“Wewill be fine, Robert,” Sorcha assured the scowling armorer as she mounted herhorse.
Sheadjusted the reins in her hands as she tried to steady herself for what layahead. Two painfully long days had passed since Ruari had ridden out of herlife, and she heartily welcomed the chance to do something besides think ofhim. The serious business of ransoming Dougal from his English captors was theperfect distraction. It would require every ounce of her concentration andskill to accomplish it without trouble. She wished Robert would cease to fretover her and allow her to get on with it.
“Idinnae like sending ye to those English swine,” Robert said. “Aye, andespecially within reach of that narrow-faced Sir Treacher. Ye watch himclosely, lass. Verra closely. I dinnae trust him to follow the rules. I believehonor is a complete stranger to him.”
“Iagree with you, Robert. That mon is a slinking cur, and, from what Craytontells me, he comes from a verra long line of curs. ‘Twas his ancestor whobutchered Crayton and his lover, Elspeth. Have no fear, old friend, I shallkeep a keen watch on that English adder.”
“Aswill I,” vowed Neil from her post at Sorcha’s side. “And, Robert, see if ye cando something to cheer our Margaret. The lass has been weeping for two days. Ifshe doesnae stop soon she will flood her eyeballs right out of her wee emptyhead.” Neil nudged her horse into a trot and rode out of the gates of Dunweare.
Afterexchanging a brief grin with Robert, Sorcha followed her aunt. The sound of thefour heavily armed men riding behind her quickly eased what trepidation shefelt. She had never done anything of such grave importance before, and theresponsibility of it all frightened her far more than facing their lifelongenemies, the English. It was only with great reluctance that the English hadaccepted her as the only one of a high-enough birth and position within theclan to be the negotiator. She did not wish to do anything to add to the scornshe knew they already felt. In fact, she wanted to be so impressive shebanished that scorn forever.
“Thiswill be good for you,” Neil said as she maneuvered her large white gelding toride at Sorcha’s side.
Itwas hard not to smile at Neil. The woman was dressed like a man, but herfemininity was easy to see from her long, thick red braid to the full curvesthat shaped her padded jupon and mail. Neil Hay would be a sight the Englishdid not soon forget.
“Actually,Aunt Neil, I was just thinking that it will be somewhat of an ordeal for me,”Sorcha replied. “Ye could tell by the way Sir Treacher acted that the Englishconsider dealing with a woman the height of idiocy. I dearly wish to show themthat I can dabble in a mon’s business with all the skill, wit, and courage ofany mon.”
“Yecan do that, lass. Of course, there will be some ye will never convince, but Ishouldnae concern myself about what those English dogs think. Nay, I but meantthat ‘twill be good for you as it gives ye something verra important to dealwith. Ye need that to stop ye from dwelling upon Sir Ruari Kerr.”
“Ihavenae been dwelling on that mon.”
“Oh,aye, ye have. S’truth, ye havenae been as foolishly weepy as Margaret, whoweeps buckets all the day, but yedodwell on the mon. Not that I faultye. He was a fine figure of a mon. Aye, verra fine. If a lass is going to loseher head over a laddie, there be one to do it with.”
Sorchasmiled faintly. “Aye, I would say so. Weel, mayhap I do dwell on the oaf, butit has been only two days since he rode away. And, ye need not fear that Ithrash myself o’er what I could have done or should have done. I took a toss ofthe dice and I lost. ‘Tis Margaret I grieve for.”
“Thatwee fool does enough grieving on her own to sate an army of widows.”
“True,she does carry on a wee bit too much, but she lost more than I did—far more.Beatham returned her feelings. He was a sweet, beautiful lad who truly lovedher and would have willingly, eagerly married her. Instead he is now atGartmhor, and it does appear that there is no hope of a match there. Nay, I toowish she would cease her wailing, but I do understand her grief. I also feelguilty for I believe I stole away whatever faint chance she may have had.”
“Ye?”Neil shook her head. “Nay, ‘tis that arrogant Sir Ruari who stands betweenMargaret and the mon she wants. He is too stubborn and prideful to forgive andforget.”
“True,but he still might have eventually forgotten or, at least, forgiven Margaret.Howbeit, when Ruari was leaving, he was in an ill mood and said things thatangered me. I fear I said a few things in return, things that will insure heremains angry for a very long time.” Sorcha grimaced and told her aunt what shesaid to Ruari just before he rode out of Dunweare.
Neilstared at her niece in wide-eyed shock before asking in a voice weakened bydisbelief, “Ye told that mon ye were using him for stud?”
“Aye,I fear I did.”
“‘Tisno wonder he looked to be breathing fire when he rode away.”
Sorchanodded. “He didnae look that angry even when he discovered he wasnae rescuedbut captured.” She smiled when her aunt started to laugh. “‘Tis curious, but heappeared to be highly insulted.”
“Ofcourse he was. Ye were supposed to be in his arms because ye were blinded bypassion for him. Now he isnae sure that was why ye were there. Mayhap ye justchose him as ye would any stallion. Men use women as little more than breedersof their seed time and time again, but they detest being used in the same way.”
“Aye,lass, I would say ye have made him verra angry indeed,” Neil continued, “but Iwouldnae blame myself for Margaret’s loss in any way. ‘Twill not only be SirRuari’s anger that halts that marriage, but the boy’s own close family. Theywill want him to make a marriage that gains them more than a pretty, witlesschild like Margaret.”
“Oh,of course. I had not really given that much consideration. Ah, weel, her griefwill ease soon. All we can do is pray that this love wasnotthe one noother can equal.”
“Wasthat how it was for you?”
Itwas, but Sorcha was not going to admit it, not when she had spent the last twodays denying it to herself. “That is something I would rather not think or talkabout.”
“Understood.Weel, lassie, let us prod these horses to a wee bit more speed. Dougal will beanxiously awaiting us.”
“AndI eagerly await the chance to have a word or two with my reckless, thoughtlessbrother,” Sorcha muttered as she prodded her horse into a slightly faster gait.
“TheSassenach camp is just ahead,” announced Ronald, the largest and eldest ofSorcha’s guards, as he rode up to her, returning from a brief scouting foray.
Sorchastraightened her shoulders and tried to shake the weariness caused by almosttwo full days of travel. “I think we will stop here for just a moment or two,Ronald. I want to tidy myself. The English ken how long it would take us toride here from Dunweare, and it may work to my advantage to ride in looking asneat as possible. If naught else, ‘twill give me a wee bit more spine if Idinnae look as if I have spent two days in the saddle.”
