Graham scratched his chin, squinting as he stared off into nothingness. “Even with the best horses, ’twill take us at least a sennight or more to get to London. And that’s at a hard, steady ride with but a few hours of rest each day—just enough for the horses’ needs.” He kissed Mercy’s hand, released it, and reached for his tankard. “Do ye ken the whereabouts of Campbell and the king’s guard? And how many? I dinna care overmuch about leaving Tor Ruadh to the wolves.”
“We can defend ourselves just fine, brother,” Catriona said. She glared at Graham as she reached over and rested her hand atop Alexander’s arm. “MacCoinnich warriors will guard us well and keep us safe. I grant ye that.”
Mercy made to sip at her wine but didn’t attempt to eat. Emotions threatened to overcome her. Her new family overwhelmed her with their caring. They’d been complete strangers only days ago, but now they were willing to risk everything to protect her. They’d taken her in and embraced her. Treated her with an accepting love she hadn’t experienced since Mama and Akio.
A tear escaped and raced a hot trail down her cheek. She swiped it away, sniffing to prevent anymore from falling.
Catriona jumped up from her seat and raced around the table to hug her. “Dinna cry, lass. We’ll get through this, and soon our wee bairns will be tumbling and playing across the heather together.”
The men shifted in their seats, giving each other uncomfortable glances, and taking deep draughts of their ale. They could plan battles and killing all day long, but not one of them had the courage to face a woman in tears.
“I’m fine.” Mercy sniffed as she patted Catriona’s hand still on her shoulder. “Thank you so much, dear sister.”
“Think nothing of it, lass. Ye’re our own now.” Catriona hugged her one last time, then returned to her seat.
“So, Lord Crestshire.” Mercy sat taller and fixed the commander with a polite smile. “As my husband asked, how many men are we dealing with?”
“I’d say about a hundred men. Campbell’s regiment is only about fifty or so now. They broke off from Argyll’s six hundred after Glencoe. The king’s guard is massive but are dedicated to other causes.” He took a healthy swallow from his tankard, then supported his assessment with a slow nod. “They have already made their way into Scotland, but I received a report they’ve been instructed to report to Fort William before coming here. That will work to our advantage. They can be delayed there while we seek an audience with His Majesty.”
“Can we be ready by morning?” Mercy looked to Graham, then turned to Alexander. “We must make haste.”
“Aye, lass,” Alexander said.
“Then tomorrow it is,” Graham said. “The sooner we end this, the better.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“But how can we refuse her?”
“We tell her she is to wait here. Simple as that.” Graham turned and glared at the her in question—Janie, perched on the back of a sturdy mare.
Fidgeting with the reins, the maid looked as though she feared the horse would unseat her at first opportunity. He didna like that girl. Nor did he trust her no matter what she or Mercy said. His gut told him loud and clear, the lass was trouble.
Graham jabbed a thumb in her direction. “Look at her. Scared to death. Does she even ken how to ride?”
“She can ride.” Mercy glanced at Janie, and a faint cringe betrayed her lie. “She’ll be fine. What better way to hone her skills?”
May God have mercy on his soul; he’d married an impossibly stubborn woman. Graham widened his stance and folded his arms across his chest. They didn’t have the luxury of time to argue over something as inconsequential as that maid. Mercy needed to leave go of this ill-conceived idea. “Six riders is plenty. We dinna need to slow our pace by adding a seventh. Especially one that canna ride.”
Mercy glared back at him. “I will not set her aside again. She wishes to resume her position. A position she’s earned with loyalty, even though she wasn’t believed.”
“Ye dinna need a lady’s maid on a hard ride across Scotland and England. There’ll be no tents. No dressing gowns. And no time for extended ablutions.” He motioned for Alexander, but his coward-of-a-brother shook his head, held up a hand to fend off any words, and walked faster in the opposite direction.
Mercy stepped forward, smoothed her hands up Graham’s chest, and pressed so close her sweet scent surrounded him. “Please?” she said soft and low. “I yielded to your wishes once before to set her aside and look what came of it. I cannot refuse her, and I swear she won’t slow us down.”
