“My uncle Malcolm and Aviemore’s steward, they look after things. Agnes Nairn runs the household for me—she’s Malcom’s mistress.”
Mistress raised Ada’s brow, but her question did not pertain to that. “Do you never get tired of sleeping on the ground, scrounging for food? Do you dream of a true bed?”
His shoulders lifted and fell with a noncommittal shrug. Tipping his head toward her, he countered, “How long were you at Mungo’s place, up in the forest at Stonehaven?”
“A long time,” she said after a moment. She hadn’t thought in a while about that cottage. She’d woken every morning, not really thinking of a future, not dreaming of what comforts she missed or amenities she wished she’d had. She’d just lived, one day at a time, with a schedule of things to do—feed herself, warm herself, busy herself. Maybe that’s how he approached so much time away from his own home, one day at a time, with no thought to the future. This, then, begged the question, “Do you think you’ll die fighting for Scotland’s freedom?” She stared at him, caught his quick frown of surprise.
His gaze left hers soon enough. He picked up a large stone next to his leg and tossed it into the water. Then he lifted his knees and rested his arms across them, his hands joined.
“I dinna rightly think about dying, it seems,” he finally answered. “Aye, but neither do I give much attention to the after, when the war is done. So aye, maybe I expect I’ll die.”
“Doesn’t that scare you?”
He shrugged again. “I imagine you need something worth living for, to make you afraid of dying.”
These words struck Ada as sorrowful, though he’d uttered them in a level and practical tone. She almost asked why he felt he hadn’t anything to live for but stopped herself. Ada imagined that was indeed a very personal question, or at least, would require divulging things of a personal nature, should he have chosen to answer.
Ada sighed, weary enough that she was only slightly disappointed that it seemed there would be no more kissing. Still, the awareness of him was new and different. She knew every move he made, sitting next to her, even something so small as scratching his arm or shooing away a fly. Every time his hand moved, something inside her tingled, and she knew it was in happy expectation of him touching her. But he did not, and when complete darkness shrouded the lake and Will howled close by, they returned to the camp site to settle down for the night.
She was sure she would never get used to, or have a liking for the cold, hard ground. She sat, debating if her bundled belongings might make a good pillow, when Jamie said, in his now familiar nighttime voice, “Might be easier to sleep if you lie down, lass.”
Turning, she found him already reclined, one arm under his head and his feet crossed at the ankles. Honestly, she thought it looked terribly uncomfortable, spreading himself out so that the cold could seep into every part of him. Ada opted to lie on her side, rather curled up, hopefully giving the crisp air access to only her back. She pulled the long close-fitting sleeves of her kirtle down over her hands and tucked them under her head. It wasn’t long before she slept.
She dreamed she was at Dornoch again, with the rope around her neck. Curiously, it was not John Craig who tortured her, but Will. He stood before her with a feral gleam in his eyes and applied the knife just as John Craig had, even as his own face and torso showed so much of the cruelty inflicted on him.
“Oh, Will,” she moaned, her heartbeat racing while fear twisted her belly. Will cackled with glee at the sight of her fear, waving the knife before her eyes. Ada began to shake, having learned that her fear—the expectation of pain—was actually greater than the pain itself. “Will, no,” she pleaded with him.
“Ada.”
Will shook her and she cried out, having lost the very fragile hold over her control.
“Ada!” This, given sharply, and not being Will’s voice, woke Ada.
Jamie MacKenna hovered over her.
“Aye, wake up, lass,” he said, his tone was harsh, putting her to rights so that she understood it had only been a dream.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, hoping she hadn’t woken anyone else. She shivered, even as she realized she was flush with perspiration. Swiping at tears on her cheeks, she closed her eyes, shutting out the frowning scrutiny of Jamie MacKenna. But closing her eyes brought the picture of Will again to her. Ada whimpered and covered her mouth with her hand.
