Chapter 2
Darack turned to face the stable master, his back to the wheelbarrow where Mairiana was covered by the canvas tarpaulin. "Just finishing up, sir," he called back. "Getting ready to haul the dung out to the fields on the wagon."
"About time." O'Quigley strode away toward his lodgings.
"Whoreson," Darack muttered under his breath.
Lifting up on the handles, he slowly pushed the wheelbarrow along the straw littered corridor of the stables toward the wagon waiting outside. The brown canvas cover wouldn't look much different from a dung heap as viewed from the ramparts.
Why was Mairiana so resistant to this method of escape? He'd thought it brilliant. Was she terrified of a little horse manure? Such a cosseted princess, she was. He shook his head.
Outside, torches lit the bailey here and there. The few servants about were busy working, cleaning and preparing for tomorrow's visitors and wedding guests.
Casually glancing about to make certain no one paid him any mind, he wrapped the tarp about her closely and lifted her onto the wagon, settling her between the seat and the pile of horse dung he'd loaded earlier.
"Ugh," she grunted, then made a coughing, gagging sound.
"Shh. Lie still," he breathed, then climbed onto the seat and took up the reins. He flicked them at the old mare's back and the horse moved forward at a slow walk.
At the portcullis, one of the guards motioned to another and the portcullis was raised with the screeching and clanging of metal.
He held his breath as he urged the horse past the guard's critical, observant gaze.
Once Darack was outside the walls, he listened to the portcullis rattling closed again and picked up the pace, flicking the lines more urgently.
He guided the horse along the narrow track between fields to a spot several hundred yards away from the castle where the dung was left to decay so the crofters could spread it over the fields later.
The guards on the wall walk would think it odd if he didn't take the wagon to the right spot, as he had been doing for the last few days.
'Twas also near a line of trees and bushes they could use for cover while slipping away.
The sounds of coughing and gagging erupted behind him again.
"Not much further," he told her.
"I can't breathe." Her voice was muffled.
"Lift the edge of the canvas a wee bit. No one is too close now."
After she did, he heard her inhaling great gasps of air.
They were almost to the tree line and 'twas growing darker, a great benefit.
When they neared the dung heap, he pulled back on the reins. "Whoa."
The mare stopped and Darack crawled to the back of the wagon. Standing between her and the castle, he lifted the canvas from her head and shoulders. "Climb off that side and slip into the wood." He started unloading the dung with the pitchfork.
She eyed him, then did as he asked. No easy task for a woman wearing fancy clothing with all the trappings, including a farthingale. He would've helped her, but he had to continue going through the motions of unloading the wagon to allay any suspicion.
Once she'd vanished from sight, he leapt down, dropped the pitchfork and followed. Mayhap the stable master would think he'd been abducted while unloading the dung or simply gotten tired of his job and left. Not a stretch, considering what a smelly job it was.
Once Darack escorted her home, he would have to come back here and beg for his manure mucking job again in order to find his mother's brooch.
Talk about destroying the pride. Hell, who was he kidding?
He nor any of his clan had much pride left after the king's proclamation.
They were lucky to have their lives. But at least they hadn't given up.
MacGregor blood still ran in their veins, and when their eyes met, that spark of unwavering spirit remained.
He was determined that one day his clan would be united once again and they would no longer be labeled outlaws.
He strode into the darkness of the trees and bushes. "Where are you?" he whispered loudly.
"Here," she said, popping up from behind a bush. "Do you think anyone will follow us?"
"Not for a while. They will, no doubt, start looking for you in the morn when they discover you're gone. We need to be far away from here by then."
"Aye, but where shall we go first? We have no horses to ride, and we cannot possibly walk all the way to Rornoch."
Darack shook his head and grinned wryly.
What a beautiful but coddled lady she was.
"Well, we could walk that far, but 'twould take a long time.
Instead, we'll take a ferry from Dundee to Perth.
I have a good friend there who will let us borrow a horse to ride north through the mountains to Rornoch. "
"That sounds good, but 'twill take several days to get home." The worry in her voice was evident.
