“Help me, please,” she cried out in desperation. But still, he only stood and watched helplessly. “What is the matter wit’ ye?” she yelled in angst. Tears streamed down her face. “Please, please.” But he did nothing.
Fallon fell to her knees, helpless, hopeless as the last of what was left of her field lit the sky. It had happened so fast. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She felt as if the world had swallowed her whole.
Rylan crouched down beside her. Placing his large arms around her, Fallon fought against his hold, but it only caused him to hold her tighter. “Why? Why dinna ye help me? I needed ye,” she whimpered.
She pounded her fists on his rock-hard chest with all her might, but with each strike, her strength weakened until she gave up and collapsed in his arms. There she wept.
Heat radiated off the fields. Sitting on the dirt-packed ground, Fallon watched her life crumble in the flames. Together, they sat in silence watching the stalks light up one by one like pillars. How had this happened? What was she going to do now? So many questions, so few answers.
Though it seemed like an eternity, it had only taken a few hours until there was nothing left but a smoldering field. Rylan continued to hold her as the light wind snuffed out the last flame.
“Winter will be upon us soon. What am I going to do?”
Rylan placed a kiss on the top of her head. Standing up, he began to walk the perimeter. Fallon chased after him.
“What are ye doing?”
“Lookin’.”
“Lookin’ fer what?”
“The cause of the fire. Fields dinna just burn to ashes on their own.”
Fallon followed Rylan, unsure of what it was he had hoped to find. As they reached the far end, Rylan stopped. Bending down, he picked up an empty broken bottle.
“Does this look familiar?” he asked showing her the dark green bottle.
Fallon shook her head.
“It looks familiar, but I cannae be sure.”
“Where ever it came from. It’s an English brew.” Examining the bottle, Rylan brought it to his nose. Familiar with weaponry and artillery, he detected the scent of gunpowder similar to that of an explosive weapon. With this new evidence, the burning of the field was no accident. “Fallon, I think someone intentionally meant to burn down yer field.”
“Why would anyone want to do that? I have no enemies.”
“I dinna know. But if they were looking to get our attention, they have it.”
Chapter 11
As the smoke and ash began to settle, Fallon walked around the field, assessing the damage as Rylan checked the rest of the farm to see if anything else was out of sorts.
Fallon was fortunate the fire had not spread to the nearby buildings. With the broken bottle clutched in her hands, she searched her memory as to where she may have seen such a unique design.
“I checked the stocks and the storage sheds. Nothing seems to be out of place,” Rylan confirmed as he and Leoric walked to her side.
“I cannae fathom why this has happened. Are ye sure this could no’ have been a simple accident? Perhaps the bottle had always been there.”
“There is a possibility that this could have happened by mere chance, but it’s unlikely,” Rylan presumed.
Words escaped her, and there was a moment of silence between them.
“I suppose there is nothing else that can be done. Ye must be hungry. We haven’t eaten in hours. Leoric, will ye get Braeden? We will eat together this night.”
“My apologies, my lady, but I thought Braeden was wit’ ye.”
“Nay. I thought he was wit’ ye. I havenae seen him all day.”
“Come to think of it, I havenae seen the lad since ye returned from the market,” Rylan added.
“Tis unlike the lad to be gone this long,” Leoric stated. “He ne’er misses a meal.”
“We should spread out. We will each go lookin’ fer him,” Rylan suggested.
“I will check down by the river,” Leoric confirmed.
“I’ll check in the house and barn,” Fallon hastily replied.
As Fallon and Leoric went in opposite directions, Rylan headed to the barn to retrieve a horse to begin his search in the woods. Rylan mounted quickly and kicked the horse into a sprint.
Rylan could track nearly as good as a dog. He had a keen sense about which direction to go and could find clues where others could not.
In a slow trot, he entered the woods. Rylan scanned the forest floor and small shrubs, looking for broken twigs and disturbed ground. Weaving around trees, he led the horse deeper into the forest until he found exactly what he was searching for, a clue. With a landscape covered in green shrubbery, a small strip of white cloth stood out like a light in the darkness. Dangling loosely in a tree branch, it gently waved in the light breeze.
