She took the blanket and gratefully wrapped it around her slender shoulders.
“Take it,” he crouched down to her level, and offered her the warm oatcake. “Griogair makes these for us when we travel. The fish will nae be cooked yet, but ye can eat this if ye are hungry.”
“I am hungry,” she admitted, and reached for the offering. Her hand accidentally grazed his, and she looked up at him, startled. But as soon as she made eye contact, she immediately looked to the ground. “Thank you,” she said, her voice husky.
Darra held the humble oatcake, staring at it as if it was a foreign object.
“’Tis made from oats,” he said, amused. “It will nae kill ye.”
Duncan coughed behind him. “If ye are done, Rory,” he said, “I’ll need a word with ye.”
Rory got up and followed him.
“Griogair told me about the gauntlet ye found,” he said, unsmiling. “We need tae scope out the enemy, and glean any useful information that will assist the Queen.”
“We’re in enemy territory, and we dinnae ken how many we’re up against,” he reminded his brother. “We need tae proceed with caution.”
“Tae hell with caution!” he said. “Ye ken very well that our bonny country is at stake. We’re free at present, but at every turn the English try tae take our freedom away. Even now they’re making their way tae steal from us. We cannae stand by, and let them seize our land.” His hand clenched at the dagger that hung on his belt. “I’m leaving now tae scout the area.”
“Wait,” Rory said, raising his hand. “’Tis nae prudent tae scout in the growing dark. This is a strange land —”
“Da taught me tae track just as well as ye,” Duncan cut in, clearly not liking the idea of waiting.
Impatience was stamped all over his younger brother’s countenance. There was no way that Duncan would willingly wait, and Rory was equally aware of the importance of gathering enemy intelligence. He blew out a puff of air. “I dinnae doubt your tracking abilities, Duncan. Go and find out what we need tae ken.”
Duncan started to leave when Rory placed a hand on his shoulder. “Be safe,” he said.
His brother nodded. “And you as well,” he said before moving away. Even in the dark, Rory knew that his sibling would find a way to get back to them. He was one of the best trackers in the highlands.
Rory watched as Duncan became swallowed up by the trees. The news that he garnered would determine their course of action. Under normal circumstances, he and Griogair would have accompanied Duncan, but they couldn’t risk leaving Darra inadequately protected, or having her run off to the enemy. While it was prudent to gather military intelligence for Queen Gertrude, his main concern was to bring the healer back to Tancraig Castle.
***
With her back against the tree trunk, Darra sat across from Rory, nibbling on her fourth oatcake. She had never eaten them before, but she found them surprisingly adequate in filling the hole in her stomach.
Every once in a while she caught Rory observing her, as if he wanted to inquire after her well-being. But she was determined to ignore him and the confusing feelings that he stirred within her. Besides, she was still waiting for her chance to take flight.
Griogair had kicked off the stone slab that was blocking the fire, and the heat reaching her now made her feel warm and drowsy. Her grip on the plaid relaxed, and the material slipped from her shoulders. Exhaustion washed over her, and she leaned her head against the tree bark.
Duncan had just returned from his excursion, and judging by the serious tone of their voices, the brothers would likely converse long into the night.
Darra closed her eyes, listening to their Scottish burrs. The soft lilt of their voices had a strange musical quality to it, a quality that was lulling her to sleep.
She was about to drift off when something Duncan said jolted her awake. Were they speaking about the English cavalry? Her heart began to speed up, and she fought to keep the smile from spreading across her face. Her opportunity was about to materialize, and her captors would divulge all that she needed to know.
Making a show of yawning and stretching, she lowered herself onto the ground, making sure that she faced the trio.
“Where exactly are they located?” Griogair asked.
“Half a mile down river. ‘Twas nae difficult tae see where they camped as they had a dozen cookfires scattered near each other.”
“A dozen, ye say,” Rory said thoughtfully.
“Aye, there were at least fifteen men sitting around one fire pit,” Duncan said, his tone flat. “The other fire pits had the same number of men, I ken.” He fiddled with a stick in his hand and tapped it rhythmically on the ground. “They had a cart full of heavy armory that they abandoned outside one of the sites.”
While the brothers fell silent, the wood in the fire hissed gently as the heat evaporated the water that was trapped inside.
In the meantime, her heart thumped heavily in her chest with the knowledge and elation that freedom was only half a mile away. If she made her way to the English camps, she would find the sanctuary that she needed. After that, the king’s men would escort her safely home.
She continued to watch the three brothers through the narrow slits of her eyes, although she no longer paid attention to what they were saying. All she required now was for them to fall asleep, and then she would make her escape.
An eternity seemed to pass before the men banked the fire and sought their beds. Duncan and Griogair slept adjacent to the small campfire. Using a portion of their great kilts as blankets, they pulled the material to cover their heads. Meanwhile Rory found his place a foot away from her.
Darra let out a slow breath, her excitement ready to burst. Soon enough the crisp air was filled with the sounds of the night — leaves rustling in the tree canopies, the occasional cricket chirping, the ever flowing river in the distance, and snoring.
