“Aye, and he wishes he could do more,” Drummond said, joining them. “If only to tweak that bastard Campbell’s nose. But I’m afraid this is where our paths diverge. I canna take the barge where ye are going.”
And where exactly was that? In the confusion and terror of last night, Abi hadn’t even stopped to think about it.
She stepped forward and enveloped the smuggler in a hug. “You have my undying thanks, Drummond. If there is ever anything I can do in return, name it.”
The smuggler waved away her thanks, seeming embarrassed by the gesture. “Get on with ye. We all need to be out of here before they think to come looking in this direction.”
Reid shook the smuggler’s hand, then he and Abi disembarked onto the rickety pier. They stood and watched, hands raised in farewell, as Drummond cast off and carried on up the river. In only a few moments, he was out of sight around a bend.
“Let’s get going.”
Calling the dogs to heel, he set off, and Abi had no choice but to follow.
“Where are we going?”
He glanced at her but didn’t answer and set a pace that precluded further talking. Abi found herself having to trot to keep up as they left the pier behind and cut away from the river across the rough, open country. It was cold in the predawn air and the dress Abi was wearing was hardly suited to cross-country travel.
She hugged herself to keep warm, but seeing her plight, Reid unslung the pack from his shoulder—she only now noticed it in fact—took out a cloak, and handed it to her.
“Here. It will keep ye warm.”
Abi took it gratefully and wrapped it around her shoulders, holding it closed beneath her chin. It was thick wool and smelled of Reid.
“Thanks.”
He did not reply. The sun rose as they walked in silence, the hounds ranging to either side. There was no path but Reid seemed to know where he was going as they struggled through ground thick with heather and knee-high grass that was turning brown with the season. Their path wound through the hills but Reid was careful not to take them too high, instead skirting the base of the hills and taking another path if it climbed too high. Abi guessed he didn’t want them to be exposed on the skyline to anyone that might be following them.
She swallowed thickly and glanced back but all she could see was the empty, windswept vista of the hills and the plains. Here and there a pond glimmered in the dawn light like a silver coin and birds cried and circled in the sky above. They could have been the only people in the whole world.
They walked for around two hours and Abi was beginning to stumble with exhaustion when they cleared a trail between two hills and Reid came to a stop.
“We’ll rest there.”
Abi followed his outstretched finger and saw a small stone building butted up against the hillside. It was so well camouflaged that she probably wouldn’t have spotted it if he hadn’t pointed it out. There were no windows that she could see and only a battered wooden door. There was, however, a little chimney at the top.
“What is it?”
“A bothy. The highlands are dotted with them. They’re places for shepherds to rest if they’re caught out with their flocks. Or for travelers to rest if they need it.”
He strode over to the door, cracked it open, and stuck his head inside. Seemingly satisfied, he pushed the door wider.
He said something in Gaelic to the hounds and they sat obediently outside the door, ears pricked forward.
“They’re not coming inside?”
“Nay, they’ll stand guard and warn us if anyone approaches.”
His words sent a tremor through her. “You think they’ll find us all the way out here?”
“I dinna think so but it pays to be careful.”
Abi followed Reid into the small stone hut. There was nothing inside but bare stone walls and a fireplace in the far corner. Reid unslung his pack and then sank onto his haunches by the fireplace, looking at it wistfully.
“We canna risk lighting a fire. The smoke would alert anyone who might be following us. It’s going to be a cold one, I’m afraid.”
Pulling the cloak tighter around her, Abi watched as Reid opened the pack and began taking things out. He’d come prepared. There were rations for two people, along with thick blankets and two rolls of oiled cloth which she guessed were to use in the case of a rainstorm. From the thoroughness of his preparations, she guessed he’d planned this in detail.
He didn’t look at her as he set out food and drink. “Eat, lass,” he mumbled. “Ye must be starving.”
