The Runaway Highlander (The Highland Renegades Book 2)

by Syme, R. L.

  “But you’re going to ride away and leave her to be sold again by your father?” Tilde’s voice was old, creaky, like an ancient door.

  “Please, Aedan. No one here will have me. Not after what I had to do.” Brighde’s pretty face colored and Aedan took her into his arms.

  “No. I won’t leave you here.” He rested his head atop hers and thought of Anne. If he could plan a new life for three, he could plan a new life for four. Or five. But heaven knew he was going to have to find a way to make more money. Everything in him had been hoping not to have to sell his sword any longer, but it was the only thing of value he had left.

  And if he had to sell his own hide, he would make sure that his sister and Anne and Elena were protected and cared for, and far away from the men who wanted to hurt them.

  *****

  Aedan arrived back at Molnar’s cave a day later than he’d hoped, and anticipated that Anne would be stir crazy, out in the hills somewhere. He’d asked her not to venture too far out of sight of the cave, and gave specific instructions for them to tie the horse up on the beach below, with plenty of food and water, since Molnar didn’t have a place to keep horses, and they needed the animal out of sight.

  “Be careful, Aedan.” Brighde pulled at his arm as he drove the cart toward the inlet that housed Molnar’s door.

  “We won’t go much farther, but the ground is steady here.” Aedan pulled up the horse and slowed to a walk.

  “You’re certain we can stay here?”

  Aedan pushed gently at her. “I’ve told you, there’s plenty of room here and you and Anne can sleep far away from the men, if your delicacy requires such amenities.”

  She giggled and threw her curly brown hair over her shoulder. These last two days, she’d been leaving it uncovered and unbraided, to fly about in the breeze. It made her seem more childlike. He liked that.

  “I am still so interested to meet this woman of yours.” Brighde snuggled against his shoulder and he opened his arm to bring her closer to his warmth.

  “She’s not mine.” Aedan’s sigh revealed more uncertainty than he’d meant to. “At least, not in any way that matters.”

  “You keep saying she’s not yours, brother. Yet it sounds like she has promised herself to you. She waits for you at this old hermit’s hovel. You plan to risk your life to save her family.” Brighde squeezed his hand. “That sounds like more than just a confused kiss or two, Aedan.”

  He had to admit, when she put it that way, it did sound like more than he kept worrying it was. Perhaps life had taught him not to hope for much, but his uncertainty about Anne would have been worrying if it had been Brighde telling her plight to him, rather than vice versa. He couldn’t understand why it didn’t worry anyone other than himself.

  He pulled the cart to a halt and jumped onto the hillside. He walked the horse to a nearby bush and secured her. Brighde slid to the edge of the cart seat and glanced behind her.

  “Are you certain that my things will be safe out here?” She touched the outline of a covered chair and held it protectively. “These are the last things of mother’s that I could find.”

  Aedan nodded and reached for his sister. “We won’t leave them here long, I promise.”

  She settled on the uneven ground and he realized for the first time how tall she’d gotten, as well, over the last year. Of course, the belly had been a shock, but in all other ways, she’d turned into a woman—not just the obvious.

  “Come. Let’s get this finished so I can risk my life again.” Aedan laughed. He felt light, taking his sister’s arm and preparing her to meet Anne. Like this could finally be the beginning of something that would last.

  He pulled the door aside and called into the cave. “I’ve returned, and I haven’t come alone.”

  A rustle from the back of the cave was all he heard in response. The wind whipped around his head, standing at the door to the cave, so he secured the old hull over the opening and brought Brighde deeper into the cave.

  What had sounded like a gentle rumbling sounded more like fighting, the closer Aedan got. He released his sister’s arm and gestured for her to be silent and wait.

  Aedan drew his dagger and pressed back against the wall. He came around the turn so quickly, his eyes didn’t have time to adjust to the dark and he yelled some wordless growl like he was on the battlefield and pounced, his weapon raised.

