The Chase

by Lynsay Sands

  Seonaid paused in her pleating to peer up at the other woman with surprise. "Go where?"

  "Anywhere. Away from here before those men return."

  "They'll no return, Helen," Aeldra said reassuringly. "An' do they, we'll take care o' them again."

  Seonaid wanted to agree with her cousin, but there was something about the woman's panic that gave her pause. "Did ye recognize them, Helen?"

  "Aye." The redhead bit her lip. Her gaze moved around the trees surrounding them, as if expecting them to come running out of the trees again at any moment. "They were Camerons."

  Seonaid expelled her breath on a sigh, then her mouth went firm and she turned back to her plaid and began pleating more quickly. Despite the way her mind was now racing, she sensed when Aeldra moved away to collect her own clothes.

  "I thought I recognized one of the men when we passed them this morning," Helen added, anxiety heavy in her voice. "But we rode by so quickly, I was not sure."

  "This mornin'?" Aeldra asked as she returned with her clothes and began to don them.

  "Aye. Do you not recall the party we passed on the road this morning? There were six of them; three dark-haired, two blond, and a redhead, just as these men were. They moved to the side to make way for us. I thought I recognized one of them from Cameron's men, but I did not get a good look and, in any case, I was not close enough to see any of them very clearly," she admitted. "It must have been them, though. They must have recognized me and followed us."

  Seonaid raised her head and took in the agitation in Helen's jerky movements as she tugged on her clothes. Seonaid had a vague recollection of passing a small party of travelers but had been rather distracted with the way Blake's arm had been rubbing against the bottom of her breast as they rode. He had tightened his hold on both her and the reins at the first sight of the oncoming party, presumably in case he needed extra control should trouble break out. He had also urged his mount to a faster speed so that they had passed quickly. Seonaid hadn't really caught more than a glimpse of the party as they passed, though it could have been the same men. There had been six, if she recalled correctly, and it did seem to her that there had been three dark, two blonds and a redhead in the party. A coincidence? Or had they followed them, waited for them to make camp, then snuck up on the women while they were bathing?

  On the women and Blake, she reminded herself. They had entered the clearing directly on his heels. Of course, they might have been preparing to make their move when Blake had appeared, and seeing that he was weaponless and no threat, had attacked.

  "Aye. 'Twas the same men," Aeldra murmured as she knelt to pleat her own plaid. "We passed them early this mornin'. I got a pretty good look at them then an' again just now while we were afightin'. 'Twere the same men."

  Seonaid nodded slowly. If Aeldra said it was so, it was so. She had excellent vision. So, Rollo's men had passed them by chance this morning, recognized Helen--despite Sister Blanche's outfit--followed, and attacked.

  Helen was right; they would have to head out immediately. Rollo would be desperate to see the redhead dead. Seonaid was as aware as he must be that if he didn't kill her before her father caught up to her, he would lose his chance, and once it became known that he had planned to kill her ... Helen was English. Her father was wealthy, and wealth usually meant power. Her father could put pressure on his English king, who would put pressure on their Scottish king, and Rollo could very well lose his head over the matter.

  "Was Rollo among the men?" she asked suddenly.

  "Nay, he was not among them." The woman was just starting to relax at that realization when Aeldra spoke up.

  "He wouldn't be foolish enough to be among the attackers, in case the plan failed--as it did. He wouldna have wanted to be recognized. 'Sides, he probably has several parties out lookin' for her."

  "Aye," Seonaid agreed. Finished with her pleating, she donned her plaid over her braies and the shortened shift and stood as Aeldra completed her own dress. Seoniad patted an anxious-looking Helen on the shoulder, then took her arm and turned her toward camp. "Come. We should leave at once. We'll ride for Dunbar an' the safety it offers."

  "Surely you do not think they would attack again?" Helen said with alarm. "There are only four of them left and we have the king's men traveling with us."

  "They'll no attack right away," she reassured her. "But three of them will stay nearby to trail us while the fourth rides to Rollo an' tells him where you are an' how many men we have. Then he shall bring twice or thrice that many back to attack."

  "He will?" Helen was goggling.

