She looked frightened and bewildered but he wouldn’t fall for it. She must think him a fool if she thought she would deflect him so easily.
“Was Edgar the person ye were going to meet?” he asked her. “Was that why ye ran for him? To make yer report?” He’d never heard of Edgar being in charge of the Muir spy network, but it would make sense. That would explain why Edgar was riding for Kalmack Castle and why the lass had been so eager to get away. Why else would she run towards the Muirs? She clearly wasn’t the prisoner she appeared to be. So what was she if not a spy?
“Edgar? Who’s that?” Her expression tightened. “And for that matter, who the hell are you?”
Reid drew himself up. “My name is Reid Campbell, commander of Laird Edwin Campbell’s forces. And ye are a Muir spy.”
It was the lass’s turn to draw herself up. She climbed to her feet and faced him squarely, apparently too angry to be afraid of the dogs any longer. “I most certainly am not—whatever that is. My name is Abigail Fenton and I’m a hotel manager. How many times do I have to tell you people that you’ve made a mistake? Whatever the hell this is—a war game or a re-enactment or just a bunch of lunatics playacting for some reason I can’t fathom—I’m not part of it! I didn’t mean to get involved. Please! I just need to get back to my car.”
Spots of color blossomed on her cheeks and her fists clenched at her sides. She looked furious and wild, with her golden hair whipping around her head in the wind—almost like an incarnation of the wild land that surrounded them. She was, he realized, quite beautiful. Her eyes were large and a startling green in color. She had full lips that looked ripe for kissing.
But he would not let that distract him. No doubt her beauty had been one of the reasons the Muirs had chosen her as a spy. Many a warrior would find themselves beguiled by a lass like her and would spill secrets that they had no right to spill.
“Woman,” he rumbled. “I dinna—”
“Myname,” she snapped, bristling like a cat. “Is Abigail. And I would thank you to use it. Call me ‘woman’ again and you’ll have a bruise on your other shin to match the first!”
He raised an eyebrow at her temerity. Here she was, his prisoner, and she had the balls to be threatening him? Aye, she was a wild one all right. Or was it stupid?
“Abigail,” he began again. “Perhaps ye are telling the truth. Perhaps ye aren’t. Either way, I canna take that risk. Yearecoming with me. Now, the only question is: will ye come willingly? Or would ye rather do this the hard way?”
Abigail licked her lips, her eyes straying to the dogs who were watching her intently. “Um...it doesn’t seem I have any choice, does it? What are you going to do to me?”
There was fear in her voice now, and the sound of it stung something deep in Reid’s gut. He might be a bastard, but no woman had ever had reason to fear him.
“Ye willnae be harmed,” he said, meeting her fearful gaze. “I give ye my word on that.”
Her leaf-colored eyes rose to meet his and held there for a second. And damn him, if he didn’t feel his heartbeat quicken suddenly.
Abigail nodded slowly. “All right.”
Reid gave a sharp nod and stepped back, unnerved by the reaction she’d provoked in him. He whistled to the dogs and they came to heel, wagging their tails and gazing up at him.
“Aye,” he said to them, reaching down to scratch their great heads. “We’re going home now.” To the woman—to Abigail—he said curtly. “This way.”
They set off again, weaving deeper into the woods. The cover was thick and as they marched, Reid began to breathe a little easier. Even if Edgar had managed to get reinforcements, they would have a hard time tracking him through the tangled vegetation. He wondered again why he’d let the man go. Was he getting soft? Was he letting sentiment cloud his judgment?
What mattered was that his mission had been a success. He’d rescued his men, but he only hoped Laird Campbell saw it that way. He was a hard man who expected obedience in all things. Well, obedience had never been one of Reid’s strong points. He’d just have to find a way to smooth things over when his lord roasted him for disobeying orders.
He squinted at the sun, trying to gauge their direction, and then altered their course slightly, turning them south towards their destination. It was still many miles distant and without horses it would likely take them the rest of the day to get there. They had no transport, no water and no food. Yet this didn’t worry Reid. After he’d left Dun Calas all those years before, he’d spent a long time living in the wilderness learning to live off the land. He could find what they needed.
“You don’t have a drink on you by any chance?” the woman—Abigail—said suddenly. It was the first time she’d spoken in a while. “I’m parched.”
“My water skin is on my saddle,” he replied. “And God-alone-knows where my horse is right now.” He didn’t bother to point out that the reason he’d lost his horse was because he’d been off chasing her instead of returning to where he and his men had hidden their mounts.
She nodded, looking disappointed.
Reid sighed. “Fine. Follow me.”
He turned off the deer trail they’d been tracking and led her down a grassy bank through the overhanging branches of willow and alder until they reached a gurgling stream. Mossy boulders littered the banks and fish darted in the clear water. Abigail crouched on the bank and cupped her hands in the water, drinking greedily. Bo and Whitefoot joined her, lapping eagerly.
To Reid’s surprise, Abigail scratched Bo behind the ears. “You’re thirsty too, huh?”
Then, to Reid’s even greater surprise, the big hound wagged her tail and rasped her tongue along Abigail’s cheek.
“Ugh. Gerroff!” Abigail cried with a laugh.
Reid frowned, crossing his arms.