Graham ground his teeth. Something about Janie wasn’t right, but he couldn’t place what it was. Graham scrubbed a hand across his face, doing his best to ignore the tempting warmth of Mercy pressed against him. The woman wasn’t fighting fair, and she was wearing him down. “The girl understands we shall ride long and hard?”
“I will make certain she understands.” Mercy stretched on tiptoe for a quick kiss. “Thank you.” She gave his chest a victorious pat and hurried away to her horse.
The horse looked at Graham, flicked an ear, then bared his teeth and tossed his head as if laughing at his inability to control his wife.
Graham stomped over to his own mount, saddled up, and wound the reins around one hand. An ominous weight settled deep in his gut as he nodded to the other riders. Alexander. Duncan. Crestshire. Marsden. May God watch over them all and bless this journey with success.
Alexander waved him forward. “Lead us, brother.”
“Stay close to me, aye?” He waited for Mercy’s subtle nod. She fell in beside him without a word. Janie followed her, then the other four took up the rear.
Graham urged his mount to the fast pace they’d keep as long as the horses’ energy allowed. Thankfully, the fierce warhorses bred by the Neal clan were known not only for their strength and size but their stamina.
A deep pull of the fresh morning air reassured him that no threat of rain rode upon the wind even though a bank of fluffy white clouds shadowed with gray bellies marred the sharp blue of the sky. The rising sun warmed his flesh, urging him onward. They’d make good time in this fair weather, and good timing was sorely needed.
“If Crestshire’s missive doesn’t reach the king before we arrive, what shall we do?” Mercy asked as she rode beside her husband. “What if the king has left Kensington? He travels during this time of year.”
Graham had wondered the same thing but dared not say it. What was the use of worrying over something he couldn’t control? He kept his gaze focused straight ahead. “If His Majesty is there and he’s no’ received the message, we shall surprise him with our visit. If he’s not there, we will find where he’s gone and follow.”
Mercy didn’t respond and that concerned him. He wished he could shield her from this. Leave her back at Tor Ruadh and handle it himself. But good sense bade him bring her. King William would be hard pressed to accept the word of a Scot without Lady Mercy present to corroborate his story.
As they entered the pass, Mercy spurred her mount to a full gallop and took the lead. Graham understood completely. She needed to get through the pass, especially this section of it, as quickly as possible. Her wounds, both internal and external, were still too raw for her to stomach this area for very long.
He tried to catch up with her, but her horse had superior speed. She was getting too far away. He couldn’t protect her with so much distance between them. “Mercy!”
Her glance back assured him she’d heard him, but she still didn’t slow down. “Dammit, woman!” Graham pulled free his pistol and fired a shot into the sky. This was not the proper beginning to this accursed journey.
Reining in her steed, Mercy came to a halt. She cast a wild-eyed look at the woods and the rising cliffs around them. “Who did you see? Where are they?”
Graham rode up close enough to take hold of her arm and give her a gentle but stern shake. “Did I no’ tell ye to stay close? No matter what?”
Mercy wet her lips and looked away.
“Forgive me. I had to get through here as fast as I could.”
Graham’s protective rage faded to a frustrated irritation. He slid his hand down her arm, took hold of her fingers, and kissed her knuckles before pressing them to his cheek. “I understand that, but ye must keep your head about ye and stay close.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “The enemy triumphs if we give them our wits on a platter.”
Alexander, Duncan, Crestshire, and Marsden thundered to a stop around them.
“I say,” Marsden huffed with a red-cheeked grin. “That was quite the jaunt.”
Graham leaned to the side and looked past them, down the road from whence they’d just came. “Where’s the girl?”
All the men shifted in their saddles and turned to stare back down the trail.
“She was right behind us,” Duncan said. “We rode past her.”
“I’m sure she’s just beyond that bend. We’ll see her shortly,” Alexander added with a wave of his hand at the curve in the road. “The lass wasna sure at all about riding. She’s most likely struggling to catch up with us as we speak.”
Mercy turned her mount around. “We should go back for her.”
