Chapter Three
The next few days would prove to be miserable. Rory could predict that without any doubt. The lass was already a thorn in his side, even if she was more than pleasant to his eyes.
He picked up one of the travel sacks he had brought with him and just as he went to hand it to Alana, she jumped up and down excitedly, clapping her hands together. Lord help him.
“My trunks!” She pushed past him with more strength than he thought she harbored and unclasped the hinge before swinging the lid open. “Finally, I can change into dry clothes that arenae caked with mud and torn to shreds.”
Rory dropped his chin to his chest and sighed, summoning his patience. “If ye plan to change, be quick aboot it. We leave shortly,” he said gruffly.
Alana gave him a droll look, but snatched a few items from the chest, and hurried to find Tilly so the young woman could point her to a private place where she could change and dress in clean clothes.
Tilly would help the lass, he was for certs. Always one to please, she would offer to assist afore Alana even thought of asking.
Walking to her trunk he inspected the items inside. There was no way they were bringing all of these items along with them. She would need to choose a few essential pieces to pack and then they would be on their way.
After what had seemed too much time had passed, Alana reappeared, dressed in a blue gown made of a rich material that showed her status and station, reminding him that she was soon to be a lady.
She was a laird’s daughter. One that, apparently, stayed cloistered indoors considering the gown she now donned.
It was much too nice for hiking, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t take too kindly to him pointing that out.
At least clean, dry boots covered her feet—a practical choice—and her face had been washed of the streaks of dirt that were there when Rory had first seen her.
He quickly stepped away from the trunk, not wanting her to think he had been rifling through her things. Instead, he held out the empty travel sack he had tried to offer her earlier.
Her eyes fell to his hands and then back to his gaze, her brows crinkling. “What is that?”
“What does it look like? ’Tis a bag for ye to put yer items in.” He urged her to take it, but she shook her head.
“I have my trunks already filled with my things. I dinnae need a sack,” her voice dripped with disgust.
“Yer trunks will be delivered to yer destination, but no’ by us. We move on foot. We cannae carry yer trunks.”
Her pretty mouth opened in shock. “On foot? What are ye saying?”
Rory inhaled a long breath. “We are only taking the essentials since we are carrying our things. We are walking. I suggest ye pack what ye need.” He turned on his heel, but paused and spun around. “And only what ye need,” he added firmly.
Alana crossed her arms stubbornly. “I willnae leave my things behind. Ye are jesting.”
He leveled his gaze on Alana, clashing with her hazel eyes. “I am most certainly no’. And ye arenae leaving them behind. They will be delivered to yer new home.”
“Ye cannae expect me to walk. I was being transported in a carriage. I expect the same,” she said with a huff, her voice loud. Shrill, and getting higher with each word she spoke.
Once again, Rory cursed his father for sending him on this foolhardy mission.
“Weel, my lady,” he said sarcastically. “I am neither yer father nor yer betrothed. I dinnae travel by carriage. I was on my way to a days’ long hike when I got tasked with escorting ye to where ye need to be. And hiking I will be doing.”
Her eyes widened, but she remained silent.
“Now, we leave soon. Leave most of what ye have packed in yer trunks and only bring what ye absolutely need.” He planted his feet and crossed his arms, leaving no room for argument, and waited for her to do as she was told.
Alana huffed as she looked from her trunks to the bag he had dropped at her feet when she refused to take it.
“I have ne’er been treated with such disrespect,” she snapped as she snatched up the sack.
“My future husband will hear of this treatment. He willnae be happy. Ye will see. I will ensure that ye pay,” she threatened, moving to one of the trunks and began to stuff things inside, mumbling the whole time.
Rory rolled his eyes as he watched her choose items that would be of little use on their journey.
“Ye neednae aught fancy. We will be hiking through the Highlands, no’ attending ceremonies and ceilidhs.
” In his own pack, he had all the essentials they would need.
He thought about what the coming night would hold.
If she was this upset about their travels, he could only imagine what her reaction would be when they made camp later this eve.
Her shrill cries and constant complaints would for certs scare away any wee beasties hiding in the trees. They needn’t fear an attack from any wild creatures. The beasts would stay far away from them.
“What exactly do ye propose that I bring then? Unlike ye, I am obviously no’ accustomed to traipsing through the woods to get to my destination.”
