Ella stood, wishing she had her trousers and tunic back from being laundered. “If I can scale a wall in a gown and stays, I can sneak into a bedchamber,” she said to Boo, who batted at a ball of rags Ella had torn the night before.

Tonight would be the perfect time to escape if there was an exit from the room. All the Sinclairs would be well into their whisky, toasting the bastard who had slaughtered so many Sutherlands. It seemed to be early afternoon, the muted light coming in from the small open windows way up high in the tower peak. Reaching under the bed, she dragged out a few ropes she’d abandoned last night because they were too thin to hold her. She tied them tightly around her thighs so the skirt wouldn’t rustle or hinder her. She’d learned the art of silence as she grew under her father’s suspicious eye.

“You stay here,” she whispered to Boo, scratching the playful cat. The kitten blinked at her but went back to chewing on the end of the rag while kicking it with her back paws.

Ella moved to the door and pressed her ear to the oak. Her goal was to arm herself and discover a way out if possible, returning once it grew dark and the Sinclairs were snoring away in their own slobber.

With a fortifying breath, Ella turned the key she’d left in the lock and listened for the slight click of the latch moving within. She could relock it from the outside, but she hoped to be gone for only a few minutes and might need a quick reentry.

The laughter was louder in the stairwell and would hide any stray sounds she might make. The night would be quieter, but she wasn’t ready to attempt escape without at least one weapon and Boo. And she would find Gilla in the herd of black horses where Cain’s brother, Gideon, had likely put her. That required the cover of darkness and drunken guards.

Ella peeked around the curve of the granite block wall. No guard in sight. Hugging the interior edge, she stepped down slowly, peeking as she went. After three more turns, she spotted the grand inset door that guarded the threshold of the chief’s chambers. Her heart pounded hard like when she’d sneak around Dunrobin at night, hiding from her father’s guards.

Sliding flat against the door that sported a horse carved into the hard wood, Ella pressed the lever. The latch released, and the door swung inward. Thank the Mother Mary. She slipped inside, shutting it with barely a click.