Hunted (The Scottish Falconers Book 2)

by Wylie, Diane

  * * *

  Derek raised his head after hearing his name. Isobel glanced toward him with a huge, happy smile on her pretty face that sent warmth coursing through his cold body. Then she pulled the hood of her coat over her head against the heavily falling snow and went to help the others.

  He sighed and rubbed his throbbing leg. Could he pretend to be Scottish forever? Actually, he was partly Scottish, but he was mostly English … their enemy.

  Exhausted, he flopped backward, ignoring the snow under his head and closed his eyes. What else could he do but go with them? His whole unit had been wiped out. His commanding officers didn’t know he was alive. He didn’t even know where the English troops were right now because they were apparently not at Dunnottar castle.

  “How do ye feel, Derek?” Her silky voice made his heart leap, and he opened his eyes. Isobel stood peering down at him, her face shadowed by her hood.

  “A bit unwell still, but I’ll do.”

  The corners of her mouth lifted, and her even white teeth showed as she grinned at him. “Good. Shall I give ye a hand up or do you need one of my brothers to help ye?”

  “I’d prefer a hand up from you any day.”

  He got his good leg in position and extended both hands to take hers. Once he was upright, she placed his arm around her shoulders and put her arm around his waist.

  They made it to the donkey cart, where he sat down on the back edge.

  “Will my weight be too much for such a small creature?”

  The cart was already loaded with lumpy sacks of something and little William. Several T-shaped wooden structures lay inside as well. Derek had seen these used as perches for the falcons.

  “Och, no.” Catriona, Isobel’s sister-in-law, was repacking the pots after cooking the rabbit meat. Turning to Derek, she smiled a bit sadly. “Roger, our donkey here, could pull me, my big father, and an entire load of bread and rolls without a problem. He can do it fine.”

  She patted the donkey’s rump affectionately.

  Her husband came up beside her and leaned down for a quick kiss. Derek watched her whole face light up at Rabbie’s appearance. That was love.

  He glanced at Isobel as she went about helping clean up their campsite and slung a bag over her shoulder.

  Does she love someone? She wasn’t married, but she could be sweet on a man somewhere.

  Just then, Isobel walked toward him. Although Derek tried mightily to keep his expression stoic, his mouth curled up involuntarily. Just seeing her made him happy.

  “Ready?”

  “Could I ask ye a favor first? I left my weapons over there—a sword and a knife. Would you fetch them for me?

  As she turned to get the weapons, her pack banged against her side.

  “Would ye like me to hold your pack or put it in the cart, Isobel?”

  “No!” Her face turned pink for a second. “I mean, no thank ye, kind sir.”

  “Want some?”

  Derek turned to see little William holding out a piece of meat.

  “No, Willie, you go ahead and eat it. Would it be okay if I ride with you?”

  William gobbled the morsel and licked his fingers one at a time. “Aye, I’ll show ye how to make a bed.”

  As Derek divided his attention between the boy and Isobel, he mused over her reluctance to part with the sack. Then he noticed that Boyd and Fin Graham carried the same type of sack.

  She came back and handed over the weapons.

  There was no time for further thought. The cart started forward with a jerk and Derek nearly fell out, which sent a jolt of agony through his body. This was going to be a long and grueling trip.

  Chapter 4

  “Isobel,” Derek whispered as she helped him hobble over the jutting rocks and fallen logs, “why are we not taking the roads?” He didn’t want the Graham men to hear him. They were in foul moods, cursing and struggling with the donkey and cart over the rough terrain.

  “’Tis safer to avoid the English.” She shot him a worried look when his bad leg buckled, nearly taking them both to the ground.

  Behind them, William giggled.

  “Hush, Willie, that’s not verra nice.” Catriona had the boy by the hand to help him stay upright as well. “Ye wouldna like it if Derek laughed at you for falling.”

  “Nay, I would laugh too,” the little boy declared.

  “Da said we will come to a bit of easier ground once we get out of Dunnottar Woods. Did yer stitches open, Derek?”

