He got to a big boulder in the middle of the pathway and stopped, looking both ways. They could go left or right. Right led to a long, narrow pass, and left, the way they’d come, led past the MacLeans. “Where are the horses?” Bannon asked.
Louie glared at him. “Are you serious?”
What the devil did that mean? “Of course I’m serious. Do you really think we will get that far on foot?”
“I really want to plant you a facer right now,” Louie hissed at him. “They are on the other side of the men.”
The blood rushed from Bannon’s face. Blast! This escape just became a lot more difficult. “How would I know? I was unconscious. Why didn’t you say so?”
With a shake of her head, she turned and walked back the way they came.
Bannon followed, and together they tiptoed through the sleeping MacLeans. It was like something right out of a comedy, or perhaps it was a tragedy.
Definitely a tragedy. Any minute they are going to wake, and we are doomed.
Oh shut up, Timothy! Galaxy help him, he was arguing with himself while trying to navigate a veritable minefield. There were men everywhere, and he was afraid any sound would wake them, and then what? They were, to quote Timothy, “Doomed.”
Two of the Highlanders stretched out in a narrower spot of the plateau, and Bannon had no choice but to step over them. He lifted his leg and stepped over one and nearly collapsed as he put all his weight on his hurt leg. Only sheer willpower kept him upright. With his heart beating double time, Bannon stepped over the next man, who was curled up like an infant with his hands under his head, using his kilt as a blanket.
The slumbering heathen rolled over, just as Bannon planted his uninjured leg on the other side of him. Only seconds away from collision, Bannon hopped forward to avoid the contact, and if not for Louie being right behind him and grabbing his arm, he would have fallen on the man. Somehow they both managed to clear the minefield undetected, and Bannon exhaled the breath he’d been holding. His heart was still galloping in his chest, but he didn’t suppose there was any way to stop that. His heart probably wouldn’t slow until they left this blasted planet.
Up ahead the path narrowed again, but beyond it were horses. Oh, thank galaxy. Bannon slowed and stopped behind a boulder jutting out from the mountain and peeked around.
Louie stopped behind him, touching his back.
The horses were all tied to a central rope strung across the pass and anchored in the rocks with metal spikes. The area was wider than the area they’d just left, but it was open. There didn’t appear to be anyone watching the horses.
Probably because the MacLeans were mean bastards and no one would dare touch their horses.
Bannon silently agreed with Timothy. That was why they had to get away quickly and quietly. Bannon unhooked a horse and motioned for Louie to do the same. They walked the horses forward, away from the others, and mounted. Leading the way, Bannon rode at a slow pace until they made it several yards away, then he dug his heels in, trusting Louie to follow. He had no idea where they were but he knew he needed to head toward the west. That is where they’d come from. Where the crash was.
They made it past the cliffs, where the mountain gave way to hills and tall grass. It looked like the tall grass they’d traversed to get away from the wreck. Glancing up at the sky, he searched for the moon. He slowed and pulled out his pocket watch. Squinting at the face, he thought it read 1:20 a.m.
“Why are you stopping? What does it matter what time it is?” Louie asked as she came up beside him.
“I’m trying to see what time it is so I can see how long we’ve been here.”
“That makes no sense. I think you hit your head a lot harder than we thought.”
Bannon sighed. To be honest he wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing. He was no sailor, and he didn’t know this planet, but he hoped it worked like Regelence. “Our sun and moon rise in the east and set in the west, right?”
“Right.” Louie frowned at him. “So?”
“When we were walking away from the wreck, the sun was behind us before the storm started. That was over eight hours ago. So maybe that’s west?”
Louie shrugged. “I don’t know, but now I see what you are getting at, and it’s worth a try.” She looked up, searching the sky. “So if their moon and sun are like ours, then at midnight it should be overhead. Is it past midnight?”
“I honestly have no idea.” It was enough to make him want to pull out his hair and scream.
“Does Skye even have twenty-four-hour days like we do?”
“Damn, blast, bloody hell, and meteor dust!” Bannon gritted out under his breath. He had not thought of that.