  The shape below him was squat, rounded, and wiggling too violently to be recognizable. But it wasn’t making any forward progress. Aedan sheathed his dagger and knelt so the fire was behind him. Deep in the recess of the cave, gagged and bound, hands to feet, lay Molnar. He jerked back and forth on the ground and continued to move against what looked like the remains of one of his chairs.

  Aedan quickly drew his dagger again and made fast work cutting the ropes around Molnar’s hands and feet, then pulled the gag from his mouth.

  The old man heaved and coughed. Aedan called behind him. “Brighde, bring me a ladle of that water near the door and one of the chairs at the table.

  In a moment, she appeared around the corner with the ladle in her hand. She brought the chair and helped Molnar to sit as Aedan poured water into the old man’s mouth and over his face.

  “What in the name of all things holy happened here?” Although he could have guessed, Aedan still asked. His heart sank in his chest as he anticipated the worst.

  “Anne.” Molnar coughed and gestured for more water. Brighde disappeared with the ladle and the old man grabbed Aedan’s shoulders. “When you didn’t return, she went out in the hills waiting for you.”

  He drank more water and slowed his breathing before glancing up again with wild eyes. “She was certain you’d abandoned her to stay with your family.”

  Aedan sighed. “I told her it might be three days or even four. Why could she not wait?”

  “Just this morning, she helped me with breakfast and then bade me take a rest while she went to pick berries. When I woke, she’d already tied my hands, then she tied my feet to the chair and gagged me. She said she’d return before nightfall and that I wasn’t to come after her.”

  “How long has she been gone?” Aedan’s heart pulsed. She would be devoured if she returned to Berwick. Perhaps he could still catch her.

  “Several hours now, I believe. After I broke the chair, I got so I could see the shadows moving against the back wall and I waited.”

  Aedan swore and stood. “Why didn’t she wait for me?”

  “Brother, I realize you are angry with her, but isn’t it dangerous for her to go back to the Sheriff?”

  He’d told Brighde everything—perhaps more than he should have told her—as they drove for Berwick. It had been her responses that had convinced him of Anne’s love, of her constancy. It had been his sister’s interpretation that quieted his anxious assumptions about Anne’s manipulating kisses.

  He should have listened to his gut more closely. Aedan sheathed his dagger and made for the cave door.

  “Where are you going?” Molnar called after him.

  “Keep my sister safe here. I promise at least that she won’t tie you up and leave you for dead.” Aedan moved the door away from the mouth of the cave and hurried out into the windy afternoon sun.

  Molnar followed. “But what will you do? We don’t know where she’s gone. You don’t know where she is.”

  “Oh, I know exactly where she’s gone.” Aedan unstrapped his horse from the cart and left the straps hanging while he found his sword and saddle in the cart bed. He pulled the straps forward and tied them to the tree, then found a rock to put behind the downhill wheel.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow.” Aedan swung onto his horse, then took his sword from Brighde’s hands and strapped it to his back. “If, somehow, I am killed or captured, Brighde, you know where to go and what to do. Give it three days for safety, then Molnar will help you to find your way.”

  “Where are you going, brother?”

  Aedan turned his head toward Berwick and s
wallowed. Anne’s rash behavior would mean consequences for so many people this time. He only had a short time to come up with a plan, for it wasn’t a far ride.

  “I’m going to save her from her own stupidity.”

  “That may take longer than three days,” Brighde muttered.

  His sister hadn’t even met the woman yet, and already, she knew her better than Aedan had. He made himself a promise. No more kisses to manipulate him. No more touches to make him do her bidding. No more promises to take back after he’d served his purpose.

  This time, he was going to find her, collect his reward, and be done with her before she could trick him into something else.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Anne had spent most of the afternoon hiding outside the city in the stable of a barn that appeared not to be used during the winter months. She could see the cathedral spire, the turrets at the castle, and the tower, but the rest of the city was hidden by the wall.

