by Aileen Adams
“But ye are.”
“And it’s sorry I am that ye feel that way. But we’re not. We’re merely doing as we’re paid to do.”
“It might as well be blood money,” she hissed.
“Are you prepared to leave?” Quinn called out, taking the reins of Alana’s mare before swinging up onto the back of his black gelding.
The two of them glared at each other, with Brice struggling to keep control of his rage.
“So. That’s what ye think, is it? It’s finally coming to this. You believe the money we’re collecting for your delivery is blood money.”
“Or as good as,” she hissed, baring her teeth and all.
He leaned down until their faces were mere inches apart. “I’m likely the first one to tell ye of this, then, but it’s best ye know now: there is nothing special about ye. Nothing different. This is how marriage has been arranged for years, for our parents and their parents before them. And fifty years from now, lass, no one will care about one spoiled Highland lass who kicked and fought but still had to marry the man she didna wish to marry because that was simply how it was done.”
He hated himself the moment the words were out of his mouth, hanging between them before a breeze swept through and carried them away.
Leaving the two of them staring at each other.
“Are ye coming or aren’t ye?” Fergus called out, sounding perturbed.
Alana’s throat worked as she swallowed.
Brice cleared his throat.
Neither of them said a word to each other. When she took a step back, breaking the tension of the moment, Brice blinked hard as though coming out of a deep sleep.
She went to her mare, taking the reins from Quinn before favoring him with a bright smile. “Many thanks,” she murmured, taking her time about mounting the horse.
Much to Quinn’s delight.
What was she on about this time?
He was brooding.
He’d always hated people who brooded, men in particular, but there he was. Unable to get the image of her stricken face out of his mind as they made their way down what he supposed was meant to be a decent road.
It was not.
Rodric dismounted, hands on his hips as he surveyed the situation before them. The tree which had fallen and blocked the road was one of many they’d come across since leaving their camp that morning—up until that point, they’d been able to guide their horses around that which stood in their way.
“Clearly a rarely-traveled road,” Quinn had observed more than once, which Brice supposed was for the lass’s benefit. As though she needed to be told. As though it even needed to be spoken aloud.
And yet she had favored him with another smile each time he spoke. She was up to something. Brice wished he knew what it was.
The sun was directly overhead when they came to the largest tree yet. It looked to be hundreds of years old, easily spanning the width of the road with its trunk alone. The roots were far off to the right, the branches to the left. There was no telling how far off the road they would need to walk the horses in order to get around it.
Quinn held Alana’s mare in place as she dismounted, and she smiled again once her feet were on the ground.
She happened to look in Brice’s direction next, and her smile disappeared. Flushed cheeks replaced that smile just before she turned her face away. She knew he knew there was a plan in place. She couldn’t hide it from him.
He only wished it had nothing to do with Quinn. The lad did not deserve her trickery. If he attempted to warn Quinn, he knew his warning would only be regarded as the result of the dislike which had tinged their interactions.
He would not be taken seriously and might, in fact, be accused of starting trouble.
“I suppose this way would be best,” he suggested, resolving to ignore her for the time being. “Away from the limbs.”
“Aye,” Rodric agreed, while the others nodded. He and Fergus took the lead, followed by Quinn, then Alana.
Brice was last, guiding the horse carefully as they picked their way through the underbrush.
Under cover of trees, the day’s warmth quickly cooled until it was nearly chilly. A blessed relief—the perspiration at the back of his neck quickly turned comfortable, cooling his body and helping ease the turmoil inside somewhat. He’d always had difficulty using reason when he was uncomfortable and already out-of-sorts.
“How is it back there?” Quinn called out over one shoulder, a roguish smile slashing across the lower half of his face as he looked at Alana.
Brice’s jaw clenched as he fought the mix of emotion that smile stirred.
Alana merely raised her free hand in greeting, assuring him she was well.
She was not. Brice could see it for himself. While a capable rider and blessed with a great deal of stamina—she had yet to complain of fatigue after riding straight through since sunrise—she was somewhat ungraceful.
He’d seen her stumble more than once over half-hidden rocks and tangled weeds, throwing out her free hand to catch herself and more often than not hitting the tree.
He wanted to help her whenever this happened. It was in his nature, nothing more. The wish to be of service to one who needed assistance.
It wasn’t easy, leaving her to her own devices. He reminded himself of how she’d more than likely throw his kindness back in his face every time he felt even an inkling of responsibility for her welfare. If she wanted to be difficult, he’d allow her to be just that.
They were nearing the roots, and even he was taken aback by the sight which loomed over their heads.
She stopped short, her mare whinnying.
“All right, lass?” Brice dared ask.
She nodded without turning. “Aye. It’s… impressive.”
And it was. When the tree had fallen, it had taken its roots and much of the ground around it in all directions. That ground now stood up in the air, still attached to the tree’s trunk, the whole thing stretching upward until he had to crane his neck to take in the full height.
