9 – Hot On The Scent
“Laird, yer lass left a clear trail,” Aengus’s best tracker said. “’Twill be easy enough to follow.”
“How far ahead is she?” Aengus Caimbeulach dinnae ken why the lass had left the keep. Reilynn believed she’d intended to retrieve her coos. Mayhap his wife was right. Mungo was a stubborn lass although he ignored her because each glimpse of his daughter ripped away the scabs of his loss. She was the image of his beloved Feeona with her wild red hair and determination.
“Mayhap one cycle,” the skinny, bearded tracker said. “The coo’s tracks are fresh. I see footprints.” He frowned. “I discovered prints for a big animal I’ve ne’er seen afore.”
“Adair said they had a big black cat with them,” Raibert, his oldest son said. “That, I’d enjoy seeing.”
Aengus nodded. “Lead the way. We’ll push through the blacklight.”
If the lass wished to retrieve her coos, she’d do it. They could help and gain additional coos to add to their new herd. He nodded. Aye. Hew Grantlach had agreed to the betrothal and given them coin besides. Uniting with the other clan meant more fighting men at their disposal, and the coos as a bonus to sweeten the deal showed willingness and faithful intent on his part.
But even better, he’d be rid of the lass and the painful prod, prod, prod of his memories. The living reminder of all he’d lost when his beloved Feeona had died.
* * * * *
Joe shook Mungo awake at first light. They had a way to walk to the land bridge.
“Ow!”
He crouched beside his mate, her arms, legs, and torso now bearing bruises along with the cuts and scrapes. He shouldn’t have made love to her last night, but he couldn’t help himself. Hell, his feline had pushed him to mark her. Luckily, he’d been strong enough to resist. “Are you sore, sweetheart?”
“Aye.”
Joe hid his smile.
His mate.
She was so much more than he’d imagined.
“Ma always tells us to move if we’re stiff or battered. The movement helps to keep the limbs supple. You can ride Harriet if you want.”
Mungo pushed up with a groan. She screwed up her face when she recalled her nudity and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Your clothes are here.” He handed her the neatly folded garments, charmed by the shyness that contradicted her stubborn determination. “I’ll get Harriet ready.”
“Do we have any food?”
“Not until we catch up with Sam and Duncan. They might have left us something, but I doubt they’d have thought of it, given the hurry to reach the land bridge.”
She scowled at the mention. “Are ye sure my coos are safe?”
Our coos. “Yes, you’ll see.”
By the time Joe had Harriet ready, Mungo had dressed. He led Harriet to where she stood. Mungo’s gaze flickered down his body, resting on his cock for an instant before jerking away her gaze. A faint tide of red collected in her cheeks.
“Are ye traveling naked?”
He laughed at her disapproval. “I’ll shift in a minute. Let me give you a leg up first.”
“Nay, I’ll walk for a bit.”
“We need to travel fast,” Joe warned.
“Aye.”
He nodded. “Let’s go then. Once we get to the island, there is a swimming place with hot water. That will soothe your sore muscles.”
Her red brows rose. “Hot water? Nay, ye jest.”
“I’ll prove it to you.” Joe handed her Harriet’s reins, stood back and shifted.
“That sounds disgusting. It must hurt ye.”
Joe stalked up to her and rubbed his head against her hand. He drew her decadent scent deep into his lungs, far more content than he’d been since they’d left Earth.
His mate. He didn’t think he’d ever tire of the fact.
He nudged her into motion and once she led Harriet along the track toward the stream, he trotted after them.
The journey to the beach took longer than he’d thought. In his panic for Mungo, he’d run faster and farther than he’d recalled.
The sun bore down on them, hotter than the previous days, and Mungo struggled with the heat. Finally, she mounted Harriet and Joe upped the pace even more. He hadn’t told Mungo since mentioning the land bridge brought a scoff of disbelief, but Kelvin had told him if their timing was off they’d end up swimming. It was imperative they reached the crossing before the moons shifted in their orbit.
Finally, they approached the rocky shoreline, and Joe breathed easier. Only ten minutes walk to the land crossing. They’d make it if they continued this pace.
A foreign sound drew his notice. He froze, the hair prickling at his neck.
Seconds later, yells and shouts rent the air. A dozen Scothage men raced down the cliff. Some carried hefty clubs while others brandished bows nocked with arrows. Their leather kilts flapped around their legs.
Crap.
They’d come for Mungo.