The Hunter (43 page)

Janet did not lack for partners, and spinning around in the firelight, her cheeks hot and lungs gasping for air, she felt like a girl again. Pretty and alive and, for a moment, carefree.

She didn’t realize how much notice she was attracting.

She had snuck away for a moment into the alehouse to use the privy—which was no more than a hole in the wall with a wooden seat over the cesspit—when a cloaked figure stepped into her path as she exited the building.

Her heart stopped. But it took her only a few seconds to recognize the slender, cloaked figure in the torchlight. Good heavens, it was her informant!

Janet immediately glanced about, looking for a place to escape the crowd, and darted into the narrow wynd that ran alongside the alehouse. It was darker there, and there would be less chance of anyone seeing them.

Her heart was pounding, knowing that it must be something important to bring her informant here like this.

“I feared that I would not be able to find you,” the lady said. “But then I saw you dancing.” The torchlight didn’t quite extend into the wynd, and her face was hidden in the dark shadow of the hooded cloak, but Janet could tell
from her voice that she was smiling. “I confess I did not recognize you at first. The pretty, smiling merchant’s daughter is a far cry from an Italian nun.”

Janet was glad the other woman couldn’t see her blush. “You have taken a great risk in coming here.”

“I had to. This cannot wait.” She handed a folded piece of parchment to Janet, which she quickly slid into the purse at her waist. “You must take it to him with all speed. Already it might be too late. The talks are set for the day after next. You must find him before he reaches Selkirk tomorrow.”

Janet was just a courier. She was not usually privy to information, so she knew it must be serious for the woman to be telling her this. “Selkirk?”

“Aye, for the peace negotiations.” The woman took Janet’s arm and drew her closer. Janet could see the panic shimmering in her big eyes. “It’s a trap. The English mean to take Bruce.”

She wasn’t here. Damn, he’d been so sure she would be.

“I have to be back by St. Drostan’s Day,”
she’d said.

So where the hell was she? Not at the priory. Nor at the hospital for that matter. Ewen had left Sutherland to watch the priory and followed the group of nuns who’d walked to the hospital after the morning prayers. Orders or nay, his role as an observer had ended last night, the moment he realized the priest was having her watched. Posing as a traveler on the road, he examined every person in that hospital: leper, nun, traveler, the ill or infirm—even the group of ladies from the castle who’d arrived to give alms on the saint’s day.

But she wasn’t there.

He was running out of rope. Running out of ideas. He’d never felt so damned helpless, never been so lost. The one time he really needed to find someone, his skills had failed him.

Worse, he couldn’t escape the feeling that he somehow should have known. How could he not have realized someone was watching her? He should have realized the soldiers from Douglas could not have tracked them that fast. He’d blamed her for carelessness when he’d missed the signs himself.

It was after dark when he left the hospital to rejoin Sutherland at the priory. MacLean and MacKay had left late the night before, after attending to some business in the forest, and not without some argument.

“The king isn’t going to like it,” MacLean had said. “He ordered all of us back tomorrow. You don’t even know that she is here. You can be back by tomorrow night if you ride hard.”

Ewen’s mouth clenched. He wished to hell she wasn’t here, that she was someplace safe and far away. But he knew Janet. If she thought it was important, nothing would keep her away. “She’s here,” he said flatly. “I don’t give a shite about orders.” His partner lifted his brow at that, but Ewen ignored him. “You three go and return when you can. I’m not leaving her.”

MacKay looked skeptical. “You sure you know what you’re doing? If you’re wrong, the king won’t be happy.”

The king wasn’t happy now. And Ewen wasn’t wrong. “Would you leave your wife?”

MacKay didn’t say anything.

“In a heartbeat,” MacLean said flatly.

Ewen threw him a disgusted look. “Well, I’m not leaving her.”

None of the men stated the obvious: she wasn’t his wife, nor was she ever likely to be.

In the end, it was MacKay and MacLean who’d ridden away to join the others and report to the king what had happened. Sutherland had insisted on staying with Ewen. “If I leave and something happens to her, my wife will never forgive me. I think I’ll take my chances with Bruce.”

Knowing Mary, it was probably a wise decision. But Ewen was glad for the extra sword—and the extra pair of eyes.

He whistled to let Sutherland know he approached. The newest member of the Highland Guard, a man who could fill in just about anywhere and had taken over the dangerous job of working with black powder after the death of one of their brethren, responded with a hoot before jumping down from a tree ahead of him.

“Anything?” Ewen asked.

“Nay. The prioress locked up about an hour ago. I’ll assume from your tone that you didn’t have much luck either.”

Ewen shook his head grimly. “Did the lad show his face?”

A flash of white appeared in the moonlight as Sutherland grinned. “After last night? I don’t think he’d step within a mile of this place, even if you weren’t paying him to stay away.” He chuckled. “I didn’t realize we had so many admirers in the ranks of English spies.”

“The lad didn’t know what the hell he was doing.”

Last night, before MacKay and MacLean had left, they’d waited for the lad to leave the castle, followed him, and surrounded him in the forest. There were times that their phantom reputation came into good use. The lad, probably sixteen or seventeen, had been terrified initially. He’d blurted out what he was doing for the priest almost before they’d finished asking the question. For over a month, he’d earned a penny a day to watch the new nun in the priory and report to the priest immediately if she went anywhere or did anything. The boy hadn’t understood why he was still watching the place when the nun had left with a man a fortnight earlier, but he was happy collecting his money for as long as the priest wanted to pay.

He’d been stunned to learn he was spying for the English. “I’m not a traitor,” he’d insisted. “I’m a Scot.”

The lad had been so offended, so ashamed, that Sutherland was right—Ewen probably didn’t need to pay him. But he thought it best to ensure the lad didn’t have second thoughts.