  She wondered what Elena was doing at that moment. It had been so many days since Anne had been there, she wondered if Elena had begun to sleep with her mother, or if she found one of the nurses to sleep with her. Had she been sitting all day in the Sheriff’s hall, listening to the court proceedings, or had she stayed in her room, reading or painting?

  She could only hope and pray that she had arrived in time to save Elena from the truly horrible things the Sheriff might do to her if provoked. Or if he thought no one around. Or if he had decided for certain and for sure that she belonged to him.

  Anne had happened upon a farmhouse with clothes on the line as she made her way from Molnar’s toward Berwick. She’d plucked a green wool dress and white undertunic from the line. Then, at the farm with the abandoned barn, she’d found a large many-colored cloak in a beautiful checkered pattern. She’d left silver coins at both farms, in place of the clothing.

  But the dress she’d been wearing was dirty, bloody, torn, damaged, and was beginning to smell like the underfoot scrapings of a pig farmer. She’d washed in the sea, getting her old undertunic wet and drying on the underside of the dress, then slipping into the new clothes. With the cloak around her, she felt positively warm, and like a new person.

  In this clothing, she didn’t have to be the person who’d tied up an old man in order to get her way. She didn’t have to be the person who hurt people or lied to them in order to accomplish her goal. Only the girl who overpaid in silver coins for clothing that she could have bought for a song.

  As the sun began to sink into the horizon, Anne moved from her hiding place and circled the farm to come at the city gate from the opposite direction of Molnar’s home.

  In case they were looking for her, they would be expecting her to come from the south, from England. The soldiers were not stopping those entering or leaving the city, so the anxiety sank just a bit. She might be able to do this after all.

  Instead of putting up the cloak’s hood and riding, which would have drawn suspicion, Anne drooped her chin and walked her horse. She had stopped at one of the red clay pits that lined the beaches on her way to the city and smeared her almost-dry hair with the color. They would not be expecting a red-haired young farmer’s daughter to in fact be the blonde runaway they were set to keep watch for. It would allow her to move more freely. At least until her hair dried completely and the clay started to dry and crumble.

  But she had a few good hours until that happened, and for the time, she could move in the near-dark. By dark, she could find another solution. Braided hair and wimple. Or cloak. Or charcoal. Somehow, she would get out of that city with Elena in tow.

  Forget Aedan.

  Anne tried not to make eye contact with any of the guards who waited at the gate. She didn’t hold her head too high, or look down too low. The horse nickered at the slow pace, but she kept up what she’d planned.

  The bags she’d slung over her horse’s back had been taken from the barn, but in their place, she’d left the saddle, which would undoubtedly be worth more to the farmers than their sacks of wheat or millet or whatever was now making Anne’s horse look less like a steed and more like a pack horse.

  Whatever combination of details she’d managed, they worked. She wasn’t even questioned, not by a single person.

  Once through the gate and into the city, she exercised a touch more caution with her appearance. Most of the time, she kept her countenance fixed toward the ground and stuck near to her horse’s neck for safety.

  The streets began to clear out, given the hour, and she made it to the Sheriff’s castle before the guards became suspicious. With a story about delivering flour for her father with a broken leg, she was admitted through the back door and into the kitchen courtyard, where she pretended to know where she was going.

  She unloaded the sacks from her horse’s back and lay them with several others of the same ilk that had been stacked near one of the doors. With a quick look around to assure that no one was watching her, she snuck in to the house.

  Anne removed her cloak and folded it over her arm. She scurried along the corridor and down toward the Great Hall. The doors stood open and several guards watched the inner goings-on, but paid little attention to the hallway.

  She had two choices. Try to sneak in to the Hall and risk not only being caught but having to explain why she was sneaking around in the first place. If she hadn’t done anything wrong, she wouldn’t be skulking about like a rat, her mother would say.

