“Where are ye going?”
“We need to sup and there is naught here to stave off our hunger.”
“But yer arm…”
“’Twill be fine. ’Tis no longer bleeding thanks to ye. ’Twillnae take long. Mayhap get a pot ready?”
She nodded. Then thought of something. “But wait. We dinnae have water.”
He paused, his hand on the door latch after he’d lifted the bolt ofwood that secured the door. “There has to be a well around here. I will look for that first. Stay inside, lass,” he ordered quietly. “Please, for once, listen to me.” When his eyes met hers, they were soft with his plea.
Wetting her dry lips with her tongue, she nodded. Adding more things for him to fash about would do neither of them any good, so she would do as she’d been told.
He disappeared outside, closing the door behind him. The interior of the bothy, though small, felt huge without Errol there to fill the space. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Even with the fire burning bright, she suddenly felt chilled. His heat had warmed the room.
As she tried to gather her thoughts, the realization of what they had gone through earlier finally settled over her.
They’d been attacked.
They could have been killed.
And for what? For something that so far alluded to a secret love pact between the MacLeods and the Harts.
Sighing, she forced herself to move. Keeping her body busy would keep her mind from focusing on what they’d endured earlier.
On a low shelf, Moira found a large pot that they could use to cook whatever it was that Errol managed to catch. The fire burned bright, and she now noticed the spit that had been hung from one side of the fireplace to the other.
The door opened and Moira spun with a small squeal.
“’Tis just me, lass,” Errol announced. In his hands was a bucket.
“Fresh water?”
“Aye.” He placed it on the table and turned to the door again. “No one is about. ’Tis only us in the area. Ye neednae fash so.”
She hadn’t realized that she had her palm clutched over her heart. Words escaped her and even if they would come, she didn’t trust her voice. Her heart was beating frantically. So, she only nodded.
Errol ducked back outside and she let out a slow, steadying breath. Being in the bothy was much better than sleeping outside, open to all the elements, including more bandits that could be tracking them. Aye, Errol said there weren’t any more. But she didn’t trust a word of what that louse had said before Errol silenced him forever with his fists. Would he really admit if there were others that were going to follow behind?
Nay, she didn’t think so.
Opening the door to the one cupboard near what she believed was a prep table, she was surprised to see several corked pots. Picking up one, she tugged on the cork. It had been sealed snuggly and took her a couple of tries to remove it. Once she did, she smiled. The spicy scent of pepper assaulted her nose. Were all of these spices? If so, she was fairly confident she would be able to season whatever meat Errol was able to find.
A cook she was not. Nor did she have any ambition to be one, but she’d watched Oona prepare enough meats to ken that the answer to an edible meal was the spices one added.
By the time Errol returned, she had managed to open all the pots.
“A single hare, but ’twill get us fed and provide sustenance enough until the morrow.” He grinned sheepishly, the look completely transforming his features. “I dressed it for ye. For some reason, I thought that wasnae aught ye were familiar with.”
Placing her hands on her hips, she tried to school her face into a serious look, but judging by Errol’s laughter, she failed. Huffing out a breath, she approached and took the carcass from him. “Ye are correct. My da wouldnae be proud.”
At the mention of her father, his brows drew together. “Aye, well, ye were verra handy with the needle and thread. I’ll be sure to convince yer da of that if he doesnae strike me down first once he learns that we are traipsing about in the highlands alone.”
She waved her hands in the air in dismissal. “Pfft. Ye returning mehome safely will garner his thanks and naught more.”
He grunted.
Moira didn’t think Errol believed her, but it was the truth. Her da was kenned as a fierce warrior, and he was, but he was also right and just. His moves were well thought out. Having Moira return home in one piece, hopefully, with a treasure as well, would be all her father needed.
