"Your Lordship," Duncan says. "I can see that we are all tired. My wife especially after that hard trip. We shall not keep you any longer. You have been most generous."

Dr. Gray moves to help Lovat to his feet as a servant takes the old man's arm firmly. "Yes, an old man like me gets tired very quickly," Lovat says, relieved that he can be excused. "And the chill seems to have brought on a cough. I should attend to that before the night sets in."

"Well," says Elspeth. "It is fortuitous that your doctor is present."

Dr. Gray finally smiles genuinely at the challenge. An adversary of some real courage and wit. And beauty. At last. The old lord's eyes slightly open in amazement at the sight of it. "But will you not spend the night, I've certainly rooms aplenty," Lovat says, sure he will be rebuffed, as he swings his arms free of the help.

"Thank you, but I must decline," Duncan says. "Lord Sutherland has paid for our lodgings at the inn in town. We'd be remiss not to see his money well spent."

"Of course. I'd expect the same," Lovat says. "Though seldom get it," he adds with another light laugh. Excellently timed to another cough.

As they move towards the door, servants and sleepy guards suddenly come to life. Like mice. "It has been a most pleasurable evening, Mr. Hamilton," Lovat says as he begins to ascend dimly lit stairs. But Duncan notices that at the top of the flight is a shadowy figure. It is only the glint of metal sword that reveals a reiver standing ready. But for what he wonders.

"And please remember that I am at your disposal for anything you may require in the matter of your missing friend," Lovat says, stepping upon creaking wood. One step noisier than the last. "I trust you will find that it is nothing more than a young man off on his adventures. A requirement of youth."

And with that the old man melds into the deliberate darkness, barely visible save for the candles the servants holds tightly. His face slicing away into black as he gives one slight, very slight turn back down to his guests. The look is not one of manners.

As the small group steps outside, Dr. Gray turns his gaze up into the cold sky. Face fearless and jutting into the cutting wind. Looking beyond the dark overgrowth and black, twisting wood that frames the landscape harshly. That separates it distinctly from the speckled, clean sky. Even as cloudy fingers begin to stretch across the stars, blotting them out in a torturously slow undulating wave. The physician seems calm and assured, and has not noticed that Duncan and Elspeth have mounted the coach without a word, or even feign a look towards him.

"The coachman knows the inn," the doctor says, still looking off. "Keep straight to your business tonight. As his Lordship and even your lady have rightly said, temptation can be an illness -- especially on a dark night."

Duncan, bored and frustrated completely, gently taps the driver to be on his way. He slips his hand gently into Elspeth's, but keeps his head faced forward. To look back might be misconstrued as consideration of a sort. And that he would never do. As the coach is whipped off, splashing through the encroaching tide, Dr. Gray brings his stare from the outer distance down to Elspeth. As cold and dark as the night, his eyes see beyond this world it seems. To some place men should fear to look.