The letter.
“Oh my God.” Her stomach flip-flopped as she thought of the single thin sheet of paper, folded and tucked into the cloth bag she’d worn at her waist. The same bag that had gone into the water with her.
Leah jumped to her feet, dropping the warm cocoon of her blanket as she scrambled to locate the little purse.
“What is it?” Andrew was on his feet, too, pulling his sword from the sheath on his back as he rose.
“Oh no, no, no, please, no,” she all but chanted as she dropped to her knees and snatched up the bag from under the bushes where Andrew had spread their clothing to dry.
Without the letter, how would she ever convince the MacKiernans she’d legitimately been sent to them? Without the map, she wasn’t even sure she’d be able to find Dun Ard in the first place.
Heedless of the stones and debris digging into her knees, she fumbled with the ties holding the bag shut, her shaking fingers slowing her progress in opening it. Reaching in, she hastily pushed aside the little dagger Maisey had given her, hardly noticing the sting when her thumb slid past its sharp metal edge. Beneath it, her fingers closed on a water-soaked lump that had been her precious paper.
Slowly she pulled the wad from the bag, confirming her worst suspicion.
“Oh, no.” Screwed. She was so screwed.
“What’s that you have there?” Andrew’s question startled her, his voice coming from right behind her.
“My only chance to save Grandpa Hugh’s life,” she whispered, gritting her teeth in her frustration. This couldn’t be happening.
Andrew reached around her, scooping the wet mess from her hand. “What is this?”
“It’s a letter, was a letter,” she corrected, “introducing me to Mairi’s aunt. With a map to Dun Ard drawn on it so I could find my way there if I ever had need of the MacKiernans. Maybe if I try to dry it near the fire—” She half turned, reaching out to take it from him, but he grabbed her wrist, dropping the wet lump of paper to the ground as he did so.
It wasn’t his action that froze the words on her lips or prevented her leaning over to pick up the letter.
It was the glimpse of his bare chest.
Somewhere along the way, he’d dropped the blanket he’d wrapped around himself and now wore nothing but his plaid. The long tail draped over one shoulder might cover that one side, but that still left a whole swath of bare naked muscles open to her view.
Leah swallowed hard, forcing herself to look away, up toward the night sky. It had been a very long time she she’d seen bare, naked muscles to match the likes of Andrew’s. And even then, they’d been in the pages of a magazine, not up close and personal like these.
“Yer bleeding.”
He pressed the edge of his plaid to her thumb, applying pressure to the cut.
“It’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it. It’ll stop in a little bit.” A fact she took for granted. Her body healed quickly. For now she simply wanted the sting in her thumb to distract her thoughts from the man who held her hand.
So far, it wasn’t working very well.
“Who is this Mairi you spoke of ?”
“Mairi is . . .” She began to answer, but the words stuck as if her mouth had gone completely dry when Andrew leaned past her to drag his damp shirt from the bush.
She darted her gaze down to her own hand and pressed her forefinger to her thumb, focusing on the stinging throb in the cut. Anything to avoid watching the muscles in his forearm ripple as he tore a strip of material from the shirt’s tail.
He caught up her hand again and gently wrapped the cloth around her thumb, tying it off and tucking the ends neatly under the wrap.
“Mairi is . . .” He repeated her words, dragging them out as if they were a question.
That’s right. She’d been speaking. Trying to answer his question.
“Mairi is,” she tried again, concentrating on her words. Her relationship to those people was hard enough to figure out without the added distraction of his half-naked body. “It’s mind-bogglingly complicated. She’s a MacKiernan. Her brother’s wife is the sister of my sister’s husband.” There. Could she make it sound any more confusing? Could she make herself sound any more idiotic?
“Mairi MacKiernan?” he asked, his voice so soft she had to lean in closer to make sure she understood the words.
Big mistake. She could feel the heat rolling off him when she did.
“Yes. No,” she corrected herself, all too aware of the man next to her. “Not MacKiernan. She’s married. Her husband’s name is Ramos . . . Ramos, damn!” Her mind had gone completely blank but for thoughts of chests and muscles. You’d think she could concentrate enough to remember something as simple as the man’s stupid surname? So what if she’d only known the whole bunch of them for a handful of days? So what if all she could picture in her mind was Andrew’s bulging biceps?
“Navarro?” He supplied, his voice still hushed.
“That’s it! You’ve heard of them?” Mairi had told her that she and Ramos had spent quite a while in this time.
“I have.”
This was too good to be true. If he’d known Mairi and Ramos, maybe he knew more. “And Dun Ard? Do you know how to get there?” Leah finally forced her eyes up to meet his, all but holding her breath as she waited for his answer.
“I do.”
Maybe she wouldn’t completely fail Hugh and Margery after all.
“My only hope to save my grandfather is to reach the MacKiernans. The map drawn on that paper was my only way of finding them. With it gone . . .” She allowed the words to hang in the air as she searched his face. “You said earlier that perhaps you could help me. Showing me the way to Dun Ard would be the biggest help I could hope for.”
