The Highlander's Folly (The Novels of Loch Moigh Book 3)

by Barbara Longley

  “You have my word, Cecil. Let us sup together and say no more about bewitchings and such.” Hunter handed him back his sword and settled himself once again. “Smells good, lads. Do we have any wine left?”

  “Aye.” Allain rushed to do his bidding. “I’ll fetch it from the wagon.”

  His heart and temples pounding, Hunter did his best to behave as if all were well, even though he now had a new worry. He signed to Tieren, “We must guard Meghan carefully this night. I sense Cecil’s hatred and fear. I worry he might try to slit her throat as we sleep.”

  “Done,” Tieren signed back.

  “I will no’ have it.” Cecil leaped back up and launched into a fresh complaint. “I like it no’ when you two speak with your hands. You share secrets.” He narrowed his eyes at them. “Do you plot some treachery against me?”

  “’Tis naught but the language of the deaf I learned as a bairn. You ken I lost my hearing for a time as a young lad.” Hunter shook his head. “’Tis habit is all. I was just asking Tieren to take the first watch.” Partly true, at least. They would both be on guard through the night. “No treachery involved.”

  Hunter awoke with a start. Shite! He’d failed to stay awake as he’d intended. He checked to see that Meghan and Tieren were well. Once assured of their safety, he stilled himself. Listening with both his ears and his senses, he cast about for the source of his unease. Did he hear the sound of horses in the distance? Turning toward the warm glow of the fire, he spied Murray staring into the flames whilst tugging at his beard—a sure sign his friend wrestled with troubling thoughts. Rising quietly, he went to join him.

  “Cecil and Gregory have left us,” Murray said in a low tone.

  “Aye?” Hunter sat down beside him. “Och, it could have been worse. I feared Cecil would attempt some nefarious deed as we slept.”

  “I let them go without an argument. They took only what belonged tae them, and their lads went with them.”

  “Humph. We are down to the same number we set out with from Moigh Hall when we left for the continent with naught but our gear and ambition.” Not enough. Not nearly enough, considering what they carried and how they traveled. “In what direction did they go?”

  “Back toward Edinburgh, though I dinna believe they mean tae stay tae that course. There are, after all, many roads they could take along the way.” Murray shifted and rolled his shoulders. “As ye ken, Cecil’s family seat is in Dumfriesshire. Mayhap that is where he means tae go. Should I ha’ awakened you as they gathered their things?”

  “Nay. Given Cecil’s bent, ’tis best they are gone from us, though I fear ’twill no’ be the last we hear from either of them. Their armor and gear is on the way to Inverness as we speak.” He shook his head. “I’m grateful they took only what belonged to them. I thought Gregory at least would remain, though I reckoned Cecil had some plot in mind.”

  “’Tis nearly dawn,” Murray said, studying the eastern horizon. “Mayhap ’twould be wise tae get an early start.”

  “Aye.” He rose and gave Murray’s shoulder a squeeze. “Where is young John?”

  “My squire keeps watch upon yon hill. Let us wake the others. John can take his rest upon the wagon, since the load is considerably lighter now.” Murray stood and stretched. “Cecil and Gregory took one of Nevan’s palfreys for a packhorse, and I allowed them tae do so without protest. I want no bad blood between us lest they return with bloodshed on their minds.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll see to waking everyone. Put out the fire and recall John to camp. We’ll be off in a trice.”

  “This is my fault, isn’t it?” Meghan came up behind them, still wrapped in her blanket. “I heard you talking.” She tugged the wool tighter around her shoulders and looked to him. Her lovely brown eyes were large and filled with worry. “I’m sorry.”

  His insides knotted, and his heart took a tumble. “Nay. ’Tis no more your fault than mine. Madame Giselle is responsible, and since we now have naught but the company of my clansmen and the lads whose clans have long been allied with ours, we might speak more freely.” He reached out and tucked an errant strand of her silken hair behind her ear. Why could he not resist the urge to touch her? “Go on. See to your needs whilst we keep watch. Once we break our fast, we’ll depart.”

