“No,” he said through gritted teeth. “Not with people shooting. We’ll have to wait for Leith and Jock.”
Caroline took out her handkerchief, and pressed it hard against the wound. He drew a sharp breath through clenched teeth at the pain. The flimsy lace was soaked in an instant. She tossed it away.
“I need to take my petticoat off,” she murmured, and Alec managed a lopsided grin.
“I thought we agreed ...” he said. She blushed.
“Don’t be silly. Your very life might hang in the balance.”
She stood up and began to raise her skirt. She hadn’t gotten it up past her booted ankle when another shot rang out. She dropped to the mossy ground beside him. “I think they’re getting closer.” They lay side by side in silence, ears pricked, listening as footsteps crunched through the undergrowth.
He heard voices now, male voices. “Did you hit him?”
“I’ll know when I see his corpse, won’t I?”
Alec braced himself. They were coming closer. Caroline’s eyes burned like firebrands as she scanned the undergrowth. “Caroline ... stay here,” he whispered. She was wearing a green riding habit borrowed from Lottie. She nearly blended into the mossy trees. Perhaps, he hoped, if he drew his pursuers away, they wouldn’t see her, and she’d be safe, but she shook her head, her expression fierce, looking as protective as a mother wolf. She began searching the ground around her, digging her fingers into the leaf litter. She came up with a small rock.
A twig snapped, and she drew a sharp breath. She raised herself just enough to wind up and throw the rock into the undergrowth downhill. It bounced through the leaves, making an unholy clatter in the grim silence.
“There!” he heard the call, listened as his pursuers rushed toward the sound.
“Can you stand?” she asked, putting her arm around him. “We need to move.”
“And go where?” he asked.
“There.” She pointed to the old Grange. He hadn’t known they were so close to the abandoned house, hadn’t been here in years. It stood shrouded in ivy, locked up tight, almost invisible amid the trees that were doing their best to choke it out entirely.
“Caroline, it’s locked. There’s no way to get inside,” he said. “It’s safer to stay in the woods.”
She looked at him as if he were daft, and hauled on him, trying to help him rise, though her slender frame was fragile compared to his. “Oh? The door’s wide open, Laird.”
Alec looked at the old house, and blinked. A few moments earlier, the door had been shut, locked tight, overgrown with vines. Now it stood wide open, and the vines beckoned in the breeze.
CHAPTERFORTY
“Three hares, a bonxie, and a badger,” Leith said as they entered the kitchen. He laid them on Muira’s table.
“Where’s Alec?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“Isn’t he back yet?” Jock said. Muira stared in horror at the bodies littering her kitchen.
Jock grinned. “I know what ye’re thinking—not much meat for dinner, but when the Sassenachs stopped for a picnic, we had time to catch a few salmon and some trout for ye, Muira.” He set the creel next to the bonxie.
Jock glanced at Leith, who was slathering an oatcake with butter. “I saw Alec this morning with Megan, but she came back with us.”
Muira rang her hands, and Jock frowned. “What’s wrong, Muira? Ye’ve got that look. Last time I saw it, old Jeannie MacNair died the next afternoon.”
She held out her thumbs. “My thumbs prickle when evil is nigh,” she said. She plucked the oatcake out of Leith’s hand. “Ye’ve got to go and find him. Don’t come back until ye do.”
Jock knew better than to ignore one of Muira’s premonitions. “Are ye sure it’s Alec?”
“As sure as I’ve ever been. Go on with ye—there’s no time to waste.”
“Ihave it, Devorguilla,” Brodie muttered, and held out a blood-soaked scrap of cloth. “The proof.”
She stared at it in disdain. “What do you mean?”
“I found this in the woods. It’s blood, so he must be dead.” He broke into a wide grin, his handsome face shining. “I shot him right between the eyes.”
