But good gracious, had she really kissed him? Her cheeks grew hot all over again. She supposed she might have. She’d thought he’d pulled her toward him, but maybe she’d just fallen into his lap? There was something different about Ewen. Something that made her act with an unusual boldness—even for her.
If she wanted “more,” she suspected it was going to take a lot more boldness on her part to batter down that stone wall. Her mouth curved. As the daughter of an earl, and a woman who was ready to spend the rest of her life as a nun, she really shouldn’t be looking forward to it as much as she was.
It seemed as though Janet had just closed her eyes when she was being jostled awake with her brother-in-law staring down at her. He was really quite handsome, in an almost dazzling, hurt-the-eyes way. Perhaps even more so than Mary’s first husband had been, and the Earl of Atholl was said to have been one of the most handsome men in the kingdom. She hoped that Kenneth Sutherland was a better husband.
But Mary had always been more pragmatic than Janet. She’d never set unrealistic expectations, and she accepted her fate with more grace than Janet could ever manage.
“It’s almost dark, my lady.” Seeing that she was about to correct him, he amended his speech. “Janet. We need to get back on the road.”
She forced herself not to groan. The prospect of another long night on horseback, after a short and uncomfortable few hours of sleep, did not sound promising. But knowing she had no choice, she dragged herself out of her makeshift bed, which consisted of Eoin’s borrowed plaid and the leather bag that held her clothes as a pillow, grateful once again for the lad’s clothing. It really was much more comfortable and easier to move around without layers of cumbersome skirts in her way. Perhaps one day women would be able to wear such clothes without comment or sensation? Ha! And maybe someday men would fly like birds.
She looked around the cave. “Where is Ewen?” she asked her brother-in-law.
The last time she’d seen him was after he’d returned from the loch and exchanged a few words with Magnus. She’d assumed he’d returned while she was asleep.
“Making sure we aren’t being followed.”
“All day?”
Sir Kenneth shrugged. “He and MacLean had watch. You needn’t worry. I’m sure he had a few hours of sleep.”
Her cheeks heated. “I wasn’t worried, I—”
A commotion outside the cave prevented her from finishing her thought. Ewen was back, and from the urgent tones of his hushed voice, and the clipped exchange with Magnus, she suspected something was wrong. “What is it?”
Her brother-in-law shook his head. “I don’t know, but be ready.”
He went to join the others who were gathered at the mouth of the cave, while Janet hastily gathered her belongings and tucked her braids back under her cap. She longed to run down to the river and wash, but instead she did the best she could with the water she had in a pouch, washing her face and using a cloth and a mixture of wine, salt, and mint to clean her teeth.
The men were still talking in hushed tones when she approached a few minutes later. She glanced beyond them into the dusky, tree-covered hillside. The first flakes of the long awaited snow had just started to fall.
Unconsciously, her gaze sought out Ewen’s. As if feeling its weight, he glanced up. Her heart dropped. She knew before she asked, “What is it?”
She had new appreciation for his direct, matter-of-fact way of speaking when he didn’t try to soften or hide the truth. “We are being followed.”
She surprised him. Ewen expected tears or panic, or at least some other feminine sign of alarm, but Janet’s expression barely changed; her only sign of concern was a slight widening of the eyes that someone who had been watching her very closely—as he’d been doing—would have picked up.
He might not like the idea of women in war, but he had to admit, her cool-under-pressure reaction was as impressive as any battle-hardened warrior’s.
She didn’t waste time with questions about his certainty. “How close are they?”
“About three miles east, heading this way. I saw them from the top of the mountain,” he pointed to the hill above them, “so with the distance and obstacles, I can’t be sure, but I’d guess there are at least forty men.”
A slight paling of her cheeks told him that she fully understood the danger. “How are they tracking us?”
“They must have gotten lucky.” Whether they were the same men as before or new, he didn’t know. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask them. They were the enemy; that was all that mattered.
Ewen had covered their tracks as best he could, but the horses, the speed at which they were traveling, the darkness, and the damp ground made it impossible to hide all traces. A good tracker—averygood tracker—who knew what he was looking for, and guessed their general direction, could find them. In the daylight, that is. “The darkness should slow them down.”
He glanced at the softly fallen snow blanketing the ground in a thin layer of white. Instead of the beauty, all he could see was disaster. Why the hell couldn’t it have snowed while they slept?
He didn’t realize he’d frowned until she asked, “But?”
“But the snow will show our path like a map.”
Again, she didn’t blink, and his estimation of her went up another notch. “What is the plan?”
“We were just discussing that,” Magnus interceded.