  It took considerably longer than a trice to get everyone up, fed and moving, and once again Meghan’s expression said much about her state of mind. Distress turned the corners of her mouth down and creased her brow. Tieren hovered close to her, and for that Hunter was glad—at least he told himself ’twas so. “Let us be off,” he grumbled his order. “By the saints, I canna fathom what is taking you lads so long this morn.”

  Neither the squires nor the pages answered, but a flurry of activity ensued. “George, you will drive the wagon, and once John is rested, he can take over. You may then take your turn to rest. Mayhap we can travel longer this day if you lads all take turns thus. Fix a lead for the palfreys.”

  They were down to three pages and two squires, not counting Meghan. It should have taken half the time to pack up and begin their journey. Unease pricked at him. The sooner they reached Aberdeenshire the better. He would send word to Moigh Hall and request a guard be sent to accompany them. Aye, that’s what he’d do. They’d wait in the comfort of an inn he’d oft stayed in with his foster father and uncles. Once he had word that their guard was close, their small band would set out to meet them. A good plan. Once again he had things well in hand.

  Hunter glanced at the dark, low-hanging clouds and shivered. The weather had grown worse since the day past when Cecil and Gregory had departed. ’Twould soon rain, and they’d be forced to travel on through the mud whilst wet and miserable. There were no inns between here and Aberdeenshire.

  At least his lads had readied themselves for travel much quicker this morn; Meghan as well. All were as anxious as he to see the safety of Aberdeenshire’s gates. He swung up on Doireann’s back and started for the road, trusting the rest would follow. The creaking of the wagon wheels assured him he’d assumed correctly.

  Hunter kept a careful watch upon the way ahead, scanning the edge of the fog-shrouded forest along to his left for any sign of danger. Naught but the sea and rocky cliffs lay to the east, and none could approach undetected from that direction. He set a goodly pace and prayed they’d encounter no trouble along the way. The closer they came to town, the thicker the thieves. God willing, they’d reach town just past Prime this very day.

  They traveled on in silence. Tieren took up the rear, and Murray guarded their middle. Meghan’s mount was directly behind his, flanked by Allain on one side with Tristan and Harold, Murray’s page, on the other. John would likely sleep on the wagon until midday again today, since he’d had last watch. George took his place, reins in hand, behind the rouncies pulling their belongings along the muddy, rutted track stretching before them.

  ’Twas the best they could do, and their two squires were close enough to earning their spurs that they could enter into battle and manage well enough. After all, they’d been trained by Tieren, Murray and himself, all MacKintosh knights and the best in the realm.

  By late morn the rain began to fall in earnest. Still they slogged on, and the collective glumness of his cluster of weary travelers weighed heavily upon him. ’Twas cold enough that huffing out a breath caused a cloud of steam. He kept his focus on the way ahead and hunkered down under his wet cloak. They’d been traveling for hours when they reached a menacing stretch of road with forest on either side. At least the rain had eased some.

  Hunter sent his senses into the shadowy depths of the woodland stretching before them, not liking at all what came back. Nefarious intent rolled in waves from the darkness, chilling his blood far more than the weather ever could. He halted and signed for silence. Fog obscured the way, making it impossible to see beyond the edges of the tree line on either side. He concentrated in an attempt to locate
the source of the evil lying in wait, grateful that their own presence upon the road was as equally obscured.

  “What is it?” Meghan whispered, coming up beside him. She too stared toward the forest.

  He whispered back, “These woods are teeming with a thieving lot of brigands and murderers.”

  With a quick intake of breath, her head whipped around, and her eyes grew large. “How can you possibly know that?”

  “I am a seasoned warrior and have developed instincts about such things.” Partly true. “Look to your mount’s ears, lass, and to Doireann’s. Their senses are far more acute than ours.” Indeed, Doireann’s ears pricked forward, flattened back and pricked forward again as if seeking the source of danger he surely felt. Meghan’s gelding did the same, lifting his front hooves in mincing steps. Murray and Tieren soon joined them.

  “I dinna like what I’m sensing ahead,” Hunter said, giving the two knights a meaningful look. “We’ve only the three of us for defense. If we enter the forest, we are sure to meet with trouble, and ’tis certain we are far outnumbered.”

