Thirteen

It wasn’t often that Janet’s tongue tied, but Ewen’s question had forced her to ask herself a question she hadn’t wanted to think about: what did she want from him?

The truth was, she didn’t know.

Marriage wasn’t an option. Assuming Robert could be persuaded to marry her to an ordinary warrior—even one whom he seemed to value—that certainly wasn’t what she wanted.

Was it?

Instead of sleeping as she should, she stared at the dark stone wall of the cave for most of the day, pondering that question. Janet had thought she had her life all planned out. She had thought she was meant to be alone. After the deaths of two fiancés, the loss of her family, and with what had happened with Cailin and her sister Mary, it seemed prudent to avoid entanglements. Frankly, she’d never wanted to marry and was content in the belief that God must agree with her. She would become a nun and continue on as she’d been doing: helping the king for as long as he needed her.

It was certainly preferable to being treated like a serf or a child. Not taken seriously. Coddled and “protected” until she couldn’t breathe. Robert would do his best to protect her, but there was always a risk.

But Ewen confused her and made her wonder whether there was something more than the future she had planned. A nun shouldn’t think about—dream about—a man and his kiss for months. And a nun certainly shouldn’t find her heart pounding in breathless anticipation for more.

Maybe that was it. Maybe “more” was what she wanted from him. Marriage might not hold any interest for her, but it was clear—at least with him—that what went along with it did.

She wanted him the way a woman wants a man, and no matter what he tried to tell her, he wanted her, too. What was holding him back?

She didn’t know, but she intended to find out.

But good gracious, had she really kissed him? Her cheeks grew hot all over again. She supposed she might have. She’d thought he’d pulled her toward him, but maybe she’d just fallen into his lap? There was something different about Ewen. Something that made her act with an unusual boldness—even for her.

If she wanted “more,” she suspected it was going to take a lot more boldness on her part to batter down that stone wall. Her mouth curved. As the daughter of an earl, and a woman who was ready to spend the rest of her life as a nun, she really shouldn’t be looking forward to it as much as she was.

It seemed as though Janet had just closed her eyes when she was being jostled awake with her brother-in-law staring down at her. He was really quite handsome, in an almost dazzling, hurt-the-eyes way. Perhaps even more so than Mary’s first husband had been, and the Earl of Atholl was said to have been one of the most handsome men in the kingdom. She hoped that Kenneth Sutherland was a better husband.

But Mary had always been more pragmatic than Janet. She’d never set unrealistic expectations, and she accepted her fate with more grace than Janet could ever manage.

“It’s almost dark, my lady.” Seeing that she was about to correct him, he amended his speech. “Janet. We need to get back on the road.”

She forced herself not to groan. The prospect of another long night on horseback, after a short and uncomfortable few hours of sleep, did not sound promising. But knowing she had no choice, she dragged herself out of her makeshift bed, which consisted of Eoin’s borrowed plaid and the leather bag that held her clothes as a pillow, grateful once again for the lad’s clothing. It really was much more comfortable and easier to move around without layers of cumbersome skirts in her way. Perhaps one day women would be able to wear such clothes without comment or sensation? Ha! And maybe someday men would fly like birds.

She looked around the cave. “Where is Ewen?” she asked her brother-in-law.

The last time she’d seen him was after he’d returned from the loch and exchanged a few words with Magnus. She’d assumed he’d returned while she was asleep.

“Making sure we aren’t being followed.”

“All day?”

Sir Kenneth shrugged. “He and MacLean had watch. You needn’t worry. I’m sure he had a few hours of sleep.”

Her cheeks heated. “I wasn’t worried, I—”

A commotion outside the cave prevented her from finishing her thought. Ewen was back, and from the urgent tones of his hushed voice, and the clipped exchange with Magnus, she suspected something was wrong. “What is it?”

Her brother-in-law shook his head. “I don’t know, but be ready.”

He went to join the others who were gathered at the mouth of the cave, while Janet hastily gathered her belongings and tucked her braids back under her cap. She longed to run down to the river and wash, but instead she did the best she could with the water she had in a pouch, washing her face and using a cloth and a mixture of wine, salt, and mint to clean her teeth.

The men were still talking in hushed tones when she approached a few minutes later. She glanced beyond them into the dusky, tree-covered hillside. The first flakes of the long awaited snow had just started to fall.

Unconsciously, her gaze sought out Ewen’s. As if feeling its weight, he glanced up. Her heart dropped. She knew before she asked, “What is it?”

She had new appreciation for his direct, matter-of-fact way of speaking when he didn’t try to soften or hide the truth. “We are being followed.”