“Uh-huh….” Louie turned her horse in a circle, still staring up at the sky, then looked at him. “What now?”
Bannon peered up, thinking. “Well, the glow is coming from behind that cloud. Let’s just track the moon and see if it will take us to the wreck.” At this point what did they have to lose? They couldn’t just sit around here, gawking at the cloudy sky.
“I don’t….” She stopped, looking up, and searched around them frantically. “Do you hear that?”
“All I hear is crick—” Bloody hell, that sounded like horse hooves. Bannon looked around, trying to locate the sound.
Three riders raced toward them from around the other side of the mountain.
Forgetting all about the moon and its location, Bannon wheeled his horse around in the opposite direction. “Let’s go!” He heeled his horse and took off in a dead-run, with Louie right beside him.
Even with their head start, the men gained on them. One of them was shouting something, but Bannon didn’t wait around to see what. He leaned over his horse’s neck, dug in his heels, and hoped the horse didn’t step in any holes. The wind whipped past him, burning his face and eyes. He turned back over his shoulder to get a look at the men following.
They were close, only twenty yards or so away. How had they gotten so close?
Panic seized Bannon, and he turned back around. They had made it too far to go back now. The MacLeans would surely kill them this time. Glancing to his side, he found Louie in the same position, leaning over her mount, with her hair streaming out behind her.
She turned toward him. He couldn’t make out her face clearly, but he felt her worry buffeting him.
“Stop, we are trying tae help ye!” a voice carried on the wind behind them.
Ha! No way was he falling for that. Bannon kept going, with no idea where he was heading. Blast this planet! There wasn’t even anywhere to hide. Just desolate land with weeds.
The man in the lead closed in. His voice rang out again, and he rode up on Bannon’s other side. “Stop! We willnae hurt ye!”
“Balderdash!” Bannon yelled aback. “Go to the devil!” The next thing he knew, his horse was slowing. Why was he slowing?
The man beside him had taken hold of his reins.
Bloody hell. Louie screamed but kept going. The other men slowed with Bannon and the man holding his reins.
“Keep going!” he shouted at Louie and bent forward and bit the man’s hand.
The man roared and let go of the reins.
Bannon heeled his horse, but before he got far, something hit him in the side. He plummeted through the air, and the sensation of falling barely registered before he hit the ground with a heavy weight on top of him, and rolled. He just kept rolling over and over.
When he stopped, he was underneath another body—a much larger, much heavier body. Bannon stared up into the shadowed face above him and froze.
This was no MacLean.
§ § § §
Wrestling with a wildcat would have been easier. Ciaran had already been bitten once, and he was pretty sure he had a few scratches as well. At this point he didn’t know which way was up. Limbs were everywhere, punching him in the sides, the face. There was a heel thundering down on the back of his thighs. Good heavens, the little demon beneath him might not have Ciaran’s s
trength, but he had persistence and determination in bulk. The blows by themselves did not have enough leverage for real pain, but the accumulation of them was not pleasant. And the ground wasn’t exactly soft. They’d rolled over rocks and Lord knew what else. Ciaran was going to have dozens of bruises tomorrow morning.
Red bucked his head up, aiming for Ciaran’s face.
Whoa! Enough was enough. Out of patience and out of breath, Ciaran jerked his head out of the way and rolled off Red.
Unfortunately, Red bounded up seconds after him, still swinging. He all but frothed at the mouth, even in the dim light of the cloud-covered moon. The wildness in his expression stated more than words that he fought for his life, or so he assumed. And no wonder, after being kidnapped by MacLeans.
Sympathy assailed Ciaran as he jumped back, avoiding a rather vicious uppercut. Holding his hands up in the universal sign of surrender, he said softly, “Calm down. I’m nae going tae hurt ye. We were coming tae free ye from the MacLeans when we saw ye escape.”
