Kelpie knew that his coolness would enrage Argyll, who repeatedly fled danger and was about to do it again. This would go hard with Alex. She must see! There was a hole in the wall, just at the corner, where a stone had fallen out, and surely no one would be noticing a wee eye in the dark!
She applied the eye to the hole. Sure enough, Argyll’s pale face was twisted with anger, the habitual sneer deeper than usual. And Alex had that faintly amused smile on his face, despite bound hands and swollen foot, and despite his fear.
“Your name?” asked Argyll harshly.
“Alexander MacDonald of Ardochy on Loch Garry,” replied Alex proudly.
“So. Son of a chieftain, then. And what were you doing skulking in Lochaber?”
“Nursing a sprained ankle,” replied Alex, still with a faint smile, “and hoping to be overlooked by your men.”
“You knew we were here, then?” Argyll pounced upon the idea like a man looking for an excuse to unleash a storm of venom. And there was no doubt he had his victim. Kelpie’s revenge would be better than she had ever dreamed! She pressed closer to her peephole to see if Alex’s face would betray fear. But he just lifted a sandy eyebrow.
“Could anyone not be knowing you were here, with the smoke of burning homes rising like the plague?” he retorted reasonably.
“You are one of Montrose’s men!” Argyll said accusingly, and Kelpie found herself thinking of the things Alex might answer to that. He would never claim to be a Covenanter, proud fool that he was, but he could say he was not with Montrose, that he never had been, that he had had a quarrel with the Camerons—any number of things. But he said none of them. Did he not know that his silence would seem an admission of guilt? Kelpie fumed at his stupidity before she remembered that—this time—she was on Argyll’s side.