For a moment his eyes looked strangely bright. But Roderic the Rogue was not the type to cry.
Surely it was just the sun in his eyes.
Chapter 23
They assembled outside the great hall at dawn, more than three dozen men and two women.
Sara stood with them in the bailey. “I would go with ye, but—”
“Nay.” Rachel took her hand in her own. “This journey is not for ye, not with the babe to consider.”
“The babe?” Shona asked, glancing up from where she checked Teine’s girth. “What babe?”
Sara smiled and placed a gentle hand to her abdomen. “Twill be born before Christmas.”
“Ye are with child?” Liam asked, striding up.
“You’re expecting?” Shona gasped. “But I did not think ye could. How did it happen?”
Sara laughed. “The usual way, I suspect. Liam, ye will watch over her, won’t ye? She’s more naive than she seems.”
Shona ignored her cousin’s jibe and drew her into an embrace. “I am overjoyed for ye, Sunshine,” she said, but from where Dugald listened some fifteen feet away, he wondered if he heard just a hint of envy. Shona might be a warrior, but she was also a woman. “Why didn’t ye tell me?”
“There’s been a good deal of commotion.”
“But ye told Rachel.”
“In truth, I didna,” Sara said, and exchanged a meaningful glance with Shona.
“Oh, will the two of ye quit acting as if I’m snooping in your minds,” Rachel said. “Tis obvious she’s with child. Canna ye see the glow?” Stepping around Shona, she, too, hugged Sara. “Take care, Cousin.”
“And ye.”
“We will. Never fear. I will journey to Cairn Heights for the child’s birth.”
Sara nodded and stepped back.
They mounted in silence, and turned away with a wave. Dugald let Eagle kick irritably at the horse behind him. It assured him a little room between himself and William’s soldiers.
The air was cool and damp, their horses’ hoofbeats muffled as they crossed the drawbridge to the green sward on the opposite side. Mists curled over the Gael Burn and the world seemed silent and expectant.
As expectant as Dugald himself. But what did he expect? He was a fool on a fool’s errand. He had been sent to kill a traitor, but he could not. Now, here he was, protecting that same traitor. But was she? He would know soon enough, for she was traveling to meet the king.
Why? The question burned in his mind. What did she hope to accomplish there? She said the king had asked for her, but the part of the note left unconsumed by the flame had said nothing about that. It had said only that the queen would soon be arriving at Blackburn Castle, and that Shona would know what she must do.
What must she do? Was she planning some evil against the queen? Or against the king himself?
The questions nagged at Dugald’s soul.
He would learn the truth, he told himself, for he had no intention of turning off this route. Nay, he would accompany them to Blackburn…and save Shona from whatever foolishness she was planning.
The day passed slowly. Bullock kept his huge dappled stallion close to the women. His guards rode in front, William’s in back, and the others in the middle.
They stopped just after noon and made a meal of dried fish, bread, and ale. Kelvin sat beside Dugald and shared a joke the miller’s son had told him, and for a while they rode together. But soon the fluffy summer clouds slipped away only to be replaced by a darker variety. Thunder rumbled and lightning forked across the sky.
Excusing himself, Kelvin pushed his mount up close to Shona’s. Dugald could not help but wish he could do the same, for there was an evil feel about the day, and if there was trouble, his place was beside the damsel.
He cursed himself for that thought. She was not his responsibility. Indeed, she neither wanted nor needed his protection. And yet…
He had no choice; he was bewitched. Whether by the dragon amulet or by her, he wasn’t certain. But it no longer mattered, for he had ceased fighting the allure.
Thunder rumbled again, and the sky took on a greenish tint.
He was just about to approach Bullock with the suggestion that they stop, when the wind began.
It hit them like a solid force, hard as slate, cold, and followed by a sidelong rain.
“To the trees,” Bullock yelled above the storm.
The company turned quickly toward the woods, fighting their mounts, who wanted nothing more than to turn their tails to the wind.