She surprised him. Ewen expected tears or panic, or at least some other feminine sign of alarm, but Janet’s expression barely changed; her only sign of concern was a slight widening of the eyes that someone who had been watching her very closely—as he’d been doing—would have picked up.

He might not like the idea of women in war, but he had to admit, her cool-under-pressure reaction was as impressive as any battle-hardened warrior’s.

She didn’t waste time with questions about his certainty. “How close are they?”

“About three miles east, heading this way. I saw them from the top of the mountain,” he pointed to the hill above them, “so with the distance and obstacles, I can’t be sure, but I’d guess there are at least forty men.”

A slight paling of her cheeks told him that she fully understood the danger. “How are they tracking us?”

“They must have gotten lucky.” Whether they were the same men as before or new, he didn’t know. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask them. They were the enemy; that was all that mattered.

Ewen had covered their tracks as best he could, but the horses, the speed at which they were traveling, the darkness, and the damp ground made it impossible to hide all traces. A good tracker—a very good tracker—who knew what he was looking for, and guessed their general direction, could find them. In the daylight, that is. “The darkness should slow them down.”

He glanced at the softly fallen snow blanketing the ground in a thin layer of white. Instead of the beauty, all he could see was disaster. Why the hell couldn’t it have snowed while they slept?

He didn’t realize he’d frowned until she asked, “But?”

“But the snow will show our path like a map.”

Again, she didn’t blink, and his estimation of her went up another notch. “What is the plan?”

“We were just discussing that,” Magnus interceded.

From the way she looked back and forth between the men, she seemed to have guessed that there was some disagreement. There was. MacLean wanted to head higher into the hills and lure them into a trap, while Ewen and Sutherland didn’t want to fight a battle with Janet anywhere nearby. Even though they were ninety-nine percent certain they would win, there was always that one percent chance that something could go wrong.

Fortunately, MacKay agreed with them—to a point. “We’ll head into the hills and try to lose them,” he said.

The English didn’t like venturing into the wild, for good reason. Bruce had taken control of the countryside, using the hills and forests to his advantage for his new pirate style of warfare.

“And if we don’t?” she asked.

“We’ll get rid of them another way,” MacKay answered. They’d try the conservative choice first, but if they couldn’t lose their pursuers, they would fight.

Sutherland smiled. “Never fear. One way or another we will get you back to Scotland and your sister safely.”

Janet managed a smile at him, but her eyes were for Ewen. “I do not doubt that.”

The mission. She knew he would see it done. The display of faith should feel like a compliment, but instead it felt like a challenge: Is that all this is?

Damn it, that’s all it could be.

Their eyes held for a tense heartbeat, but then he turned away, the need to leave as quickly as possible taking over.

“Make sure you don’t leave anything behind,” he warned her. The men didn’t need to be told, but she probably wasn’t used to taking such precautions. He didn’t want to leave any sign of their presence behind or make it easy for anyone to track them.

Not a handful of minutes later, they were mounted and racing as fast as the storm and shrouded moonlight would allow, higher into the hills west of Ettrick. They didn’t dare attempt to use a torch; it would be like a beacon blinking up the mountainside. Movement was easier to detect on hillsides as it was, and keeping themselves from being seen was going to be challenge enough. Fortunately, their progress need not be hampered by efforts to conceal their tracks. With the snow, Ewen didn’t bother; it wasn’t coming down heavily enough to cover them or any efforts to sweep them aside in time.

It was slow going. The horses, although good, all-purpose rouncies, were not the quick, agile, and surefooted hobby horses preferred by Bruce for the so-called “pirate” warfare of the Highland Guard. But they were bound by what fresh horseflesh was available to them. In the hills, snow, and darkness, it was a constant battle to keep the horses at a quickened pace.

But the rouncies weren’t the only problem. Though a capable rider, Janet did not have the experience and stamina of a warrior. MacKay, who had been only a passable horseman when they’d started, through years of experience and that stoic Highland grit and determination had forced an aptitude that nature had not intended. But Janet hadn’t had that kind of experience, and it was clear that the long night of riding the day before had taken its toll.

As the night drew on, her struggle to keep her seat and control of the horse increased. A horse needed a strong, confident rider at a time like this, and Janet was faltering with every mile.

But she didn’t complain. Even when her mount took a misstep that nearly toppled her off her saddle.

Ewen saw it happen in what seemed like half the normal beat of time. He was watching the steady up and down of her shadow, when all of a sudden the rhythm broke. She lurched to the side—his heart doing the same—and cried out. He saw her slipping, saw the distance to the ground, and realized how hard that ground would be. A couple of inches of snow would not cushion her bones from breaking.

