“I feel as if I’m about to fall,” she confided, not without a bit of worry in her voice.
“I’ll no let you fall, lass.” His arm tightened around her. “But swing your leg around astride, you’ll feel more solid on him.”
He slowed, only briefly, while Ada did as he’d suggested. It took two tries while her own fingers clung to his arm, but she managed it, despairing of the greater amount of skin now exposed as she sat astride. However, she did immediately know more security in this position.
For the first time, Ada considered the other people of this riding party. Four soldiers rode in front, followed by William Wallace and another man, with Jamie MacKenna and Ada bringing up the rear. She knew also that two more men on horseback had ridden out fast and far when they’d first taken off. Ada gave a brief thought to the fact that when she had first seen Jamie MacKenna at Dornoch, he’d been surrounded by soldiers all bearing the red and blue and gold MacKenna colors. No one in their present party sported these or any colors but for Jamie’s tartan, draped around his wide shoulders.
“Who are these men?” She asked the MacKenna, turning her head to the side. “They wear no colors.”
“They are loyal to Wallace, and to Scotland’s freedom, but have no familial connections —or any that remain. When all the supporters finally gather, there will be dozens and dozens of different plaids and banners, as all come together to end this war.”
“When will that be?”
“When Wallace feels he has recruited the numbers to win our freedom,” Jamie answered, his voice low against her ear. “He hopes to make a final and decisive stand within a few months.”
“And you will be at his side?”
“God willing.”
“Where do we go now?”
“Ultimately, to Aviemore, as I’ve said. But first, we will continue to recruit loyalists along the way. You should ken that we might be several weeks on the road.”
“Oh,” was all she said.
Ada was thankful that the horses were never given their legs, even as they eventually left the thin trail through the trees and came upon a wide open, heather strewn meadow. Through tall or short grass, over rocky ground and across meandering streams, they kept the same pace always, rather a slow trot, which never made Ada too terribly uncomfortable.
When the sun set low to their left and darkness came, the weight of the day’s events began to consume her. Ada shivered as the cooler air began to seep into her skin and felt her eyes begin to flutter as exhaustion overtook her.
Ada awoke sometime later, surprised she slept at all. She roused, finding herself slumped against Jamie MacKenna, his arm still secure around her waist. But her own arm no longer draped and clenched over his, but was covered by his hand, his fingers wound around her wrist, holding her close. She straightened, and glanced left and right, around Jamie MacKenna’s broad frame. She couldn’t see or hear Will anywhere.
“He’s around, lass,” she heard at her ear. “Keeps up for a while, then trots off into the thicker trees. He’s no ever too far from you.”
“Might this be too much for him? He’s not accustomed to running for such a long time.”
“He’s holding his own,” he assured her. “We’ll be stopping soon.”
Almost an hour later, William Wallace called for a halt. Will had indeed shown himself several times. They turned off the narrow road upon which they presently travelled, ducking into the trees.
They dismounted only when they were deep within the forest. Jamie eased smoothly from the saddle and reached for Ada. She did not often have to tilt her head back at people but did so now as her feet touched the ground, as they stood so close. She might have only spared him a glance and moved away but his hands held yet at her waist.
“Stand for a moment,” he advised. “Your legs will want to crumble.”
Ada was surprised to realize he was right. She lifted one leg under her skirts and gave it a shake and remained for only a moment more before nodding and moving away from him.
Ada found relief much deeper in the trees and brush. When she returned to their little camp, she saw that this was not to be a brief stop. A fire pit was being dug out by one man. Another dumped kindling and larger branches into the hole in the ground. Jamie MacKenna was nowhere around. William Wallace walked back into the clearing, coming between the gathered and hitched horses, with Will trotting beside him. He stretched out his long arm and offered a leather flask to Ada while Will dashed off again into the trees.
