Chapter 10
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, somewhere in Scotland
A quick glance behind found Mary hot on his heels, the forest whirling after as they kept a steady pace.
Lungs burning, he could only imagine hers ached the same, a sense of pride at her achievement forming only to be replaced in an instant; each voice of the men behind them rising with a great cry, as if they had discovered which way the pair had gone.
They would be hunted.
Dashing down a steep slope, Richard turned their steps toward a nearby stream, the water their best chance to hide their path, though the chill would prove its own danger.
Entering the thankfully shallow stream, Richard held back a hiss as the icy water splashed against his thighs, a hand held out for Mary–her short boots would do little to protect her.
Brows pinching, she sought to hold back a cry as her shorter frame brought her almost waist deep, her cheeks ruddy from their excursion and pooling breath coming fast in the cold air.
An idea of carrying her passed through his mind for but a moment, the shouts behind them growing in volume;she would have to endure it a little longer.
Following the water downstream, Richard worked to help Mary’s passage, though her boots slipped often against the worn stones causing her clothing to become heavy. “Come, Mary,” he encouraged, though his chest ached with anxiety.A single shot before reloading would be all he had; that and the knife and scissors their only defense against all those men.
Mary. What would they do to Mary if he failed?
Shaking his head, he forced such thoughts away, instead looking for a safe place to hide as their hunters were almost upon them.
Yes. There,his mind rushed, the remains of a fallen tree and an indent in the muddy cove behind perhaps enough to hide them.
Directing Mary into the space, Richard smeared mud upon his exposed skin before pressing Mary into his chest and sinking lower.
Breath slowing, he pressed his face into Mary’s hair in hopes of disguising their presence, his muscles stiffening as the thud of footfalls on either side of the stream announced the huntsmen. Lifting up a prayer to God, all he might do was wait.
“They’ve gotta be here somewhere!”
“Did they move upstream?”
“No; water was churned with mud down this way. Either they’re ahead of us or we missed where they left the water. Look, you three follow me, the rest head back and make certain there’s no tracks out.”
“Then what?”
“One shot if there’s no sign, two if you find them. I have no patience for fixing Ian’s mistakes.” A short pause and the voicewarned, “Remember, bring them back alive if possible–Boss will be cross otherwise.”
Footfalls heading in each direction, Richard held Mary close to him as he considered their next action.
Advance or retreat? Either they faced four men downstream or an unknown number upstream… Unless, while the two groups were distracted, they moved south? Out the bank and through the forest? If they were in the part of Scotland he suspected, the trees would abate soon enough, as would their cover; yet, what choice did they have?
Listening intently, Richard slowly lifted his head away from Mary; all sounds of voices and footfalls faded.
The weight of worry rescinding, Richard frowned as Mary began to shiver in his arms, a new worry forming.
Noting the empty feel of his arms as he assisted her from their hiding place, Richard moved to help her up the bank, his eyes never leaving her as he did.Not now,he chastised himself as she shivered again, her head turning this way and that at every perceived noise. Heart heavy, he wished he might remove her fears, though the threat of discovery still loomed large.Is there nothing more to be done?
Pulling the heavy wet coat from her form, Richard wrapped her in one of the blankets before pulling her to her feet, the chattering of her teeth unsettling.Hopefully the sun would see fit to slip through the clouds.
“Come,” he whispered, a quick nod of her head his only reply; fear or the cold stilling her tongue.
Ten minutes. Fifteen. And no sounds of advancement from their enemies came.
Eyes turning to Mary, her steps faltering more and more often, he wrapped an arm around her as they pressed onward; his heart stilling as a single shot echoed through the chilled air.Those men knew they had not missed them upstream. It would not be long before they found their blatant trail. It was only a matter of time.
Mary’s weight collapsing on his arm, she quickly righted herself, a minute or more passing before her steps faltered again.
