by Eliza Knight
“Not yet.”
“Go and get a bite to eat. Dry yourself by the fire. I’ll stand watch for now.”
Angus moved off toward the fire, leaving Roderick alone. He leaned back against a tree, took out his sgian dubh, and sharpened it against the stone in his sporran, then he used it to clean his nails.
A moment later, he watched Greer head to the edge of the river. She stared down at the depths, then knelt and tentatively reached out a finger to touch the water. Ripples circled out from the place she touched, and even from where he stood, he thought he could see her smile.
She dipped her hands into the water, washing them. When she stood, she approached Angus. They chatted for several moments, and Roderick had never been keener to be privy to a conversation, especially when she laughed.
Then Angus stood and led Greer in the opposite direction and out of sight. Logic told him the man was only taking his charge to a place of privacy in order for her to relieve herself, but the envious side couldn’t help but come up with all sorts of other scenarios. Most of which ended with Roderick’s sword at the flesh of Angus’s throat. For ballock’s sakes, Angus wasn’t even that type of man. For him to even think such a thing was the worst sort of offense to his friend.
Och, but where was all of this jealousy coming from?
She wasn’t his. Had never been. Never would be.
A few jests and games did not a romance make.
Even going down that road went against everything he’d promised himself. And yet, there was that notion again that perhaps he should rethink his previous convictions. He knew for certain Jon would appreciate that. Hell, his brother had very blatantly told him just that before he left.
Roderick had taken six steps from his post, intent on going to find Greer, when she and Angus reemerged from the trees. When they spotted him, he knelt down, fiddling with the dirt, pretending he’d seen something.
Wouldn’t do for his men to know how very close he’d been to doing something he’d warned them never to do—leave their post.
Thank goodness they’d emerged when they did, because just then, one of the scouts returned, and if Grim had not been at his post, he’d never hear the end of it. It would have been another notch in the imaginary post he presumed his clan was keeping with all his faults carved in neat little nicks.
“My laird.” Clayton, the scout, leapt from his horse and handed the reins off to one of the men, who took the animal away to be brushed down, fed, and watered.
Roderick nodded for Clayton to follow him to the tree where they could speak quietly and he could still remain at his post.
“Glad I am that ye’ve returned.” Roderick clapped Clayton on the shoulder. His words were not spoken lightly. He was glad his man had returned. There were plenty of warriors that went out and did not return. But a scout’s job was even more perilous. They were often alone and searching for the enemy. Many gave their lives for their missions, so with every one that returned, gratitude was owed.
Clayton nodded, but his face was grim. “As am I, my laird. Men are on the move.”
Roderick stiffened. “How many? Ross men?”
“From atop the rise, I could see movement in the west. At least a score, ’haps two score. I couldna tell if they were Ross men or not, but since we will eventually reach them in the west, it was my assumption, aye.”
“We are close to Fraser lands, too. Might it have been them?”
“Possibly. They were moving fast, though, and ’tis unlikely the Frasers would be moving at those speeds and in that number. I’d not heard any whispers of them having trouble at the moment, but that doesna mean they are not. If they dinna make camp tonight, they could be upon us before dawn.”
“Damn.” Roderick pinched his brow. This was not good news. “We have to move. Now.”
“Aye.”
He didn’t want to break down their camp at night with Greer in tow. Blast it all. This was not ideal. The horses needed rest, and so did she. There was naught he could do about it though. Safety came first, and the horses had had some time to rest already. Perhaps they could find a safer place to make camp, something hidden close by.
Roderick glanced toward where the lass once more sat before the fire. She’d have to ride with him. Not that he didn’t trust her to ride well on her own. Hell, she’d more than proved she could already. But he couldn’t risk something happening to her on her own mount. If the horse spooked or tripped, she’d be in danger. Danger he could have prevented by having her ride with him or one of his men. But the thought of her riding with anyone else was unacceptable. He told himself it was only because he wanted to be certain she was safe, and he couldn’t risk her not being safe with anyone else. Although he knew well enough a lie when he heard one, even when he told it to himself.
“Put out the fires,” he commanded his men. “We need to move.”
The horses were loaded back up, and Greer stared at the men as they moved quickly to do Roderick’s bidding. Her face was pale, and when he approached, her worried gaze locked on his.
“Ye’re going to ride with me,” he said.
She straightened. “I’m fine to ride on my own. I am grateful for what ye did before—”
“Ye’ll ride with me.” Roderick cut her off before she could continue. There was no time to argue. He turned his back on her to oversee putting out the fires. The men dumped lake water onto the pits to cool them so whoever came upon their makeshift camp would not be able to tell exactly when they’d left.
However, Greer did not seem to care that he’d dismissed her. And he should have known better.
She marched right up to him, tugged on his arm, and did not wait for him to acknowledge her before she started talking. “I dinna appreciate your tone, Grim, or the way ye’re ordering me about. I’m not one of your men. I’m a lady, and I expect to be treated as such.”
When he ignored her, she continued. “I can ride well, and I think I’ve proven that, save for the whole river fiasco, but if we’re just riding on land, I prefer to have my own mount.”
