She couldn’t believe it: he was teasing her. A soft glow spread inside her, warming some of the chill from her bones. “I won’t,” she teased back, sweeping past him in what she hoped was the right direction.
It didn’t take long before they ran into the old road that he’d mentioned. It was odd to imagine Roman legionnaires marching here hundreds of years ago. Though they’d avoided most roads before now, with the number of travelers that used the road even in the snow, Ewen said it would be difficult for anyone still following them to identify their specific tracks.
Despite her previous protestations, by the time they turned off the road and navigated a very dark patch of forest to a small motte upon which sat the ruins of an old fort, she was exhausted and, as the grumbling coming from her stomach suggested, hungry. Needless to say, she didn’t argue when Ewen said they would rest here for a while.
Taking shelter in what was left of the stone foundations of the fort, they sat on the rocky floor with their backs against the wall and ate a cold and rather lackluster meal of dried venison and oatcakes, washed down with a choice of whisky or ale—she chose the latter. Her feet were like ice as she took off her hose and boots to warm them by the small fire Ewen had made. It felt like heaven, and slowly some of the chill left her bones.
Ewen didn’t sit for more than five minutes before he was up again.
Shaking her head, Janet watched his big, solid form disappear into the darkness. “Does he ever rest?” she said to her brother-in-law.
Sir Kenneth laughed. “Not much when he’s on a mission. But don’t worry, he’s used to it. We all are. He’ll get some rest when it is safe.”
“‘We’?”
Something flickered in his gaze. “Bruce’s army,” he said quickly, but she had the feeling that he had been referring to something else.
They were silent for a while, the sounds of the night enveloping them. It was so quiet. Almost eerily so. “Do you think we are safe?”
“Aye, lass. Lamont’s the best. It would take more than luck for the English to find us now.”
“And Magnus and Eoin?”
He laughed. “Don’t worry about them. They can take care of themselves. MacLean probably already has picked out the perfect place for a surprise attack. The English don’t stand a chance.”
“But forty against two?”
“Hopefully they caught up with Douglas—Sir James,” he clarified. But he needn’t have. The Black Douglas was well known along the Borders. “But even if they didn’t, forty Englishmen aren’t enough for two Highlanders.”
Janet dismissed his boasting as typical Highland hyperbole. It had to be an exaggeration, didn’t it? Then why did he seem genuinely unworried?
Ewen returned a few minutes later, and she heaved a sigh of relief.
“I think they took the bait,” he said. “We can rest here for a few hours. In the morning, I will see about finding some horses in the village.”
She nodded and laid her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. The difficulty of the past few days seemed to catch up with her all at once. She didn’t notice the hard ground, the stony pillow, or the cold, and didn’t even bother to lie down, all she could think about was sleep.
Feeling the weight of his gaze on her, her eyes flickered open just before she was about to doze off. Something fierce and poignant passed between them. Something undeniable. Something that made her feel safe. “Sleep,” he said.
And for once in her life, Janet obeyed without argument.
She woke with a start. With a premonition. With a feeling of dread. It was almost dawn, and a quick glance around told her that once again, Ewen was gone. Sir Kenneth had been asleep, but he stirred at her movement.
“What is it?”
Janet shook her head. “I don’t know.” She squeezed her plaid in tight, as if it would protect her in his absence. But then she heard a sound. A distant sharp, keening howl. “What is that? A wolf?”
Like a wraith summoned by her voice, Ewen appeared in the doorway. “It’s not a wolf, it’s a hound. We need to move…now.”
Fourteen
Dogs, damn it! How in the hell had they caught their scent?
Ewen didn’t have time to think about it. They needed to lose themselves in the forests and hills of Lowther before the English caught up with them. If he could hear the dogs, they had to be close.
The Highland Guard used the countryside as a weapon. The more dense the forest, the steeper and more unfriendly the terrain, the more they could take away the English advantage—both in number and their superior weaponry. The English heavy armor and horses were a liability in the wild, and Bruce had learned to use that to his benefit.
Ewen didn’t waste time trying to cover signs of their presence, breaking camp as soon as they could gather their belongings. The old motte and fort had provided shelter, but it would provide little defense. Worse, Janet would be right in the middle of it.
