Despite his failure at locating whoever seemed to be hunting the lovely lass, Lachlann spent the remainder of the day searching for her and Finn. He’d even gone so far as to look along the riverbanks, craning his neck back to view the treetops, which brought curious stares and one comment about the condition of his mind. The two were nowhere to be found.
He and Niall met by the horses as planned. No Aldred.
“I had great hope in the man,” Lachlann lied. He wanted to keep Niall from letting loose his irritation at Aldred’s behavior. “I thought he might search us out at some point today. Did ye see him?”
Niall huffed and shook his head, but said nothing.
Having cleared the shade trees, they stopped midway across the open field at the single elm and scanned the surrounding area for any sign of their friend. Instead of finding Aldred, they found a man trying to make off with Lachlann’s horse. The other horses were safely tethered and appeared unmolested.
“By God’s bones!” Lachlann said under his breath before running to intercept the large man in well-worn trews, who was trying to lead off his prized courser. Amica was having none of it, jerking her head as if avoiding bees. “Ye’d best drop the reins.”
When the man turned, Lachlann recoiled. The side of the man’s face was covered with angry red sores. He had all the markings of a warrior: broad in the chest, thick muscles, and a swagger meant to intimidate. But his clothing didn’t match. Not at all. No protective leather, not even deer hide, and a dagger was his only weapon. Baker would say the man was only pretending to be a traveler, and Lachlann would have to agree.
“Are ye sp-speaking to me?” His belligerent tone and unwavering posture, despite his slurred speech, confirmed that the man had money enough to get himself well soused.
A man with a thick crop of dark haircame out from behind the lean-to, still adjusting his trews after seeing to nature’s call, and trotted toward the thief with an expression of concern.
“I am.” Lachlann did not lighten his tone. He stopped within an arm’s reach and placed a heavy hand on the agitated mare’s back. The beast, recognizing its owner, stilled immediately. “Ye’ve got the wrong horse.”
The drunkard’s expression spoke of his disbelief. His mouth hung open, as he looked from Lachlann to the horse and back again.
“I dinna think so.” The man barked out a loud laugh, then said to the man arriving at his side, “Can ye believe the bollocks of this one? Saying I stole his horse?”
The dark-haired man averted his eyes, and Lachlann had the sneaking suspicion he knew the man had the wrong horse.
Lachlann pointed toward the holding. “That other horse has similar markings. Do ye think ye may have made a mistake?”
The drunkard threw down the reins like a gauntlet, grabbed the dagger from his belt, and got in Lachlann’s face. “I know I dinna.”
His companion laid a hand on the aggressor’s shoulder without getting too close. He seemed a bit intimidated by the drunkard and worried about setting him off further. He pulled gently, but remained quiet.
Lachlann held his tongue as well. For the moment. Mayhap the dark-haired man knew of some way to settle his drunken friend. Although Lachlann would admit he would not mind if a fight ensued.
“Ye impudent dog! I’ve got the seal right here—” The man slapped his chest then ran his hand across his front. His tone switched to alarm. “Zounds!”
When the big man turned to search behind him, the other man just cleared the arm that swung his way.
“Ciaran!” the drunkard yelled before noticing the man right beside him. “Oh, there ye are.”
“Aye, m’lord.” The man appeared frightened, his eyes darting toward Lachlann.
“’Tis gone. I’ve lost it.”
“No. Ye putall thingsaside. Do ye not remember?”
“No! Why would I take off my—” The man wavered a bit and gazed above their heads in a thoughtful manner. The puffiness from the injured side of his face left one eye a mere slit. “Ach, right. ’Twas that bitch I wanted a taste of.”
Lachlann caught the dragging rein of the horse.
The younger man nodded toward him. “My thanks.”
“What are ye thanking that man for?” The bigger man shoved away his friend, who surprisingly kept his footing. “I need something to drink…and that damn bitch.”
The horse forgotten, the two of them headed back toward the table where more drink could be found.
“That was strange,” Niall said.
“He was drunk,” Lachlann said, though he agreed with the comment.