  That wouldn’t work. So she traced her steps back and took the stairs up to the second level. While she could easily find her own bedroom, she still wasn’t sure who was in the other rooms or precisely how far away the Sheriff or her mother were staying. Nowhere close enough to hear them regularly around her door, but they had to be somewhere.

  With any luck, they would still be in the Hall. It wasn’t so late that they would have been finished with supper, although if the Sheriff was as paranoid as Molnar had suggested, there could be guards anywhere. Everywhere.

  Anne paused at the top of the stairs and looked down both hallways, but saw no movement. The path to her room was one straight shot and if the guards came up either side, she would have to come up with a plan on the spot. Her brain wasn’t working well enough in that moment to do much of anything.

  Her hands shook visibly as she picked up her skirts and walked toward her room. She counted the steps as she neared the familiar door, just to distract herself.

  Thankfully, her heart returned to its usual speed, but she was so well-distracted, she failed to notice the soldiers until they were fully on the landing. But they didn’t run for her immediately because… someone walked in their midst.

  Anne tried not to stare, increase her speed, or yell out. Victory. But just as she put her hand on the knob to open her door, someone shouted her name.

  She snapped her head around and nearly collapsed with relief when she saw Elena pushing between the guards and running down the hall toward her. She continued to enter the dark bedroom and awaited her sister there.

  Elena came crashing into the bedroom, hugging Anne and giggling. “Oh, Anne. Where have you been? We’ve all been frightfully worried. The Sheriff said you’d been taken by the criminals who escaped, but Mother said you ran away. I knew you’d come back. I just knew it.”

  Anne watched the soldiers exchange looks with each other as Elena babbled on. Anne wasn’t certain what those looks meant, but they couldn’t be good.

  She allowed her little sister to squeeze her hands while Anne tried to come up with a plan. They couldn’t get through with the soldiers waiting there, and she couldn’t exactly explain her last week to her little sister with an audience. She wasn’t completely certain she should explain, regardless.

  Elena had a simplicity to her that was often translated by others into illness or deformity in some way, but Anne knew her better than anyone. She was a smart girl and she paid attention.

  “Should we send for mother?” Elena asked, her eyes bright. Anne looked back into the dark room.
Perhaps she could send them for a maid to build a fire, or for some dinner. But would the soldiers even obey her?

  Completely unaware of these vagaries, Elena began to dance from side to side and whistle a familiar tune. Anne smiled tightly and pulled Elena in for a hug.

  “Would you order them to go find Mother?”’

  Elena turned to the soldiers. “Go and find my mother.”

  “Yes, and fetch a maid to help tend our fire.”

  “And draw a nice, hot bath for my sister.”

  “And do ask down at the kitchen if they can send up a slice of bread or something for my supper. I haven’t eaten.”

  One of the soldiers extended his spear arm over the door. “We can’t leave you, my lady.” He spoke to Elena, but Anne couldn’t tell if that was because he was infatuated with her or if he considered Anne to be a fugitive. The two could have such similar markers.

  “Very well, then.” Anne moved to close the door. You go find our mother and the rest of you stay here. I’ll build my own fire.” With that, she slammed the door in their face and hoped it would be enough.

  After a moment, the smoldering one had the door back open and slid through the tiny crack Anne would allow. If he’d really wanted, he could easily have shoved her aside and arrested her. Instead, he nodded to Elena.

  “I can build a fire for you, my lady.”

  Elena glanced at Anne with a conspiratorial smile. “Can he build our fire, Anne?”

  Anne took a deep breath. She’d wanted the time alone with her sister. Especially if they had actually sent for Milene. That would mean the end of their alone time for good. She shook her head.

  “I’m afraid you had your chance, soldier. I will build the fire. You stand guard, because we’re such dangerous criminals, you can’t possibly leave us alone for more than the shake of a hound’s tail.”

  He opened his mouth to protest, but Anne had him by the arm and back out the door before he could put many words together. Most of the words he did manage were a deferential sort of apology and goodbye.