CHAPTER24
Smoke. Colum halted Rua again and turned in the saddle to better face the cutting touch of the wind. The faintest hint of acrid charred wood came to him again. The sharp breeze stung against his face, whispering the promise of Kenna’s location.
Rua fidgeted sideways on the dirt path. The horse tossed his great head and snorted out an impatient grumbling whinny. No matter how cold the weather, ever since surviving the stable blaze the beast hated any hint of fire. Colum didn’t blame the beast. He had nearly lost Rua on that terrible day.
He urged the horse in a slow scanning circle, senses alerted for every hint the Highlands had to offer. The mountains had grown eerily quiet, as if the land itself held its breath—waiting; silently watching. Even the yipping howls of the wolf pack had ceased.
The horse rumbled again and turned back into the wind. “Aye, Rua. Ye smell it too?” Colum patted the beast’s thick neck. “Have no fear, my friend. It is just the fires of those we seek. Our Lady Kenna must be close. I feel it in my verra bones.”
The mount snorted harder and pranced a few feet forward, then nervously pawed at the ground. For the first time in days, the tension knotting between Colum’s shoulders lessened a notch. “Aye, laddie. I agree. It will be good to have our lady back where she belongs.”
He nudged the horse onward, keeping him to a slow, quiet pace. Though he had no idea how far ahead those they sought might be, there was no need to announce their presence with Rua in full, thundering gallop. Little rest had not seemed to bother the great animal, but Colum knew the warhorse’s stamina was directly related to his fondness for Kenna. Rua heartily approved of Kenna’s presence anytime she visited the stable—especially since she always brought him treats. The temperamental horse would never tolerate many, but he adored Lady Kenna.
The tang of smoke became stronger. Colum eased the beast into a slow, silent walk up the trail. The hardened path narrowed to barely the width of a wagon as it rose to a sharp incline. He sat taller in the saddle, constantly searching the wood. The wind brought the smoke from somewhere off to the left. He pulled Rua to a stop.
The dense copse of trees had darkened to an impenetrable murkiness on both sides of the road. He would have to travel the rest of the way on foot; there was no helping it. The scent of burning wood was not enough to pinpoint the exact location of Sutherland and his men. It would be ill-advised indeed to ride into the center of the bastard’s camp. Keeping Rua on the road might be faster, but it risked certain discovery.
Silently, Colum slid from the saddle and smoothed a hand down Rua’s shaggy neck. “I leave ye to yer own for now. But stay ready. When I return, our Lady Kenna will be with me.”
Rua agreed with a sharp toss of his head and a low-pitched grumble. Even the horse seemed to realize stealth was in order.
Colum paused with his hand on his sword’s scabbard that was strapped to the saddle. Nay.Too cumbersome for this battlefield.If a blade had to be used, it best be the dagger. Good close and just as deadly if thrown from a short distance. He pulled free his longbow and quiver of arrows. Aye. Even better.
Satisfaction settled his resolve as he smoothed a palm along the polished belly of his favorite bow—the treasured gift he had thought foolishly lost. Diarmuid had a conscience after all. He had pressed the weapon into Colum’s hands when news of Lady Kenna’s kidnapping had spread through the keep.
Colum snorted out a bitter, silent laugh. Diarmuid had also made Colum swear an oath of secrecy about his returning the weapon. After all, he said, he had a reputation to keep. But both men realized this bow was meant for such a task as this. Arrows were swift and silent.
The drenching curtain of light mist had changed to the beginnings of a bone-chilling rain. Bits of ice stung his face as Colum patted Rua’s flank one last time. “I leave ye to it, old friend. Keep close to the road, mind the wolves, and watch for my return.”
Rua flicked an ear before melting into the darkness of the wood on the high side of the trail. The crunch of his hooves through the frosty underbrush slowly faded as the horse moved away.
Colum squinted up into the night sky. Not a single star winked back at him. Nothing showed through the tops of the pines but the blue-black softness of threatening storm clouds. He shrugged his plaid higher around his shoulders and silently trotted up the growing slipperiness of the roadway.
As the freezing rain increased in strength, the smell of smoke disappeared. Colum paused a half second, absorbing every sound and scent. Surely, their camp could not be too far ahead. Anticipation surged through him, heated his blood better than a deep swallow of whisky.
The sleet pelted down faster. Droplets of ice rattled through the trees like bits of iron poured from the sky. Ice crystals hopped across the sheen of freezing mud along the path. He quickened his pace. Sutherland best ha’ made a proper shelter for Kenna. His love would not be accustomed to the harshness of such a mountain storm.
A pale yellow light winked and flickered through the maze of slick black trunks to the left of the narrow roadside. Excitement tingled through Colum. Aye, there it was.Sutherland’s camp had to be just up ahead.
He eased through the trees, rolling his steps from heel to toe, moving silent as a specter. The unmistakable scent of wet animals and cold damp woods hung heavy in the air. The fire’s glow strengthened, spreading farther through the trees. He halted and took in the surroundings.
Horses, all with dark plaids draped across their backs, were tethered to a sagging rope stretched between two trees. The soaked mounts huddled close against the inclement weather. The three-sided wagon sat a bit higher up the hillside, its dark wet sides glistening in the weak firelight.
Colum counted the bodies sprawled in huddled piles around the fire. Seven. Was it seven of Sutherland’s men or was Kenna one of the plaid-covered forms curled closest to the hissing flames?
Movement at the opposite edge of the glowing circle caught Colum’s attention. He eased closer, straining to see through the haze of darkness and freezing rain.
Sutherland. Hatred shook through Colum, tightening every tendon to readiness. The silver of the man’s hair flickered in the poor light as he walked toward the other side of the encampment.
Colum’s jaw cracked as he clenched his teeth. There, with a length of chain wrapped around her waist and shackled to a nearby tree, was Kenna. The bastard Sutherland had tied her off like a hound awaiting the hunt. Rage shook through him. He would wrap that chain around Sutherland’s throat and snap the man’s neck with it.
Sucking in a deep breath of the frigid air, Colum returned his gaze to Kenna’s face. His fury would serve him better later. He had to stay calm and plan well.
His lady love looked pale and delicate in the flickering light of the fire. Her dark lashes feathered across her colorless cheeks as she shivered in her sleep, huddled at the base of the tree. Did the bastard not have enough sense to get her closer to the fire or shield her from the freezing rain?
Colum pulled the muted colors of his hunting plaid over his hair and crouched low behind the tangled branches of a leafless brush. He had to get closer. His precious lady did not look well at all.
As he moved, he kept his focus trained on Sutherland. The silver-haired man made his way ever closer to Kenna with slow calculating steps. Colum slid his dagger free of its sheath and rolled its weight in the palm of his hand. If the son of a bitch so much as touched Kenna, it would be the last thing the fool did afore he traveled to meet his maker. Colum tensed as Sutherland came to a stop at Kenna’s feet.