  " 'Tis what I'd do," Seonaid answered with a shrug, then urged her into the trees. " 'Tis best we get to Dunbar 'ere he returns. Once we're safely there, we can send a message to yer father. Though that shouldna be necessary. Once we reach Dunbar, Rollo will ken he has lost, an'--if he's any sense at all--will disappear."

  "But--" Helen tripped over a tree root, managing to keep her feet thanks to Seonaid's hold on her arm, then said, "The men will not be willing to leave now. They just bedded the horses down for the night."

  "We'll have to tell them the truth o' things," Seonaid decided. "Explain that ye're no a sister, an'--"

  "But what if they do not believe you?" When Seonaid paused and peered at her blankly, she went on. "We have tried to escape them at every turn and have even poisoned them. The only thing we have not done is lie. Well, we have lied about me, but they do not know that. If you admit that we were lying about me, they may not believe anything we have to say. They may think this is simply another attempt to escape, part of some greater plot. Can we not just slip away and--"

  Seonaid stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. The woman was in a panic. "Trust me," she said solemnly. Helen hesitated, then slowly nodded. Satisfied, Seonaid turned and continued into camp. Her gaze shot between Lord Rolfe and Blake as she entered, but finally settled on Lord Rolfe. He seemed more likely to be willing to listen to her. He was eager to see this wedding done and be about his business anyway, so he would hardly mind rushing to Dunbar. He merely needed a good excuse to do so.

  "My lord?"

  Lord Rolfe and the bishop both stood as they approached them at the fire.

  "Aye, Lady Seonaid?" Rolfe asked politely, but she noticed his gaze was skittering to Lady Helen--or Sister Helen, as he thought she was. Interesting, Seonaid thought, and stored the knowledge aside for later consideration.

  "It'd be wise to leave now an' ride night an' day until we reach Dunbar," she announced bluntly.

  Lord Rolfe's jaw dropped at this suggestion, and she supposed she couldn't blame him. Until now she'd done everything she could to avoid returning to Dunbar and tending to the wedding, yet here she was suggesting they hurry there.

  "Is there a reason for this sudden suggestion?" Bishop Wykeham asked when Rolfe continued to gape like a fish out of water.

  Seonaid turned to the holy man and nodded grimly. "I fear we're like to be attacked again. We passed those men who attacked us earlier this morning. 'Tis obvious they followed with the intention o' attackin'. I fear they'll try it again."

  "But you and your cousin defeated them," the bishop pointed out. "They are two less men now than they were to start with; surely they will not be foolish enough to try attacking again."

  "No by themselves," Seonaid agreed. Her comment appeared to help Rolfe's mind to start to function again.

  "You think they will fetch more men to come back and try again," he said, and Seonaid nodded. Rolfe considered this, then tilted his head slightly to ask, "Did you recognize the men? Do you know who they could be?"

  Seonaid hesitated. After what Helen had said, she'd rather not tell the truth, but part of the truth would be all right. She chose her words carefully when she finally said, "Our clan has many enemies. The Cameron keep is no far from here."

  "The Camerons?" Rolfe looked surprised.

  "Aye. A fouler lot of scabbies ye'll never see. They've had a grudge against us forever. If 'twas them ..."
Seonaid shrugged and let the sentence trail away.

  "We can handle a couple of Camerons," Blake announced, making his presence known. Apparently he'd been made curious by the little huddle taking place and moved to join it. Seonaid glanced over her shoulder and found herself staring at his chest. She actually had to tip her head up to see that he was smiling down at her with reassurance. Having to look up to meet someone's eyes was a new experience in itself, but one she rather liked. It was nice not to tower over everyone for a change.

  "Lady Seonaid was just saying that she thinks those men who attacked will go fetch more men and return," Rolfe explained to Blake.

  "Nay," Seonaid said. "I doona think they will, I ken they will. They'll fetch back the rest of the clan; then the Cameron club shall come down on us like a great foot. They'll slaughter us good an' proper, at least the men. The women will wish they were dead."

  "Oh, dear," Bishop Wykeham murmured. "Perhaps we had best saddle up and head for Dunbar."

  "Aye," Rolfe agreed, his expression grim. "We could be there by late tomorrow evening or early the day after if we leave now. At any rate, it would put us ahead of the Camerons, and that is good enough for me."