Roderick stopped what he was doing, turned toward her, and narrowed his gaze. “Ye’ll ride with me, and that’s final.”
Greer stomped her foot, and her face transformed into the fiercest glower he’d seen from one so pretty and small. In fact, it was so ferocious, he was a little taken aback. But perhaps he shouldn’t have been.
“I am not accustomed to taking orders.” Her hands flew to her hips, and her chin jutted forward.
Roderick’s brows drew together, wondering if he’d missed something. She appeared to have taken great offense to his attempts to keep her safe, and yet she’d not balked before.
He faced her fully, taking in the hands on her rounded hips, the angry flush to her cheeks, and the way her chest puffed out. The overwhelming urge to kiss her struck him. He wanted to smooth away the anger and show her that all that bluster, all that energy, could be put toward something more useful, like kissing and pleasure.
Then again, knowing her, she’d probably bite off his tongue and toss it in the fire. Arguing right now would get them nowhere, and she didn’t seem to understand the urgency.
“Dinna fash yourself, lass. I dinna think less of ye for needing my help afore. Now go on and do as I’ve instructed. I’ve the camp to oversee, and quite frankly, keeping the men, and ye, safe outweighs your need to make yourself known.”
She narrowed her eyes even more, if possible. “What?”
“Go and get on my horse. We’ll talk more when we’re away from here.”
“Did ye nae listen to a word I’ve said?”
“Hush now, sweetheart, and go do as ye’re told.” That only seemed to make her more angry, which he was kind of enjoying, though he really didn’t have time to relish it fully. “Dinna make me toss ye over my shoulder, for I will. And I’m entirely positive that your da would agree with me. Ye’ve got yourself in enough trouble lately. Go.”
Her mouth fell open at that, but she must have
sensed from the way he was staring at her that he was not jesting. She glanced around the camp, following the men as they dismantled everything to make it appear as though no one had been there in some time.
Roderick counted in his head, wondering just how long it would take for her to turn around, and if he was going to have to make good on his promise to toss her over his shoulder. Thankfully, Greer turned away from him and marched toward his horse with renewed purpose. Smart lass.
With no assistance needed, she grabbed hold of the pommel, lifted her foot to the stirrup, and tossed herself up onto the horse that was easily two or three hands higher than her. He’d seen grown men struggle more with mounting his mighty beast than the wee lass had. Tiny and fierce.
He couldn’t help but grin in her direction, but she only glowered back.
He returned to his tasks, and once he was satisfied, he ordered his men back on their horses. He mounted Twilight and tugged her onto his lap. This time, he didn’t have to worry about ignoring the feel of her against him, because their second scout, Joseph, returned, his face fierce with worry. Instantly, Roderick knew it was bad news.
Joseph reined in his mount. “Another group of men, this one approaching from the south.”
Roderick’s stomach tightened. “Did ye get a look at them?”
“Aye. I believe they are Ross men, my laird.”
Roderick muttered an oath under his breath. He’d been hoping the first party spotted would be the only one, and that by racing away now, they’d have enough time to make camp later somewhere safe. Now it seemed like that was an impossibility. In fact, it was looking very much like a battle may be coming their way.
“Joseph and Clayton, linger behind us, double back and then bring news.”
“Aye, my laird,” they said in unison, and then they were rotating their mounts. They would both keep an eye on the two approaching parties, and Roderick prayed that before the night was through, he and his men would manage to escape both.
A battle wasn’t what he feared; he loved a good fight. But it would be hard to protect Greer if he was in the midst of a fray. Worse still was knowing she’d probably grab up a sword and jump right in.
Chapter Eleven
Why did she have to be so obstinate?
Greer held tightly to the front of the saddle, though Roderick’s grip around her waist was firm enough she knew she’d not fall off. Even still, she squeezed the leather, hoping it would stop the trembling in her fingers.
What was happening? Why could he not have just told her they were in danger?
Of course, she’d had an idea that the scout had told him something that had made him want to move their camp, but she’d not realized the peril was so great. But she supposed she should have. She shouldn’t have second-guessed him. He was laird, a warrior, and a fine one.
At first, she’d just assumed he thought her weak, that after the fiasco on the river, he didn’t want to deal with her when they were on the run. She’d only been trying to let him know she was fine on her own, but then she’d grown embarrassed.
And what did she always do when she was embarrassed? She grew obstinate and confrontational. Every time.
Add that to her list of flaws. They seemed to be growing exponentially, and bringing all of their ugliness out in front of the one man she wanted to kiss her.
Goodness, what must his warriors think of her now? No doubt, they supposed her to be a silly woman. Which she supposed she had been, displaying quite a bit of silliness arguing with him. In fact, she was surprised he’d not thrashed her for being so ridiculous. Or at the very least, tossed her over his shoulder and gagged her. She might have…
All these flaws, the need to argue, were so ingrained within her, that she couldn’t curb them even when it was necessary. Grim had to be growing impatient, she was certain, had to think that this was all she was.
How many times had her father and mother lamented of her obstinacy? Aye, she was a troublemaker. A rule breaker. A debater. A mischief maker.
