“They’re either very smart or very lucky,” Hugh muttered as he studied the fresh tracks through the camp. “They crisscross each other so many times over, it’s difficult to tell who is who and which way they went.”

“They could’ve done this to confuse us,” one of his men agreed.

“Aye, which worries me.”

Derek nearly pulsed with hatred and rage. He shot a glance in Broc’s direction, where he was being treated by another one of the men. He hadn’t yet opened his eyes, but it seemed as though the wound on the back of his head had stopped bleeding.

“I have to go after her,” he growled, glaring at his brother.

“We can’t go off in a panic,” Hugh reminded him.

“What if—”

“From what you’ve told me of the man, he’s only doing this to push you into selling your ships to him. He ought to know that harming Margery wouldn’t lead you to do what he wants; it would only lead you to hate him, perhaps kill him. So, he’ll keep her for a little while, try to frighten you, then bring her back when he feels you’ve suffered enough.”

“I refuse to stand here and allow him to do this. I won’t wait for him to decide when I have her back. He doesn’t decide this.” Derek felt panic rising in his chest, into his throat, his heart beating dangerously fast and his lungs unable to pull in enough air.

Hugh took him by the shoulders, giving him a brutal shake. “Get a hold of yourself. She needs you to keep a cool head right now.”

Derek flung his hands away.

“He’s… right…”

They both turned to find Broc fighting to sit up. His eyes looked unfocused, glassy, and he appeared to have a difficult time keeping steady.

“Don’t overtire yourself,” Derek urged, kneeling in the pine needles.

“Where are they?”

“Who are they?” Hugh asked, standing behind his kneeling brother.

“Did you see them?” Derek asked.

He shook his head. “I heard his voice. That was all.”

“Who?” Hugh asked.

Derek didn’t need to ask. “MacBride.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, a snarl. As far as he was concerned, a death sentence.

Broc nodded, reaching around to touch his fingers to the back of his head. He stared in amazement at his own blood. “He was off to the side, I was just about to turn and face him. And… that’s all I remember.”

Derek clenched his fists, squeezing hard in a desperate attempt to calm his fury. “Was she here? Could you see her through the trees?”

Broc closed his eyes.

For a moment, Derek thought he might be slipping out of consciousness again.

“I don’t remember. I want to remember, but I can’t.”

“It’s just as well,” Hugh said.

Derek’s head snapped up. “That’s easy for you to say,” he spat, glaring at his brother.

“Because it’s true. It doesn’t matter who hit him, or where she was at the time. They could very well have been watching all along, waiting for the moment when she’d be alone. My men should’ve stayed with her,” he admitted, throwing withering looks their way, “but they were following the tracks around the campsite, too. Margery was… lost in all of it, I’m sorry to say.”

He was right, and the truth of it gnawed at Derek’s conscience.

She had counted on him to keep her safe—on all of them, really. She had no way to defend herself, nothing but the few tricks he’d taught her. They wouldn’t serve when she was surrounded by three or four men, all intent on spiriting her away.

She had counted on him, and he had let her down. Just as he’d vowed never to do.

He rose, fists still clenched tight at his sides. “We’re going to find her,” he muttered, gazing out over the wide expanse of woods around them.

“We are,” Hugh agreed.

“And I’m going to kill him.”

“I would expect nothing less, brother.” Hugh jumped into action, sending the four men out in all directions, telling them to report back the moment they found a set of tracks which looked to lead away from the camp.

“Derek?” Broc looked up at him, watching as he paced. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. If I had, we would know that he might be following, or he might not have had a reason to follow, if you had worked things out with him back in the village.”

“There was nothing to work out, not in any way he would agree to,” Derek muttered. She was out there somewhere. She had to be. She would be alive and waiting for him, and he wouldn’t let her down again.

“Even so, if I hadn’t pulled you aside to talk about him…”

“Enough.” He didn’t mean to sound so sharp, but that was what it took to silence his friend. “I’m telling you there’s nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t make any of this happen. He did this.”

And so did I, he added silently, berating himself beyond all measure. It was his fault for getting involved with the man without knowing the first thing about him. He slammed his fist into his open palm, knowing there wasn’t enough physical pain in the world to drive away the pain in his head.

A high, sharp whistle sounded out—the signal from one of Hugh’s men.

His heart leapt.

It hadn’t taken long at all to locate the tracks. There could still be hope of finding her before the worst happened.

“Will you be all right here?” he asked Broc.

“I’m going with you.” Broc struggled to his feet, swaying once he reached them.

“No, you’re not. You’re going to stay here and watch what’s left of the horses, and we’re going to come back for you when it’s over.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Derek snapped. “You’re wounded, you’re unsteady, and I can’t have you slowing us down. Captain’s orders.”

Broc winced, but offered no further argument. “Aye, aye,” he muttered, sliding to the ground with his back against a sturdy tree.

Derek mounted his gelding and trotted off in the direction from which the signal came. Hugh met him halfway, and the two of them rode together to where his men had gathered, all of them looking at the ground.

“Here,” one of them said, crouching and pointing. “They’re trying to be more careful now.”

“Aye,” another agreed. “Like as not they heard us speaking of the tracks they left last night.”

“They have to have at least one skilled huntsmen among them,” Derek observed, following the deep tracks into a thicket of closely grouped trees which led even deeper into the woods. “One of them knows what he’s doing and is trying to keep the others in line. Whether they heed his advice is another story.”

“There are still the same-sized tracks,” Hugh pointed out. “Nothing smaller, like a woman would make.”

Derek nodded, his jaw tightening at the image his brother’s observation called up. “Aye. They’re likely carrying her. Perhaps over their shoulder. Notice there aren’t any horseshoe tracks. Only feet. They must have tied the horses off somewhere else and are carrying her back to that place. And since she didn’t make a sound that any of us could hear, they must have hit her as they did Broc.”

“Or gagged her. You don’t know that they’ve harmed her.”

“They’re harming her, regardless.” He didn’t want to hear Hugh’s attempts at softening what was happening. “We’re wasting time, waiting here, trying to make sense of how many there are and how they’re traveling. She’s waiting for me to come for her. I have to find her.”

“Don’t rush into this!” Hugh grasped his arm in a vain attempt to hold him in place.

Derek wrenched himself from his brother’s grasp. “Give me a weapon better than this.” He motioned to the dirk at his waist.

“I’m going with you, naturally. We all are. You’ll be well-protected.”

“I don’t want you to protect me. I want you to arm me so I can protect myself. If you won’t, I’ll use this and get on with it.” He found the tracks and set about following them.

The other horses followed behind, all of them taking their time to be certain the tracks would be left untouched and easier to follow.