  “I felt something tear. We can check when we stop. I dinna wish to make yer menfolk angrier.” The Scottish accent was coming easier to him now that he had spent two days in the company of these Scots.

  Isobel glanced back over her shoulder. “Cat, you and William go on ahead. We’ll catch up shortly.” She pulled Derek to a stop near a tree. “Here, hold onto the tree, and I’ll check yer stitches.”

  Derek quickly looked for her father and two brothers. They might not appreciate their daughter peeking inside a man’s breeches. But the men were far enough ahead and busy dealing with a recalcitrant Roger. They wouldn’t notice this.

  So, he panted for breath, holding onto a tree while this beautiful Scottish woman pulled his shirttail up and his waistband down. She was so close he could feel her warm breath on his skin. His anatomy liked it, and in a moment, he knew that she had noticed this fact. She tipped her head back to see his face and smiled broadly.

  “Ye must be feeling better, but there is a little blood on yer bandages. I’ll need to change them.”

  He reached down with one hand and pulled his breeches out of her grasp and back into position. “Aye, later.” His voice came out hoarse and thick.

  Derek would have liked to talk to Isobel more, but he didn’t have the breath to spare. Why did she become a falconer? Hunting was not a normal interest for a female. How did she feel about people who were not full-blooded Scots? He was only part Scottish.

  They were moving on through the forest again. Dead leaves and thick pine needles carpeted the ground, making footing slippery in places.

  After another hour of toiling to get through the tangles of low-hanging branches and bramble bushes, they reached a narrow horse trail. Derek and William were able to get back into the cart and ride.

  Derek wedged himself between the sacks, and William curled up beside him. In minutes, he was asleep with one arm over the boy.

  * * *

  Men are so stubborn. Isobel walked beside Derek, who had insisted on walking the final distance to Crathes Castle. Every so often, he held onto the side of the donkey cart for support. He didn’t talk, so she knew this had to be taking a toll on him.

  They stopped before reaching the castle.

  Da wanted to approach the place at night to draw less attention. He and Fin called their respective falcons to their fists and went ahead, leaving the rest of the Grahams, Derek, and William to wait for their return. If the English had taken Crathes Castle too, they would move on without stopping here.

  Isobel sat on the ground beside Derek, who was resting with his injured left leg straight out as he leaned against a tree. Across from them, Rabbie had Catriona on his lap, and William slept in her arms. Rabbie’s arms encircled them both, and he was occupied kissing his wife.

  The sight of this family-style bliss made Isobel sigh. Of course, it was right for Rabbie to have wed first; he was the oldest. Catriona, the late baker’s daughter, was just right for Isobel’s big brother. She was the perfect combination of softness and steel.

  “They look verra happy.”

  “Aye. I imagine they are,” Isobel agreed without looking at the weary man beside her.

  “Can I ask ye something, lass?”

  Now she turned toward him. In the darkness, his expression was difficult to see. “Aye, I suppose.”

  “Do ye have a sweetheart?”

  Isobel hated to answer Derek’s question, but the truth was, most young men were afraid of a woman who trained and hunted with falcons that could
rip your eyes out.

  “No.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask why.

  “Ye should. Yer verra bonnie.”

  “Well, I dinnae. Can we no just change the subject?”

  He put a big, warm hand over hers. “Aye, we can speak of whatever ye like, Isobel. Can I call ye Belle like yer family? ’Tis a pretty name, just like its owner.”

  She stared into the darkness, expecting to see the gleam of white teeth as he smirked at her. But Derek’s face appeared to be somber. She blinked and looked harder. No smirk; his face was soft and his eyes were kind.

  “Thank ye. Aye, I would like it if you used my short name.”

  “I wanted to ask ye earlier, but how is it you came to train hunting birds?”

  Isobel loved to talk about falconry almost as much as she loved doing it. Sliding closer to Derek, she leaned back against the tree too, her hip touching his uninjured right hip.

  “Da is … or was … the Grand Falconer at Dunnottar, as ye ken as one of the men-at-arms there. Ever since I was a little girl, I’d help him out in the mews—”

  Derek put a hand on her arm. “Sorry, but what is a ‘mews’?”