Opening her eyes showed Jamie still risen on his elbow above her. He appeared harsh still but there was some agony in him, and she wondered if she’d called Will’s name out loud and he knew then of what she’d dreamed. In an effort to deflect the pity, or assuage his anguish, she told him, “Will was incredibly brave. He—he tried to assume all the blame, pretended he’d only stumbled upon me, that I’d had no part in it....”
It was a moment before she heard his whispered reply.
“Aye, he was one of the finest.”
Ada could see the outline of him, saw his shoulders relax. And then he stretched out again. Turning her head, to consider the sky, and so she wasn’t staring directly at him, she listened to Crumb’s and another’s snoring and a few embers crackling and wondered how long she’d slept.
His low voice reached her again. “Beth never had any time for him, thought him only some annoyance. But she was all he saw, he worshipped her. I was always amazed that she chose to ignore it. She was spoiled though, truth be told,” he said. “Always hoped she’d marry some rich baron and be a grand lady of great lands and many people. Will would’ve been happy in a hovel with her.”
When it seemed he would say no more, Ada asked, “How did she die?”
“Hmph,” he snorted quietly. “She married a rich baron and went with the birthing, the babe, too.” And then, “She cried when I told her about Will, was distraught, really.”
“She did love him,” Ada guessed.
“Aye, in her way, I suppose she did.”
“Do you have other family? Brothers and sisters?”
“All gone, another sister to a fever as a child and a brother lost at Stirling Bridge years ago. But lass, what were you doing at Dornoch? Why were you there?”
The question surprised her, both for its timing and for the sound of it, rushed out, as if he’d been thinking on it, or had held it back for a while.
“I was betrothed to John Craig.” She guessed there was really no way for him to have known. She let that sink in and only thought to add, “I’d been there a month. I’d seen enough.”
“’Twas beyond brave, what you did.”
She didn’t acknowledge this; it had never been that to her. “I watched as you and the others were brought in. It was the sight of the boy, that lad with you that twisted my heart with fear.”
“Henry,” he supplied.
“Henry. He is...well?”
“Aye, you’ll see him at Aviemore.”
There was boundless satisfaction in that.
“I often think...if that hadn’t happened that night, I’d likely now be married to John Craig and I sometimes wonder which is, or would have been, worse—what has been, or what might have been.”
Jamie MacKenna rolled toward her, his eyes bright in the darkness. “Ada Moncriefe, you are...exactly where you are meant to be.”
THEY DID NOT BREAK camp the next day until late in the morning, Ada continually surprised that this group, with so noble a purpose, never seemed to be in so great a hurry.
Once again, Ada rode with Jamie, who’d advised her they would have a long day in the saddle. She dozed for a while against him and was restless when she woke. To pass the time, and while Crumb hummed loudly and sometimes put bawdy words to his own melody, Ada recalled the game she and Kinnon had played on their way to Stoney. With some thought to preserving her own sanity, she resolved not to think of the atrocity that had interrupted their game. As any and all of her conversation with Jamie while they rode usually found her turning her head to the side so that her voice would carry back to him, Ada twisted, turnin
g her cheek toward his chest.
“What’s your favorite food?”
If he were surprised by her out-of-the-blue query, she could not know.
But he answered rather promptly, “They’ve a fair orchard down at Inesfree. The cook bakes up apples with cinnamon in the bread.”
“What is cinnamon?” She’d never heard of this, but decided she liked the word.
“It’s a spice. Leans more toward sweet, as opposed to savory.”
“Apples in bread?”
“Strange, I ken,” he admitted. “But it’s right tasty.”
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Favorite color? Why would I have a favorite?” While Ada waited, he wondered, “How would I know which was my favorite?”
“Which one makes you happy? Blue is mine, like a cloudless sky on a sunny day.”
“Green, then,” he answered easily then.
“Do you have a favorite song?”
“I dinna ken any songs.”