She accepted this with a small smile and took a long drag of the warm ale. She returned his flask just as he sat upon the cold hard ground, lifting one leg to drape his arm over it, the flask then dangling from the hand over his knee. Having no other idea what she might be doing, she sat as well, on her knees, tucking her legs and skirts beneath her.
“From where do you hail, lass?” Wallace asked her.
“Newburgh. My father is a merchant.”
William Wallace was exactly as the tales of him advised, larger than any man she’d had ever seen, with long legs and arms. His shoulders were broad and his chest thick. Ada had imagined, from the stories that had been told, that the man must be at least fifty years of age, but she saw now, that while his face showed a weariness and an aged wisdom, he was not that old. His deep set blue eyes showed much of the fatigue, and, too, the wisdom.
While Jamie MacKenna had yet to return, and the other soldiers were still about their own business, or camp readiness things, Wallace said to her. “It is a fine happening, lass, that you find yourself now entrenched with Jamie. A fine son of Scotland, braver than most,” he said, and then bent his head, giving her a slow blink, “excepting a lass such as yourself.”
“It is not a brave thing, good sir,” she defused, “to have been caught and punished.”
“Nae, it is no, lass,” he agreed readily. “Any man can do that. That’s no where your valor shines. But you saw a need, and saved lives. And you are here now. ‘Tis the surviving it, lass, the living with it that shout your courage.”
Ada gave this some consideration, tried to find some validation in this reasoning.
William Wallace continued, “Two dark souls though, lass.” He shook his head with a new sadness. ‘Tis no good. One must shine, teach the other to do so as well.”
While she understood that he referred to her and Jamie MacKenna, of course, she wondered if the MacKenna could credibly be labeled a dark soul. This, then, had her questioning the sorrow she’d recognized in him, which Anice had seen as well, and she questioned its origins.
Jamie returned then and sat upon a flat rock next to Ada. Will had come with him and, after many hours of running along with them, collapsed next to William Wallace, who spent a moment scratching behind the hound’s ears. Jamie carried a small loaf of bread in his hands, tore it into two pieces and handed one to Ada. “The lads’ll hopefully scare up some rabbit or pheasant, but this for now.”
“Thank you.”
It occurred to Ada then that she was now dependent upon Jamie MacKenna for...well, everything. It seemed strange, as she had at one time seen to every one of her own needs, few though they were. She would make an effort, she decided, to not rely too heavily upon him. At one time, she’d scrounged up her own food, had snared rabbits and squirrels herself, had slept on the forest floor, had travelled hundreds of miles on foot, she was sure; there was no need to be reduced to such reliance upon another now.
One by one, the numbers around the warm fire grew, the other men having completed all necessary tasks. They formed a circle now. Ada stayed seated between Jamie and William Wallace, more than once catching the eye of different persons upon her. One in particular, whom Wallace had addressed as George, gnawed at one of his fingernails and sent glances every other second to Ada, until she found herself ducking her head away from his discourteous perusal.
Jamie MacKenna must have noticed this as well. Shifted so that she rather faced only him, she saw him level a threatening glower a
t the man.
These men, or most of them, must have been keeping company for a while now, she guessed, listening to their conversation, talking about people they knew and places they’d been. They kept their voices low, and the fire was never allowed to become too large or bright, even as the air grew chillier and Ada rearranged her cloak to cover her head.
They slept where they’d sat around the fire, Ada one of the first to succumb to her sleepiness, curling onto her side on the cold ground, using her arm as a pillow. She did not sleep immediately and knew when Jamie MacKenna laid down next to her, facing her. At the same time, she felt Will settle down against her back, between her and William Wallace.
“You dinna seem put out, sleeping on the ground, lass,” Jamie commented, just above a whisper.
She hesitated a moment, then informed him, “There were many nights, over the past year, that found me in a similar situation.” The fire crackled and hissed and provided enough of a glow that she could see his eyes, which seemed to regard her with their usual intensity.
“Still, I should have thought to beg a fur from Anice.”
“It’s not so bad,” she lied, not bothering to wonder why she did.