Graham snatched hold of her reins, yanking them out of her hands. “Duncan will go back.” He turned to Marsden. “Ye go with him, aye?” This part of the woods gave him the chills as well. They’d gone well past the point where the first ambush had occurred, but they’d not cleared the pass yet. There was still another good mile of narrow, winding road prime for attack.
Duncan and Marsden turned their horses and rode until they were well out of sight.
“I dinna like this.” Graham shifted in the saddle, staring at the point of the road where they’d disappeared until his eyes burned with the need to blink.
“She should no’ have fallen that far behind,” Alexander said, fidgeting in his own saddle.
Duncan and Marsden reappeared with Janie’s horse trailing behind them.
“She must have fallen.” Mercy yanked her reins back from Graham and urged her horse forward.
Graham, Alexander, and Crestshire followed close behind until Graham spurred his mount forward ahead of them. He was damned tired of this feeling of losing control. He’d had his fill of it. “Ye found the horse. Any sign of the girl? Where she might ha’ fell?”
Duncan and Marsden shared a glance, then Duncan focused his troubled look on Graham. “I dinna think she fell. We found the horse beside the road. Thought she might ha’ stopped to relieve herself or wretch from the rough ride, but we searched and found nary a sign. No broken branches, no crushed leaves, nothing.”
“She appears to have disappeared,” Marsden added. “No footprints. Almost as though someone lifted her from the back of her horse and spirited her away.”
Graham turned his mount. “We need to leave this place. Ride hard and dinna stop ’til we reach the bridge. We’ll stop and water the horses there.” He pointed at Mercy. “Ride hard but stay at my side, ye ken?”
“But Janie…We must search for her. How can we leave her?” Mercy made to retrace their trail, but Graham blocked her way.
“Nay.” He shook his head. “We canna risk it. She didn’t fall or leave any sign of dismounting from her horse. There was no sign of struggle, Mercy. Do ye ken what that means?”
Mercy stared at him, then looked back at the road, her mouth tightening into a hard, fierce line.
“Do ye understand, Mercy?” Graham repeated. They had been tricked again. Janie was a traitor planted among them to gather information.
Sparing a last nervous glance at their surroundings, Mercy nodded and turned her mount. “Lead on, husband.”
She understood now. He could shield her from it no longer. And she sensed it just as he did. Someone watched them. Ready to pick them off one by one at the most opportune time. He knew in his heart that no ill had befallen the maid. This had to be Edsbury’s doing. The man planned to use the maid as a witness even if he had to torture her to make her say what he wished. Graham grit his teeth as his horse pounded along.
They finally reached the bridge, and Graham dismounted before his horse sloshed into the water. He helped Mercy dismount, hugging her to his side. The feel of her centered him. “We’ll rest here for a bit. Give the horses a chance to catch their wind.”
Mercy stared back in the direction from whence they’d come. “What do you think happened to her? I want the truth, Graham.”
“’Twas too clean for highwaymen.” Graham strode forward, scanning the horizon as the rest of the men dismounted and led their horses to the stream. “More of Edsbury’s mercenaries and the Campbells. Sassenach troops dinna possess such stealth.”
“As much as I hate to admit it,” Lord Crestshire said as he joined them. “The man is right. This was not the doings of His Majesty’s guard.” He turned to Graham. “It was my understanding that Campbell and his men had been ordered to report to Fort William.”
“A Campbell obeys the orders that suit them.” Graham pointed toward a thickly wooded area right below a plateau overlooking the pass. “There.” He’d nearly missed them. Two horses, very possibly three or more. But two for certain. One with a single rider. The other with two riders—one of them short and dressed in drab clothes with a light-colored covering in the front—Janie’s apron. The white cap fringed with the fuzzy curls of red hair confirmed the girl’s identity. They disappeared into the protection of the copse, but not before Graham spotted them. At this distance, he couldn’t discern the pattern of the rider’s plaid. But he’d bet his pistols the man was a Campbell. The other rider looked to be wearing trews.
“Will they hurt her?”