The lass reined in about six feet away and slid down from her horse. She ran forward and plastered her back against Red’s, and then she too put up her fists, ready to fight. It said a lot about her and her relationship with Red that she’d come back for him. Were they lovers? Siblings? Together they looked like a couple of vicious kittens, too cute to take seriously, but Ciaran knew for a fact that the red kitten had teeth. They were not to be underestimated.
Ciaran held his ground but met Red’s gaze as best he could with it being dark. They stayed there for several moments, studying each other.
Red had to be exhausted, and he was a little more banged up than Ciaran had first thought. His sleeve was torn nearly off, exposing quite a bit of his shoulder. The lad could barely stand straight. He kept shifting his weight off his left leg, and every time he put weight on it, he grimaced. His hair was wild, in a tangle about his head and matted with blood. But his eyes were fierce and met Ciaran’s with a fire in them.
Again that pesky feeling of rightness niggled at Ciaran, but he pushed it aside. He didn’t trust Red. Red was desperate and desperate men were dangerous. He might be an enemy of the MacLeans, and he was more than likely not with the groups that had been attacking their people, but he was still an outsider.
The lass spoke from behind Red. “What do you mean you were coming to free us from the MacLeans?”
“We saw smoke over the horizon and went tae investigate. That’s when we saw ye with the MacLeans.”
“The MacLeans are nae friends of ours,” Angus spat out with an abundance of disgust. He and Ram came to a halt a few feet to Ciaran’s left. Angus held Horace’s reins, and Ram had the reins of Red’s mount.
“But why would you help us? You don’t know us,” she asked.
“We were hoping ye can help us in return.”
“How so?” Red finally spoke, and his voice was a nice smooth baritone but full of suspicion. As if to illustrate that, he reached behind him and wrapped his arm around the lass’s waist, pulling her closer to protect her or perhaps to assure himself she was there. His gaze darted back and forth from Ciaran to Ram and to Angus.
“We hoped you can give us some information.”
“About?”
“We want tae ken about the building and the outsiders coming here.”
“We don’t know anything about that. Our ship wrecked here, and we just want to go home.”
So we’re going to play that game. Ciaran shrugged. He was convinced Red knew something, but he had time. It was doubtful these two were going anywhere anytime soon. “Whether ye do or whether ye dinna makes nae difference. We still would’ve helped ye.” Which was the absolute truth.
The lass turned and whispered something to Red. He shook his head, then started whispering furiously to her.
She put her hands on her hips, her pose indignant.
Red whispered something else. This went on for several moments, with them seemingly arguing back and forth. They reminded Ciaran of his younger brother and his ward. Ian and Fiona were always at each other’s throats.
Angus shot Ciaran a look.
Ram watched them both with a smirk.
Again Ciaran shrugged, then cleared his throat.
Red’s hand shot out, holding up one finger in a most indignant manner as he continued to converse with the lass.
A smile niggled at Ciaran’s lips. He had to hand it to the bonnie lad—he was a brave wee thing and bold as his lovely hair. “Ahem.”
It took several more moments, but finally Red dropped his hand and glared at him. “If you are truly friend instead of foe, I’d like you to give us both a dagger and take us back to the site where our ship crashed.” He sounded cultured and educated, as if he were asking for refreshment rather than a weapon, and his accent was similar to Patrick’s. It made Ciaran glad he’d sent Greer to the Campbell’s to tell Patrick about these outsiders.
Blinking in surprise, Ciaran started to shake his head to say no—he didn’t trust them—but Angus waved his hand, garnering Ciaran’s attention.
“That seems fair enough, Ciaran.”
Ram whirled on Angus. “Ye bum’s oot the windae, it is!”
Truth be told, Ciaran thought so too. Angus had clearly lost his mind. Then again, Ciaran wasn’t certain of his own sanity at this point. He should be home by now, not haggling with a feisty redhead who was probably more trouble than he was worth. Aunt Agatha always did say he liked to do things the hard way.
Angus waved away Ram’s protest. “Ye’d want the same thing. Besides, it isna like their light weapons,” he said meaningfully.
