GOING AHEAD
Broderick and Amabel rode toward the town. As they rode, Amabel tried to explain. When she reached the part about Thomas MacDowell and what he had intended for her, she felt Broderick tense.
“What?” His voice was dangerously quiet.
“No, Broderick,” she said quietly. “Do not be angry. We must act, first. There is time to set this to rights.”
Broderick leaned forward, weary. “You are right, dear. First, we must save Alina. Would he marry her at once, do you think?”
“I do not know.” Amabel felt herself begin to cry. “It is possible. He said... he said tomorrow. And...”
“And that was a day ago,” Broderick said quietly. “We may be too late.”
Amabel slumped. She felt tears begin to start. “We must hope, Broderick.”
She heard him sigh. “Yes. You are right. We must ride.”
As they rode, he told her what he had planned. That he had sent to Dunkeld. That he had asked Keith to fetch him and bring a detachment of men. Together, they could storm the MacDowell fastness.
“It is quite small, you say.”
“I don't... know.” Amabel wanted to weep. She was tired. She was hungry. She was terrified. “I saw it once, through a window. It could be small. Or not. I don't know.”
Broderick laid his hand over hers. He dismounted, to spare the horse and she nodded and let him help her down beside him.
“I am sorry, sweetling,” he whispered. “I know you are tired. I am an idiot. I should have waited.”
She laughed wearily. “No, you aren't, Broderick. But I am tired.”
“You are tired, yes. And we're almost there.”
As they walked, leading their horse to spare his strength, Amabel noticed that they were nearing a town. It was only a small village – a few cottages and a barn, an enclosure for goats. But it was warm.
There would be food there, and fire. And shelter.
Feeling the tears pour down her cheeks silently, she looked up at him and smiled.
She was saved.
Soon, they would face the MacDowells. And they would rescue Alina. And then they could go home.
Amabel felt herself slide forward, weary with sudden relief.
Broderick caught her in his arms and together, carefully, they walked the last few paces to the village. And fire and shelter.
* * *
Amabel woke, sometime later. She was lying before a fire. Someone had changed her clothes, and she was dressed in a simple cotton garment that smelled of dust and rosemary but was warm and dry. She rolled over. She was warm. So warm.
She reached out and her fingers drifted through dry straw. Someone had piled straw for her to lie on and made a small bed. She was lying before the fire, its heat melting the ice inside her.
She sat up, feeling her face flushed with warmth.
“Brod...” she called. Her voice was a wavering cry. She could not make it any louder if she tried. She opened her eyes.
She looked across the open fire and to where he was already looking up.
“Dear? Are you quite well?” he asked, moving to her side.
Amabel smiled. “I'm tired, dear. But I am well.”
“Good.”
He helped her to sit and, while she leaned against his chest, he reached for a bowl of broth. He held it for her and helped her spoon it into her mouth, wiping any traces off her chin as if she were very small. She was exhausted.
The owner of the house, a small woman with bright, twinkling eyes and a thin face, was watching them guardedly. When she saw Amabel smile and reach to finish the soup, she gestured happily.
A child appeared, a little girl no older than ten. She brought some oat cakes. Amabel smiled. She wanted to cry.
“Thank you.”
She managed to eat the oatcake she took, one mouthful at a time, slowly. As she ate, strength flooded back to her. She looked around.
“Where are we?”
Broderick frowned. “On the edge of MacDowell land. These people are free farmers, not his tenants. They are no danger. They'll not betray us.”
Amabel nodded. Even if these people were his tenants, she had a doubt that they would betray them unless threatened. A lord like Thomas MacDowell did not inspire any loyalty.
“We have word of Duncan?”
Broderick shook his head. “Not yet. I expect him this evening. I will wait by the road.”
“I should come with you.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I cannot let you.”
Amabel raised a brow. “I shan't die. I seem quite hardy. You might have noticed?”
Broderick laughed. “My dear, I don't want to risk you. You have faced such...” He trailed off. “One day, you will remind me not to be so arrogant. Come with me. I cannot prevent it. Just please wear my cloak over yours. I do not want to risk you becoming chilled.”
Amabel smiled. “Dear. I've been on the marshes for two days. I will be well...”
As she said it, she felt herself suddenly drained and weary. As she slumped forward, she looked up at him, giving him a lopsided smile.
“I am somewhat unconvincing.”
Broderick kissed her. Then, after thanking the cottager and her family, he lay down beside Amabel. Covering them both with his cloak, he was soon fast asleep. Amabel slept in his arms. From that moment, he knew, he would not wish to be parted for so long ever again.