“Crumb seems to know quite a few,” she said with a grin and felt Jamie harrumph against her. Crumb had trotted his horse up ahead, sidling alongside Roger and patting him on the back. He lifted his voice, trying to encourage the Balweny man to join him in song. Roger only chuckled at the silly man and shook his head.
“Why do you want to ken these things?”
Ada shrugged, leaning her back against him, her cheek resting against his breastplate. “Passes the time.” Feeling more relaxed than she could recall in recent memory, she twirled her hair in one hand while holding Jamie’s hand at her waist with her other. “Where’s the farthest you’ve ever traveled?”
“I went to France once,” he answered, “when I was very young, with my father.”
“What did you do there?”
“I dinna recall, save that I was mostly bored. Much more color there, in the streets and the buildings, and the peoples’ costumes.”
“Would you like to go back there, to see it not as a child?”
“Nae, Wallace says it’s filthy, said he’d feared the smell of sewage and body odor would kill him even as the war had not.”
“What’s your favorite—” Ada’s words died as something sliced through the air and barely missed crashing into George Goody as he rode a little ahead and beside Jamie and Ada.
Ada bolted upright, just as the entire party danced their horses around, trying to find the source of the arrow that had been shot into their midst.
“It came from above,” Ada announced, having been witness to its trajectory. This had all eyes scanning the hills behind them.
“Get into the trees,” Jamie shouted, and kicked their horse to race toward the promised cover of a grove of pine and birch trees, quite a distance away to the west.
Sitting straight again, Ada clung to Jamie’s arm, which had tightened around her when he’d spurred the animal into a hard gallop. Only Roger and another soldier ran ahead of them, the rest of the group being in their wake. A strangled scream told Ada that someone had been hit. Panicked, she glanced behind them, around Jamie’s arm, just in time to see George Goody fall from his horse, the arrow that jutted from his back snapping in two as he bounced on the ground. His steed did not stop, but continued his gallop, keeping pace with the other animals. Another yelp sounded, this one lower, almost guttural. Another arrow, lodged into Crumb’s thigh, contorted his face into a mean grimace. He kept stride, did not lose his seat, and reached the canopy of trees only seconds after Jamie and Ada did. The amount of pines, and the closeness of all the trees necessitated that they slow measurably.
At the same time, Jamie and Ada straightened from their low and hunched positions, which the greater speed had dictated. Her thighs and shins bounced against his as the horse clopped through the scrub and underbrush within the woods. Ada faced forward again but could hear the sounds of the dozen horses of their party crunching and crashing along behind them.
It wasn’t until they were nearly half mile into these trees that Jamie halted, and the entire party gathered round.
Ada watched the men and saw that every one of them looked not at each other but at their surroundings.
“Bit of a trail,” one man commented, looking down at the clear but thin path.
“Aye. Settle all about the path and wait?” asked another.
“Aye,” said Wallace. “Spread out, twenty to thirty feet, three units on each side.”
“Call the goshawk when they come,” another instructed.
“Jamie, you and the lass take the furthest point,” Wallace said.
And without additional instruction, or any other division of the men, they all trotted off, disappearing at varying spots along that narrow trail. Jamie and Ada moved ahead, and Ada did not need any clarification to know that Wallace had put her farthest away from any potential coming danger.
A good twenty feet or more off the trail, Jamie directed Ada to wait near a fallen tree. She sat on the stump, from where the rest of the trunk had broken away and watched Jamie lead the horse even further away and hitch up the reins to a small and spindly tree.
He returned and pulled his sword from its sheath, pointing to the ground. “We’ll stay low.”
They sat side by side, their backs against the stump, the remaining fallen trunk giving them fair cover from the trail. The ground was damp and cold, and the sun had yet to show itself today from behind heavy gray clouds, but Ada left off asking any questions about how long they would wait, or why they hadn’t just kept riding away. After a while, she leaned her head back against the smooth bark and closed her eyes but could not maintain this position for long, for the kink it formed in her neck.
When the question did begin to hound her, she finally asked of Jamie, “We weren’t followed, after all, so why don’t we just get back on the horses and get away?”