  Seonaid relaxed as the Englishman turned away and began shouting orders, but when she turned toward Helen and Aeldra it was to find Blake in her way. He was watching her with a narrow-eyed look that stunk of suspicion, and said that he suspected she was up to something. Seonaid didn't care. So long as they got Helen safely to Dunbar, she didn't really care what the Sherwell thought.

  They rode through the night and most of the next day, forced to go at a slower pace than Seonaid would have liked because of the three horses carrying two people each. She found it rather frustrating, but Blake would not give in to the idea of the women being given back their mounts and Lord Rolfe, after a hesitation, had agreed with him. It seemed the king's man believed her enough to want to move, but not enough to risk the women being able to slip away again.

  Seonaid forced herself to accept the situation. There was little else she could do. But it had been a long, tense ride, with her sitting as stiff and erect as a soldier the whole way in an effort to keep any part of her body from touching any part of Blake's. When midafternoon rolled around and Blake decided they should stop to let the mounts rest, she was most relieved. Helen was obviously not. The moment Lord Rolfe lifted her down off his mount, she rushed to Seonaid's side.

  "Should we be stopping?" she asked, grabbing up her skirts to trail Seonaid down the sloping hill toward the trees.

  Blake had decided to stop on a hilltop that allowed a clear view of the surrounding area. A watch would be set in place while everyone rested. No one would be able to approach without being spotted, at least while it was light. She suspected the moment darkness fell, Blake would have them back on their horses and riding again. At least she hoped he would. It was not much farther to Dunbar. They could be there by midmorning the next day if they left again as the sun set.

  "The horses need rest," Seonaid said in answer to Helen's question as Aeldra caught up to them. "We'll no get far do the horses die under us."

  "Oh, aye." Helen didn't sound pleased, but didn't argue the point either.

  "We'd be at Dunbar by now had the men no insisted on our ridin' with them," Aeldra grumbled as they reached the trees.

  "Aye," Seonaid agreed.

  " 'Tis damned uncomfortable aridin' with that great lout Stupid George."

  "Little George," Helen corrected.

  The small Scot gave a sniff. "It should be Stupid George, if ye ask me."

  Her words surprised a laugh out of Seonaid and she glanced at her cousin. "Givin' ye trouble, is he?"

  "Aye. Ridin' with him is about as comfortable as ridin' on a great bouncin' stone."

  Seonaid merely shook her head. She had noticed her cousin rode with Little George much as she rode with Blake, stiff and straight as a bow. Which made her wonder if her cousin found herself attracted to the large man in the same way she herself was attracted to Blake. But the image of the two together was so bizarre she shook her head. 'Twas like envisioning an Irish wolfhound and a Scottish terrier together.

  "I find riding with Lord Rolfe most comfortable," Helen spoke up, drawing Seonaid and Aeldra's attention. "It feels safe and warm, and I find I doze off most of the time and sleep."

  "That being the case, ye should be the one Sherwell posts as guard," Aeldra teased. "Yer probably the only one o' any o' us who's had any sleep in the last two days."

  "That may be true," Helen said seriously. "Mayhap I should suggest it to Lord Rolfe."

  Seonaid laughed at the suggestion as the women separated to find their own private spots to tend to personal needs, but the thought stayed with her as she tended to business. She had spotted Helen sleeping several times today and had no doubt the woman had rested through a good portion of the ride the night before. The small redhead had been curled up against Lord Rolfe like a cuddly ginger kitten, sound asleep and held in place by his surrounding arms. She probably was the only one of them in any shape to keep guard, or do anything else. Now, if Seonaid and Aeldra were to do the same when they rode out again that evening, when they arrived at Dunbar, they would be the only ones in any shape to do anything ... like ride straight out again while the men all rested and recovered from the journey. The very thought brought a small laugh from Seonaid.

  "Somethin' amuse ye?" Aeldra asked curiously as the three women met up again where they had split. "I thought I heard ye cacklin' yer evil cackle a minute ago."

  "Me evil cackle, eh?" Seonaid asked with amusement, then explained the thought that had amused her so.

