“Take this, Cluaran,” he advised, pressing the gold into her palm. “Follow the stream south; in time it will lead you unto Stirling Castle. Give this ring to the gate guard, they will grant you entry to an audience with the king…”
“Nae,” she protested, “you are goin’ to be well. ’Tis only a scratch on your stubborn hide.”
He tried to laugh at her comment, but it only turned into a grimace from pain as his face paled. He…he was going to die here if fate did not lend a hand.
Where was the shadow-glance?! WHERE?
He…he stopped breathing. His weight grew heavier on her as he went slack on her lap when death took him in its embrace.
Nooooooooo!
She began crying hysterically till a shout rang from her toward the dark sky. “Where are you, fate? WHERE?”
This simply couldnotbe one of those moments where the fates lay cast in bronze and there wasnogoing back. Her soul sank into a petrified state at this mere possibility, which she had encountered in times past, where fate slapped her in the face to remain set in stone.
Had she slipped into these tormented folds?
Chapter 7
Please, a thousand times over!
Closing her eyes, she brushed her lips over the hairs upon his damp brow just as a fierce pinch came behind her gaze when she clasped her lashes tighter.
There!
He would not fall; she wouldn’t let him!
When she re-opened her gaze, it had taken her again; time had reversed, and where did it land her? To the exact moment right before Aonghus had cut the owl free.
Once again, the past repeated and her companion turned to cock a brow at her, leaning over the bird, his words edged by mirth: “Nae Northman.”
She hid a grin to repeat in whisper, “Nae.”
He bowed down to cut the line on the owl, who shuddered away, frightened, into flight. Now. Warn him!
She lunged forward while yelling, “Turn, now, Aonghus!” Grabbing Aonghus by the elbow, she tore him left at the exact second the arrowwhizzedby them – this time it only caught air then died into the stream beyond with a splash.
Aonghus spun her around toward the ground. Her breaths ragged, she rendered the words by gasps. “There…is…aScotsman who traveled with Sturan called Hamysh. He is about to descend upon us, he owns that arrow which charged; he has a bow and dagger, nae other weapons.”
Taking her words in quickly, Aonghus asked, “There is only one, you are certain?” His eyes darted from her to the distance in a way calling to retaliation.
“Aye,” she advised, looking up at him lying over her like a protective shield.
At the information he replied, “Keirah, remain here, I do not wish for your eyes to see this.” The tone in his voice caused a shiver down her spine when he began to stand. She gave a nod, unable to speak at the look within his gaze, like he had the fires from hell in his pocket and was about to torch the blaze upon the threat.
***
She should have covered her ears as well. The screams from Hamysh’s pleas laced with panic couldn’t be scrubbed from her mind while Aonghus extracted his information at the unseen distance. Aonghus reappeared while she crouched onto the ground, clutching her knees to her chest, but at the sight of her Scotsman wiping the blood from his blade on the damp fern leaf before replacing the blade to the strap at the top of his chausse, she rose to throw her arms about him. Her hand almost caught the sword in the leather scabbard across his back from her eagerness to be near him.
“I have you, Keirah,” he murmured gently, tucking her close.
To hell with keeping a distance from temptation. “Aye,” she agreed, “you do, Aonghus MacCade, more than you know, lad.”
He kissed the top of her scalp; she leaned back as he pulled her gently southward toward the direction for Stirling. “You were very strong in your appraisal.” His expression was stern. “Sturan sent his brothers Seumas and Sorley to harry the burghs in his stead while he hunts for you with Lord Kollungr. Hamysh was the scout sent south; Rune and Lord Kollungr took northward, Svørn west, Sturan and Torsten ventured east. I pressed him hard to find the final assembly point.”
She tripped on a tree root. “I heard.”
“He did not give; traitor took the place unto his grave.” He finished with, “You and I shall take our place to where we originally sought, a remote inn well south of Crianlarich. You must rest” – he nodded at her next stumble – “then as planned, we advance for Stirling, which we should reach by the morrow’s eve.”
