Highland Scoundrel (Highland Brides) (39 page)

She was well. She was whole, and he must think. “I am someone who knows you cannot do what you hope to do, Shona. Despite your courage, despite your love for the lad, you cannot win this battle. Go back to your friends," he said, and stepped toward her.

She retreated and yanked her knife from its sheath. "Stay away."

He raised his brows at her. "Or what, lass? Or you'll kill me?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Dunna laugh at me. I am not so gullible as ye think. I see now that ye have been humoring me all along, that ye have been playing with my emotions. That ye are not at all what ye have portrayed yourself to be. But I am in no mood to be made a fool any longer. If ye will not help me, then go away and leave me to do what I must."

"What you must?" He took another step toward her. Acid terror burned a path to his soul. "Does that mean you will become a martyr? Saint Shona, who sacrificed herself for the life of a lowly waif?"

"It means I will see him freed."

"How?" he asked, still advancing.

She shifted her knife slightly. "Tis none of your concern," she said. "All I need is for ye to see Kelvin safely back to Blackburn. I ask no more."

He snorted derisively. "And what of you, Damsel? Will ye ride back alone?"

He watched her tense. "Aye," she said. "I will leave Teine in the woods until I need her then return as soon as ever I can."

"And when do you think that might be, lass? When do you think William will be finished with you? A day, a week, a month? Do you think you will still be able to ride? Do you think you will still be alive?"

She stared at him, her eyes wide, her lips slightly parted, as though she searched for words that would not come.

"I have no choice," she said.

"You have injured the pride of William of Atberry. In his twisted mind tis an unforgivable sin.

Go to him now and you shall pay with your life."

"Nay!"

"You know I am right, yet you plan to go anyway. Why not admit it?"

Her expression was tense. "Will ye help me or nay?"

He took another two steps toward her. "Tis a funny thing about me," he said. "But I have no wish to help kill the woman I love."

Her knife dropped a smidgen of an inch. "Ye love me?" she whispered, and in that moment, he leapt.

He should have known better, should have remembered her reactions were just a mite quicker than a cat's. His fingers brushed her arm, but she twisted wildly away and bolted for cover.

He tore after her, forgetting everything but his need to stop her, to force her to safety. But suddenly she loosed a bent branch. It sprang into place, smacking his forehead with enough force to send him to his knees.

The sound echoed through his cranium like a war drum, but he staggered to his feet. Even through the fog, he saw she was getting away. His legs moved without the benefit of his brain, propelling him forward as fast as he could go. His fingers scraped her tunic, but he could not snatch her back. Up ahead, he saw her mare, ears pricked as she pranced warily toward them. If Shona reached her horse, he would never catch her.

It was that thought that made him leap again. This time he caught her shoulder. She faltered, tried to right herself, but finally fell to her knees. He fell with her, his scrambled mind spinning. But he had no time for disorientation, for she was already lurching away.

Dugald grabbed her leg. She fell again, losing her knife as she went down, but kicking even as she did so. Her heel rapped hard against his right ear. His head snapped to the side, but he held on.

He would not let her die. He would not.

Still holding her leg, he tried to capture her arms, but she twisted about. Like a whirling windlass, her knee knocked him on the side of the head. He grunted in agony but held onto her opposite leg, dragging her closer.

Something smacked against his ear. He was just lucid enough to realize it was her fist, not lucid enough to avoid the next blow. There was nothing he could do but drag himself over her in a limp attempt to crush her into submission.

But she was hardly done fighting. Squirming madly for breath and freedom, she wrenched her knees up, planted her feet on his chest, and kicked him off her. He landed some two feet away, breathing hard and trying to see through the haze in his brain. But the only thought he could muster was that he could not let her escape. He scrambled to his knees, ready for another try just as she did the same.

But just then Shona jerked to attention, her eyes wild as she held her breath.

"What is it?" he hissed.

"Horses!"

"Where?"

She didn't bother to answer, but scrambled wildly toward cover at the edge of the hill.

