Because he’s a wee lad, and swords and guns are hanging on the walls. That would tempt any child, especially one with a big imagination like Sammy.”

“Very good.” McFarlane let himself out of the pool house and made himself scarce.

Elise swiped the towel across her hair to soak up the excess water. Tossing a coverup over her drenched swimsuit, she dropped her ever-present sgian dubh inside her pocket and slipped into her wellies.

Following the general direction McFarlane had taken, she exited the pool house and started for the castle. These constant interruptions had worn thin, especially since she had offered a generous bonus to the staff who tended the lad.

She had no experience with children. That’s why she was paying them.

Scowling fiercely, she took the fastest way back to the castle. Cutting directly across the lawn and her mother’s prized flower beds, she left a trail of flattened greenery in her wake.

A fine picture of a marquess’s daughter she made, hair dripping, cover-up sticking, and her rubber boots hitting her bare legs mid-calf. She let herself inside the castle and toed off her wellies while water and mud puddled on the boot room’s mat.

Barefoot, she entered the great hall. The weapons of her ancestors rose above her on the walls in starbursts and other creative patterns. She clenched her fists, and steam fairly emanated from her ears. Her eyes landed on a nearby battle axe, and the temptation to imbed it into something precious welled up inside her.

She’d give Sammy a good talking to when she found him. Her eyes swept the space, hunting for missing weapons. If she were a child, this would be her first stop—with the kitchen a close second and the loch a definite third.

All the guns on the lower level appeared accounted for, as were the battle axes and circular shields. She rounded the armored horse and stopped in her tracks. The mace had gone missing from the saddle. The weapon was probably too dull to pierce Sammy’s flesh, but it could still hurt him if he wasn’t careful.

“Sammy, I know you’re in here.” Elise raised her voice to reach the corners of the vast hall. “Put the mace back on the saddle. It’s not a toy.”

Nothing moved or stirred. Not fooled in the least, her eyes swept the corner closest to the armored horse. Sammy had that mace, and he couldn’t have gone far—the weapon was too heavy for a boy his age to lug about.

A floorboard groaned behind her a half second before a strong hand gripped her left arm and yanked.