Rylan picked the torn strip of fabric off the branch and held it in his palm. Leading the horse further in the same direction, Rylan spotted another strip of cloth and then another until he gathered five uneven torn strips. After examining them more closely, it was exactly what he had feared; they were torn pieces of Braeden’s tunic. With little to no information to go on, Rylan knew without a doubt that someone had taken him.
The clever lad was leading Rylan right to him. Rylan envisioned the boy ripping bits and pieces off his shirt unnoticed, and tossing them onto the ground like breadcrumbs for Rylan or his mother to follow.
Damn clever boy! Rylan thought as he held the fabric tightly in his hands.
The bits of fabric Braeden left behind led in a southeastern direction from Fallon’s farm. Before he went any further, Rylan turned his horse and headed back to retrieve the others. A worrisome pain caused his stomach to clench. How do you tell a mother her son is not only missing, but that someone has taken him? Giving the news, he imagined, was just as upsetting a hearing it.
“Braeden! Braeden!” Rylan heard Fallon call out, her voice high-pitched and weary.
“Fallon!” Rylan shouted as he crossed the cobblestone path into the yard.
“Did ye find him?” she desperately asked.
“I might have,” he replied, sliding off the horse and handing her the pieces of Braeden’s shirt.
“Where did ye find these?”
There was no gentle way to explain his discovery.
“It appears the lad was taken.” Fallon’s hand flew to her mouth. Her reddened eyes began to water and tears cascaded down her cheeks. Rylan continued, “I found this just south of here. It appears the lad was taken somewhere southwest of here.”
“Southwest?” Fallon turned her head to look in that direct. “There is only one reason they would have headed that way.”
“Falstone!” Rylan guessed. After pondering the day’s events, with a heavy heart, Rylan said, “Fallon, I think I know why yer field was set aflame. I think it was meant to be a distraction.”
“A distraction?”
“So they could take Braeden wit’ out us e’en knowing until it was too late.”
Fallon quickly ran past Rylan and headed for the horse.
“Where are ye going?” Rylan asked.
“It is no too late. I’m gettin’ my son back!” Fallon answered, reaching for the saddle hanging on the fence post.
“Ye cannae just go into battle wit’ out a plan,” Rylan urged.
“Is everything a battle to ye? There is no’ time to plan. Braeden could be half way across England by now. Lord knows who took him. Or where they went.”
“Which is why we need a plan. We will find him, Fallon, but together. Ye are no’ going alone.”
“Dinna be foolish. Ye are the one they are after in the first place. Ye are probably the reason they took him! If ye get caught they will kill ye. I am better off doin’ this alone.”
Her words pricked like a thorn; blaming him for Braeden’s capture. But in truth, Rylan knew she could very well be right. And if he truly was the reason, it was more of a reason for him to go. Tossing the saddle over the back of
the horse, she began to tighten the straps. Fallon put her foot in the stirrup and mounted. Rylan took a step forward, and forcefully grabbed the reins from her hands.
“I am coming wit’ ye, whether ye like it or no’.”
Rylan turned the horse around and stalked off toward the barn, saying over his shoulder, “Gather some supplies while I saddle the horse to carry them.”
Chapter 12
Within the hour, Fallon and Rylan were heading south. It had been months since Rylan felt a woman’s backside pressed against his thighs. Silently, he cursed the rocky hillside as Fallon jostled around in his arms. The feel of her bottom against his groin was like crashing waves upon the shore. It was agonizing.
With his fingers sprawled against her stomach, he fought the urge to inch his way up to caress her right breast with his hand. He remembered how firm her breasts felt. At the thought, his groin ached with want and desire. The damn vixen was clouding his mind.
Get a hold of yerself, dammit!
Rylan followed along the edge of the forest, keeping away from the beaten path. Unfamiliar with these surroundings, he was unsure what surprises they might come upon and thought it best to avoid any unexpected travelers. He was still a wanted man.