“Use caution here!” Rodric called out. “It’s quite uneven. We’ll have to go around the hole left by the roots.”
With that, Rodric disappeared behind the base of the tree.
Fergus followed him.
“It’ll be easy,” Quinn assured her, smiling again.
Brice had never so wanted to tell him to shut up. He had no idea the fool the lass was playing him for. She had clearly picked him out as the easiest target, always eager to make the acquaintance of a comely lass such as herself, and he was falling for it.
The fool.
“You lead the way, and I’m certain I’ll make it,” she called back.
Brice rolled his eyes, reminding himself to pay attention to his own horse and where he was planting his feet as the terrain grew even more difficult to travel.
Quinn disappeared behind the tree’s base, leaving only the lass and himself. She murmured to her mare in soothing tones, comforting the poor beast as it picked its way through the brush. Brice spoke not a word, watching her whenever he had the chance.
“Be careful,” he muttered before she cleared the base. He thought she might have sniffed derisively, but couldn’t be certain.
It was his turn to clear the base—when he did, an even more impressive sight greeted him. A mass of roots, tangled together, some of them still attached to the ground and forming what reminded him of a tent as they stretched from the base of the tree to the hole left behind.
They seemed to go on forever, and it was then that he marveled to himself over all the things that were hidden to their eyes. The trees themselves were majestic on their own, when what was beneath them was impressive in its own right.
The horse seemed reluctant to continue, pulling on the reins, and Brice was careful to calm him as they made slow progress. There was little light—twice, he slipped and nearly slid into the hole where once there had been roots and a tree trunk.
When it was over, and he rounded
the base again—breathing a sigh of relief as he did—he found Rodric, Fergus, and Quinn waiting.
“Where is she?” he asked, looking from one of them to the other, expecting them to explain that she’d gone off behind a tree to relieve herself.
The blank stares he received instead sent a bolt of fear to his heart.
And a sense of understanding.
He should have known better.
11
“Hurry, hurry!” Alana urged, leading the mare, nearly running in her haste to get away from them. She was almost free. She could taste it.
A laugh of sheer joy bubbled up in her chest, but she did not dare give voice to it. That would mean alerting the men to her location. They were like as not still making their way around the fallen tree—the moment Quinn had disappeared from sight, she’d seen her chance.
If she could not see him, Brice would not be able to see her once she rounded the massive base and the still-attached mossy soil hid her progress. He wouldn’t give it a moment’s thought if she suddenly fell out of sight.
Which was why, rather than continuing straight ahead, she’d darted off to the right and deeper into the dark woods.
The only problem she faced was the fact that she hadn’t the first idea where she was exactly.
She stopped to rest, tying the mare’s reins off on the closest branch before leaning against the tree. A tall, sturdy birch, its trunk cool against her cheek. Eyes sliding closed, she fought to catch her breath before moving on.
She hadn’t paid attention to the direction in which she’d run, which she feared would prove problematic.
The heavens would not suddenly open up and shine a beam of light on the path she needed to take, which was something she needed to accept.
There would be no perfect time.
There would be no ideal situation.
Rather than waiting until the men slept and taking her time to work out the optimal route, she needed instead to take the opportunity when it presented itself.
That fallen tree had been an opportunity. She had been brave enough to take it.
All she needed was the strength to follow through.
Mother, she prayed. Please, help me.
“Alana!”
Her eyes flew open wide at the echo as it carried through the woods, bouncing from tree to tree until there was nothing left in the world but the sound of her name. Even the birds ceased their chattering when that echo reached the spot where she rested.
“Come, girl.” She untied the reins and mounted the mare, determined to outrun her captors if need be.
The mare did not wish to make haste through the dense woods, and while Alana could not blame her, really, such concerns were of little importance at that moment. Her heart beat wildly as she urged the animal on, all but begging her to put on a little speed as they trotted through the trees.
Brice would not show her the same understanding he had before if he caught up to her. He’d tell the others what she’d already done—and more than likely blame himself for not having warned them of her. Which meant he’d take their ire out on her in the end.
That, plus the fact that they’d deliver her to her intended, was enough to bring panicked tears to her eyes.
Oh, Mother, help me.
“Alana! You’ll get yourself killed out there, lass!”
Damn it all. She patted the horse’s neck, crooning as gently as possible to soothe it and prevent it from throwing her.
There was no hint of light anywhere, no break in the trees to tell her she was moving in the direction of the road. Nothing recognizable. Only trees and moss and soft, loamy soil and the plants which thrived therein. Not even a long-abandoned huntsman’s shelter for her to take refuge in.
She knuckled away a tear, tapping her heels to the mare’s sides to signal movement.
“Alana!”
The voices were closer. They were gaining on her. The thought of them finding her, of roughly forcing her to come with them, tying her up and throwing her across one of their saddles… she barely swallowed back a wave of nausea, the contents of her stomach threatening to reveal themselves.