Bizarre how the pendulum of her world had taken a full swing in the span of mere minutes. Leah could hardly believe how quickly she’d gone from trying to decide whether or not she could trust this Andrew enough to tell him anything about herself, all the way to the point where she found herself now—ready to beg him to take her where she needed to go.
Seven
Curiosity? Morality?
Drew shifted against the boulder that served as his backrest, staring across the flames at the woman on the other side of the fire. She lay on her side, her head propped up on one elbow. Her long blond hair fanned out around her shoulders, glinting in the firelight like a cape of spun gold.
She’d wrapped her woolen around her, covering her from the waist down, but the blanket might as well be invisible. Drew knew all too well what it concealed. She’d forgotten all about the woolen when she’d scrambled after her pouch in search of the letter she claimed to carry. Wearing naught more than his shirt, she’d exhibited a pair of shapely legs which had looked to go on forever.
He licked his lips at the memory.
Lust?
He could not say why he had agreed to escort her to his home any more than he could say why he’d chosen not to tell her that Dun Ard was his home.
Lunacy, most likely.
Everything he’d learned about her so far pointed to this woman being trouble on a grand scale. She claimed to know his cousin Mairi and, try as he might to come up with alternatives, that could mean only one thing.
Leah must have come from the future where Mairi lived.
That inescapable fact led to an even more insidious conclusion. . . . The beauty sitting across from him was somehow connected to the Fae. Likely, she was here because they’d sent her.
That could only mean trouble. Trouble and sorrow and many ruined lives followed in the wake of encounters with the Fae. Certainly his encounter with the Faerie Count Servans had ended that way.
He should have recognized the stench of Fae Magic when he’d first ridden into the clearing.
So many should haves.
Once he’d pulled her from the cold waters, he should have turned his back and continued on, searching for a safer haven in which to spend his night.
Instead of
offering to show her the way to Dun Ard, he should have beaten a hasty retreat, leaving her as far behind him as possible.
And yet, in spite of all the should haves he could list, he’d done none of them. Here he sat, waiting for first light in order to head north, dragging this walking, talking bundle of trouble straight into the arms of the people he loved most.
Sliding down to his back, he propped his arms under his head and stared up into the starlit sky. The crackle of damp wood in the blaze usually soothed him, lulling him to sleep.
But not this night. This night his mind raced with the possibilities of what was yet to come now that he’d agreed to accompany Leah to Dun Ard.
It wasn’t just the Fae he needed to worry about.
“Why are the English after you?”
As he asked the question, he looked over to assess her reaction. Though she still held her head upright, propped on her elbow, the wait for her to answer was so long, he began to wonder if she might have fallen asleep.
“What makes you think they are?” she responded at last.
“You questioned whether or not I was English, in the same breath in which you demanded to know if I had come looking for you.”
Another long pause, as if the woman debated every word she considered uttering.
“It’s complicated.”
Her explanation for everything, it seemed.
“No half so complicated as my life will be if I’m caught aiding a criminal wanted by the English. I dinna fancy the idea of dancing at the end of a rope to pay for yer crimes.”
“I’m not a criminal.” She pushed herself up to sit and, crossing her arms defensively, she glared at him.
Had he struck a tender spot?
“No? Then perhaps you’d care to enlighten me as to why yer wanting to avoid the English.” He might have committed himself to helping her, but he’d be damned if he was going to walk into some bees’ hive without at least knowing what awaited him.
“So far all you’ve told me is that yer uncle could well have men searching for you and that yer grandfather is held prisoner in yer family keep. It’s no so much information to go on. It’s certainly no enough for me to be putting my own life and freedom in jeopardy over.”
“Nobody said you had to help me. You offered of your own free will.”
“That I did. And I have every intention of helping you reach Dun Ard. But I must warn you as well, the MacKiernan laird may rightly refuse to endanger his own people if the English are involved in this. I would.”
“I suppose I should count my blessings that you aren’t the MacKiernan laird then, shouldn’t I?”
A twinge of guilt gnawed at his conscience, but only for a moment. His family’s safety could well depend on what he learned from her, and he intended to learn all he could before showing his hand.
“I’d expect in return for my agreeing to show you to Dun Ard, you’d be willing to warn me of what I’m up against in doing so.” He rose to one elbow, catching her eyes and holding them. “That’s no complicated. It’s only fair.”
“I suppose you have a point. You should know.” She nodded slowly, uncrossing her arms and dropping her hands to her lap. “My uncle Richard abandoned his family years ago when he married. He went to England because his wife’s father is apparently somebody important in the English court. Last week Richard showed up again. Him and a bunch of English soldiers. He claimed MacQuarrie Keep in the name of King Edward and locked my grandfather away when he tried to stop him.”
“And you think yer uncle has men searching for you because . . .” He dragged out the question, waiting for her to continue her story.
“I escaped to go for help.” She looked away, lifting a hand to clasp the pendant hanging from her neck as she did so.
“That’s it? That’s the whole story?”
She seemed uncomfortably nervous, as if there might be more.
“That’s pretty much it.” She rose to her knees and scooted closer to the fire, readjusting her blanket as she did so. “It’s really cold out here.”