Kelvin’s pony balked, but Shona managed to grasp the boy’s reins and urge the smaller horse along behind her own.
Beneath the bowed and dripping branches of the woods, the wind was not so fierce, and yet the noise was little reduced. Boughs creaked against boughs, and overhead, the leaves whipped wildly.
Setting up camp was not a simple task. But finally, five tents cowered together under the dripping foliage—one for the ladies and four for the men, and though the interior was not entirely dry, it was a vast improvement over the elements.
The light was fading fast and a fire would have been a welcome sight, but with the swirling wind and the pelting rain, a flame proved impossible.
Kelvin, it was decided, would share the women’s tent. He looked, Dugald noticed, none too happy with the decision, but he did not complain, perhaps because he was simply too tired.
Dugald surreptitiously turned his attention to the others. William was watching Shona, but his expression showed neither the anger of a jilted suitor nor the longing of a hopeful one. Why? Shona had just broken off their engagement. Dugald had heard Shona send him away. What kind of man could look so serene after that?
Dugald spent a damp, uncomfortable night surrounded by grumbling soldiers and a vague feeling of unease.
Morning found conditions little improved. The rain, which had ceased temporarily during the night, picked up just before dawn. It came down in a fine but steady spray.
They broke the fast inside their tents with stale bread and hard cheese, dismally broke up camp, and moved on.
By mid-morning anyone who had managed to dry off during the night was soaked to the skin once again, and the wind, which had fallen away, was reborn with a vengeance. It whirled like an evil dervish, driving stinging raindrops at them from all directions.
By noon, tempers were short. A squabble broke out between William’s and Dun Ard’s guards.
Bullock put a stop to it with a few sharp words, but the tension remained.
By mid-afternoon it was obvious they could not go on much farther.
“Bullock,” William called.
The square-built leader stopped and turned. William pressed his mount along the column of riders toward the stout man.
“We cannot press the women and child on like this. Tis surely best to stop. If I’m not mistaken there is a woods off to our right less than half a mile. Before the rain worsened, I could see it quite clearly. I believe they might be rowan trees. Twould surely be a good omen in this evil weather.”
Bullock squinted through the rain toward the west, but if he could see the mentioned trees, his eyesight was a damned site keener than Dugald’s. Which might be possible, considering Shona’s uncanny senses. Mayhap there was something about Dun Ard’s water that sharpened their abilities.
“Lady Shona must arrive at Blackburn in less than three days’ time,” Bullock said, seeming to remind himself, as well as the others who surrounded him.
“Surely twould be better if she arrives in full health rather than sick with the ague,” William said. “Tis bad enough that she has already been wounded.”
And that latter a personal bite for Dugald. He and Shona had not exchanged a single word since the journey had begun.
“What’s this?” Shona asked, pushing her chestnut up to the circle of men.
Eagle pricked his ears at the mare then turned his head to snap at William’s bay on the far side of him. He almost bit William’s leg, and Dugald
almost smiled.
“Lord William thinks we should spend the night in yonder woods,” Bullock said. “What think ye, Shona?”
“The rowans would surely bring us good luck,” said a soldier close at hand.
Shona pulled her dripping hood farther over her forehead and glanced at Kelvin. He was huddled over his gelding’s neck like a wilting sack of wool.
“I too saw the trees,” she said. “But what of the ravine between us and the woods?” she asked.
“I will see you safely across it,” William said. “Never fear.”
She glanced at him for a moment, scowled slightly then finally nodded. “We’ll have to push on all the harder tomorrow, but I think we’ve done all we can this day.”
Dugald wondered vaguely if he should be surprised that no one questioned her authority. In actuality, Bullock had been put in charge, but all seemed to be in accord, so they turned their mounts toward the west and hoped for the best.
The land between them and the trees proved to be rougher than anticipated. They had been following a road of sorts, but now, forced off the main trail, their path was sliced through by a series of jagged cuts.
Neither the keening wind nor the muddy slopes made their passage any easier, but finally they reached the first trees.
