Robbie’s mouth was a thin line as he gave a curt nod. “I’ll get my men.” He moved to leave but stopped and turned. “Dinnae get yerself killed afore I come back.”
Errol chuckled. “I havenae yet.”
He watched his cousin slip quietly through the woods and returned to Moira. “All will be well, Lass. I promise ye with all my heart. I willnae lose ye now.”
*
Damn him andhis off the mark shooting. Orman MacPhail had used up all his arrows trying to cut the pair down, first whilst they were sitting at the boulder, and then when they had each taken off running—in different directions no less. He had focused on the MacLeod bastard. If he could dispatch him first, the Hart bitch would be easy to deal with. But he was too fast, when Errol had disappeared into the woods, Orman loosed his final arrow, and when he saw the wench crumple to the ground he felt this first tinge of satisfaction he’d had in a very long time. Then he saw her rise and make her way to the woods.
The taste of failure filled his mouth. The MacLeod bastard would be stalking him even fiercer than he was afore he’d cut down the bitch. He heard his father laughing, the sound making his ears ring.
“Ye piece of shite. Believing ye could kill aught with yer arrows. Useless. As always. Naught has changed.”
“Shut up.” Orman called out to the empty woods surrounding him. But his father’s taunting voice continued as he lurched through the woods, his foot dragging like it always did. He couldn’t move fast, and he couldn’t trust his horse to get him to the other side, so he had to walk. He’d dropped his bow. It served no purpose anymore without any arrows to loose.
He had his sword, though. Well, his father’s sword. He had never been gifted one. No’ like his brother. Nay, his brother had received a sword made of the finest steel with the most intricate design engraved on the blade. Their father had boasted about it proudly and given it to him in a special ceremony in front of the whole clan. His brother hadshown it off with pride whenever he had the chance.
Well, he had no use for it now, did he? Nay, instead, the blade was outside, rusting in the well where Orman had thrown it so he wouldn’t have to look upon it ever again.
His father’s voice was still in his head. Belittling him. Taunting him.
“Useless. Useless. Useless.”
He clamped his hands over his ears. “I told ye to shut up!” He shouted. Birds flew from the trees above him at the sudden noise and he swore. “Shite.” If the MacLeod didn’t ken where he was afore, he did now. And if he truly had wounded the Hart bitch, then Errol would be out for his blood.
Orman paused, waiting to see if Errol would pop out of the trees and attack. When he saw no movement, he continued on. Mayhap the bastard hadn’t been alerted to his location.
They had found all the clues. Uncovered the true reason behind the feud betwixt the MacLeods and Harts. Learned that it was naught that they had done, but a contrived plan by the MacPhail.
All that they had found was left at the last treasure they had uncovered. He’d looked through it all whilst they were sitting at the boulder. Then he had listened while the Hart bitch read the contents of the final letter.
He only needed to get rid of them and then he could destroy the clues.
None would be the wiser.
His family’s secret would remain just that.
The feuding betwixt the MacLeods and the Harts would continue.
With everything destroyed, there would be no possibility of it ever being uncovered.
All would be right in his world.
So, when he felt the sting of a blade at his back, he was taken by surprise, and his world came crashing down upon him.
*
Errol pressed thetip of his sword into the back of the man he had caught shuffling through the woods. How Errol had not heard the louse afore he had no idea, but he was reconsidering his tracking skills. The bastard was so loud, Errol didn’t have to make a move to cover the sound of his own footsteps.
A few of Robbie’s men, all MacLeod warriors, were protecting Moira, and Robbie and he had taken to the woods in the hopes of catching whoever it was that tried to kill them. He had been torn on leaving Moira or taking chase. But he kenned that he needed to be the one to find the man responsible for wounding Moira. She was in good hands with Robbie’s men and one of them was tending to her now, stitching her wound, and making her as comfortable as possible. She had awakened moments afore he left to track down the archer, who, now that Errol could see him, was no archer at all.
Errol promised her he would return soon, and that all would be well. She cupped his face with a weak hand and he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. She was pained, but strong. He could see the light of fire in her eyes and that was what spurred him on to leave her side. He kenned she would be well.
He couldn’t say the same for the man at the end of his blade.
The chase was much easier than Errol expected. He would be lying if he wasn’t feeling a wee bit disappointed on missing out on a good chase. Though it was better this way. It meant he could soon return to Moira’s side. Something he was eager to do.
There was no real chase to be had with this cretin. The man could barely walk, never mind run. It had to have been pure luck that the bastard had managed to hit Moira with one of his loosed arrows.