  “Did ye never walk around outside the palace at Dunnottar, Derek Sinclair? Why would ye not know that the mews is where the falcons live when they are not hunting?”

  “Oh, I’ve seen the building, but didna remember what it was called. Must have gotten that bit of information knocked out of me haid by the English. Go on.”

  * * *

  Derek listened to Isobel describe how much she and her brothers loved the birds and everything about the training and flying of them. He told himself to be more careful or his story would be uncovered and that would be his undoing.

  As the night deepened, the only light was the dim light from the half moon. A foggy mist came creeping in, flowing around the newlyweds and reaching for Derek and Isobel.

  “Come, everyone. They’ll have us at Crathes,” Boyd said as he and Fin appeared suddenly out of the mist.

  Derek wondered if his hearing had gone bad or if these Scots were actually so silent and catlike.

  “What will ye do with the falcons?”

  Derek pointed to the three Peregrine falcons. They sat hooded and perched like sentinels on three T-shaped wooden structures that had been driven into the ground. The birds had remained eerily silent while they waited.

  “We’ll bring them with us,” Fin answered. “They are the reason we can gain entrance to the castle. I’ve never met a man who doesna like the hunt and sport of falconry. Alexander Burnett of Leys is no exception.”

  Rabbie walked over, and seeing Derek beginning to rise, put out a hand and helped him up. “Aye, Da says that Burnett has heard of the Graham falconers.”

  “Thank ye for your assistance.” Derek rubbed his left thigh to try to ease the cramped muscles.

  “Unfortunately, Sinclair, he’s never heard of ye,” Fin said with a scowl, “I’d watch my back if I were you.”

  Isobel took her brother’s arm. “Why did you say that? Is Alexander Burnett a bad man? Is he evil?”

  Derek longed to wipe the fear off her face. Was she afraid for him or for all of them?

  “I dinna ken, Belle, ask Da. All I ken is he seems to have no trust in strangers. He could be right.” Fin slanted a glance at Derek. “This man here may be no threat now, being weak as a kitten and hurt, but things can change.”

  Fin leaned closer to his sister and said something Derek couldn’t hear. She dropped his arm, slapped at his shoulder ineffectively and scowled. Whatever Fin had said, Isobel did not like it.

  The ragtag group of Scots were admitted into Crathes Castle under cover of darkness. Isobel followed the donkey cart where Derek walked holding onto the boards. Little William rode sitting with his back against the boards. It was clear to Derek that this castle was not built for defense like Dunnottar Castle. The structure sat on flat ground in front with no impediment to an enemy’s approach, not even a moat. They were able to go right inside without passing through defensive tunnels.

  If he could stay at Crathes long enough to heal, it would be easy enough to leave here without notice. Getting back to the English army was paramount.

  The Graham clan and their guests gathered together inside the castle. Belle had taken Derek’s arm and wrapped it around her shoulders to help support him as he hobbled forward. Abruptly, someone took his hand and wrenched it off Belle, nearly causing Derek to fall as his weight came down painfully on his injured leg.

  “Fin!” Isobel cried. “What are ye doing?”

  “Let me help the man, Belle.”

  The tall red-haired man squeezed Derek’s hand hard as he moved to support his weight.

  Derek lowered his voice. “If ye have a problem with me, say so. Otherwise, I’ll be thanking ye not to upset Belle.”

  “Stop it, you two,” Boyd snapped as he turned to see what caused the commotion. “We are guests here at Crathes, and as such, I’d expect better manners.”

  “Aye, Da.” Fin’s voice was contrite, but the pressure on Derek’s hand said he was anything but sorry.

  Two women in dark cloaks and four men in grubby breeches and coats approached bearing torches. Derek was unable to hear the conversation between them and Rabbie and Boyd because Fin deliberately pulled him backward. Belle, bless her, stayed close by to watch her brother or so he imagined.

  After a few minutes of discussion, Rabbie returned. “Those two men are taking Derek Sinclair to the surgery. The castle physician will take over his care.”

  “But why can he nae stay with us?” Belle’s voice went a bit high and held a tone of worry.

