CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Well past sunset, they still hadn’t found tracks indicating which direction Ciaran had taken Tevin, or Emily had gone. Darkness had since claimed the land, and the scouts sought a spot to camp for the night. Gregor didn’t want to halt the search. He dreaded speculating on what could happen to his wife and thebairnovernight. He suspected Ciaran had kidnapped them both. What could be the man’s motive?
Surrounded by torchbearers, Gregor rode between the chief and Duncan, and amidst others of their kin. He rubbed his tight chest. Fear threatened to overwhelm him. Suddenly, three hovering, sparkling lights appeared in front of the group of MacLachlan warriors. One blue, one green, and one lavender with purple swirls. The lavender separated from the others and wove its way through the riders, buzzing his cheek in passing.
During the quick encounter, he caught a glimpse of the ebony-haired, winged lass within the star-like surge of light. “Damned pixies.”
Would he never be free of the wee creatures?
Tee teehee hee. She circled the chief before rejoining her brethren.
“I believe she wants us to follow,” the chief said with achuckle, seeming more pleased than Gregor would have imagined. “Perhaps they will lead us to Emily and Tevin.”
More colorful lights—representing all the varied hues of a rainbow—joined the original three. The pixies flew in an undulating pattern, creating a wave-shaped path of light. Beacons in the night.
“Dim your torches, lads. We follow the pixies,” the chief ordered. The man was more trusting of Fae magic than Gregor, but at least they weren’t abandoning the search to sleep.
They rode through the dark of the new moon, guided by the pixie light. Hope replaced fear in Gregor’s heart.
By dawn’s earliest radiance the pixies left them to their own devices, and the party of men crossed a shallow burn in single file. On the opposite shore, they followed its flow south until Duncan stopped and leaned over the side of his horse.
“Tracks!” he called over a shoulder.
Gregor leapt from his mount and squatted on the ground. He touched the distinct mark of a horse hoof in the mud. “Probably fresh from yestereve,” he reported. “’Tis deep, as if the beast carries more than one rider.”
One of the riders might be Emily. He strode farther afield, combing through undergrowth, eyes peeled for another sign, his abrupt actions driven by hopeful impatience.
The other men fanned out in silence. After a short time, Duncan waved Gregor over to a boggy area where the big man searched the ground. He indicated another impression in the mud. “They traveled this way.”
Reins in hand, the men followed the tracks on foot, led by the chief and Duncan.
Duncan fell back and into pace next to Gregor. “Dinnae be disappointed if this rider is not the one. We will find the lass and the wee lad.”
Gregor swallowed uneasily. The longer the two were missing, the harder it would be to find them. Anything could happen to a lone woman andbairnout in this wilderness.
The chief, using hand motions, signaled for them to stop. Footsteps marked the dusty dirt. Many large like men’s, a few smaller like a woman’s, and somebairnsized. One of the men pointed to a pile of loose brush. On closer inspection, they discovered a mouth to a cave.
With a tilt of the head and more hand signals, the chief commanded them to back off and find defensive positions. Gregor followed the order with reluctance. Emily was his wife. He should be the one to draw out whoever was in that cave. He nocked an arrow to his raised bow and drew it back to his jaw. His gaze followed the length of the shaft, his aim on the mouth of the cave. He waited, his nerves as taut as the bow string.
Duncan conferred with the chief off to the side of the cave mouth. He signaled for two of the men to follow him into the cave. ’Twas torture not to be one of those to enter. Gregor wanted to be the man to find his wife.
After what felt like an eternity, the three backed out of the cave, arms raised to the side, away from their weapons in concession. Ciaran exited next, Emily held in front of him, trapped by a meaty arm. In his other hand, he wielded a blade. His brother attempted to contain a squirming Tevin, who bit the man’s hand at the same time as Emily kicked back, her foot connecting with her captor’s balls. They broke free amid a hail of foul swearing and startledooofs. Duncan grabbed Tevin and carried the lad to safety.
Without conscious thought, Gregor released the primed arrow into Cinead’s throat. Blood gurgled from the man’s mouth as he fell to the ground.
Gregor dropped the bow and lunged forward, but stopped short.
Ciaran had somehow regained control of Emily and now held the blade to her throat. “If you want the lass, give me the lad in exchange.”
The chief stepped forward. “Why do you want thebairn?”
“I am owed,” Ciaran claimed. “MacEwen murdered my sister.”
“You ken that is not the truth. Malcolm Maclay murdered your sister.”
“MacEwen kilt her even if he was not the one who beat her to death.”
While the discourse continued, Gregor retrieved his bow and nocked another arrow, but couldn’t take a shot at Ciaran without risking Emily.