And he did have a point. What harm was a dagger, when they all had swords. The hell with it. Honestly, he couldn’t blame Red for wanting some protection, and they didn’t have time to stand around and argue about it. There was lightning in the distance, and it looked like there was another storm coming.
With a sigh, Ciaran pulled the dagger and its sheath off the belt at his waist and held them out by the blade. “Here ye go, Red.”
Red cocked his head slightly, then stepped forward cautiously and took the dagger. “My name’s Bannon, by the way, not Red.”
Bannon? Naw, it didn’t fit him like Red did. Ciaran walked over to Angus and took his offered dagger and his reins. He brought the dagger back to Red and introduced them. “My name is Ciaran MacKay. This is Ramsey and Angus.”
With a nod of acknowledgment, Red took Angus’s dagger and handed it to the lass.
She promptly stuck it in her cleavage and said, “My name is Louisa. It’s nice to meet all of you. Now can we get going? I don’t really want to wait around for the MacLeans to wake and discover us gone.”
“Excellent point, lass.” Ciaran tossed his reins over Horace’s head and mounted. He waited for Red and Louisa to do the same, then led the way. “Do ye ken exactly where the crash is?”
“No, we were hoping you did.”
§ § § §
Ciaran stared out at the wreckage strewn across a hundred yards or so, and a chill went through him. Och, but it was amazing anyone survived. The ship was in two different pieces, and there wasn’t much left of either piece. It was also not like the ships that had been attacking them. Still, Ciaran wasn’t ready to concede that Red and Louisa didn’t know anything about them either.
The biggest chunk of ship was still smoking, or perhaps it was only fog from the heat mixing with the cool rain? The ground was raised up around the front, where the ship had burrowed its way into the ground like a mole. The section had been bashed in from the impact. The people who had not burned were probably crushed. The mangled wreckage was burnt out, as if a fire had spread throughout this part of the ship, probably after the crash, because the back section was char-free.
In addition to that, the back part of the wreckage still held its shape. It had a row of upright seats, and the windows on each side were still intact. It looked as though on the first impact—there were at least two other impacts, judging from the hu
ge crater in the ground between the two pieces and the disturbed dirt—it had been ripped completely away from the rest of the ship. The space inside was small but relatively untouched except for some things littering the floor.
“Oh, galaxy!” Red practically melted off his horse, looking like he was going to hit the ground and sink into a puddle, but at the last moment he stopped. He lifted his chin, put his shoulders back, and took a deep breath, though still a shiver wracked his slim body.
Ciaran’s heart went out to him. He’d said during the journey there that he wasn’t close to the others on board, but it didn’t really matter how well acquainted you were. Ciaran had lost many men in battle, some had been friends, others he’d barely known. The fact that you were with them when they died left a hollowness inside that never went away. There was also that sense of what if? Seeing this wreckage, Red had to be thinking what if…?
“Ye were in the back half, werenae ye?” Ciaran asked as he too dismounted.
Red nodded.
Louisa got off her horse and walked to Red, slid her hand into his, and braced herself with a deep inhalation of air.
A light flared to life behind them.
Ciaran turned to find Ram and Angus lighting torches. The sentiment was nice, but it might not be a good idea. Red and Louisa might not want to see better. Ciaran wasn’t at all sure he did.
In the distance, lightning lit up the dark clouds, and a soft rumble of thunder purred.
“We should do whatever it is ye intend tae do, Red. There’s another storm brewing.”
When Red didn’t move or even acknowledge that Ciaran had spoken, Ciaran touched his shoulder.
Ram came forward with a torch, and Red turned, looking right at Ciaran.
Ciaran’s breath caught, and a tingle raced down his spine. That same sense of connection he’d felt on the cliff when he’d first spotted Red engulfed him. Green. His eyes were bright green like the grass in the valley meadow in front of Lochwood Castle. They were also watery and dazed.
For several seconds, Red stood there, staring back at Ciaran through a glassy haze, and then he blinked and those gorgeous eyes focused. “What?” he whispered.
My Highland Laird: Sci-Regency Book 5 Page 6