Grabbing her knife from the ground, he followed her until they lay on their bellies, covered in bracken and staring out over a trail a quarter of a mile away.

They waited in absolute silence, watching the road in breathless concentration until the first rider appeared.

Even from above, they could see that the leader was a big man, riding rigid and arrogant on his white stallion. But it was not his confidence that jarred them. It was the fact that behind him rode a hundred men just like him, all dressed in identical plaid, with conical steel helmets on their heads.

They rode dark horses and there was an unearthly silence about them, as if they had been sent from hell itself.

Shona watched them with breathless dread. Fear settled into her soul, but she could not let it affect her, for Kelvin's life depended on her courage.

Still crouched, she slunk backward through the bracken, but Dugald caught her arm.

"Where are ye going?"

She tried to wrench away, but dared not make any conspicuous movements. "I go to save Kelvin."

He pulled her back toward him. “And just how do you plan to do that?"

"Tis none of your affair."

"Mayhap you will simply ask the Munro if you might accompany him into Kirkwood."

"Munro?" She felt her face go pale.

"I heard he was mustering his warriors. But he's arrived now. I'm certain he will have time to oblige you."

"That's the Munro and his infamous clansmen?"

"It looks like that to me, but I could be wrong. Of course, by the time you got your answer, your head would be on his pike. Or mayhap even he would find better use for you."

"Dear God!" She watched them go. "Why? Why has he come here?"

"Because William has something so precious in that castle that he dares try to leash the power of the Munros to keep it for himself."

She stared at him, terrified, immobilized.

"What is it, Shona?"

The last of the Munros rode from sight. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts.

He shook her. "Why did William take the boy?"

"How would I know?' she gasped."Did ye think, mayhap, that I was in league with him?''

Dugald stared at her, his silver eyes level.

The world was as silent as a tomb.

"Ye did," she whispered. "Ye thought that I planned some evil with William."

He didn't deny her words, didn't turn away.

"Is that why ye came?" she asked. "Were ye sent?"

He didn't answer.

"Who are ye?" she murmured.

"It does not matter who I am. If you wish to get the lad back alive, all that matters is what I can do."

"Ye?" She jerked her arm away. "Let me go!"

"To do what? Get yourself killed? Or do you mayhap think yourself so invincible that you can challenge the might of the Munro alone?''

Dear God, not in all her life had she been so afraid.

"And that is not even counting the troops already stationed inside Kirkwood."

Her courage wavered, but she forced it back up. "It changes nothing. I will see Kelvin free."

"And sacrifice your own life?" he asked softly. She could find no words to answer him. He lowered his voice, holding her gaze with his own. "When your father learns that you have been attacked, all of Scotland will come to arms, Shona. Why not await their arrival?"

"Because every minute we delay Kelvin's life hangs in the balance."

"Why would they harm him?" he asked. "What sense would that make?"

She tightened her hands and longed to escape. “When has evil made sense?"

"You cannot do this alone, Shona. And it does not seem right that the boy would die for your impetuousness."

Her gut knotted like a sailor's line. "Dunna think me such a fool that I will fall for your ploys to keep me safe," she said. "Mayhap ye are right. Mayhap he will die, but it willna be because I did nothing." Tears filled her eyes. "Twill not be because I am a coward."

"A coward?" He touched her face. The feelings burned softly through her, like the heat of the sun. "You? Nay. You are nothing but brave, lass. But evil can be clever, so you must be more clever still."

"I canna wait for troops," she whispered. "I canna. For if I wait..." She paused and shook her head. "Please believe me, twould be terrible consequences."

"What consequences?"

She paused a moment. "They will kill him," she said. "I know it."

"How do ye know?"

"I feel it. I am certain. I must act and I must act quickly."

“In the broad light of day? Twould be no better than suicide," Dugald hissed.

"And leaving him would be no better than murder!"

"Tis not true."

She jerked away, but he pulled her gently back. "Had they wanted to kill him, they could have done so outright."

"Nay!"

