“Heis now. Using my skirts and cloak to hide his movements, I stood guard while hesquirmed into the bushes. Have ye thought of a way to help these men flee thisfield?”
“Howweel was the laddie dressed?”
“Notas fine as this knight. Aye, and his attire is fair ruined by rips, blood, andmire.”
“Thenwe shall claim him as kin and say we are taking his body home.”
“Wecannae claim this rogue as kin. No one with a kinsmon dressed so finely wouldbe robbing the dead.”
“Iwouldnae wager too heavily on that, but aye, ‘tis what these dogs will think.”She frowned at Ruari for a moment then smiled crookedly as she realized whatshe planned to say would not be a complete lie. “We shall say that we want totake his body back to his kinsmen, for anyone dressed so finely must beimportant, and his kinsmen will surely reward us for finding his body. Both menmust play dead.” One sharp look from Ruari’s green eyes told her that heunderstood.
“Wecannae carry both men on Bansith. She is just a wee pony.”
“True.We must make a litter. Ye will have to fetch what is needed, Margaret, as Idaren’t leave our pony or this mon unguarded.”
“Yehavenae tended to his wounds, Sorcha.”
“Weare pretending he is dead, Cousin. Ye dinnae bind the wounds of a dead mon,”Sorcha explained in a gentle voice. “We will see to his injuries as soon as weare out of sight and reach of these human carrion.” Sorcha began to fullydetail what she would need to make a litter.
Ruaricovertly studied the two young women he was now dependent on. The one calledMargaret was a well-rounded fair-haired beauty with wide blue eyes and all thedimples any man could ask for. The woman called Sorcha was the one who drew hiskeenest interest, however, and he found that curious. Margaret was far moresuited to his usual taste. Sorcha’s heavily lashed, huge brown eyes were herbest feature. They were dark pools reflecting a keen wit, strength, anddetermination, qualities he had never considered flattering in a woman. She hada small face, her fine bone structure clear to see. Ruari suspected that if sheever curved her full, tempting mouth in a smile, there would be no sign of adimple. Her hair was thick and hung to her tiny waist, the rays of the settingsun touching upon reddish highlights in its rich chestnut depths.
Inwardlyfrowning as he recognized his attraction to the woman, an attraction strongenough to be stirred despite his pain and weakness, he carefully inspected hertiny figure. The drab gray gown she wore was snug, hugging every slim curve.Small high breasts, a tiny waist, and slim, shapely hips stirred his interesteven though such a figure had never caught his eye before. She moved with alithe, easy grace he had to admire.
Whattroubled him more than the fact that he was attracted to a woman who met noneof his usual requirements was that this tiny woman was saving his life. Thatwas surely going to produce a lot of jests from his kinsmen. The highly praisedand honored Sir Ruari Kerr saved by an insignificant lass from an insignificantbranch of the Hay clan? Ruari winced as he all too easily imagined the laughterof his kinsmen.
Thesound of a footfall drew him from his bout of self-pity. One of the scavengerswas approaching his rescuers. Ruari hastily assumed the posture of a dead man,praying he could keep his breathing shallow enough to be indiscernible. Heheartily cursed his wound and the loss of blood which left him so weak. Itinsured that he could not fight. If death approached, he would like to be ableto at least try to strike out at his killers before they cut his throat. All hecould do was lie silent and pray that Sorcha Hay was as clever as she seemed tobe.
Sorchawarily eyed the tall thin man as he stopped in front of her. She did not likethis sign of strong interest on the part of the battlefield thieves. Shedefinitely did not like the delay this intrusion caused. Now that she knewDougal’s fate and what she needed to do to help him, she was anxious to leavethis place of unshriven dead and the treacherous humans who preyed on suchmisery.
“Isee that ye build a litter,” the man said, his voice soft and cold as he fixedhis dark, unblinking stare on Sorcha. “Have one of you injured yourself?”
“Nay,sir, but I thank ye for your concern,” Sorcha replied, cautiously setting herhand on her sword beneath her cloak. “We but need something to carry twobodies.”
“Twobodies? Why do ye wish to remove the dead from the field?”
“Notall the dead, sir. Just two.”
“Dinnaebe clever, lass,” he muttered, pointing one long, bony, and filthy finger ather. “Ye had best tell me what I wish to ken or ye and your bonnie companionmay join these corpses.”
“Mycousin found one of our kinsmen upon the field, and we wish to take him home.We intend to take this mon as weel.”
“Oh,aye? And I am to believe that he is a kinsmon, too?”
“Nay.I didnae claim him one, did I? He is richly dressed, of a breed not often leftto rot on the battlefield. I thought that returning his body to his kinsmen mayweel bring me a coin or two.”
“Yeken who this mon is?” the scavenger asked, eyeing Ruari speculatively.
“Aye,weel enough. The markings on his scabbard and his clan badge tell me to takehim to the Kerrs of Gartmhor. I ken where that is.”
“Theyare a wealthy clan,” the man murmured, idly caressing his sword.
“Theyare, but I dinnae think they will pay so much for a corpse that ‘tis worth yedying to gain it.” She nudged back her cloak so that he could see that she,too, had a sword.
WhenMargaret stepped up beside Sorcha, her hand on her sword as well, the man heldhis hands out in a conciliatory gesture. “Be easy. Ye have claimed the booty,and I honor your rights to it.”
Themoment the man slinked away Sorcha ordered Margaret, “Take Bansith and get thatladdie ye found, then come right back here so we can toss this hulk of a mon onthe litter.”
“Arewe to leave this place now?” asked Margaret as she grabbed the pony’s reins.
