Hazel pulled on Duncan’s lead rope, urging him faster.
The donkey plodded along the woodland path, his small hooves a tattoo on the packed earth. Above them, clouds had rolled in overnight—the first overcast day after weeks of balmy sunshine. The air was cooler now, carrying the whisper of autumn now that the harvest was well underway.
Hazel muttered an oath. Duncan had enjoyed his stay at Moy Castle, had loved the attention the stable lads had lavished on him. His sluggish pace made it clear he wasn’t ready to return home.
And, curse her, neither was she.
She’d slept fitfully the night before. She’d been too tense, her mind too active.
All the same, the timing this morning had been perfect. She’d left while Craeg was in Lochbuie, meeting with some of his tenants. Cowardly, perhaps. But she didn’t want to face him. He’d only try to convince her to stay on longer.
Better to slip away.
Adjusting her basket on her arm, she focused on the path ahead. Her cottage was a short walk away now. Soon she’d be back amongst her herbs, her garden, and her blessed solitude. Her life would return to normal.
And she’d be away from dark eyes and gentle hands and a mouth that could so easily ruin her.
Aye, she had other problems to contend with now, for those men were likely still searching for her, yet face them she would.
“I won’t be forced from my cottage,” she said aloud, with more conviction than she felt.
Duncan’s ears suddenly flicked back. He stopped dead, his body tensing.
Then she heard it. The thunder of hooves approaching fast through the trees.
Her heart lurched. Christ’s blood. Had those men found her?
A horse and rider burst into view, a brindled wolfhound racing at their side, and relief crashed over her.
Craeg.
Duncan let out an ear-splitting bray. Ruadh reared violently, eyes rolling white, hooves slashing the air. For a heartbeat, Craeg seemed to hang suspended, then his thighs clamped tight, and his hands worked the reins with practiced skill. The stallion came down hard, still dancing sideways, but Craeg kept his seat.
Faolan dashed away to avoid being stomped on by Ruadh’s heavy hooves.
“Cursed donkey,” he muttered, wheeling Ruadh in a tight circle to keep distance between the animals.
Hazel grabbed Duncan’s halter, holding him firm. “What are ye doing here?”
Faolan rushed up to her then, tail wagging.
“Ye left without saying goodbye.” His voice was tight.
Hazel’s pulse leaped into a canter, heat flushing through her. “I thought it would be easier.”
She had, although the man had just complicated things by coming after her.
Turning away, she continued walking. Duncan followed, clearly pleased to put distance between himself and the stallion, while Faolan trotted companionably at her side. A thud followed, as Craeg dismounted.
A moment later, he appeared beside her, leading Ruadh. “I’ll walk with ye.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Nevertheless.”
She shook her head and gritted her teeth. The man was more stubborn than her donkey.
They moved through the forest in tense silence. The clouds thickened overhead, turning the afternoon light grey and flat. Wind stirred the oak and birch leaves, making them whisper. Somewhere, a cuckoo called, harsh and mocking.