Graham could tell by the hitch in Mercy’s voice that his dear wife still wrestled with her conscience. “They’ll use her as a witness against us. They’ll only hurt her if she refuses.”
Mercy’s mouth tightened into a hard line and she nodded. Moving to her devoted horse’s side, she rubbed his withers and pressed her forehead against his sturdy neck.
Graham envied the horse’s ability to give his wife the comfort he couldn’t provide. He blew out a long, disgusted sigh. He was a large part of Mercy’s dilemma. Had been from the start. Thank God the woman still loved him in spite of it.
Glancing up at the sky, Graham gathered his horse’s reins and looked to the others. “Time to move. We’ll go slower since we rode hard for such a stretch, but they’ve some travel left in them yet this day.”
“Aye,” Alexander agreed, mounting, then scanning the landscape. “And open land ahead of us for a good while. We need that for now.”
Duncan, Marsden, and Crestshire followed suit, waiting with their attention focused on Graham as he walked over to Mercy where she stood beside her horse, staring off into the distance. The woman had known mostly tragedy. Her strength filled him with awe. But how long could such strength last? She looked spent, ready to give up.
“Come, dear one,” he said. “We best be on our way.”
Mercy blinked as though waking from a dream, turning to him with such sorrow reflected in her expression that Graham gathered her up into his arms and held her. He didn’t speak. Didn’t know what to say.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his chest. She hugged him tight, then pushed away, lifting her chin and giving him a tremulous smile. “We will get through this and return to Tor Ruadh to have our babies. Will we not?”
“Aye, m’love.” Graham nodded, forcing himself not to reach out and touch her. Her fragile strength forbade it, and he’d do nothing to risk the composure Mercy struggled to maintain. “We’ll fill the place with our braw, bonnie bairns. Lassies as beautiful as yourself, and sons as stubborn as me.”
“Yes.” Mercy’s smile grew as she took her seat in the saddle. “Let’s be on with this so we can put it behind us, yes?”
“Aye.” Graham mounted and waved them all forward. “Onward.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The gnarled roots at the broad base of the ancient oak cra
dled her perfectly as Graham pounded into her. Mercy tightened her legs around his hips and dug her nails into his shoulders. She needed this. Graham gave her strength, gave her hope, gave her the excruciating ecstasy of escaping the madness of the world for a moment lifted out of time. A soft shriek tore from her throat as sensation after wondrous sensation exploded through her, spinning her into welcomed oblivion.
Graham growled out a huffing groan, shuddering as he held her pinned against the tree. Gasping for breath, he kissed her upturned face and smoothed her hair away from her damp temples. He pressed his forehead to hers. “I thought this would help us sleep better and no’ disturb the others in the camp. But I no longer think that’s true. I willna be able to lie beside ye without wanting ye again. I canna get enough of ye, m’love.”
Mercy squeezed her legs tighter around him. “And I, you. But we do need to try to sleep when it’s our turn. You said we are to leave before dawn.” She didn’t add that currently, they were supposed to be keeping watch while the others slept. Thankfully, Marsden patrolled the other side of camp. If her husband felt safe enough to fill their time with loving rather than watching the woods for the enemy, she’d not say anything.
Graham slid his hands under her bottom and lifted her, stepping back from the tree. His resigned sigh as she unwrapped her legs from around his hips and slid to the ground made her smile. She always hated the parting of their bodies too. Recovering her unique pantalettes from the ground, she shook them out before donning them. A pat to her hair smoothed the errant tendrils back in place, but it was still quite tousled. She fanned her heated flesh. They’d ridden hard, and the day had been quite warm. Surely, Graham wouldn’t mind her bathing in the pool near camp. They still had time left on their watch.
“While you check with Marsden, I’m going down to the water to freshen up.” She waited as he mulled her proposal over, his scowl deepening at the prospect.
Her heart fluttered at the way the blue-white light of the moon washed across his powerful features, making him appear mythological. Graham wasn’t the only one stricken with unquenchable lust. Cool water splashed across her flesh would be most welcome. “I promise I’ll stay at the pool. I won’t be long.”
The Guardian Page 22