She waited several more minutes, clutching her hand to her chest. Her heart was racing, and she feared that the frantic beating would disturb the slumbering men. Rolling her head to the side, she observed her captors. While part of their kilts covered their heads, the faces of Rory and Griogair were bared. Duncan meanwhile had his entire head concealed in his plaid. None of them moved, and the snores and deep even breathing continued unabated.
Slowly, she lifted herself onto her knees. Then careful not to make a sound, she crawled away from her captors. Just when she made it to the outer edge of the campsite, she got up to run. Unfortunately her foot slipped on the wet earth, and she fell forward.
For a split second, she lay stunned, but then seized by fear and panic that the Highlanders might catch her, she scrambled up from the ground and bolted. She jumped over the logs that were in her way and crashed through the underbrush.
She quickly found the river’s edge, and paused only long enough to determine the downward flow of the river. Then she tore through the uneven ground, her mind focusing on one thing — getting to her saviors.
After running for a long while, she slowed down to catch her breath. The commotions of the forest seemed amplified. And the hooting owl overhead mocked her for foolishly wandering alone in the darkness. Everyone knew that the woods was a frightening place to roam. And at night, it was also an eerie and dangerous place. All the stories that she heard as a child came to the forefront, causing gooseflesh to form on her arms. There were many creatures that hid in the shadows, and whether they were mortal or not was uncertain. While some of them were harmless, some others might be malevolent. She prayed that this wasn’t the time that she encountered the evil and terrifying ones.
Darra started to move again when she saw a stick poking out from the thicket. That was it! She needed a weapon to defend herself against anything harmful.
As she walked toward the stick, a thorny branch snagged her gown. She bent down to free herself when a rustling in the bushes nearby made her jump. Darra scrambled to reach for the stick when a branch lashed across her face. Letting
out a startled cry, she fell backward.
The rustling became louder.
With a scream trapped in the back of her throat, she lay paralyzed on the ground, staring at the area where the noise originated. A small break in the tree tops allowed enough light to illuminate the shrubbery. Any moment now, the creature would emerge and devour her.
And it did emerge, except it was small, and the familiar black and white headed critter scurried past her.
“A badger!” she said, disbelief and relief flooding into her body all at once.
Taking a staggering breath, she surveyed her surroundings. How far was she exactly? Nothing was recognizable, and as far as she could tell, she might be wandering around in circles.
Still, there was no way she could go back to her brawny captors. She saw an opening between two trees and started toward them. She had only taken a couple of steps when a flash of light caught the corner of her eye. Darra twisted around, and before she could stop it, a gasp escaped from her lips. It was a knight making water at the tree!
“Who’s there?” he called out, his voice slurred. He pulled up his hose. Lifting his lamp in the air with unsteady hands, he swayed slightly as he peered into the darkness. His other hand reached for the sword at his belt.
He was a large, rough-looking knight who was obviously inebriated. But she sensed something else about him, something that was decidedly sinister. He didn’t appear anything like the savior that she had in mind. In fact, she suspected that he would rather rape and kill her before he took her to his commander.
She ducked behind the nearest tree, and crouched down. Trying to make herself as small as possible, she prayed that the darkness hid her.
Darra could hear his footsteps coming closer. And then to her relief, the steps moved past her.
She let out a small sigh and crawled to find a better hiding place among the shrubbery. She was closing in on the bushes when she felt something jerk hard at her hair.
Searing pain ripped through her head, and she shrieked.
“A woman,” the knight spat. There was disgust in his voice, but then he bent down to take a closer look at her face. Suddenly, as if the drunken haze cleared, his eyes widened in surprise before it narrowed into a disturbing leer.
“Have mercy, sire! I am your ally!” she cried desperately.
He burst out into a guffaw that was punctuated by noisy snorts.
“Ally?” he said, lifting the back of his hand up to wipe at the spittle. “A woman ally? I’ve never heard such a jest.”
“I wish you to take me to your commander,” she said, trying to interject authority into her voice, although it trembled as she spoke.
The knight threw back his head, and started laughing again as if it was the funniest thing he had ever heard.
But then there was a powerful thunk, and the laughter died as fast as it had started.
The grip on her hair loosened. The drunken knight fell to the ground with a thud, and the lamp crashed to the forest floor. But just before the light from the lamp sputtered out, she caught a glimpse of furious green eyes.
Chapter 9
Rory found it was easy to track Darra down. She made enough noise to alert the entire forest of her presence. His long strides had almost caught up with her when she suddenly ran to a tree and squatted. He frowned and instinctively melted into the shadows.
Darra huddled at the base of the tree like a rabbit who was cowering from a fox. She was in danger, he realized. His heart thudded dully in his chest, and a chill crept over his flesh. Somehow he sensed that it wasn’t an animal that frightened her. He cursed softly under his breath. She was thoughtless to run away from his protection. Didn’t she know how hazardous it was to be alone in the woods and at night?
Still, even in her folly, he couldn’t allow anything to harm her. No matter how reckless she was, he was responsible for keeping her safe.
He edged to the opposite end where a thick band of shrubbery grew, and peeked over. And sure enough, there was a man advancing slowly toward Darra’s hiding place. There was nowhere for her to run, and any movement she made would give her away. Even Rory couldn’t go to her since his presence would endanger them both.