Eager to be out of the wind the horses picked up the pace, jostling each other on their way down.
One of Bullock’s men, the final guard in the front column, turned as his mount was bumped from behind. “Watch yourself—” he began, but suddenly his horse began to slip on the muddy slope. It scrambled wildly, trying to gain its footing, but there was too little space. It careened into the horse closest to it, knocking that one to its knees. Its rider lost a stirrup and lurched to the side, startling Shona’s mount.
“Shona!” Dugald screamed her name even as he spurred Eagle downhill, but already it was too late.
Panicked, her high-strung mare swung sideways, bumping into Bullock’s gray.
He reared, but the mud beneath his feet gave way. He pawed wildly for purchase, but there was no hope, and in a moment he fell over backward, crashing to the earth with Bullock pinned beneath him.
Suddenly all was chaos. Horses screamed and men cursed. Kelvin struggled to control his pony just as Dugald reached for Shona, but she spun her mare away to grasp Kelvin’s reins.
There was nothing Dugald could do now but guard her as best he could, for if any evil were planned, now would be the perfect time. He whipped out his knife. It hissed out to full length at the ready as Eagle braced himself to protect Shona and the mare from any that might fall into them from above.
But no one tried to harm Shona, and in a few moments it was all over. Glancing about, Dugald surreptitiously slid his blade back into its sheath.
Bullock lay on his side, clutching his knee in both hands and breathing hard through his teeth.
Two of his men had fared no better. One was hugging his arm to his chest while the other, no more than five feet from Eagle’s prancing hooves, pressed a hand to his temple. Blood oozed between his fingers.
“Dear God!” Rachel gasped, and leapt to the ground. “Liam, help me,” she yelled, but he was already beside her. She put her hand on his arm and turned away. “Shona.”
She delayed only for a moment, glancing first at Kelvin, then at the chaos around them, before turning to Dugald. The world seemed to draw back. “Can ye guard him?” she asked softly.
It was not a simple question, he knew. For her eyes were filled with an emotion he could not quite name.
“From what?” he asked.
She glanced quickly at his knife, then back to his face. So she had seen him draw it, had noticed its length.
“From everything,” she said.
He should say no, hold onto his disguise as best he could, but if ever he wanted a woman to know him, it was this woman.
“I can,” he murmured.
She nodded once, then quick as light, she slipped from Teine’s back and off to her cousin’s side.
Orders were quick, concise and one-sided. In this moment of crisis not a soul argued with the Lady Rachel as she bent over the wounded.
Her current patient was a narrow soldier. Very fair, he seemed even paler now, with his eyes wide and bleached in his gaunt face.
“Stephen,” Rachel said, kneeling beside him. “Where do ye hurt the most?”
He grit his teeth as if loath to show weakness, but finally he managed, “My arm, tis my arm.”
“Let me feel it. I will do my best not to hurt ye.”
It seemed to take all his strength to allow her to touch him, and when she did, he gasped in pain.
She stood up and turned quickly to her cousin. “Shona, I need three branches, yeah long and very smooth. Also a fire, boiling water, a shelter, and some long strips of cloth.”
Shona only nodded and turned away, giving orders as she did so.
The men were dispatched in a matter of moments, two going after the horses, several searching for wood and the rest erecting the tents or assisting Rachel as Shona directed.
As for Dugald, he lifted Kelvin from his mount, tied their mounts not far away, and hustled the boy to a relatively dry spot beneath a leaning fir.
The lad huddled there looking lost and scared. For a moment Dugald considered leaving him to help the others, but Shona’s request had seemed strangely poignant. So he squatted down beside the boy. Kelvin seemed unusually tense beside him.
“Are you well, lad?” Dugald asked.
“Aye.” He was quiet for a moment, then, “Ye dunna suppose this is some kind of evil plot against…the king, do ye?”
“The king?” Dugald asked. The boy seemed older than his years suddenly, and very nervous.