He shot forward to try to catch her, wrenching his leg in the process. If he weren’t so focused on her, the burning knife of pain might have concerned him.

Somehow she managed to stay seated.

He grabbed the reins, pulling her to a stop. “Are you all right?” It happened so quickly, he didn’t have time to keep the emotion from his voice. She’d scared him, damn it. More than he wanted to think about.

Her face was lost in the shadows and the darkness, but he could see the movement of her nod. “I think so.” Her voice shook a little, and he had to fight not to pull her into his arms. Not yours. “I’m sorry, I’ll try to be more careful.”

He could see her readjust the plaid she wore over her head like a hood, which had fallen off as she nearly fell.

His mouth hardened. “It isn’t your fault. These are treacherous riding conditions for anyone.”

MacKay hadn’t seen what had happened, as he’d been riding ahead with Sutherland, but he must have guessed. “We’re pushing you too hard.”

“No, really, I can do this. I’ll pay more attention.”

MacKay and Ewen exchanged looks. Despite her protest, they both knew this wasn’t working.

When they’d started out from the cave, they had about seventy miles or so to reach the birlinn in Ayr, much of that over rough countryside. They weren’t using roads—not that many existed through the hills and forests of southwestern Scotland. In the past few hours, going as fast as they dared, they’d probably covered no more than ten miles. Even if they could outpace the English at night, the enemy would catch up with them in a few hours of daylight.

If the English were still following them, that is. And every instinct in his body clamored that they were. Ewen couldn’t see them, but he could feel them pressing, a far more ominous force than the snowy darkness around them. The last time he’d felt like this was five years ago, when he and the rest of the Guard were fleeing west with Bruce across the Highlands and the king had been forced to seek refuge in the Isles. Then, as now, it felt like they were being hunted. Used to being the stalker and not the quarry, it was an odd sensation for him—and not one that he enjoyed.

They didn’t have a choice. He wasn’t going to take any chances with her. His first—his only—objective was to keep her safe. “We need to separate.”

Janet’s heart dropped. “Separate? We can’t separate.” What if the English caught up with them? The odds were horribly against them as it was.

It’s because of me. Janet hated knowing that she was slowing them down. It wasn’t often that she was forced to confront her weaknesses so openly, but she did not hide from them.

She might not have the physical strength or endurance that these men did, but she was every bit as determined and had no intention of giving up. “Please,” she looked back and forth between the four shadows, wishing she could see their faces. “I can do this.”

From the concern in Ewen’s voice before, she thought he might have been worried about her, but there wasn’t a hint of concern now when he snapped, “No, you can’t. You aren’t a strong enough rider.”

She flinched. Trust Ewen not to cushion the blow. The worst part, of course, was that he was right.

Sir Kenneth attempted to ease the sting of Ewen’s words. “What Lamont means to say—”

She cut him off. “It’s all right. He’s right. I’m not strong enough. But I don’t see how that will change if we split up.”

“They won’t be following you,” Ewen said with his typical lack of explanation. The get-the-job done soldier had taken over. He turned to Magnus. “Take the horses and head north toward Broad Law. With any luck Boyd and Seton will still be there with Douglas, and you can give our English pursuers a nice surprise. I’ll head west with the lass and take cover in the forest. As soon as it is safe, I’ll find some horses and catch up with you at Ayr.”

At least he meant to go with her. She didn’t know what she would have done if he’d tried to send her with someone else.

“I’m going with you,” Sir Kenneth said. Ewen seemed poised to argue, when her brother-in-law added, “If this doesn’t work, you’ll need my sword.” He paused. “She’s my sister.”

The show of family loyalty touched her, but she still didn’t understand. “But how can you be sure they won’t follow our tracks instead?”

She could almost hear Ewen smiling. “We won’t have any.”

She learned what he meant a few minutes later when she found herself tromping through the icy water of a small burn. They’d led the horses to the water, making it look like the group had stopped to rest, and then with Ewen in the lead and Sir Kenneth behind her, the three of them had taken off on foot through the water, leaving no tracks in the freshly fallen snow (which thankfully had abated), while Magnus and Eoin had ridden off with all five horses.

She was so cold, she almost missed the horses. Almost. Her feet might be freezing, but her aching muscles and sore backside welcomed the change of movement, especially as they seemed to be heading downhill.

Ewen was right; the English would never be able to follow their path now. But when she said so aloud, he corrected her. “Tracks can be followed in shallow water. Can you feel the stones shifting under your feet? A good tracker would see the signs. It isn’t easy but if you know what to look for, it’s possible. Of course, our pursuers won’t know to look for it.” He turned around. “Watch your step—there is a large rock ahead.”