The knight walked past her, and Rory thought she would stay put, except she went on her knees and started to crawl away from her hiding spot.
Stop! he wanted to shout, but it was too late. The guard, who was about to leave, swung around, lifting his lamp high while his free hand reached for his sword. When he discovered the fetching lass, he appeared especially gleeful.
Rory sighed. There was only one thing left for him to do. Seeing a large rock nearby, he bent down and picked it up. Then jumping out from his cover, he slammed the rock on the man’s crown, taking him by surprise. While the knight was still stunned, Rory wrapped his arm around the other man’s neck, squeezing the air out of it. An awful choking sound emerged from the knight’s lips while he clawed frantically at Rory’s arm. But the guard was too weakened by drink, and was unable to fight him. A split second later, his movements ceased, and he slumped forward.
Rory dropped the knight, his body hitting the ground with a thump.
“I wouldnae want tae ally myself with that drunken bastard,” he said.
“You saved me,” she said, her voice shaky.
“I dinnae ken why,” he said, offering her his hand. She took it, and he pulled her up from the ground. “Ye seem tae have a knack for getting into trouble.”
A mirthless laugh escaped from her. Her regard dropped to where the intoxicated knight had collapsed. Swallowing, she turned and gave Rory a tight smile. “Thank you once again for saving me.”
He grunted in answer. Now that she was safe, relief and anger twisted inside his gut. Where did these emotions come from? He shouldn’t be having any feelings toward this lass. She was the means to help his father and nothing more. When he bedded down for the night, he had no intentions of traipsing through the dark forest in search for a runaway lass. And it certainly didn’t help matters that the woman standing in front of him was so damn tempting.
“This way.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her behind him. “Ye are still in danger.”
“Why did ye run away from the safety of our camp?” he demanded.
Darra opened her mouth and closed it again. She couldn’t very well tell him that she wanted to escape him and his brothers, and that she had no intentions of leaving England.
“Do you know where we are?” she asked, changing the topic.
“Nay, but I do ken that we’re far from my brothers. For such a wee lass, ye cover quite a bit of ground.” He scanned the trees. “We need tae go deeper into the woods sae that we willnae stumble upon any English camps.”
“But what of the knight?”
“He willnae be following us,” he said, shaking his head. “Your knight was too drunk tae ken what happened tae him.”
Darra nodded and sighed with relief. She shuddered to think what would have happened if Rory hadn’t come along.
Setting a rapid pace, Rory dragged her along. But the excitement of the night was catching up with her, and she stumbled. His sinewy arm snaked around her waist, and caught her before she fell headlong into the tangle of roots.
“Are ye all right, lass?” he asked, his brows knitted with concern.
“Aye,” she said.
Her side was flushed against his, and a shot of electricity flowed through her. The sudden shock of it almost made her wrench from his embrace.
He glanced briefly down at her, a small frown on his ruggedly handsome countenance. She drew in a deep breath through her nose, unwittingly taking in his musky and unmistakable male scent. Everything about him was appealing — except for the fact that he was a Scotsman and a heathen, she reminded herself sternly. But even so, she was dangerously attracted to him.
She twisted her lips to the side. What was it about this powerful man that was so alluring? And why did she want to kiss him again and reawaken the mystifying and int
oxicating sensations that he roused in her?
Rory continued to watch her, a knowing expression on his visage. His eyes lowered briefly to her lips. When he looked up again, his gaze fixed onto hers. The heat radiating from him was palpable, and it scared and excited her all at once. No man had ever made her feel this way. But this was ridiculous! Of all things, she shouldn’t be pondering these lustful thoughts. Instead, she should be focusing on placing one foot in front of the other, and plotting another way to get home.
They traveled for another hour, and by this time, she was no longer able to think.
“I need to rest,” she said, panting. “It feels as though we have been walking for hours. Are we lost?”
When he didn’t respond, she eyed him through her peripheral vision. He stopped to take measure of the trees that surrounded them. For a fleeting moment, she witnessed uncertainly in his countenance.
“We are lost,” she gasped as the truth hit her.
“We will stay here until daybreak,” he said, neglecting to acknowledge her conclusions.
He kicked away at some rocks and twigs on the ground. Then walking over to a nearby tree, he sat down and leaned his head on the trunk. “Sleep,” he said, gesturing to the space in front of him. “I’ll keep watch.”
Darra had no energy to argue with him, and the forest floor seemed inviting enough. She sank gratefully onto the soft ground. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to fall asleep.
But sleep eluded her. She had worked up sweat from traipsing through the woods. Now that she was no longer moving, the perspiration had cooled on her skin, making her feel cold and uncomfortable. Flipping over onto her side, she pulled her arms closer to her chest and curled into a tight ball to preserve her own heat. All the while she wished that she had a woolen blanket to cut out the autumn chill.
The wind picked up, and she heard the loud swishing and rustling of the leaves above. Under normal circumstances, the whispering trees might have soothed her nerves, but now they seemed menacing and otherworldly. She took a deep breath. There is nothing to fear, she told herself.
The Highland Chief Page 8