Alana threw a glance over her shoulder, certain she could just make out a dark shape looming behind her. She bit back a scream but wasn’t able to stop herself from jumping in fear.
Which frightened the horse even further.
The mare whinnied before coming to a dead stop, sending an unprepared Alana sliding from the saddle.
One moment, she was securely seated. The next, she was falling to the ground, her hands still clutching the reins.
The soil was soft, at least, cushioning her backside when she landed with a thump. Pain shot up her back nonetheless, and she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.
The mare reared, forelegs kicking. Alana threw her crossed arms over her head, curling into a ball lest the kicking hooves should hit her.
Then, in a flash, the horse was gone. She darted off into the woods, disappearing in an echo of hoofbeats.
“Oh, no,” Alana groaned, slowly getting to her feet.
The horse! How would she get along without her? While the pack containing her clothing and personal items was with the men—she would do without them if need be, even her mother’s wedding gown—her food and water were in the mare’s saddle bag. And it was gone.
Footsteps came from behind her. She froze at the snapping of a twig, her heart sinking as the truth of her situation became clear.
She’d run for nothing.
Again.
Show them it doesn’t matter, she reminded herself as she turned in place. Even if it wasn’t true, she would do so. They couldn’t break her or frighten her.
“All right. Ye cannot blame me for trying,” she said, taking a step toward the figure she’d noticed while on horseback.
Only then did she realize the figure was not that of a human being.
Terror unlike any she’d ever known slammed into her from all sides, leaving her frozen solid. She could not move a single part of her body, not even her fingers. The fact that she was breathing at all was miraculous.
It wasn’t human. It was animal.
A boar.
She heard its breathing, heard the soft grunts and snorts as it sniffed the air and decided whether she was friend or foe.
She was neither. She was food. And soon, the boar would discover this and decide to rush at her.
She’d seen the results of a goring once. She’d seen how the side of the poor wretched man’s face looked like nothing that belonged on a human. It had been merely a mess of shredded meat, thanks to the boar’s tremendous tusks.
She remained still. Now, more out of self-preservation than fear. Her body was beginning to come back to her as the urge to run began pounding out a steady rhythm in her mind.
Run! Run! Run!
No. That would be useless. It would outrun her, take her down from behind, tear her to pieces while pinning her to the ground. She’d be no match for it.
Perhaps it would be for the best if the animal were to end it all.
The thought came upon her, hitting her unawares. While part of her mind wanted to reject it, push it away, refuse to entertain it… Another part agreed.
She would either die on her own in the woods, with no food or shelter.
Or she’d be forced to wed Earl Remington.
Or she could give up her life and be done with it all.
This went through her head in an instant more brief than it took to blink an eye. That, and the image of her mother frowning in disapproval of her for even thinking such terrible things.
“Help me,” she whispered just before the boar snorted and rushed her.
12
“I never should’ve let her out of my sight,” Brice growled through gritted teeth, using every foul word and expression he’d ever learned to silently curse her for her treachery.
“Ye didn’t know she would do this. Do not blame yourself. We’re all equally guilty in this.” Rodric sp
at on the ground. “I have to admit, I don’t know how we’ll ever find her now.”
“She tried this last night,” Brice admitted. It mattered little anymore. He was no longer trying to keep their relations civil.
“What?” Rodric hissed, turning to him. “You didna tell us of this? Why would you keep such an important thing secret?”
“I wanted to smooth things over with the lass,” Brice nearly shouted. “I stopped her and told her I wouldna tell anyone; it could be between us. How was I to know she would use me like this?”
“Perhaps you could’ve told me, at least, without letting her know you had?” Rodric challenged. “And I would’ve known to watch her more closely. Damn it all.”
“I know. You can blame me all you like later.” Brice turned away, all but yelling for the girl to return.
Aside from the fact that they would lose the payment from Remington, she would surely get herself killed out there. Hadn’t he already warned her?
Fergus and Quinn had moved off to the north and south, the two of them taking turns calling out for Alana. They would blame him, too. All of them would, and they’d be correct to do so.
Why had he remained silent over her attempt? They had a job to perform, and only with honesty could they be successful. That meant sharing everything with each other.
And it was her fault. She’d taken advantage of him.
If he found her, he’d kill her.
A scream pierced the air.
His head snapped up.
She was in danger, and he had to save her.
“Alana!” He ran in the direction the scream seemed to come from. “Where are ye, Alana?”
“Help me!” she shrieked.
His head snapped back and forth, his eyes and ears trained for any sign. It was dark, the trees close together in clusters which blocked the light and broke any sort of view he might still be allowed.
“Where is she?” Rodric panted when he caught up, having run to follow Brice’s progress.
“How would I know?” Brice asked. Panic grew with every passing moment. “Alana! Tell me where ye are!”