“Why are we riding in this direction? Shouldn’t we be riding away from England?”
He ignored her sarcasm. “I’m making sure no one is following us.”
“Why would they be?”
She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t answer her, as it seemed she had about a one-in-two chance of that occurring. If he was trying to deter her from questions, however, it wasn’t going to work.
He seemed to be making an effort to cover their tracks. At least that was what she assumed he was doing, when he occasionally led them off the path into rocky ground or obscured their direction at junctures by riding back and forth a few times and varying the speed—and thus the stride—of their horses.
“Isanyone following us?” she asked.
“I don’t think so, but we’ll go a few more miles before we circle back to meet the others.”
“Others?”
“You did not think I would come alone? Your former brother-in-law sent four of his best men to find you, including your new brother-in-law.”
“Mary’s husband?”
She’d heard from Lamberton about Sutherland’s defection from the English and knew that her sister was safely returned to Scotland. If there was one good thing about being dragged back to Scotland like this, it was that she would finally be able to see her sister.
But beneath the excitement was also nervousness. Would Mary feel the same? Janet had caused her sister so much grief. She’d made a mess of everything, and Mary had been the one to suffer for it. She’d only narrowly escaped imprisonment and her son, Davey, had been taken from her again. Mary had every right to blame her for it.
Did she?
God knows, Janet did. Because of her, the man who’d picked her up and wiped her tears when she’d skinned her knee, who’d taught her how to ride a horse, who’d told her stories on his knee, was dead. The old servant had loved her like a father—better than a father and much better than her actual father. And what had he gotten for it? An arrow in the back.
Ewen must have been watching her face. When he spoke, it was in a far gentler voice than he’d used before. “Aye. Kenneth Sutherland, heir to the Earl of Sutherland.”
Janet nodded, having learned as much from the bishop. “Is…is she happy?”
He nodded, and for a moment she saw a glimmer of the softness in his eyes that she remembered. “Aye, lass. Very happy.”
Janet smiled. “I’m glad. No one deserves it more.”
He looked as though he wanted to say something. But when he turned away instead, Janet told herself not to be disappointed.
It didn’t work.
They followed the road south for a few more miles, encountering no one, before veering off the path near a small loch, where they stopped to water the horses. Not having ridden a horse for some time, Janet was grateful for the short reprieve to stretch her legs.
She tended to her needs, and then walked to the edge of the water. It was a small loch, no bigger than a mile in diameter, but pretty, with the trees shrouding it in shades of green and brown.
The light was beginning to fade, and she guessed it must be a few hours after midday. With winter approaching, the days were growing shorter. It would be dark before long. They would barely be back to where they’d started, when it would be time to stop for the night.
Ewen came up beside her, seemingly reading her thoughts. “We will travel at night.”
“Won’t that be dangerous?”
His gaze hardened. “Aye. But that shouldn’t bother you.”
Janet couldn’t stand it anymore. His not-so-subtle barbs were driving her mad. “I know you are angry about what happened before. Why don’t you just say what you have to say and get it over with?”
Then maybe he would stop acting like a stranger. Like nothing had happened between them. And then maybe they could…what?
Janet didn’t know, but it wasn’t this.
Not giving in to his anger was a hell of a lot harder than Ewen expected. Every time he thought of what she’d been doing—of what she’d done—he went a little crazed with it.