But that wasn’t how she wanted to be recognized. And she wanted him to know her for the other good parts. There were other things she was skillful at, too. Sailing, swimming, and a skill she’d taken note of that Roderick also possessed—finding things that were lost.
Aye, she could find anything. Children who’d gone off to hide, a chicken who’d escaped the yard, a pin that fell through the cracks in the floor, or a match to a pair of hose that had been lost in the wash. One time, she’d even found her mother’s missing earbob in the loch.
Despite being so good at finding things for others, she seemed to be struggling with finding herself.
“Who am I?” she murmured.
“What was that, lass?” Roderick called in the wind at her back.
And she was thankful that the wind created by their quick gait had muffled her words, because she did not want him to know the question of her heart. Yet she kind of did want him to know. To talk to him about it. Roderick seemed a man with a good head on his shoulders, and he’d had to change fairly quickly over the last few years, to find who he was supposed to be.
All that didn’t matter now. He had other things to pay attention to besides her. So, Greer shook her head and tried to tuck the hair loosening from its plait back in place so that they wouldn’t whip in his face and obstruct his view.
This was a step in the right direction. Thinking before acting. Not putting her desire for knowledge first. Of course, with her mind no longer wondering, she now worried about the threat that followed them. The MacCulloch men were fierce, to be sure. Thick with muscle, deadly gazes, and loaded with weapons. But the truth was, there wasn’t that many of them. And if there were two hordes headed their way from opposite directions, she could only pray her father had gotten the message to meet them halfway.
As the sun began to set, they continued over the moors, riding until their horses were slick with sweat and they were forced to dismount. Though their pace slowed, and they now walked on foot, they still didn’t stop. Roderick led his horse and held her hand tightly as they tread through thick grass, over rocky terrain, and up and down hills.
“Up there,” he called to his men, pointing at a rise over their heads. “Find a way for the horses.”
Two men separated from their group.
“How do ye know what is the perfect spot?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t take offense to her curiosity,
“If possible, I try to be on higher ground in order to see my enemies as they approach. That rise is verra steep though. And I’m nae certain we’ll all fit on the peak.”
The men returned a moment later and confirmed this, so they continued until the wooded area turned into moors once more, and then into more crag and cliff than grass. At last, they came across a cave. By the time they did, Greer could no longer feel her feet. They had to be blistered in her boots, and possibly bloody. The boots had not dried all the way, and the water had quickly soaked into her hose. She was a mess. An utter mess. And she had no one to blame but herself. She should have simply gotten on the birlinn, curled up in a ball, and closed her eyes until she was home.
“I’m sorry.” Though her voice was soft, Roderick heard her.
“For what?”
“For not riding the birlinn. This is all my fault.”
“Nay, lass. Ye’ve nothing to worry over. The Ross men have been raiding my lands for months. At least we’ve drawn them away from the castle.”
Greer bit the inside of her cheek. There was so much confidence in his words, as if they were simply luring the enemy away, and the idea they were about to be attacked was a mere fancy.
“I trust ye to protect me,” she said, but the words were meant more for herself. For she did trust him, but she wasn’t entirely certain why. “I dinna think ye would have saved me on the beach only to toss me into your enemy’s sword.”
“I’d never do such.”
They crept closer to the mouth of the cave, but when Greer started to head inside, Roderi
ck held her back.
“Wait.” He nodded to Angus. “Could be wildcats inside.”
Her heart leapt at that. She’d been willing to walk right inside without even thinking about the fact that wildcats liked to make their dens in caves. Roderick disappeared inside with his claymore drawn. Her stomach twisted up into knots.
As the seconds ticked by without him returning, her skin started to prickle with nerves and sweat slicked her palms. Just when she was about to order Angus to go inside and find his laird, Roderick reappeared.
“All clear. ’Tis not as deep as I’d hoped. The horses will have to stay outside with the men on watch. Those not on watch will sleep inside after settling their mounts.”
This was not ideal. If the horses were spotted, their enemies would know they were within, but she supposed there was nothing they could do about it now. Their mounts were exhausted, and if they continued to ride them, they’d run the risk of injury, and then there would be no escaping.
“Come, lass. Get some sleep.” He held out his hand, and Greer accepted it as he led her into the cave.
It was pitch black inside. She stilled her feet, resisting the tug of his hand. No amount of blinking helped her vision to adjust.
“How did ye know there were no wildcats? I canna see my hand in front of my face.” She waved it there just for emphasis, though she was certain he, too, could not see it.
“A sixth sense I suppose.”
“Perhaps ye’re madder than most think me.”
“I dinna think ye’re mad.”
“Nay? What would ye call sailing out into a storm?”
“A passion for sailing?” The jest in his tone was loud and clear, but she wasn’t in a jesting mood.
“Ye’d be the only one, for not even I would call it that. If anything, I’d call it foolish,” she grumbled.
Grim stopped walking and let go of her hand.
A sudden rush of fear filled her, and she gasped, hands flailing out for him in the dark. She came into contact with his back and gripped the linen of his shirt. He moved quickly back to standing and pulled her against his chest, the steady beat of his heart calming her.