  "The women seem awfully cheerful," Blake said with some suspicion as he watched them make their way back up the hill. "What do you suppose they are up to now?"

  "Probably nothing," Rolfe said, also watching them. "No doubt their good mood is because they are the only ones who have had any sleep."

  Blake glanced at him with surprise. "Sister Helen slept on the ride?"

  "Like a babe in its mother's arms. Did Seonaid not sleep?"

  "Nay," Blake admitted, his eyes returning to the approaching women. Seonaid hadn't slept, she hadn't even relaxed; she'd been as stiff as a board in his arms the entire ride. Which had made it impossible for him to relax either. It had been a damned uncomfortable ride.

  Turning away, he moved to find a spot to lay down and catch a nap. They wouldn't be stopping long. Four hours at most, and then they would have to be on their way again.

  Seonaid blinked her eyes open and stared sleepily up at the handsome face bent over her own. A smile of welcome began to curve her lips; then her brain awakened as she realized who she was smiling at. She abruptly frowned and struggled to sit up as she recalled where she was. On horseback, very much in the lap of the Sherwell.

  "Did you sleep well?"

  Seonaid ignored the question as she forced herself upright in the saddle before him. She knew the man had been surprised when, on getting back on the horse, she had forced herself to relax and lean into him. Though she had intended to do so, she was still surprised that she had actually fallen asleep in his arms. But once she had forced her mind and body to relax, the lulling rhythm of the horse had sent her off to sleep.

  "You seemed to sleep well. You were snoring," he informed her, adding helpfully, "and drooling."

  Seonaid reached up, mortified to find that he was telling the truth--her cheek was damp. She wiped the drool away with irritation and sat a little stiffer before him as her gaze slid around the area they were riding through. They were ascending a hill, a very familiar-looking hill.

  "We're home," she murmured with surprise as they crested the hill and Dunbar keep came into view. Seonaid felt happiness well up within her at the sight of the castle she'd grown up in. No matter why she left, or for how long, she always had this sensation on returning. Her father was here and her brother, Giorsal, and Aeldra's brother Allistair, and now her sister-in-law, Iliana, too. Her famil
y.

  The pleased smile remained in place until they approached the bridge over the moat and she spotted the charred and blackened bodies and rubble on the ground in front of the wall. Seonaid stiffened before Blake, desperate to know what had happened. She relaxed a bit when she recognized the men standing guard on the wall, and only then did her attention turn to scanning the area to see the traces of battle.

  Dunbar had been attacked. Lord Rolfe, the bishop, and Little George urged their horses closer to Blake's.

  "What think you?" Lord Rolfe asked.

  "Greenweld?" Blake suggested as they rode across the bridge and entered the bailey. "It looks like there was a siege."

  Seonaid wasn't really listening to the men; she could see for herself what had taken place. A siege was right. Someone had attacked the castle, catapulting burning missiles over the walls. There was quite a bit of damage to various buildings within. There were no bodies laying inside the walls, but then, there wouldn't be. Those would have been seen to first.

  The bodies outside the wall would be seen to last, if their own people didn't beg permission to return to tend to the matter themselves.

  Seonaid controlled herself as long as she could, but Blake had slowed his mount even further as they had entered the bailey and was now moving at a snail's pace. Halfway across the bailey, she could stand it no longer and tossed one leg over the beast to propel herself off the mount.

  Blake let loose a sound of surprise and brought the horse to a halt to prevent running her over, but he didn't try to stop her.

  Landing on the hard-packed dirt of the bailey, Seonaid broke into a run, racing toward the keep. The door opened as she started up the stairs and she glanced up to see wee Willie, the stable master's son, step out. A smile broke out on the lad's face when he spotted her.

  "Seonaid!" he cried in greeting, and she stumbled to a halt at the sight of the bandages on the boy's arm.

  "Willie?" She paused to run a hand over his good arm, her gaze locked on the bandages on his other one. "Are ye all right, lad?"

  "Aye." His smiled widened. "Just a bit o' a burn," he assured her. "Lady Iliana took care o' it."

  "Is everyone--? Was anyone--?" She stumbled over her own words, finding it difficult to ask what she wanted to know. "Father?" she got out finally.