  “We’ve John and George to defend the wagon,” Murray whispered. “And our pages have weapons as well.”

  “I can fight,” Meghan said, looking to each of them in turn.

  She’d tucked her sodden hair beneath her equally sodden cap. She shivered under her cloak, and her cheeks and the tip of her nose were ruddy from the cold. Yet not once had she complained or shirked her share of the duties when they camped. His admiration for her grew with each passing day. “Nay, lass. I willna allow you to do so.”

  “But you saw,” she hissed between her teeth, her eyes flashing indignation. “You know I can handle a sword as well as you can.”

  He wiped the rain from his face and clenched his jaw. “Do you recall when you found your weapon upon the ground?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “When you swung it about above your head, think you I did no’ notice the bluntness of the edges? ’Tis for naught but show. It matters no’ how well you wield the thing. You could no’ slice an apple with that blade, much less separate a man’s head from his shoulders.”

  All of the color leached from her face. “Oh. Right.” She chewed her lower lip for a second. “You have spares on the wagon, don’t you? I could—”

  “Aye, there are spares upon the wagon, but the lads will need them, and our other weapons outweigh you by two or three stones at least,” Tieren told her, his tone filled with feigned regret. “You could no’ heft a war club adequately, my lady.”

  “I’m good with daggers, and throwing them would keep me a distance away from our enemies,” she argued. “I can help. I want to help. Don’t you carry a whetstone or two? I could sharpen my sword right now.”

  “And if our enemies carry crossbows? Would ye have us sit like fat geese in the middle of this quagmire of a road whilst ye make ready yer sword for battle, lass?” Murray huffed, shaking his head. “’Twill no’ be long afore the outlaws sense our presence just as we’ve discovered theirs.”

  Hunter couldn’t help but be impressed by her courage, and by the fact that she viewed their enemies as hers as well. Any other lass would have gladly scampered off to some safe hiding place until he and his knights had vanquished the threat. “Have you ever killed a man, Meghan?”

  “No.” She glared at him. “Of course not.”

  “As I thought.” He blew out a breath before turning to her. “If it pleases you, I would rather today no’ be the day you make your first kill. ’Tis a messy business.” He searched the outer edge of the forest. A barely discernible path ran along to their left. Clearly theirs would not be the first group of travelers to circumvent the brigands hiding in the thick trees.

  “As quietly as we can, let us move the wagon off the road and into the brush. We’ll unload everything to carry ourselves from here on in. See yon path along the edge of the forest?” He pointed to the trail. “That is our way.”

  “Aye,” Tieren agreed. “The extra palfreys we can use as decoys. Let us divide the contents of our casks between the bedrolls, sporrans and satchels. We’ll place the empties upon the palfreys’ backs along with some of our gear. We can cover their loads with the tarp, which we can cut into three pieces easily enough.”

  “’Tis a sound plan, Tieren,” Hunter said. “We must each carry our own weapons. Meghan will take the food, waterskins and blankets.”

  She shot him a disgruntled look. He shook his head. “Dinna argue, lass. I’m doing my best to protect you.”

  “I don’t need your—”

  “’Twould be prudent to have her sword sharpened by a blacksmith in Aberdeenshire,” Tieren interjected. “Whether or no’ she ever joins us in battle, I would feel better knowing she could defend herself if need be.”

  Meghan flashed Tieren a grateful smile. “Thank you. I agree. Let’s have my sword sharpened.” Then she turned a glare his way. “In the meantime, give me a bunch of daggers just in case.”

  “I’ll see it done, my lady,” Tieren said. “We’ve several to hand.”

  Hunter bit his tongue. Tieren received beatific smiles and gratitude, while she gave him naught but defiance and cheek. Did the woman not recognize that he was her champion? Did she not understand and appreciate his attempts to keep her safe? Ah, but hadn’t he also been the fool to take her away from all she held dear? He stifled the groan rising in his throat and turned to oversee the wagon being moved off the road.