Janet took note of the shadow sticking out from the few inches of water and stepped around it, drawing her plaid in tight and making sure the bottom stayed clear of the water. She’d rolled up the edges of her leather breeches, trying to contain the discomfort to wet feet and hose.

She wouldn’t ask how long. She wouldn’t. Even if it killed her. No matter how cold and miserable, she wasn’t going to complain. She might not be able to ride a horse as well as they could, but she could certainly walk for long distances. As a courier, she’d walked for miles. Although never this fast, and never through cold water in December. She suspected that if it weren’t for her they would be running, even loaded up with weapons and carrying all the bags, including hers. She was determined to impress Ewen, even if it killed her.

“How do you know so much about tracking?” she asked.

“It’s what I do.”

Why did she feel that was an understatement? She suspected he was good at it—very good at it. “You really are one of Robert’s phantoms, aren’t you? Moving around like a ghost.”

She said it as a jest, but both men fell oddly quiet. Her brother-in-law recovered first, chuckling from behind. “What do you think, Lamont? You want to be a phantom? Maybe we should ask the king if he needs any new recruits when we return?”

“I hear they’ll take just about anyone nowadays,” Ewen replied in way that made Janet feel that she was missing something.

“I must admit I was surprised to hear that Christina’s brother is reputed to be one of the illustrious phantoms,” she said. “I remember Lachlan MacRuairi as a mean, black-tempered brigand. He must have changed.”

Neither man responded. Ewen stopped to help her over a branch that had fallen in the stream. Though he held her hand for only a moment, it was enough to make her heart quicken.

He dropped it the moment she was clear.

“Do either of you know him?” she asked, her voice a little breathless.

She was growing rather used to dead pauses. Ewen finally answered. “A bit.”

“Has he changed?”

Another pause. “Nay. You’d do best to stay away from him.”

Janet took another step in the frigid water, trying to ignore the soppy feeling in her boots, and frowned. “I won’t be there long enough to see much of anyone beyond my sister. I must be back in Roxburgh as soon as possible. I need to be back in time for St. Drostan’s.”

Sir Kenneth started to say something, but Ewen cut him off sharply. “Assuming you can convince the king to let you return.”

He was being far too complacent; she knew how he felt about her part in this war. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“I thought you were sure that once you explained it to the king, he would agree?”

She bristled, knowing he was challenging her but unable to resist. “I am.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

She pursed her mouth, thinking that it wasn’t like him to capitulate so easily.

She was about to question him further, when he said, “Don’t bring me into this. It isn’t my fight. It’s between you and Bruce.”

He was right, not that she liked being reminded of how he wasn’t interested. “How much longer of a delay do you think this will cost us?”

She couldn’t be late. Something important was brewing; what if she missed it?

The dark shadow of his broad shoulders shrugged. “Once I am sure they have taken the bait and followed MacKay and MacLean, we will find some horses. Hopefully by morning, so not more than a half-day, I should think.”

She heaved a sigh of relief.

They walked for hours, eventually reaching the end of the stream near a small village. By that time, her feet were no longer cold; they were too numb to feel anything.

Ewen was talking to Sir Kenneth. “There’s an old Roman road that runs through the village. We can take that until we catch another river—”

He stopped suddenly, catching a glimpse of her shivering, and muttered an oath that she heard quite distinctly. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were cold?”

After slogging through the water and snow for hours at a pace she would consider more running than walking, Janet wasn’t in the mood for his overprotective male attitude. In spite of what he would like to think, she wasn’t going to break like a poppet made out of porcelain. Nor was she going to feel blame for chattering teeth. Jerusalem’s temples! Any normal person’s teeth should be chattering.

“Of course, I’m cold,” she snapped back. “I’ve just been walking through a freezing river. Anyone normal human being would feel a little chilly, but it isn’t anything I can’t handle or haven’t done countless times before.”

The sky had cleared and there was just enough moonlight to make out Ewen’s slightly taken-aback expression.

Her brother by marriage gave a sharp laugh. “I daresay, I’m cold as well, my lady. Despite all appearances, Lamont is quite human, and I imagine he is as well, although I suspect he’d rather eat nails than admit it.” He gave her a roguish wink. “Mary told me that you could stand toe-to-toe with anyone and weren’t easily cowed. I can see she was right. My friend over there isn’t exactly known for his tact—especially around ladies’ delicate sensibilities.”

“I noticed,” Janet said dryly.