But he knew she lied as well. “Aye, it is. Are you even now regretting your decision?”
“To come with you?” Ada hoped only Wallace might be able to hear them, if even that, as she kept her voice as low as Jamie’s. “No regret,” she said honestly. “But I’ve been wondering why I said yes. I liked Stonehaven very much. And Anice. Everyone, really. I’ll miss the beach.”
“You’ll let me ken when you figure out the why?” He asked.
She grinned at this even as she accepted that she might never know.
“There’s a loch at Aviemore,” he told her. “No so grand as the beach at Stonehaven, but it might prove a good substitute. And we’ll see Aberdeen tomorrow, and the North Sea once more before we go inland.”
Someone, on the other side of the fire, began to snore loudly, snorting on the inhale.
“Do you think I’ll ever see Stonehaven again? As I think on it, I might only regret that I made a decision not considering that I might never see Anice again.”
“We’ll get back there,” he assured her.
His use of the word we struck Ada. As if they were a pair. As if she were now forever entwined with him. Maybe she was, or was destined to be, because of Dornoch, because of Will.
Chapter Nine
Ada woke before the sun did and felt a weightiness around her middle. It was only a second before she recalled her circumstance and knew that Jamie MacKenna had, sometime during the cold night, sidled up against her and wrapped his arm around her. She stiffened, disconcerted by her position, which had her face buried in his chest and his other arm, inexplicably, under her head. But for the satisfying warmth, Ada felt a tremendous awkwardness and made to separate herself from his hard body.
His voice vibrated against her hair, even as his arms proved immovable. “You’ll set your teeth to chattering again.”
She did not relax, but neither did she attempt again to disengage herself. Wakeful now, she was very aware of all the parts of him that pressed against her. While the warmth was indeed welcome, Ada was glad for the pre-dawn grayness that allowed only her to know of her blush. She stayed very still, only relaxing when she believed he slept again. While one hand was curled against her own chest, the other was splayed out against his. Ada stared at her light skin, so stark against his dark plaid. Experimentally, she moved the fingers. She felt only hardness and heat. The bare morning light showed where his tunic, under his plaid, ended at his collarbone. Rather without conscious thought, but imbued with a curiosity, Ada moved her fingers up over the middle of his chest until they touched his bare skin. Whisper soft, she skimmed the tip of her index finger over the depressed space between his clavicles. It then seemed natural to trace along the jutting bone, intrigued by the spark ignited by her skin touching his. Ada moved her finger along his collarbone and back to the middle before it dawned on her what she had actually just done. Her eyes widened at this lapse of good sense, at her daring impropriety, just as Jamie MacKenna’s hand covered hers, holding it still.
Hugely ashamed, Ada lifted her eyes to his, but saw only his jaw as he did not look down at her. He squeezed her hand and murmured, “No more, lass. I canna pretend to sleep while you go about exploring.”
Ada gasped, again at her recklessness and too, at his candid description of what she had just done.
“Aye, dinna fret. Close your eyes now and let us sleep yet.”
Ada did not close her eyes and there was no way she would be able to sleep now.
IT DID NOT GO UNNOTICED by Jamie, when they eventually rose and breakfasted around the stoked fire, that Ada Moncriefe absolutely would not, or could not, meet his gaze. She bustled about, without a chore to attend, seeming more flustered than usual.
And he understood completely her nerves being on edge. Her brief and innocent endeavor this morning had woken every sense he had, some he hadn’t used in years. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to remain still, or how she could possibly have been unaware of his thudding heartbeat or accelerated breathing.
Lord love a sinner, he mused, but that should have seen him packing her and her pitiful belongings up onto his horse and riding her straight back to Stonehaven. Jesu, the last thing he needed was the distraction of so alluring a person as she.
As if no more than an inexperienced lad, he stole glances at her all morning, appreciative of the grace with which she moved and the lustrous shine to her dark hair. When she smiled at Will, begging bread from Wallace at her side—which Wallace seemed quite happy to share—Jamie drew in his breath at beauty of it, wishing he’d been the recipient of so glorious a thing.