As for Fallon, she was quiet. Too quiet. Rylan’s observation of her thus far had been quite fascinating. She was stronger than most and unusually collected for a mother whose child had just been kidnapped. Most mothers, Rylan imagined, would be devastated and barely able to keep their wits about them. But not Fallon. It made little sense. In fact, the only sense this woman made was that she seemed to know her enemies well. The whole situation seemed off and did not sit well with Rylan.
There had to be more to the story than what she was telling. If there was one thing Rylan did not like, it was secrets. Especially when he had offered to put his own life in danger for the lad without knowing the full truth. Something Rylan was determined to reconcile before nightfall, even if he had to force it from her lips.
After nearly a half-day’s ride, Rylan stopped along the jutted rocks of Mount Mullon. The steep rocky incline was nestled between a rocky glen and the border that divided Scottish and English soil. It was a prime location to set up camp as the tall pines and hills would help create a barrier to conceal their location from unwanted travelers. It was also, however, a perfect spot for enemies to take cover as well. But it was the only place they could safely cross in the morning.
Rylan swung his leg over the horse and slid down, leaving Fallon atop the horse. He walked the perimeter, surveying the area. He didn’t see so much as a bird hidden in the trees. Placing his hand on an old elm tree, he noticed a sword had scarred the bark quite recently. The dirt on the ground had also been disturbed. Whoever had been there had not left too long ago and Rylan decided to take the chance that they would not be back. “This will have to do. We will camp here tonight.”
“Can we no’ ride any further?”
Rylan knew Fallon did not wish to stop. No mother would. Nevertheless, the horse needed to rest, and so did they.
“Nay. It will be dark soon. We will leave before first light. There is a small stream no’ too far from here around the bend that we passed along the way. Ye may go there if ye need privacy, but dinna linger too long. And here, take this wit’ ye,” he instructed as he held out a dagger.
Fallon accepted it and asked, “Where are ye going?”
Rylan could hear the concern in her voice.
“To gather wood. I will no’ be gone long.”
Fallon watched as Rylan disappeared into the woods. Grabbing the pommel of the saddle for support, she climbed down off the horse. Taking the reins, she led the beast to a nearby tree where she tied the reins to a low branch. Then she followed Rylan’s directions toward the stream.
Fallon looked towards the hilltop. Dark green grasses and foliage carpeted the hillside and the mountain peak was covered by low-hanging clouds that slowly swept across the sky. Just on the other side of this mountain was her son. She could not help but feel her heart being drawn to the summit. She did not wish to rest as Rylan had insisted. Time and distance between her and Braedon increased with each passing hour. She wanted to climb the summit and look out over the landscape to find him. Though she knew it was impossible, it did not stop the desperation in her heart that urged her to at least look.
Fallon walked through the maze of trees until she heard the sound of water trickling ahead. Finding its source, she followed the narrow stream to a small pond. The water was as clear and blue as the sky. At the far end, a small stream of water poured out through several small cracks in the rock face of the mountain and cascaded down into the pond like miniature waterfalls. The soothing sound of moving water calmed her. Like a mantra, she told herself that Braeden would be fine and would be in her arms soon enough.
The fact that Nathanial had taken her son was most disturbing. What would cause him to do such a thing unprovoked? He could not have learned so soon of Everett’s death and he had no evidence that she had been helping the Scot they searched for. There had to be another reason.
Kneeling next to the pool, she dipped her hands in. The water had warmed from the sun. It felt inviting. She continued to splash it on her face and neck, allowing it to wash away the day’s sweat. Sitting down on the bank, she started to re-braid her wind-blown hair to keep it from falling in her face.
“I thought I told ye to no’ linger long. I said fer ye to do what ye needed and hurry up. These woods are no’ safe.”
Startled by the booming voice, goosebumps bloomed on her arm.
“I was only gone fer a moment,” she replied defensively.
“I dinna care, lass. T’would only take a mere second fer someone to come along and snatch ye.”
“I am sorry.”
