“Did he? The bastard.”
“What?” Why would Muireall say that? Ella thought they all wanted him to forgive her. She certainly did.
Muireall planted her fists on her hips. “Ye had done naught that needed forgiveness.” Then she shrugged. “I’m disappointed in him that he continues to think so.”
“And so, naught has changed.” Ella pursed her lips. Nothing had changed, and likely never would.
“Nay. I think something has.”
“What do ye mean?”
Muireall patted her hand. “He bent enough to offer ye some ease before he left, in case he didna come back. His pride is a fearsome thing, but it showed a crack when he made the effort to comfort ye. And a cracked wall can be broken.”
The thing Calumhated most about scout duty was spending nights in the cold and often wet without a fire to warm him. He and Euan couldn’t risk one being seen, and they were not far enough into a rocky area to be able to hide one behind boulders. Daytime was no better. Smoke could be seen for miles. So they wore layers of clothing and wrapped themselves in warm woolen plaids, with an outer layer of oiled wool to keep them as dry as possible. It sufficed for a night or two. Longer than that and they’d normally seek better shelter, but their quarry might well be doing the same thing, increasing his and Euan’s chances of being discovered before they had a chance to find the raiders.
He spent their rest time while Euan was on watch trying to sleep and obsessing about Ella, rethinking everything that had happened between them from the moment he first saw her as a captive in the Ross camp with Muireall and the third Munro lass, Tira, who’d stayed with her Ross husband. He recalled all Ella had said and done as herself and as Janet while he recuperated. All the times she’d encouraged him, and kept him from wrecking his recovery. He’d thought he knew her before he was injured, but his fears and anger affected his perspective. The more he mulled it over, the more he saw her intentions for what they had been—good for him. He’d been right to forgive her, even if he’d done so reluctantly at the time. Could he accept that and move forward toward her? With her?
By the third night, Calum came to the conclusion that he had no answers. Life was a gamble. He and Euan were accustomed to this work. Proud of it, truth be told. And damned good at it. And they were lucky. Someday that luck might run out, but they did all they could to hold off that day’s arrival by being smart. And careful. And well trained. Their mounts, too, were trained to silence when it was needed, their tack oiled and checked constantly against rattles and clinks. Hand signals sufficed when the sound of a voice might give them away to an enemy.
There was just enough starlight filtering through gaps in the tree canopy for Calum to use one now and know Euan would see it. He’d heard something. A whisper of sound. Perhaps an owl or a wildcat. Or a man. His signal stopped Euan and they waited, still and silent as the night. The wind had died with the sunset, and the normal forest sounds like the calls and fluttering wings of birds, and the wind sighing through pine branches, had quieted, too.
He heard it again. The suggestion of a sound. Perhaps something in the distance, but it didn’t pay to make assumptions. It might come from something behind the next tree. Or above them in the canopy. Without turning his head, he used his eyes to scan as much around them as he could. But his left-side night vision was no better than his vision during the day. His hearing would have to tell him where and what they faced.
Or would it? His nostrils flared. A sudden light breeze carried a scent. Upwind was to his right. He concentrated, soaking in anything his senses told him came from that direction. Euan was close enough to see him cant his head that way, so he counted on Euan to focus elsewhere, covering the other approaches an enemy might use to surprise them. They could well be upwind of trouble, themselves.
They waited.
A soft cough nearly startled Calum into a reaction. Instead, a satisfied smile curled his lips. Got ye. Now, was it one man or many? A lone guard outpost for a larger group farther in that direction? Or one man acting alone or separated from his fellows?
The night stayed quiet until an owl’s hoot broke the stillness.
“Shite.”
That grumbled oath had to have come from the man he heard cough.
Silence fell again. Calum waited. If there were two or more, someone else would speak and he would hear the difference in the voice. The night remained silent.
The owl hooted again.
Calum’s hackles rose. Was that truly an owl, or a signal? Had he and Euan been spotted? He fought the urge to dismount or ride away, and continued to wait, tense now, his senses open to any new sounds, new movement. Anything that would give away an ambush.
He heard nothing save normal night sounds. Those would have stopped if any predator, two-legged or four, came near.
After a lengthy wait, he nodded to Euan and slipped silently off his patient horse and paused, listening for any change in the night. Hearing nothing, he signed his intentions to Euan, then he moved like the soft breeze from tree to tree, brush to bramble, careful of his footing on the loamy forest floor. Pine needles made a soft, spongy carpet. But one misstep and a twig’s snap would alert his quarry. Calum did not make missteps. The closer he got, the more of the man’s sweaty stench wafted to him on the night breeze. He paused again and heard deep, regular breathing. His quarry was nearby and asleep or close to it. The breath sounds were loud enough for Calum to locate him in the dark, mere feet away, seated on the ground, leaning against a tree. Alone, and now nodding off. A sentry. A poor one. Where were the rest? And were they as lax in their duty as this man?
Calum could slit his throat before he took his next breath. He would never cry out.
But he and Euan weren’t here for that. Calum was charged with finding the rest of the group, determining if they were some of the troublemakers, then reporting their location back to Iain. He eased away, keeping his gaze focused for any sign of movement from the dozing man or anything else near him. If the sentry kept his back to the direction he knew to be safe, thenit made sense that his fellow raiders, if that was who they were, camped in that same direction.
Calum slipped past the sentry, keeping silent and, nerves tingling, even more careful. He could be approaching another sentry or the main camp filled with any number of men. He crept forward again, using the forest as cover, pausing often to listen to the night sounds. Before long, the scent of a campfire and of roasting meat reached him. A glimmer of light flickered through gaps between the trees, and a few paces farther, the murmur of low voices rewarded him.
He dared not approach too closely. There must be more sentries in these woods, and the same firelight that revealed their base could also betray him. He paused at his first view of the camp. In a small clearing, a dozen men sat around a low fire where a sheep roasted atop stones. Behind them, against the background trees, another one bleated, destined, he supposed, to be tomorrow’s dinner. Calum estimated a band of at least sixteen men, accounting for other sentries he expected were arrayed around their base, perhaps more. The campfire alone told him there were enough of them that they were not concerned about being seen. This group was large enough to do damage to crofts and small villages. And to make quick work of him and Euan. Another owl called, but the men didn’t react. So it hadn’t been a signal.
He turned around and put his back against a broad trunk so his vision would readjust to the forest’s darkness. There, he waited and listened until he was certain he heard Irish accents and even Irish Gaelic. A few of the men began boasting about what they’d gotten from the last croft they’d raided. Including what they’d done to a woman there. His fists clenched, wanting to kill them all for that.
Then he heard footsteps approaching. One of the men had left the campfire, perhaps to relieve himself, or to replace thesleeping guard Calum found. But judging by the direction of the man’s tread, he would pass within inches of where Calum waited. Too close. Even if he didn’t see Calum in the deeper darkness, he might sense his presence.
There wasn’t much time to create a distraction before he’d be discovered. He pulled his slingshot from inside his leine and a few pebbles from the bag he always carried tied at his waist when he left Brodie. Slinging one after the other, he launched them off to one side of the camp, careful to ensure they weren’t visible in the firelight. He aimed at tree trunks and, where he could tell some had collected, bounced a few into dry leaves. Both of those would make as much noise as he dared to create. It would take only one small stone falling into view for them to know the noise they heard wasn’t made by a large number of men, and so didn’t herald an attack. And they’d come looking for him.
