Then a familiar voice spoke by her ear. “Hush, lass. It’s me. Quietly now. The wind is blowing in their direction and if we aren’t careful, they’ll hear us.” His voice was so soft it barely carried, his breath tickling her neck, but she recognized it as Magnus’s deep drawl. “I’m going to take my hand away now. All right?”
She nodded. As he removed his hand, she spun to face him. He held a finger to his lips, motioning for her to keep quiet. His eyes were alert, fixed on the group of men and the woman who were now making their way down the hill.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“Looking for ye. And it seems I found ye only just in time. It would be most unwise to reveal yerself to those people, lass.”
“Why? Who are they?” She remembered the way Snaffles had growled as they approached.
“Folks that ye dinna want to be running into.”
More cryptic answers. She shook her head, surprised by how pleased she was to see Magnus. She hadn’t heard him approach and Snaffles had not warned her. For such a big man, he moved remarkably quietly.
She watched as he stared out at the retreating group, eyes narrowed like a hound that had scented its prey. Like she had been with Irene MacAskill earlier, she was struck by how well Magnus fitted this landscape. There was something unconstrained about him. Something wild. Free.
“I was just going to ask if they know the way to the road,” Izzy said. “Where’s the harm in that? They seem friendly enough.”
“Just because a snake doesnae hiss doesnae mean it willnae bite,” warned Magnus grimly. “Listen to me, Isabelle.” His grip tightened on her arm, his voice low and hard. “Appearances aren’t what they seem, especially out here. I dinna know how life is in yer English manor, but in this place ye need to be careful who ye trust.”
Eh? What was he going on about? He said ‘out here’ as though they were in some lawless wilderness. Yes, this area was a little remote, but it was hardly the Wild West, was it? And what did he mean by ‘English manor’?
She opened her mouth to speak but he pressed a finger to his lips again and shook his head. The group of people had made it to the bottom of the hill and begun walking.
Magnus rose. “Come. We must follow them.”
“What? But you’ve just said we should avoid them!” Izzy retorted. “Which is it, Magnus? I’m not going anywhere until you explain what’s going on!”
His eyes narrowed. “Are ye always this difficult?”
“Only when people make absolutely no sense!”
“Who do yethinkthey are?” he asked. “What kind of people would be out here in the middle of nowhere?”
“All kinds. Hikers. Campers. People walking their dogs like I was.” She crossed her arms. “And besides,you’reout here, aren’t you?”
He began to speak but Snaffles suddenly growled, his hackles rising. Magnus froze, head cocked as he listened. Then Izzy heard it too: a steady thundering noise. It took her a moment to realize it was hoofbeats.
“Get down!” Magnus yanked her down amongst the undergrowth, taking a firm hold of Snaffles’ collar at the same time.
“Hey! What do you think you’re—”
“Hush, lass! Listen.”
The sounds grew louder—the hoofbeats thundering like an approaching storm—and a group of riders appeared in the distance, their silhouettes dark against the evening sky. They cantered closer and Izzy saw that they were dressed in mismatched, outlandish garb, some clad in hunting leathers while others wore crimson velvet cloaks, all accented by an array of trinkets that glinted in the lowering sun.
The woman and the three men turned at the sound of hooves and stopped to wait for the riders.
The woman planted her hands on her hips. “And about bloody time!” she shouted.
The lead rider was a barrel-chested man with flaming red hair that cascaded down his back in one long braid. He rode up to the waiting group, pulled up his horse and jumped down, then scooped the woman into his arms and kissed her soundly.
“There ye are, Elsie my love!” he boomed. “Ye are a sight for sore eyes!”
Elsie wrapped her arms around the redhead’s neck and kissed him so thoroughly that Izzy felt a blush creep across her cheeks. She glanced at Magnus and found him tense as a bowstring beside her.
Snaffles whined, and she gently stroked his head to calm him. The red-headed man released Elsie and turned to address his group, his voice as loud and jovial as his appearance. “Lads and lasses, today has been a grand day! Today we are rich!”
He pulled a bag from his saddle and tossed it into the air. The bag arced upwards and jingled when he caught it again, as though it was filled with coins.