“Well come. I have food cookin’ on the spit.”
Rylan turned on his heel and walked back toward camp. Fallon did not know why he had suddenly become so angry. Since the morning, he had been nothing but impossible to be around. Had the kiss they shared filled him with that much regret? Whatever his reason, no one had ever gotten under her skin the way Rylan had. She knew she should be grateful he offered to help rescue her son, but his presence may very well do more harm than good.
If Nathanial or his men caught them together it would only make matters worse for them both. In addition, as much as she did not want to admit it, she did not wish any harm to come to Rylan. Hidden deep down behind his mask, she knew there was gentleness there. She had seen it. She just did not understand why he tried to bury it. Rylan may have acted like a man of stone, but all men had a weakness if only someone had patience enough to look for it.
Fallon kept her distance as she followed Rylan’s footsteps. As they reached camp, Fallon noticed the carcass of a rabbit cooking over well-lit flames and Rylan’s plaid lying on the ground near the fire.
The sky had darkened quickly as the sun sunk beneath the horizon. Fallon was surprised by how quickly the day had gone, even though it had felt like a lifetime had already passed. For a mother, the sorrow of losing a child was heartbreaking, but the fear of the unknown and the thoughts of how scared Braeden must be were tearing at her soul. For every minute that passed, she feared for her son’s life.
As the rabbit finished cooking, Rylan took out his dagger and stripped the meat off the bone, giving Fallon a hearty portion. They ate in silence.
Rummaging through his bag, Rylan pulled a bag made from skin out of his sporran and began to drink. Fallon’s mouth watered.
“Would ye care fer some?” he offered.
“Aye,” she said holding her hand out to take it.
Taking a sip, she coughed profusely as the warm liquid burned her throat.
“Whiskey?” she sputtered.
“Aye.”
“Wouldn’t it have been wise to carry water wit’ ye? We’ve got to keep our heads and wits about us. No’ gettin’ tap-shackled drunk on the devil’s wine.”
“My wits a
re at their best when I’m full in my cups,” he sarcastically replied. “Drink it. It will help ye relax. Ease yerself lass, fer tomorrow we will get yer son back.”
“How can ye ask me to relax? Ye cannae possibly imagine how I feel.”
Rylan sat back again a stump, crossing his arms over his chest. He stared at her with an expressionless gaze.
“Then tell me about Blackwell.” he said.
“There is nothing to say.”
“Dinna take me as a fool, lassie. Let’s have it.”
“Have what? I told ye all there is to know.”
“There be more to that story about Lord Blackwell than what ye be saying. I know it, and ye know it. What interest does he have in yer lad? If he truly only wanted me, he would search until his feet bled, but taking the boy makes no sense. Fallon, if we are to get yer son back, lass, I need to know all of it. Whatever it is ye are hiding, ye can trust me.”
Rylan watched as Fallon’s face grew pale and her eyes stared into nothingness.
“I am afraid I may no’ get him back,” she responded with the sound of finality, as if her faith had already been lost.
“Trust me, lass, when I say that I will no’ let anything happen to Braeden. Lord Blackwell has no right to harm or take yer son.”
“But he does,” she angrily cried out.
“Why?”
Rylan searched her eyes, awaiting an answer. Fallon buried her face in her hands.
“Lord Blackwell is…Braeden’s father.”
Rylan’s stomach muscles clenched like twisted metal. There was a long pause between them.
The bloody English bastard was Braeden’s father?
Even thinking the words to himself cut through him, creating a chasm as deep as an endless void. He did not want to know how or why. Fathering the lad meant Blackwell had touched her, claimed her. The image of their coupling made Rylan’s blood burn hotter than the fiery breath of a dragon.
For the first time, Rylan was speechless. Abandoning a son was one thing, but dishonoring a woman like Fallon was an entirely different story. The man should be castrated! His balls removed with hot steel and stuffed down his throat. And Rylan was the man that was going to see that deed fulfilled.
Heart of the Highlands: The Wolf (Protectors of the Crown Book 2) Page 8