“We need to ken if Annand had any part in this.”
“But I thought it was decided he could be trusted.”
Jamie spared her a glance, his eyes shining at her. “Trust is only assumed, until it is earned, lass.”
“But you had a good feeling about him?”
“Aye, I did, but some are more clever than most, can hide their truths.”
After a while, as night came and darkness thickened, Ada felt her head bobbing as she drifted off. But each bob would rouse her, until she dared to lay her head upon Jamie’s shoulder.
“ARE YOU GOING TO SLEEP?” She whispered through a yawn.
“I canna sleep, lass. We all must be wakeful.” He shifted against the stubby trunk and patted his lap. “But here, you put your head down now.”
She scooched closer and did so without argument.
With her head in his lap, she asked, “Do you think Crumb is all right?”
“I dinna ken.” His voice was low, barely more than a whisper. “There’s a spot in the leg, about the same on each man, where blood seems to just rip right out of you. I’ve seen it, blood spraying five feet into the air from that spot. I dinna think it had struck him there.”
He sacrificed a moment of watchfulness to glance down at her head, nestled on his left thigh. Her hair had long since lost whatever contraption she’d set it into, and now fanned around her face and his legs and over her cloak onto the ground. Jamie used his free hand to sweep the long tresses off her cheek, which revealed that her eyes were closed. He moved another strand off her face and repeated the gesture again and again. His steady gaze returned to watchfulness, near and around the trail, even as his hand continued to caress her hair and scalp in soft strokes.
They hadn’t any need of the call of a goshawk as an alert, as the enemy, when they came nearly another hour later, held torches aloft as they slowly picked their way through the trees. Jamie pressed his hand over Ada’s mouth, startling her to wakefulness, for which he was sorry. But he could not have her cry out if she were woken by the light and noise that came now. Her eyes opened wide, but she acclimated quickly and moved her head against his palm so that he removed his
hand. Ada sat up slowly, without a sound, and Jamie took her hand and tugged until she understood he wanted her on the other side of him. Keeping his hand low, she was forced to crawl over him, and Jamie stopped her when she had one leg over his thighs and her face was very close to his.
He put his lips to her ear and whispered, “When I go, you stay here. Dinna move at all. Dinna make a sound.”
“I understand.”
“Even if I fall, lass, you canna make a sound.”
Now, she hesitated, but did soon nod and settled herself next to him.
The lights came closer. Jamie knew that Wallace, or whoever might be in the lead position, would wait until they had passed by, so that they could surround whoever came.
When they drew nearer to Jamie’s position, and because they were thick-headed enough to employ torches, Jamie was able to crane his neck and surmise some numbers. The trees were thick yet, but he could make out about eight or ten for sure, guessing there might be more straggling behind as they seemed to be almost single file on the trail.
Jamie had just risen to his haunches, to be available to spring into action, when he heard the long squawk and three short jips of the goshawk call. At this point, the call was an order to move and Jamie leapt out from behind the tree trunk and chased down the first horseback rider, who had only seconds ago walked his steed past Jamie’s position.
Chapter Eleven
Ada in no way wanted to witness this skirmish, having seen such viciousness and death at Stonehaven only days ago. But she couldn’t not watch. She had to know that Jamie prevailed.
Pulling herself onto her knees, she hunched still behind the stump and bemoaned the very cover of trees that had secreted them but that now prevented her from knowing what happened. She saw only golden light and lines of shiny steel in motion, heard the grunts and groans of a battle met, and knew that several horses already were racing away from the skirmish.
At one point, Jamie entered her line of vision, just a foot of space between two trees. She could not help the stricken cry that burst forth when she realized he had no sword but was using one of the torches as a weapon. She watched, horror choking her, and proved what a coward she was, for ducking low when the huge man, circling Jamie, seemed to face her directly.
The Shadow 0f Her Smile (Highlander Heroes Book 3) Page 12