“Tis widely known that Lady Shona is James’s friend. Mayhap someone is trying to prevent her from reaching Blackburn.”
“Twas just an accident that brought us these troubles,” Dugald said, but he, too, felt tense and uncertain, as if some unknown evil surrounded them. Tonight would not be a time to sleep, but to watch and listen. “Still…” he added, looking down into Kelvin’s eyes.“I am glad that you are here.”
“Why?”
“To protect me. Do not forget,” Dugald said, gently rubbing the wound he’d sustained at Kelvin’s hand. “I’ve evidence of your skill with a sword.”
The boy said nothing, but he put his hand on the hilt of his weapon, and seemed to relax a bit.
Dugald looked away. Aye, he thought, tonight he would stay awake, for the boy and for Shona.
By the time Rachel had the wounded inside their tents Kelvin was fast asleep against Dugald’s shoulder.
Dugald sat unmoving, watching everyone. William and his men mostly kept themselves removed from the others. Hadwin was unusually solemn. There seemed to be an uncomfortable silence between the two royal cousins. The Irishman stayed close to Rachel, he noticed, but it was Shona he watched most. Not because he should, but because even now he could not help himself. She fascinated him, her every move, her every word, the way she turned just so, the way she gave orders, like a small sergeant.
The rain had stopped as quickly as it had started, and though the wind still blew, it was much quieter here, peaceful almost. She had removed her hood and looped the muddy hem of her skirt between her legs and beneath her girdle.
Finally she pushed the hair from her face and made her way through the underbrush to his spot beneath the tree. She glanced at Kelvin’s sleeping face. Dugald watched a modicum of peace steal over her features. “Thank ye,” she said softly.
Dugald nodded. “I will carry him to your tent. How are the wounded?”
“They will mend. Rachel will see to that,” she said, stepping back so that he could rise to his feet with Kelvin in his arms.
They walked side by side to her tent, and despite it all the world seemed strangely content. He did not know this woman’s intent. He did not know his own fate if he refused his mission, and yet, for this moment, it did not m
atter.
They stopped outside her tent and stared at each other over the child’s sleeping body.
“Who are ye?” she whispered.
“I already told you.”
“Where did ye get the sword?”
He was weak, perhaps weak enough to tell her the truth if they had been somewhere else; somewhere private, somewhere safe.
“You should not be surprised to know that a coward keeps a concealed weapon.”
Silence stretched between them. Finally she drew a deep breath and scowled as she reached for the boy.
Their arms brushed as she slipped hers under Kelvin’s body. Feelings speared through him, fierce as the crash of lightning, sizzling down his nerve endings like wildfire. It was passion and lust and heat. But it was also something more that made him want to hold her in his arms and keep the world at bay.
A strange feeling to have for a woman he was sent to kill. The memory spurred another shot of fierce emotion through him.
Shona turned away first, her eyes wide as she glanced to the right. Dugald followed her gaze, and there, not ten rods away, stood Hadwin. He watched them for a moment, his expression sober, and then turned away.
Shona drew in a deep breath as she pulled Kelvin into her arms. Without another word she slipped into her tent.
It was a long night. Without the wind and rain it seemed deadly quiet, almost hauntingly calm.
Shona lie on her pallet, sleepless and restive, Dragonheart heavy and cold on his chain. She shifted the amulet and tried to get comfortable.
Morning would come all too soon. They would have to travel to Blackburn without a quarter of their company, for Rachel.never would allow the wounded to be forced on.
Thus the remainder of the journey would be increasingly dangerous. And thus she needed all the rest she could get. She thrashed about, half hoping Rachel would wake and talk to her. But that was not to be, for her cousin did not even stir, no matter how much noise Shona made. Shona sighed, then, determined to sleep, she closed her eyes tightly and thought of her favorite place on the bank of the Gael Burn where flowers grew in wild profusion in the summer and heather bloomed bright as a promise in the fall.
Highland Scoundrel (Highland Brides) Page 28