A change to the direction of their conversation?
Drew laid his head back down on his arms, closing his eyes as he did so. He’d be willing to bet a saddlebag full of silvers that there was more she wasn’t telling him.
For his part, he could only hope whatever she kept from him wouldn’t make him regret his offer to help any more than he already did.
Eight
If they didn’t find a place to camp for the night that suited Andrew soon, Leah wasn’t sure she wouldn’t simply fall off the horse in a miserable, exhausted heap. Her inner thighs chafed from rubbing against the horse blanket with each step the animal took, and her shoulders ached from holding herself stiffly upright to avoid leaning against Andrew’s back.
She’d never been particularly fond of riding and this riding double, especially with a man she barely knew, was one of the most uncomfortable things she’d done in a very long time.
In spite of that, she had to admit it beat walking. They’d gotten much farther today than she would have on foot. And she was headed directly where she needed to go, something she couldn’t have been so sure of before, even if her map hadn’t been destroyed.
There had been some doubt in her mind last night after Andrew had agreed to show her to Dun Ard. She’d even gone so far as to study the skies, searching out the North Star in exactly the way her older brother Chase had taught her when she was little.
When Drew had headed his horse in that direction this morning, she’d been able to allay the last of her doubts about him.
But that had been many, many hours ago.
As the sun had dipped lower in the sky, she’d heard her inner child ranting are we there yet for so long that she could think of nothing else. Nothing except her raw thighs, that is. And her aching back.
The sun had disappeared behind the trees and the sky had turned dusky purple with the promise of night. And still Andrew showed no sign of slowing or stopping.
She didn’t need perfect; she simply needed off this damn horse.
“What about over there?” Leah pointed to a tree-covered area to their left. “Surely we could manage just fine there for the night.”
“No,” her companion grunted over his shoulder. “We’ll no be staying out in the open again. I’ve no wish to chance one of the English patrols stumbling upon us.”
He did have a point there. English patrols would be a bad thing. Especially if they’d had any contact with her uncle Richard. But how could they not camp out for the night? What was he thinking? It wasn’t exactly like they could stop at the local Holiday Inn.
“What are we going to do then?” Surely he didn’t think they’d just keep riding for days on end.
“There’s a wee monastery no too far ahead. If we keep up our pace, we should be able to reach it no too long after the moon’s rise. You’ll be safer there.”
A monastery. She recalled her grandpa Hugh having spoken of staying at a monastery when he traveled to and from Inverness. For all she knew, it could be the very same one. She wished now she’d asked him more questions about his travels.
Andrew’s comment about her being safe at the monastery took her by surprise, like it was only her safety that concerned him and not his own. She felt a little smile curving her lips in spite of her discomfort. First he’d saved her life and now he was acting like her personal bodyguard. If she actually believed in random luck, she’d be tempted to believe that she’d gotten beyond incredibly lucky in bumping into Andrew.
“Do you need to walk about for bit?”
“No.” No way. If she climbed down off this huge animal now, she’d likely refuse to get back on. Her thighs stung like crazy and there didn’t seem to be any position she could wiggle into that gave her relief.
Thank goodness she’d be healed by morning or she’d never make it to her journey’s end.
Andrew shifted in the saddle, straightening his leg, and a flash of panic hit her, as if she w
ere going to slide off her seat. Without thought, she threw her arms around his waist, clenching her fingers into the folds of his shirt.
When he patted her hand, like some grownup reassuring a frightened toddler, she could actually feel her face turning red with embarrassment.
Minor payment for feeling more secure on the horse’s back.
Embarrassment be damned. She had no intention of moving her arms away now that she’d latched on to the man. It was the first time all day she hadn’t felt like she might topple off if their mount came to a sudden stop, a feeling that had grown more pronounced as she’d grown more tired.
What was that thing her mom used to say? In for a penny, in for a pound? Something like that. Whatever the exact wording, she remembered the meaning well enough and intended to utilize it right now.
Gently, ever so slowly, she laid her cheek against Andrew’s back, scooting forward a little as she did so, tightening her hold around his waist.
And why exactly hadn’t she done this hours ago?
It felt wonderful. Especially when he clasped his big, warm hand over hers.
Warm and safe and somehow oddly comforted, she relaxed, letting her mind go blank until new thoughts colored the canvas.
“Why wouldn’t you help me save my grandparents if it were up to you?” The comment Drew had made last night continued to haunt her. “It’s a worthy cause. They’re good people whose lives are at risk. They deserve justice.”
Long moments passed and she’d begun to wonder if he’d even heard her question.
“I dinna doubt either their need for or their right to justice. But, if it were my people I had to send into battle, I’d be thinking of the risk to them. Is one life worth more than another?” He paused, as if carefully considering his words, starting and stopping twice before he continued. “For myself, I canna partake in battle so I have to think, by what right could I ask another to do that which I would no do myself ?”
She refused to accept the logic of his words. Accepting would refute everything she hoped to accomplish. The very reasonableness of his argument irritated her. But not enough to force her to break the physical contact she had with him.
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