  Together they made quick work of redistributing their goods. “We’ll use signing until we can see the gates of Aberdeenshire.” Hunter accompanied his words with the signs.

  Meghan’s expression suffused with frustration. “Even though I recognize ASL, I don’t know how to sign.”

  “Just stay where we put you, and follow along as quietly as you are able,” he whispered close to her ear. “Mayhap I can begin to teach you once we’re safe.”

  “Or I can,” Tieren said, inserting himself between the two of them.

  Hunter reached out with his senses to get a read on him, but Tieren had long ago learned how to mask his true feelings. All he could glean was a distracting jumble. Was Tieren serious about claiming Meghan? “Aye, or you can.” Hunter let the matter go and took up the lead, well aware that Meghan’s gaze once again followed him. Mayhap he was as much a puzzle to her as she was to him.

  He signaled for the group to follow as quietly as possible, and they started out for the path leading around the outskirts of the forest. They’d tied bits of canvas over their horses’ hooves to muffle the sound, and they rode with only rope halters lest the jingle of bits and curb straps alert any to their whereabouts.

  Like wraiths they crept along at a snail’s pace through most of the afternoon. By his reckoning, they had little more than a league to go before clearing the wood and gaining sight of Aberdeenshire’s gates. Though the prickling dread still rode him hard, a fervent hope ignited that they’d managed to outwit the fiends lying in wait.

  He led them around the next bend, and the fine hairs on his forearms and at the back of his neck stood on end mere seconds before he spied six rough-looking villains, two on horseback, all blocking their way. They held broadswords and axes. Their malice slammed into him like a war club. “Shite.”

  Tieren, Murray, George and John rode ahead to join him. He flashed them an incredulous look. “If you are all with me, who watches our rear?”

  “Meghan, Allain, Tristan and Harold.” Murray spared him a glance.

  “Shite.”

  “You’ve already said that,” Murray remarked while drawing his sword.

  “Aye, well it bears repeating.” He looked to Tieren. “Go back and guard her.”

  “’Twould be an honor.” Tieren bowed his head briefly and turned his warhorse on its hind legs. He cantered back and dismounted, positioning himself at the end of the line facing the way they ha
d just come with his sword drawn. Hunter issued orders to the lads to herd the horses into a tight knot and hobble them so they couldn’t bolt.

  Once he was assured Meghan, the palfreys and the lads were protected, Hunter turned back to face the brigands before them. “May God protect and give us strength this day,” he prayed.

  “We’re knights, lad.” Murray frowned. “They’re naught but poorly trained vagabonds.”

  “One could hope, but I fear otherwise. In these perilous times, ’tis just as likely they’re well-trained knights whose laird fell upon hard times and had to let them go.” Hunter drew his claymore. “They are hungry and desperate, and that makes them all the more dangerous. All we ken for certain is that they are without honor. Outlaws. Keep your eyes open for aught coming from the tree line.

  “Stay here until I give you word that our way is clear,” he called back to Tieren and the rest. “Guard the horses and each other.” With those parting words, he prepared himself for the fight ahead. “Loch Moigh! Touch no’ the cat but with gloves!” He shouted his clan’s call to battle at the top of his lungs and spurred his horse forward, his weapon at the ready.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Meghan’s insides quivered and shook like Aunt Betty’s lime Jell-O salad straight from the mold. She heard men grunting with effort, the thunk of blows parried and steel ringing against steel. Swallowing convulsively, she strained to see what was going on ahead, but the fog was too thick. This fight was not an exhibition, and her life depended upon the outcome. Her stomach roiled. She was going to be sick.

  “Keep your eyes to the tree line, lass, and keep your dirks at the ready,” Tieren whispered, turning her around and placing her behind the horses. “Stay put. Any danger to us will come from the woods.”

  She nodded, took one of the borrowed daggers from her belt and began flipping it in the air end-over-end. A nervous habit. Allain and the other two pages, Tristan and Harold, moved into strategically spaced positions around the livestock. Closest to her, Allain held his sword in front of him, gripping the handle in both hands with white-knuckled tenacity. All three of the boys had gone pale and still.