“Delicate?” Ewen scoffed under his breath. “The lass doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”

She knew he hadn’t meant it as a compliment, but she took it as one. “Thank you.”

He scowled at her with that same why-won’t-you-fit-in-the-nice-box-that-you-are-supposed-to look that her brother Duncan used to have.

“Your sister will be happy to have you back,” Sir Kenneth said. “She’s missed you terribly.”

Janet paled, the familiar anxiety gnawing at her. “I-I missed her as well.”

“She never gave up looking for you. I think she must have visited every church and hospital between Berwick and Newcastle.”

Janet looked at him, startled. “She did?”

He nodded. “Aye, she said she always sensed you were still alive. She said she would have known if you weren’t.”

Emotion suddenly gripped her throat. Was it true? Had Mary forgiven her? Had she not blamed her for what had happened?

Janet could only nod.

She glanced at Ewen. He was no longer scowling but watching her with a puzzled look on his face. Fearing she’d revealed more than she’d intended, she lifted her chin and said, “Are we going to keep moving?”

She thought he smiled, but no doubt it was a trick of the moonlight. With a bow, he said. “As you wish, my lady. Don’t let me slow you down.”

She couldn’t believe it: he was teasing her. A soft glow spread inside her, warming some of the chill from her bones. “I won’t,” she teased back, sweeping past him in what she hoped was the right direction.

It didn’t take long before they ran into the old road that he’d mentioned. It was odd to imagine Roman legionnaires marching here hundreds of years ago. Though they’d avoided most roads before now, with the number of travelers that used the road even in the snow, Ewen said it would be difficult for anyone still following them to identify their specific tracks.

Despite her previous protestations, by the time they turned off the road and navigated a very dark patch of forest to a small motte upon which sat the ruins of an old fort, she was exhausted and, as the grumbling coming from her stomach suggested, hungry. Needless to say, she didn’t argue when Ewen said they would rest here for a while.

Taking shelter in what was left of the stone foundations of the fort, they sat on the rocky floor with their backs against the wall and ate a cold and rather lackluster meal of dried venison and oatcakes, washed down with a choice of whisky or ale—she chose the latter. Her feet were like ice as she took off her hose and boots to warm them by the small fire Ewen had made. It felt like heaven, and slowly some of the chill left her bones.

Ewen didn’t sit for more than five minutes before he was up again.

Shaking her head, Janet watched his big, solid form disappear into the darkness. “Does he ever rest?” she said to her brother-in-law.

Sir Kenneth laughed. “Not much when he’s on a mission. But don’t worry, he’s used to it. We all are. He’ll get some rest when it is safe.”

“ ‘We’?”

Something flickered in his gaze. “Bruce’s army,” he said quickly, but she had the feeling that he had been referring to something else.

They were silent for a while, the sounds of the night enveloping them. It was so quiet. Almost eerily so. “Do you think we are safe?”

“Aye, lass. Lamont’s the best. It would take more than luck for the English to find us now.”

“And Magnus and Eoin?”

He laughed. “Don’t worry about them. They can take care of themselves. MacLean probably already has picked out the perfect place for a surprise attack. The English don’t stand a chance.”

“But forty against two?”

“Hopefully they caught up with Douglas—Sir James,” he clarified. But he needn’t have. The Black Douglas was well known along the Borders. “But even if they didn’t, forty Englishmen aren’t enough for two Highlanders.”

Janet dismissed his boasting as typical Highland hyperbole. It had to be an exaggeration, didn’t it? Then why did he seem genuinely unworried?

Ewen returned a few minutes later, and she heaved a sigh of relief.

“I think they took the bait,” he said. “We can rest here for a few hours. In the morning, I will see about finding some horses in the village.”

She nodded and laid her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. The difficulty of the past few days seemed to catch up with her all at once. She didn’t notice the hard ground, the stony pillow, or the cold, and didn’t even bother to lie down, all she could think about was sleep.

Feeling the weight of his gaze on her, her eyes flickered open just before she was about to doze off. Something fierce and poignant passed between them. Something undeniable. Something that made her feel safe. “Sleep,” he said.

And for once in her life, Janet obeyed without argument.

She woke with a start. With a premonition. With a feeling of dread. It was almost dawn, and a quick glance around told her that once again, Ewen was gone. Sir Kenneth had been asleep, but he stirred at her movement.

“What is it?”

Janet shook her head. “I don’t know.” She squeezed her plaid in tight, as if it would protect her in his absence. But then she heard a sound. A distant sharp, keening howl. “What is that? A wolf?”

Like a wraith summoned by her voice, Ewen appeared in the doorway. “It’s not a wolf, it’s a hound. We need to move … now.”