They’d instructed him to stay away from the priory, but keep reporting to the priest every night as before. Afterward, he was to meet them, and he would be paid a shilling—more than his family probably earned in a week.

Once it was clear they did not mean him any harm, the lad had acted like he was in the presence of demigods, peppering them with questions until they’d been forced to send him away. “Can you really appear out of the mist?” “Do your swords really come from Valhalla?” “Do you have heads under the masks or do your demon eyes glow out of emptiness?” “Where do you go to when you disappear?”

“Perhaps we’ve found a new recruit?” Sutherland said.

Ewen would have laughed if he weren’t thinking that they would be needing one soon. “You never know.”

“So what now?”

“We go back to Roxburgh and wait for the lad to report back to us.”

“And then?”

Ewen wished to hell he knew. He was out of leads. He didn’t realize how much he’d pinned his hopes on today. But one thing was for certain: he wasn’t going to give up until he found her.

Janet stared at her informant in stunned disbelief. The English meant to capture Robert at Selkirk under the auspices of a peace negotiation? It defied every notion of honor. It was a breech of a code between soldiers in warfare—by long tradition, parleys were sacred ground under the cover of a truce. “Are you certain?”

“I would not risk this if I were not. It is all there,” her informant said, referring to the parchment. “I was only
fortunate I found this out earlier this evening. The feast day celebration enabled me to sneak out of the castle. But I must return before anyone notices I am gone. You can get this to him in time?”

Janet’s mind was already racing with all she had to do. She would prepare to leave immediately, staying just long enough to say goodbye to the Hendeses, gather her belongings, and with any luck procure a horse. The feast would help in that regard. “I can.”

The words had barely left her mouth before they heard footsteps and the sound of voices.

“Where did she go?” a man said angrily.

Janet felt a flash of alarm but told herself it was nothing. Probably her next dance partner looking for her.

The two women’s eyes met in the darkness. “Go,” Janet said. “Someone is coming.”

The woman nodded. “Godspeed,” she whispered, and to Janet’s surprise, she leaned over to give her a quick hug before turning to go.

But the woman had barely taken a few steps when disaster struck. “There!” a man shouted. “After her! Don’t let her get away.”

A man came running toward them—a big man. Janet didn’t have time to think. She acted on instinct, and her first one was to protect the other woman. Right as the man started to run past her, she stepped in his path.

Her intention was to trip him and sidestep out of the way, but it didn’t work out the way she had planned. Her skirt tangled in his foot, and he was able to grab her. They hit the ground together.

The blow jarred the air from her lungs, but she recovered fast and immediately scrambled to her feet. Unfortunately, the big oaf did as well. He was even taller than Ewen, although he didn’t smell as nice. This man stank as if he labored with pigs all day.

She would have twisted away, but his hands were like
big, meaty manacles. “What is the meaning of this? Unhand me!”

Surprisingly, he did. The authority of her tone must have startled him. The man was big and bulky, with a peasant’s flat face, blunt features, and a neck that seemed crunched into his shoulders. If it was possible to look thick-headed, he did a fine job of it.

Janet relaxed a little. Talking her way out of this shouldn’t be too difficult. “How dare you attack me like that! Look what you’ve done.” She held up her skirt. “You’ve ripped my gown. Do you realize how much this cost? You can be assured that I will be sending you an accounting for the repair.”

He backed up a step or two, and she tried not to laugh. “I didn’t mean—”

She didn’t let him finish, keeping him on the defensive. “Do you make it your business to accost innocent women in dark alleys?”

“Nay, I was told … He told me—”

He looked toward the street, and Janet glanced over at the man who was approaching. He was the one who’d issued the order.

He was about twenty feet away and looking right at her.

“It
is
you,” he said. “I thought so but wasn’t sure. It’s a long way from Italy, Sister Genna.”

The blood drained from her face. Oh God, the priest from the market! She wasn’t going to be talking her way out of this after all.

But there was one thing she could do. Before the big oaf collected his wits and reached for her again, she ran.

Twenty-four

“After her!” the priest shouted. “Guards! Don’t let her get away.”

Janet shot down the wynd as fast as her legs would carry her.

One glance over her shoulder sent her pulse jumping through her throat. Figures were shadowed at the mouth of the wynd behind her. A half-dozen soldiers, maybe more. They’d been closer than she realized.

She took some comfort in the knowledge that her source had likely gotten away, but that was dampened by the realization of what was at stake. If she didn’t get out of here, if she didn’t get to Bruce in time, it could all be over.

Knowing she had only a few minutes to get out of the village before they blocked off the roads, she turned at the first corner and plunged down another dark wynd.

She could hear them chasing behind her, but she didn’t think about it. Her lungs were bursting and her legs were weakening, but she didn’t slow. She kept her mind focused on getting out of the village. If she could make it to the forest, she had a chance.

But they were fanning out behind her. Closing in.

She needed a horse. But that would have to wait. If she could just make it to Rutherford, she would be able to find something.

And maybe …

Her heart squeezed, and it wasn’t from the lack of air in
her lungs. She had no reason to think he would be there, but if Ewen had come after her, Rutherford would be her best chance at finding him.
“I will find you.”
His words from when they were being hunted came back to her. “She’s heading for the forest!”

Her stomach dropped, hearing the horse and rider close behind her.

But she was almost there. A moment later she plunged into the heavy darkness. It swallowed her like a tomb. A figurative one, she hoped.

She experienced a fresh burst of energy with the knowledge that the trees would slow the horses down and raced through the brush and bracken, pushing limbs out of the way when she could see them, not noticing the scratches that tore through her skin when she could not.