He fought a smile. He didn’t want her to ken her reaction amused him.
Tilly appeared with a bundle of food that she handed him, and he found space in his pack to add it.
“Thank ye. Ye are much too kind.”
“Och,” Tilly swept the air with her hand in dismissal. “I cannae have the laird’s son starving now can I?”
“Starving would be an improvement,” Alana mumbled.
“What was that, Lass?” Rory asked, once again amused.
“Stop calling me lass,” she snapped. “I have a name. Ye can call me Lady Alana or Miss Duran. Either would be acceptable but stop calling me lass.”
“Are ye ready, Lady Alana?” He drawled.
She looked at her trunk and then at her pack and shrugged. “I suppose. I have no idea. Yer instructions were truly lacking. Much like yer manners.”
Tilly gasped in surprise.
Rory chuckled. He couldn’t help it.
“Let us go. We’ve much road to cover afore we can rest for the night.”
Once they were outside of the village, Rory set a brisk pace, not looking back to see if she was keeping up.
A spike of guilt slithered up his spine.
If his father saw how he was behaving, he would box his ears at the very least. But that was Arthur’s own fault for forcing this damned task upon him.
He had been perfectly happy earlier. Ready to prepare for another hike that would take him away from Hartsmoor for a few days, a sennight even. His favorite thing to do—to be alone.
One could argue he was indeed being taken away from home for a few days, but it wasn’t the same.
He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t able to hear the beauty of the environ surrounding him.
Nay, instead all he heard was her unhappy mumbling behind him, like a constant chatter drowning out any peace and quiet he would normally glean as he hiked.
He fully expected her to fall behind due to the pace he was keeping. He kenned he was being an arse. Kenned full well. So, he was surprised when he turned to look over his shoulder and found her right behind him.
Even more surprised to find her complaining had ceased. The look of irritation she had worn earlier had been replaced by determination. Her face was red with exertion.
A sense of pride warmed him, but he quickly tamped it down. Why the hell should he feel pride that she was determined to keep up—even if he had purposely set a fast pace kenning she would have difficulty with it.
He slowed as they came to a bubbling burn. Alana slowed as well, her chest heaving from the struggle of walking so quickly, and again, he felt a wee surge of guilt.
“We need to cross. ’Tis narrower here so ’twill be easier.” He stepped into the water, and turned to her, offering his hand.
Refusing, she let out an exasperated breath as she stubbornly hitched up her skirts and began to cross. Only for her boot to slip on a wet stone causing her to splash into the water, an oath passing her lips.
He didn’t catch her. Again, he was acting like an arse.
Which only angered her even further. Dripping wet, her hair clinging to her cheeks, she stomped out of the burn, dropping her bag on the ground so she could gather her skirts and squeeze the water out of them. “Great. Once again, I must suffer with wet boots.”
“Need I remind ye that I offered to help?”
“Nay,” she snapped. “Nay ye dinnae. I remember weel enough, thank ye.”
“I dinnae suppose ye packed another pair of boots in yer bag?” Rory asked, kenning full well she had not.
She rolled her eyes at him, ignoring the question. She reached down and picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulders and gave him an exasperated look. “Weel.” She sliced her hand through the air. “Shall we continue?”
Rory pressed his lips together, fighting the laugh that threatened to spill from his lips.
Something he had had to do a few times since meeting Alana Duran.
And not something that was in alignment with his usual countenance.
Lord above she was a spitfire now, he could only imagine her ire at him if she found him laughing at her.
“Are ye for certs we are headed in the right direction?” She asked some time later.
“I will have ye ken I am kenned far and wide for my superior hiking skills,” he said proudly. “Tracking skills as weel.”
Again, she rolled her eyes as she clutched her hands in front of her chest in exaggeration. “Weel, then, I will keep that in mind when I am in search of a lost item.”
It was his turn to roll his eyes. Damn this lass. She was irritating beyond belief. Even moreso than his sisters, all three of them, and that was saying a lot.
“Ye didnae answer my question.”
He sighed in exasperation. “Aye. I ken where we are going.”
They came across a large fallen tree. Rory climbed over first, and then turned and offered his hand. This time, Alana accepted it, placing her small hand in his, and he helped her over.
“How long will it take to arrive to my betrothed’s lands?”
Rory shrugged. “Three days.”
