All the Sassenachs tipped their hats and smiled. “We never said the Campbells asked for a fair hunt. Now, did we?” said one. Laughing, they returned to their mounts and rode away, leaving him standing in the middle of the rutted path.
“Bastards.” Teague stole a glance all around before diving into the overgrown ditch alongside the road. He wormed his way under the vines, brambles, and hedge until certain they completely hid him from view. Time to plan. He had no water. Thank the Almighty the Highlands were riddled with burns and springs. No food, either. But it was August—blueberries and blackberries were getting ripe about now. Oats, barley, and rye were ripening as well. If he came upon a garden, that would provide sustenance. Just a matter of finding food and water without getting spotted by a bloody Campbell as he made his way back to MacDonald land.
He wondered if they would hunt him at night and day. No matter the time they sought him, it served him well to travel through the most overgrown ruts, ravines, and ditches possible. It would take him forever to get home. Especially since he could not convince anyone he came upon to help him; the shackles would give him away as a criminal on the run. He debated whether to start out now or try to sleep while buried beneath the leafy vines. Weariness would cause carelessness. Something he could ill afford.
His surroundings became quiet, almost peaceful and serene, if not for his circumstances. Birds chittered. Red squirrels, or so he assumed, rustled through the leaf mold left behind from last summer’s trees. A gentle breeze set the trees to whispering. He heard no sign of horses or men. The English had said they would send a messenger to alert the Campbells that the hunt was on. He assumed that meant he had a little while before the bloodthirsty clan scoured their lands for him. He dare not waste that time sleeping.
Before rising from his leafy den, he wrapped vines and leaves around his chains to muffle their rattling as much as possible. Time to move and put as much distance as possible between himself and this spot. The British would undoubtedly report where they had dropped him.
As hesitant and careful as a beast of the woods, he eased out of his leafy cover and paused. All appeared safe and clear. He climbed back out onto the road, determined to use the easy path for the little time he had until the messenger reached the Campbells. He moved along with a fast-paced, shuffling hop for a while, then looked down and laughed. “I am a damned fool. Just like Bellingham said.”
The soldiers had not stripped him of his boots before shackling him. Whether because they had little sense or were rushed to complete the chore, he didn’t know nor care. He plopped down on his arse in the middle of the road and fought to worm his foot out of the boot and its shackle. After struggling against both the footwear and the binding, he cursed through clenched teeth. “Hell’s fire—maybe they were not the fools I thought them.”
The tight cuffs of iron bit into the leather around his anklebones. He studied their make, then smiled. His weariness had made him careless and overlook an advantage his enemy had missed: these shackles were old and secured with a puzzle lock he’d had the misfortune of encountering once before. Old Ham, one of his best mentors who had already gone to his eternal rest, had shown him the secret of the locks and how to open them. Within moments, his legs were free.
He studied the cuffs on his wrists. Regrettably, he had no advantage with them. Those required a key, and he had nothing at his disposal to pick the lock. Equalizing that defeat with the victory over the leg irons, he jumped to his feet and tossed the things into the overgrown ditch. They disappeared just as he intended. Then he set off at a steady, ground-eating jog. He would run like this as long as he could, then take to the rougher ground to hide. God willing, he would reach the safety of MacDonald lands before the Campbells reached him.
*
“Heard every word.I swear.” Fury flashed in Robbie’s eyes. He fisted his hands and jerked a hard nod. “Clear as I hear my voice right now.”
Mila knew her laddie never lied. She looked to Calder then slowly turned and stared at Teague’s chair. Painfully empty. A stark reminder of the sacrifice he had made for them all. “I dinna have time for this. There is too much to be done. The vindictive side of me says a slow death with much suffering is deserved. But since we ride within minutes, I will settle for a blade through the traitor’s heart. What say ye?”
Without answering, Calder strode to the double doors thrown open wide to the warm sunny day. “Chieftain’s guards!” he bellowed. “Report to me now!” Teeth bared like a snarling beast, he marched back to Mila’s side.
“I want her brought forward as well,” she said. Time to cleanse the clan of those who thought of no one but themselves at the cost of everyone else.
“It will be done.” Calder rested his large, meaty hand on the haft of his sword. “Soon as all gather here in the hall, I will send one of them for her.”
“Let me fetch her,” Robbie said.
Mila sized him up for the task. While still small for his age, a recent growth spurt and training with Calder had turned the lad into a wiry force to be respected. “Aye. Fetch her. Take Auley with ye, if ye wish.”
“Come on, Auley!” Robbie said. The inseparable pair shot out the door.
Bhric, Duff, Dugald, Iagan, and Willie hurried inside shortly after. Bhric led the group. “What is it? More news?”
“Ye might say that,” Mila said. “Soon as our final guest arrives, all will be made clear.”
The men situated themselves in a half-circle with Calder and her at the head. They shared looks between themselves. Some hopeful. Some filled with blood lust. A few scrubbed their hands together, ready for battle. Others folded their arms across their chests. The longer they stood there, the more frequently they shuffled in place and turned to see out the doors.
“There is much to be done if ye wish to leave within the hour,” Duff said. “Can we not get on with it?”
“Absolutely.” Mila smiled as Robbie and Auley burst into the hall with Lizzie in tow.
“All are here now.” She clasped her hands to the small of her back as she had seen Teague do so many times before. When she realized she mimicked his stance, she paused in her pacing, bowed her head, and prayed for the control she needed right now. Rage at such heartless treachery pounded through her with every beat of her heart. It was all she could do to keep from snatching Calder’s knife out of his belt and stabbing the two-faced liar herself.
She stepped up onto the dais and smoothed a hand across the arm of Teague’s chair. “Lizzie,” she said, without sparing the woman a glance. “Share with us what Duff told ye merely moments ago. While the two of ye were in the stable.”
The sound of a strained cough made her turn and face her audience. It was Duff. She closed her hands into fists at her sides, clenching them tighter until her nails dug into her palms.
“Or if ye prefer to share yer own words, Duff, then by all means—do.”
He jutted out his chin and stepped forward. “I told her I loved her and we needed to marry. Did I not, Lizzie?”
After darting a fearful look his way, then one back at Mila, the woman nodded. “Aye. He did say that.”
“And was that all he said, Lizzie?” Mila noticed the intense interest of the other men appeared to be growing. “Did he not say more about all he had done for ye? Out of love?”