"Aye, a few. We'll travel as fast as we can." He wished he could reassure her more, but he didn't intend to make empty promises.
Darack offered his elbow and Mairiana took it, glad for his strong support over the uneven ground. 'Twas almost dark in the wood. She felt wayward, running off alone with a man she barely knew. But her brothers knew him, and if they trusted him, she should, too.
"Do you know this area well?" she asked as they proceeded through the trees toward the road on the other side.
"I've only been along the road a couple of times."
"I'm sorry to be so selfish," she blurted, feeling guilty.
"What do you mean?"
"Because of me, you'll likely lose your job at the stables."
"Do not fash over it."
Because of his frown, 'twas obvious to her that he was the one fashing over it.
She wanted to ask why he had been working in the stables, but decided against it. Maybe he had to do whatever work he could get to survive, and she did not wish to make him feel embarrassed about it.
When he and his cousins had visited her brothers a few years ago, she had been too young to dance with the men, but she had noticed how handsome Darack was, with his dark hair and rich brown eyes.
She had thought him extremely arrogant at the time, but had she misread him?
He did not seem at all arrogant at the moment.
He now wore a very short beard which made him look somewhat different, but just as attractive.
She had not immediately recognized him. She wondered if he was trying to disguise himself.
Did he have to skulk about and avoid the authorities because of the MacGregor name?
What had his life been like, being a member of an outlaw clan?
Surely, 'twas far different from her own life and that of her brothers.
Once she knew him better, she would ask him.
'Haps her brother could hire him for a better paying job.
But would he see it as charity and be too proud to accept it?
Was she trying to think of ways to keep him around Rornoch once she arrived back there?
Nonsense.
She heard the rushing water of a burn close by, and soon they came upon the stream. How difficult would it be to cross? The water reflected the moonlight and she could see a few rocks sticking above the water to step on.
"I'll help you across," Darack offered.
"'Tis very kind of you."
Before she expected it, he lifted her into his arms. Startled, she threw her arms around his neck and held on. He traversed the stream in three strides.
"Good heavens," she breathed. "I didn't expect you to do it so quickly."
He placed her back on her feet and drew her hand around his elbow once again. "No need to waste time."
Well, he didn't. 'Twas a certainty. Though she had only been in his arms a matter of five seconds, the imprint of his hard, strong muscles remained on her body.
She vividly recalled the silky feel of his cool hair sliding over her hands.
Most importantly, she'd felt safe. Somewhere deep down, instinctively, she'd known he would never drop her.
After emerging from the trees, they walked at a brisk pace along the muddy road for almost an hour, during which time she kept looking back, listening for hoof beats.
"Are you tired?" he asked.
"Nay, not overmuch. I'm jittery and wanting to put as much distance between myself and that murderer as possible."
"I cannot believe he murdered a guard." Darack shook his head. "Still, I hope they don't find his body until we are many miles from here. They could implicate either of us since we left in such haste."
Ice-cold terror sliced through her as realization struck. "'Twould be my word against his. Would anyone believe what I heard him do? I should've been watching too, so I could be an eye witness."
"That wouldn't matter. He's a future clan chief," Darack grumbled. "They'd likely believe him over both of us, regardless of what you saw or heard."
"I fear you're right. Good heavens. I wish I'd never come here.
I wish..." Why on earth had she been so gullible as to fall for Alec's smooth talking and handsome face?
He had been so convincing when he'd said he loved her.
He had seemed completely enamored with her. "How well do you know Alec?" she asked.
"I've never talked to him. Because of who I am, I try to avoid important people like chiefs or future chiefs, unless our clans have been allies for many years, like the MacKerricks and Grants.
We MacGregors must be very careful not to draw attention from the wrong people.
We especially wouldn't want word to reach King James that Chief Grant—my cousin, Ewan—is sheltering several MacGregors, for it would put his life in danger, too. "
"Aye, 'tis true." She had never considered it much, but Darack's life could be in danger at any moment.
"I saw Alec at a gathering of the Highland clans a couple of months ago. Ewan advised me to keep an eye on him because he was not to be trusted."
"Your cousin is wise." Mairiana wished she had been much wiser, too.