“Three days!” She yelled, sending the birds scampering out of the trees, taking flight for the skies. “For certs ye are taking the long route to make me suffer.” Accusation laced her words.
“I am no’. I wouldnae do that. I may no’ be happy aboot this task, but I will ensure to deliver ye to yer betrothed safe and sound.”
“There must be a shortcut or two we can take. I cannae fathom hiking for such a long time. ’Tis unnecessary.”
With his jaw clenched, he took a few calming breaths afore speaking. “That is where ye are wrong, Lady Alana. Naught good comes of a shortcut.”
“I beg to differ,” Alana countered. “We would arrive to our destination quicker. A win for both of us. Ye can return to yer home, and I can be left at mine without wasting time traipsing through rough landscape that is proving to be treacherous.”
Rory lifted a brow. “Treacherous? To what do ye refer?”
She paused, holding out her fingers. “Let me count. One,” she held out her thumb. “I fell in the burn.”
“By yer own doing,” he cut in.
Ignoring him, she continued, holding out her index finger. “Two, I nearly tripped o’er that fallen tree.”
He barked out a laugh. He couldn’t help it. “Lass, that tree was nearly as tall as ye. Ye wouldnae have tripped o’er it. Run into it? Mayhap if ye were walking with yer eyes closed,” he smirked.
Crossing her arms, she glared at him. “I told ye no’ to call me lass. Ye are making this journey harder than it needs to be. On purpose. I am for certs of it. What harm can come of a shortcut?”
“There is uncertainty in taking such measures to save time. Danger lurks in places off the kenned pathways. Bandits roam these parts freely. The less used a path, the more likely they are to attack there.”
“Ye say ye are an expert hiker and tracker. Cannae ye track them so they dinnae attack?”
“I am no’ a seer. I cannae tell the future.
The best way to keep ye safe is to stay on weel-kenned roads.
As I said, I will ensure yer safety. This is how I plan to do that.
Sometimes a shortcut can mean death. That is no’ a chance I am willing to take when I am responsible for getting ye to yer betrothed unharmed. ”
As dusk fell, Rory looked for a place to camp for the night. One not far off from the road, but somewhere that offered trees as a canopy in case of rain.
He paused, seeing just the spot. “We will camp here for the night,” he announced. Dropping his sack onto the ground.
Alana looked around in disbelief. “Ye jest.”
Shaking his head, he knelt and opened his pack. “Ye keep accusing me of jesting. If ye kenned me at all, ye would ken that I dinnae jest. ’Twill be dark soon. We cannae go on any further this night. We will sup and sleep and start again in the morn.”
Standing there, Alana made no move as he set about starting a fire.
He wasn’t offering her comfort, but he wasn’t a complete arse.
He would ensure she was warm through the night, and hopefully dry out her boots, stockings, and skirts.
Though her skirts appeared dry enough now, but he was for certs her stockings and boots were still wet.
With the fire built, he brought over two large stones for them to sit upon.
“Sit. Ye need sustenance for tomorrow’s hike.
” He broke the loaf of bread Tilly had packed in two and offered Alana a half.
For a long moment, he didn’t think she would accept, but she finally did, sitting down in a huff as she snatched the bread out of his hand.
He set a skin of ale betwixt them to share and offered her some of the dried meat Tilly had also included.
They ate in silence. Rory watched as the night grew darker, and the shadows of the flames played across Alana’s face. He couldn’t deny her beauty. Her future husband would have his hands full with her, but he would always have a bonny face to look upon.
After they’d finished their food, they took care of nature’s call and returned to the fire. He pulled out two plaids and offered her one.
Her gaze dropped from his face to his hands and the plaid he offered and then back to him.
“Ye werenae jesting aboot sleeping on the ground?”
He held his arms out. “I wasnae. Do ye see any villages around? There are none.”
“’Twill be hard and uncomfortable.”
He sighed, tired of her pushback on everything they’d done today. He tossed her a plaid, not caring if she caught it or not, then unfurled his own and laid it out on the ground and settled into it.
“Ye better get used to it then.” Wrapping the wool around himself, he turned on his side, facing the fire and out toward the road, ignoring Alana’s huffing and puffing.
Biting back a chuckle when she finally snatched up the plaid and wrapped herself into it.
Och, a spitfire she was indeed.