And when the camp site had been abandoned and they’d ridden away, further north, and she was seated again before him, Jamie had to call upon every ounce of discipline to not return the favor of so enticing an exploration. His arm was once again folded around her slim waist. Every so often the ride required a bounce in the saddle, which tightened his arm around her, rather reflexively. Twice now, when he’d done so, his arm had ridden up against the plump firmness of her breasts. Jamie was no eunuch that he then did not imagine exploring this further. But imagine was all he allowed, and that only fleetingly.
Around noon time, they stopped just outside the sometimes bustling town of Aberdeen, hanging back across the river that ran through it. It was planned that Jamie and George Goody and Roger of Balweny would ride into Aberdeen and find Simon Annand, who was expecting them. Wallace would remain secreted across the river until they delivered Annand to him.
Jamie was sorry that he had to leave Ada behind, but knew her to be very safe in Wallace’s care. But Wallace himself wondered if it might be of benefit to take Ada into town.
Jamie’s frown was instant, over Ada’s head, and across to Wallace.
“No,” he said, promptly.
Wallace raised a brow at Jamie. “’Tis not held by the English, nor inhabited as such. The lass’s presence would dampen any interest in three soldiers. And you need only to meet with Annand, determine his suitability and allegiance, and return him to me,” Wallace argued. “There is no danger to her.”
Jamie opened his mouth to refuse this still, but Ada spoke up before him.
“I will go.” She turned, only her head, so that he was presented with the cheek with the lesser scars. “Sir William has assured us of the safety. And should he have erred, I have faith that you can see me removed without harm.”
Clenching his jaw, Jamie met William’s eye, the big man’s brow raised as if he thought similarly to Jamie, that she practiced sweet manipulation well.
So it was that not more than thirty minutes later found Jamie and Ada seated next to each other and across a table from Roger and George inside a traveler’s inn. They’d requested ale and food to give a pretense of only seeking sustenance for a journey and this was deliver
ed posthaste, steaming platters of fish and wild fowl and a plate of cheese and bread. George shimmied off the bench and walked away, intent on inquiring of Simon Annand.
Jamie watched him leave, pursing his lip as he considered the man. George Goody was as loyal as they came, but Jamie had always considered him a bit of a weasel. The man could not make conversation that wasn’t either salacious or outright incendiary and Jamie was regularly put off by his disappointing hygiene practices, so that the man always seemed greasy and grimy. William Wallace had been living in forests and safehouses for years, with few amenities, and seemed never to appear so bedraggled as Goody.
Roger of Balweny, on the other hand, dressed not expensively but neatly, and carried himself with the bearing of a titled and learned man; he could speak well on many subjects, crops or religion, babies or the system of roads in the Highlands, that Jamie valued his opinions and fellowship more than most. Presently, he appreciated that Roger was tactful enough that even as he spoke with Ada, he appeared—or pretended—that he saw her scars not at all. Unlike that fool Goody, who continually gawked and puckered his brow at Ada so that Jamie knew he was going to have words with the man.
Ada wrapped up several pieces of cheese and a long strip of fish in a square of linen provided with the meal. Jamie was surprised to see her tuck this into the pocket of her cloak.
He and Roger exchanged curious glances over this, while Ada apparently did not know or did not care that they had witnessed her secreting away food.
With a small chuckle, Jamie asked, “Is that for Will?”
Ada turned her face up to him, unembarrassed. “It’s for Sir William, though like as not, he will share with Will.”
“Aye,” said Roger with an agreeable grin.
Jamie turned and watched as Goody sidled up to the innkeep and leaned close, speaking softly to him. The bald little man, who ran a crowded and lively establishment, inclined his head toward a table at the rear of the room. Only minutes later, Goody returned with Simon Annand in tow.
The Shadow 0f Her Smile (Highlander Heroes Book 3) Page 10