  Rabbie shrugged. “Because Burnett says so, and this is his castle.”

  Two burly figures approached.

  “This the man what’s hurt?” The shorter man held the torch as bit too close to Derek’s face for comfort. He grimaced and nodded.

  Belle moved closer and took hold of Derek’s right arm. “What are ye going to do with him?”

  “No worries, lassie, we’ll take right guid care of him. Come on.” With that, the two men pulled him away and propelled him forward with a shove in the back.

  Derek tried hard to walk on his own. Red hot pain knifed through his hip and leg with two stumbling steps.

  “He can’t—” Belle cried.

  Then two thick-as-legs arms grabbed Derek around the waist to hold him upright.

  * * *

  Isobel could do nothing but watch as the big man spun Derek around and hoisted him over one shoulder as if he were a sack of flour.

  The shorter man with the torch joined them, and they walked off into the night, carting Derek Sinclair off to parts unknown.

  “That has to hurt,” Fin remarked dryly.

  “Aye, poor man.” Catriona had come up with William in tow.

  “Come, family, we’re to sleep in soft beds tonight.”

  Da’s voice was full of good cheer as he waved them in the direction of a large wooden door being held open by two servants. “Alexander Burnett has offered us a late dinner with him and some other Dunnottar folks who fled here as well. I’m famished.”

  Rabbie scooped up William and followed Da, leaving Catriona free to link her arm with Isobel’s as they walked.

  “Dinna fash yerself, Belle, Mr. Sinclair will be just fine. They’re taking him to a surgeon, imagine that!”

  The problem was, Isobel couldn’t stop her very active imagination from coming up with all kinds of horrible ideas. She had heard how some physicians liked to experiment on helpless patients. God please don’t let them hurt Derek more.

  Chapter 5

  Isobel watched Latharna soar high into the blue sky, chasing down a smaller bird, and she thought of Derek Sinclair. The whole Graham clan had been kept busy flying falcons and hunting with the Laird of the castle, Alexander Burnett. She had not seen Derek since he had been taken away the first night.

  Derek’s eyes were brown like the feathers in Latharna’s wings
and so expressive. His every emotion could be seen clearly. He was a very calm, smooth-tempered man, even in the face of Fin’s bad behavior. They had talked a bit during their journey to Crathes, and he seemed to be educated to some degree. He could read and that was important to Isobel.

  She decided she must ask Catriona if she read any books. Did a baker’s daughter get taught to read?

  The whole Graham family had been allowed access to the library in the Dunnottar palace where the governor and his wife lived. Spending rainy days there with her mother, reading the governor’s expensive books, had been special to Isobel. Her throat constricted and tears blurred her eyes when she thought of Mamm.

  “Belle! Your bird!”

  Fin’s shout galvanized Isobel into motion, and she picked up her skirts and ran through the heather to reach her falcon. Latharna had already spread her wings to mantle over the dead bird and started to eat her prize.

  “Latharna! Och, yer not going to hunt again today with yer wee belly full.”

  Isobel waited for the falcon to eat its fill before she called it back to her gloved fist and headed back to the others.

  After hooding Latharna and placing her on the cadge platform with the other birds, Isobel walked over to the group of men.

  A cold wind blew across the open field. Isobel shivered and pulled her long cloak closer as she walked. Da had insisted that she dress properly while they were at Crathes Castle. She missed her comfortable breeches. The draft up her skirts was certainly annoying and possibly unhealthy.

  Not only was it cold, but the air smelled like rain, which meant the falconry hunt would not last too much longer. This was fine with Isobel. She had no fondness for Laird Burnett. He was a short, rotund man whose mouth was often distorted into a smirk behind his thin, scraggly whiskers.

  “Canna run in yer dress, eh, lassie? Women are not meant for hunting I say,” Burnett offered his unwanted opinion.

  His three unsavory companions laughed in agreement. Their laird was dressed in a fine bear fur coat that came down to his calves. Isobel wondered how well he could run in that outfit. She opened her mouth to retort, but caught a subtle shake of the head from her father and stopped.