“That’s just it,” Iagan said. “They took none.” He turned and motioned his son forward. “Auley saw them toting bundles. Headed south, and not on the road.” A sad smile twitched the man’s grizzled beard as he proudly patted his lad’s shoulder. “He wrote it out for me. Robbie done helped him with his writing and reading. Said Auley is a canny lad who learns quick.” He ducked his head. “We need to find them, my chieftain. Robbie be a fine asset to this clan.”
“They both are,” Teague corrected him.
Auley stepped forward with a mournful frown, thumped his fist to his heart, then clasped his hands in supplication.
“Robbie will be back, lad,” Teague reassured him, understanding the boy with no need for words.
“The horses are ready.” Calder walked the mounts forward. He glanced up at the sky. “Another storm’s coming. The sun’s already hiding its face from us.”
“It blazed bright enough earlier.” Teague launched himself up into the saddle and cast a bitter look at the gathering clouds. “Perhaps it hides from the darkness of my mood.”
He urged his horse into a fast trot, more than a little concerned about the direction his precious guests reportedly took. If Mila and Robbie avoided the road, southward was not safe. Ravines and chasms riddled that part of the land, many of them hidden by overgrowth. He noted that Calder and Iagan had lashed extra coils of ropes to the saddles. They knew the land was dangerous as well, and prepared accordingly.
Distant thunder rumbled across the ridges, and the sky darkened. Rain would slow the runaways but also make their going more hazardous. Teague urged his horse to pick its way faster across the rough ground. He scanned the landscape for the slightest movement or flash of color that didn’t belong. Grissa had said the bed linens were gone, and Auley had reported they carried bundles. The creamy white of the cloth, as long as it remained dry, would shine like a beacon amid the early summer colors of the mountainside.
But the Highland weather laughed at him. The clouds released their waters as though trying to wash them down the hills. The horses slowed. Teague squinted through the grayness of the deluge but saw nothing.
Calder shouted and waved to the left.
Teague leaned forward. He shielded his eyes from the downpour and gave a critical sweep of that area. At first, he spotted nothing, but knew Calder possessed a sharper eye than he. He kept searching and finally made out an oddly shaped mound that didn’t fit in with the landscape. It had to be them, huddled together against the harshness of the wind and rain.
He allowed his horse to select the best route toward them. The animal knew better than he which way would be treacherous and which would not. He motioned for Calder to circle around and approach on the other side. He feared that when he flushed out his precious dove, she would be foolhardy enough to take flight and succumb to one of the mountain’s snares.
The storm’s intensity provided the perfect cover. Once close enough, he dismounted. Neither Mila nor the lad had looked out from under the bundles they clutched over their heads. He lunged forward, snatched hold of her arm, and yanked her up to his chest.
She unleashed a bloodcurdling scream that rivaled the tempest, thrashing and kicking like a captured animal.
Robbie fell backward while trying to scramble to his feet. Calder headed him off, caught him by the back of his tunic, and hugged an arm around his waist.
“Let us go!” She beat Teague’s chest while squinting against the onslaught of weather.
He didn’t speak, just let her fight and squirm until she ran out of wind and realized fighting was futile. It didn’t take long until her pummeling weakened to pitiful thumps against his chest that kept time with her sobbing. He buried a hand in her hair, pulled her head back, and upturned her face to his. Then he kissed her, the same way he had kissed her last night during their strongest throes of passion. He poured everything into the connection. Every hope. Every fear. All that she made him feel, whether he wished to feel it or not. She had to realize, once and for all, that she need never fear him.
He broke the connection and scowled at her. “Ye are mine,” he bellowed over the wind. Grim satisfaction filled him as she stared up at him with her luscious, kiss-reddened lips barely parted. “Do ye hear me, woman? Ye. Are. Mine.”
“I hear ye,” she said so softly that he read the words in the movements of her mouth rather than heard them.
“Good enough.” He swept her up into his arms, trudged back to his horse, and placed her in the saddle. After a curt nod at Calder, he launched himself up and settled in behind her.
The man grinned and did the same with Robbie.
Before starting the journey back, Teague shucked his coat and wrapped it around her. He drew up the length of his great kilt, hooded it over his head, and wrapped that around them both too. The foolhardy woman risked catching her death from this lunacy, and, if she did, he would be sorely displeased with her.
His heart lifted as she huddled back against him and held tight to his arm around her. Perhaps she finally understood his intentions. It was about damn time.
Due to the fearsomeness of the weather, talking proved impossible. Just as well. He had said his piece for now, and she had heard him. He would clear away any remaining misunderstandings later.
When they reached the keep, he rode straight to the stable, dismounted, and once again swept her into his arms. Cradled against his chest, she wrapped her arms around him and hid her face in the crook of his neck. He didn’t understand why she did so, and nor did he care. All he knew for certain was that before this day ended, all would be clear between them.
Even though several servants and clansmen milled throughout the keep tending to their duties, not a one spoke as he strode past them. The place fell silent as a tomb. Through the great hall and up the stairs, he kept a fast, determined pace. The sound of scurrying footfalls behind him assured him that Grissa knew the mistress of the keep had returned. That brought him a smile. Mistress of Éirich Castle. Aye, the title had a fine ring to it.
He kicked open the door to his solar, not giving a whit if he damaged the hinges or not. Grissa charged around him, rushed to the hearth, and stoked the fire. Yet another reason he had chosen the girl to look after Mila. She took care of what needed doing without being told.
After easing his rain-soaked lady down into a chair in front of the hearth, he turned to the maid. “A hot bath as fast as can be readied. Then food and drink here in my solar. After that, we are not to be disturbed unless it is the second coming of Christ Almighty Himself. Understand?”
“Aye, m’chieftain.” Grissa made to rush away, then halted. “And Master Robbie? Shall I ensure he is seen to?”
“Master Robbie will spend this evening as a guest of Auley and Iagan. They will see that he is dried out, warm, and fed.” He pulled a heavy woven plaid off the wooden rack beside the hearth and tucked it around Mila. “Send more food and drink to their cottage, aye? Greta’s best cakes and a fine joint of meat. ’Tis my understanding Auley wishes to celebrate the safe return of his good friend.”