"Tis true," he crooned. "Think on it. They want him alive. Therefore he is safe, unless tis you who endangers his life."

"What shall I do?" she whispered.

"Trust me," he said. "Wait until darkness and trust me."

Dugald hid their horses behind a thicket of blackthorn bushes where the grass was thick and lush. Then they found a spot in the depths of a small grove of fir trees. Beneath the sheltering boughs, needles lay five inches deep and soft as moss under their feet.

Fatigue lay on Shona like a sack of meal, but worry and frustration kept her from resting.

"But what if ye are wrong, Dugald?" she asked. "What if—"

He strode quickly up to her. Taking her hand, he led her deeper into the trees until they had to crouch to walk beneath the branches. Once there, he urged her onto the bed of needles.

"I am not wrong," he said, and ever so gently touched her face.

"But what if he tries to escape?"

"He will not." Dugald stroked her cheek with ultimate tenderness. “Kelvin is no fool, lass, and he surely knows you will come for him. He will sit tight and wait."

"He can be haughty at times. What if they find out…" She paused. "What if he angers them?"

"How long has he been under your wing, Shona?"

She fidgeted as a thousand memories smote her. "A few months. No more."

"No one could have lived that long with you and not learned to charm the masses." He smiled and she found she could not look away. "He will be safe until the morrow at least."

"Are ye certain?"

Ever so softly, he kissed her. "I am, lass. Now sleep."

"But—"

"Sleep," he repeated, and kissed her brow.

"But how can ye be so sure?"

His gaze was steady and level. "Tis my job to be certain, lass."

"What?"

"I have dealt with more brigands than I can count. You can trust me to know something of them."

"Who are ye?" she rasped.

For a moment she thought he might tell her. But instead he kissed her lips, softly, tenderly. In a moment he drew away.

"I am Dugald the Dragon," he murmured, but the words no longer seemed haughty. Instead, they seemed almost sad.

"Why do they call ye that?" she whispered.

A corner of his mouth lifted. "Need you ask, even after last night?''

She stared into his eyes, trying to decipher the truth, but there was little hope of that.

"Ye are not what ye seem. That I know," she whispered. "Tell me who ye really are."

The world was silent.

"I am the man who will keep you safe this day," he said. "Now sleep, for surely you will need all your strength when the sun sets."

Dugald lurched into wakefulness. Beside him, Shona sat stiff and silent.

"What is it?" he asked.

She remained silent, her eyes wide and staring.

"Shona?" he whispered.

"Someone is coming."

He sat perfectly still listening, but he could hear nothing except the usual sounds of the evening woods, the soft call of a dove, the distant rustle of a field mouse in the leaves. Still, he had learned long ago to trust instinct, his as well as others.

"Which way are they headed?"

"Away from Kirkwood."

"How many?" His question was surely too soft for her to hear, and yet she held up a single finger then pointed off toward the trail to the west.

He rose carefully to his feet, but she grabbed his wrist.

"Where are ye going?"

"I go to make certain I see him before he sees us," he said, and slipped into the woods.

It took nearly a full minute before Dugald could hear the hoofbeats. A minute during which he doubted Shona's hearing and told himself a dozen times that she must have been mistaken. No one could hear that far away. No one could...

But suddenly he heard the distant clop of hooves and stiffened. Dear God, she was uncanny. But he had no time to think of that just now.

Crouching lower still, he crept through the woods to the trail. Once there, he found a stout branch that grew over the path. Jumping to reach it, he lifted himself effortlessly over the limb and slipped silently into the leaves. Hidden in the thickest foliage, he waited until finally he caught a glimpse of a horse beneath him.

Dugald held his breath and listened, making certain there was indeed only one person. But all his senses told him that Shona was right again. Twas a lone rider who traversed the trail. Tensed and ready, Dugald waited in silent immobility.

The horse stepped forward, finally bearing his rider into the open. Dugald strained to identify his face, but it did little good, for the person was dressed in a deep green cloak that covered him from head to foot, going so far as to conceal his face with a hood.