The woman’s scowl deepened. “Who’s askin’?”
“I am Heather Spencer, sister to William Spencer. This is his dearest friend, Brandon, and this is my beloved, Laird Dunn, and his man-at-arms, Sawyer. We are here to protect you, if youareEdith, for you are in grave danger.”
The woman lowered her bow and arrow without hesitation, and simply stared at Heather for what seemed like an eternity, as the rain hammered down with relentless determination. Evidently, they had not had to find Edith. She had found them. And Owen could only assume that she had good reason to lurk in the darkness, guarding the only entrance onto the forest path.
They’ve come before. Who kens how long Elias has been tryin’ to find this lass, or how long he’s kent about that letter William left with the priest.Anger bubbled up inside Owen, for he could not abide a priest who did not keep to his oath of confidentiality.
“Ye… are Heather?” The woman’s voice cracked, and all of the bluster and bravery vanished from her face, leaving the expression of someone who had been waiting a long time for this moment.
Heather nodded. “So, youareEdith?”
“I am.”
A deep sigh emerged from Heather’s chest. “Then we are precisely where we are supposed to be. There are men coming, dear Edith, and they mean to capture you.” She hesitated. “They are my father’s men, though I have no attachment to them… or, indeed, my father. You are safe with us, but you must come now.”
“I cannae.” Edith glanced down the forest path. “If ye’re truly who ye say ye are, ye’ll follow.”
Without another word, she darted away, blending into the trees until neither sight nor sound of her could be discerned. How were they supposed to follow Edith anywhere, if they could not tell where she was?
As if to answer Owen’s annoyed thoughts, an owl hoot pierced the patter of rain. Sharp and clear and accurate, yet out of place, for owls did not care to make their eerie calls in bad weather. They were not foolish creatures; they preferred to hide in the hollow of a tree or a well-canopied bough until the rain ebbed.
But that was not the only sound that came to Owen. Beneath the percussion of the downpour and the insistent owl hoot, a subtler noise made itself known. The faint clatter of steel, accompanied by the hushed hiss of furtive voices.
“Are you certain it is this way?” someone said, in a gruff tone.
“What do you mean? Are you blind, man? Can you not see the village lights?” a different voice replied.
Turning his head slowly, aware that any snort from the horses might bring those voices closer, Owen peered into the gloom at his back. A fair distance away, emerging from a thicket of bushes, was a considerable battalion of men. Twenty-five or so. They had not seen Owen and his group, for they were clearly too concerned with the beacons of the village that shone beyond a stretch of meadows and farmland.
Wordlessly, Owen slipped down from the saddle and patted his horse lightly on the rump. The intelligent stallion wandered away, into the trees, without so much as a whinny of protest.
Seeing what he was doing, Brandon and Sawyer echoed the movement, until they were all dismounted. Fortunately, any crunch of underbrush was smothered by the sound of the rain, though Owen felt little comfort. The enemy was too close. One mistake, and they would be seen, and he did not know if they could outrun the English in unknown territory. Or, rather, if Heather could.
I shouldn’ae have brought her here,he told himself bitterly, but there was no changing that now.
Striding up to her, he put his fingertips to her lips, wishing they were in the inn, in private chambers, where he could put thosefingertips and lips to far more pleasurable pursuits. Alas, that would have to wait.
“I need to carry ye,” he whispered, as quietly as he could.
She nodded in understanding.
So, grabbing her and hoisting her up onto his shoulders to quicken their pace, he set off into the woodland, following the owl hoot with Brandon and Sawyer treading carefully behind him.
The moment they were inside the protection of the trees, every sound muffled around them. If the English had spotted them and given chase, they would not have known until the enemy was upon them. Yet, that owl hoot pierced through everything, guiding the rescuers in the right direction.
Although, that “right direction” did not appear to follow the forest path at all. Indeed, tramping through tangled undergrowth and feeling thorns and briars snag at his legs, he realized they were heading deeper and deeper into the wildest parts of the woodland, putting their faith in a woman they did not know.
Still, half his mind was at his back, where that twenty-five-strong band of English had been crouching low.If the Sassenachs have been here before, it willnae be long before they catch up to us—
In truth, through the rain and the distorted, deadened noise of the forest, he was fairly sure he could already hear them.
20
Jostled and bounced most unpleasantly, Heather’s concerns were more concentrated upon the bruises she would have when Owen finally set her down. Although, her pride had taken a beating, too. She did not want to be the weak link in the chain, but Owen would not have been carrying her if he thought she could manage alone.
Should I have stayed at the castle, my love? We should have suspected there was more to my father’s letter than met the eye.She cursed herself inwardly for allowing her beloved to put her safety above his own. If she had remained at Castle Dunn, she would be fine, secure behind those towering walls.
What is my father doing?That was the part she struggled with the most, for though he had always been a difficult sort of man, she did not think him capable of this sort of persecution. How could he still believe that Owen was the culprit? Why was he so determined tomakeOwen the culprit? Moreover, why was he seeking to punish Edith in the same fashion? It was not awoman’s fault if she fell in love. Heather knew that, now, more than anyone.
