"Weel, we have no choice,” said Sigimor. “We will start out slow, act as if we are but ordinary travellers or e'en villagers just going about our business."
Looking at the big man beside her with his colorful hair, Jolene had no doubt that the plan would fail. With her cloak to conceal her in so many ways, she might be able to slip away unnoticed. However, a six-foot-four-inch redheaded man was impossible to ignore or miss. Since Sigimor was not stupid, Jolene knew he was aware of how slim their chances were, so she silently followed him as he rode out onto the road.
"If the chase is on, lass,” Sigimor said, “keep your eyes on me. Dinnae look back. Twill only slow ye down, and, mayhap, e'en cause ye to falter."
"Do you believe we can outrun them?” she felt compelled to ask.
"Aye. I ken this land far better than he does, or any of the men with him do. He loses sight of us and he will have to slow to find and follow our trail. I also ken a place or two to hide if need be. If he doesnae guess that we may go to Scarglas, all the better."
Jolene did not have as much confidence in that last statement as she did the rest of what he had said. Harold had stayed close upon their heels with a remarkable tenacity. Since he had obviously learned where Sigimor lived, she suspected he had learned a great deal more about her husband as well, including the fact that Sigimor had kinsmen at Scarglas. She found herself hoping that Sigimor's kinsmen were as sly and dangerous as he said they were.
They rode along undisturbed for several minutes and Jolene began to think fate was smiling upon them. As if that same fate decided to punish her for such vanity, a cry went up from behind them. Jolene froze as she heard Harold bellow her name and then hurl vicious threats against Sigimor. She suspected Harold had recognized the Cameron laird first as, thoroughly wrapped up in her cloak, she was absolutely sure there was nothing recognizable about her or the plain cloak she wore. Pushing aside that inconsequential puzzle, she looked at Sigimor only to catch him making a rude gesture at Harold. When he caught her looking at him, he grinned and Jolene got the feeling that, in some ways, Sigimor was enjoying this.
"Stay close, wife,” he said as he spurred his horse into a gallop.
As if she had any choice, she thought, spurring her horse to follow him and struggling to ignore the sound of Harold and his men chasing them.
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Chapter Ten
The chill of the steady rain was beginning to seep into Jolene's bones. They had been most fortunate in the weather since fleeing Drumwich, although she suspected some farmers were ill-pleased with almost a sennight of no rain falling upon their newly planted crops. She supposed that, with her ill luck of late, she should be surprised that they had not spent the whole time knee deep in mud. The only good thing about the wretched weather at the moment was that Harold and his men suffered as well.
Her husband, on the other hand, seemed almost oblivious. He sat tall and straight in his saddle, the thick woolen plaid he had draped around himself the only hint he gave that he had even noticed how cold and wet it was. It annoyed her if only because she would soon have to tell him that she could no longer endure it, that she needed to rest, to get warm and dry, before she could continue. Her hands were growing too stiff with the cold to skillfully use the reins.
They had pulled far enough ahead of Harold to be out of sight, but she knew they had not lost the man. Every now and again she caught the sounds of pursuit. For Harold to continue on in such miserable weather indicated a frightening tenacity, and, perhaps, a touch of desperation. Her cousin might well share Sigimor's feeling that once they reached Dubheidland, they would be safe. Harold would certainly be at a great disadvantage then. Jolene hoped both men were right to believe the walls of Dubheidland meant safety for her and Reynard, if only for a little while. She would be in need of a rest, or in need of a place to recover from the lung fever she would probably contract after today.
She suddenly thought of Reynard and prayed that her nephew was safe. Harold might not be hunting the boy right now, but such dismal weather could be as great a danger to the boy. Jolene pushed aside her fears, knowing they were fruitless for she could do nothing for Reynard now. She also trusted the Cameron men to take very good care of the boy.
Peering through the rain, she saw that Sigimor had led them deep into the hills while she had been lost in her thoughts. She could also see that, if he did not go very carefully, they would soon be out in plain view. Even with the rain, she suspected two riders on a barren hillside would be visible. Despite a pinch of doubt over where he was leading her, Jolene said nothing, however. Questions could all too easily ring of criticism and he did not deserve that after all he had done to keep her and Reynard safe. He undoubtedly had a plan. She was just too cold and weary to guess what it was.
Sigimor signaled her to stop and she looked around as he dismounted, but she could see nothing except the rocky hillside. When he helped her dismount, she had to cling to him for a moment before her cold, shaking legs would hold her up. She wanted to curl up in his arms, but, since he was as wet as she was, she doubted she would find much warmth there at the moment.
"Ye will have to walk now, lass, and lead your mount,” Sigimor said.
"The path ahead is too treacherous to ride over, is it?"
"Aye, tis a rough path, but twill lead us out of this rain.” He kissed her on the forehead, then returned to his horse and grabbed the reins. “I am thinking ye will be pleased with where it will lead us. Tread warily. The ground is rocky and slick with rain."
Inwardly cursing, Sigimor led Jolene along the narrow rocky path. He cursed Harold and he cursed the weather. Jolene had made no complaint, not even after the rain had begun to fall, but he knew she was very near collapse. When he had kissed her, the skin beneath his lips had been icy cold. She was a lot stronger than he would have thought by looking at her, had proven herself so time and time again, but he knew she was at the end of that strength now. He was bigger, stronger, and more accustomed to such weather and even he felt chilled to the bone. His wife had felt dangerously cold.
He led them into a cave, the entrance well hidden by the curve of the hillside and a thick growth of brambles. The dark was nearly inpenetrable. Reaching into his saddlepacks, Sigimor extracted a candle and flint. Once he had it lit, he brought it closer to Jolene and looked her over.
She was soaked through to the skin and, even as he took note of that, she began to shiver so badly he could hear her teeth click. He was sure it was not just the poor light that made her look so ghostly pale. Knowing the dangers of such a chill, he felt a rising alarm, but quelled it. What she needed was to be put into warm, dry clothes, set before a roaring fire, and given hot food, but he could give her none of those things until they reached Scarglas.
Locating a small niche in the rock wall of the cave, Sigimor dripped some wax onto it and secured the candle in it. He then turned his full attention to his wife. Ignoring her muttered protests, he stripped her out of her wet clothes. Pulling a shirt from his pack, he used it to dry her off, rubbing vigorously to try to warm her. After dressing her in dry clothes, he wrapped two blankets around her and urged her to sit down near the candle. Despite her first attempts to protest his aid, she had succumbed meekly to his care of her and that worried him.
Sigimor led the horses to the far back of the cave and made them as comfortable as he could since he did not dare remove the saddles. He then changed out of his wet clothes. Although he dared not light a fire until he was certain Harold was not near enough to see any light it shed or smell the smoke, he checked inside the oiled leather sack tied to his saddle to reassure himself that the peat he carried was still dry. Unpacking his blankets, he hurried back to Jolene's side, sat down next to her, and wrapped his blankets around them both. When he pulled her into his arms, he was pleased to find that she was not shaking as badly as she had been.
"I hope Reynard is well,” she said as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed as close to him as she could.
"The lads will take good care of him,” Sigimor replied. “Without the need to shake Harold off their trail, they would have ridden straight for Scarglas and ridden hard. I suspect wee Reynard is warm, weel fed, and safe by now."
"Do you think Harold will find this place?” Now that she was feeling a little warmer, Jolene felt her fears begin to reassert themselves.
"I dinnae think so. Tisnae an easy place to find e'en in the full light of day. My cousin Ewan showed it to me last year after the breach between our families was healed. It isnae always peaceful here and he wanted me to ken all the wee places a mon could hide from an enemy."
"Mayhap we should snuff the candle."
