Chapter Three
Moira frowned as she read the missive from Anna.
Why were men so stubborn? She needed Errol’s help.
In her response, Anna said that her brother suggested enlisting her own brothers for any help she needed.
Considering the map pointed her to MacLeod lands, her brothers would be of no assistance whatsoever.
They would outright refuse at the mention of their rival clan.
She and Anna got along just fine. She didn’t understand how men couldn’t do the same.
Somehow, some way, she needed to convince Errol MacLeod to help her in her quest. Mayhap if she offered him part of the treasure the map promised. That might do it.
It had been four days since she’d found the hidden door and the map. Luckily, her family stayed away from the annals room. For certs, they would question her about it if they saw it, and demand she ignored it.
She preferred to keep it her own secret for now.
The prospect of adventure made her heart beat faster with the promise of excitement.
Peering out the window toward the MacLeod lands, Moira worried her lower lip with her teeth. If she made her way to Errol herself, mayhap she could convince him in person. Enlisting his sister certainly hadn’t helped.
Though she was sure her friend had tried. Just as Moira would have tried if the roles were reversed.
“What has yer mind so occupied this morn?” Rory, her brother, asked from behind her.
She spun in surprise and caught his eyes moving in the direction she had been looking.
“’Tis naught that ye can help me with.”
He frowned. “Mayhap, I can. Ye havenae e’en asked.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes.
“Because I ken better. Dinnae ye have sword or archery practice to get to? Da willnae be happy to hear ye are shirking your training.”
Rory had the gall to look appalled, leaning back with a palm placed over his heart. “I can best any man out there in the field. Da well kens that.”
“But, whilst they train to improve, ye dinnae, so yer skills will remain stagnant. Soon, they will be besting ye, and then what will ye do?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of her.
“Well, Da doesnae expect me there today. I’ll be hiking to the mountains later.”
Moira perked up at that revelation. “Where?”
Her brother was an avid mountaineer. He loved being outside hiking and climbing mountains. If there was a sheer cliff, he’d be sure to scale it.
Rory looked at her suspiciously. “Why?”
She shrugged, keeping her face neutral. “Just curious, is all. Mayhap I would like to take up hiking.”
“Nay. Absolutely no’.” He wagged his finger at her. “I dinnae want to be responsible for ye scaling a mountain. Or a cliffside. Or e’en a hill for that matter.”
She uncrossed her arms and pierced him with a glare. “Ye act as if I’ve no skill when it comes to those things.”
He nodded. “Aye. Because ye dinnae.” Turning on his heel, he left her to once again gaze out the window and try to come up with a plan that would get her from Hartsmoor and over to the MacLeod keep.
It wasn’t safe for her to travel alone, yet she couldn’t take anyone along with her. Her brothers and sisters couldn’t be asked. Especially her sisters, Eilidh in particular. For certs she would run to their mother and tell her what Moira was up to.
She supposed she could take Seema, her maid, but she would be met with disapproval from her as well.
Then she thought of the frequent visitors, unaffiliated to a clan, that arrived at Hartsmoor all of the time.
If she didn’t dress in Hart colors and instead dressed like a village girl, it was possible that neither clan would pay her any attention as they wouldn’t ken which clan she belonged to.
They could assume that she belonged to one of the villages that remained neutral and unaffiliated.
That would be her greatest chance of crossing onto MacLeod lands and getting to Errol.
As the plan formed in her mind, she tried not to think about her parents and siblings. Their reactions would be furious. If caught, her father would for certs lock her in her bedchamber with a guard posted at the door and not let her out until she was married off.
Moira shuddered at the thought.
She kenned her father was actively keeping his eyes and ears open for a good match for her.
She was thankful that he was a caring man and would be very stringent in his choice.
He ensured Moira that it would be someone whom she could see herself spending the rest of her life with, but she wasn’t ready yet.
She didn’t want to be married at this time.
Her life was hers right now, as much as it could be anyway, and she enjoyed having her days—and nights—to herself.
Pushing away from the window with a sigh, she tried to come up with an excuse for her to leave the gates. She’d done it afore and had never had an issue. Why was she so hesitant this time?
Because she was traveling to the MacLeod lands. That’s why.
If her parents were to find out they would be enraged with her. Her brothers, too.
Never mind the potential danger she was putting herself in. Not only herself, her family and clan as well.
It would have been best if Anna could have convinced Errol to help. Then they could have met halfway.
Moira wondered what her best friend was doing. She was grateful that her parents, along with Anna’s father agreed, although with much ire, to allow them to remain friends. She didn’t understand this constant need to be at odds with each other.
Long ago she’d asked her father what the reason was for the strife betwixt the two clans. He’d just shaken his head and shrugged as he shooed her away, telling her not to burden herself with such worrisome topics.
She’d long believed that the reason had been lost through the years since she could never get an answer.
A knock sounded at the door and Seema, her maid, entered.
“Seema. Is ma downstairs?”
“I believe she is in her drawing room with her maid and Morven. They are doing needlepoint.”
Moira scrunched her nose. Of course, her youngest sister was at her mother’s side. And doing needlepoint. She shuddered. It was a task she couldn’t stand.
It was also one that she wasn’t very good at. She would much rather be reading through the tomes in the family annals.
“’Tis a lovely day out and I fancy a walk through the woods,” she announced.
Seema’s eyes narrowed. “I ken that look. What are yer true plans?”
Moira shushed her and feigned offense. “Ye must admit it looks beautiful today.”
“I will admit to no such thing,” Seema drawled.
*
An hour later Moira rode out of the gates, not toward MacLeod lands, but west, deeper into Hart lands. She didn’t want to arise the suspicion of the guards keeping watch, and since she rode the lands often, none gave her a second look seeing the direction she was headed.
When she was satisfied she was far enough away from Hartsmoor, she pulled on the reins, slowing her horse to a stop. If she turned and headed northeast, she would eventually run into MacLeod territory.
Reaching for the bag she’d brought along, Moira withdrew the cloak she’d stuffed inside. Its colors belonged to neither Hart nor MacLeod. It would make traveling unnoticed much easier.
She slipped off her own cloak and shoved it into the bag, then pulled the other one on, securing it at her neck.
Looking up, she gauged the sun’s location. It wasn’t an easy task. The pine branches hung thick overhead and blocked much of what she was searching for, but she finally figured it out.
Happy with what she believed was the way to MacLeod lands, Moira steered the horse in that direction at a trot. Soon, she pushed the horse faster. Trees passed in a blur as she dodged low-hanging branches, taking care to keep her face scratch-free.
The sun was high in the sky. She would need to make haste if she expected to get to MacLeod lands and back afore nightfall.
Urging her horse on, she felt bad for pushing the creature to such lengths. Soon he would need to stop to rest a bit and drink.
A burn flowing with fresh water came into view and Moira slowed the horse, leading him to the water so he could drink his fill.
Nearby, she dropped to her knees and splashed the cool water on her face.
She studied her surroundings. Pine needles, orange with age, carpeted the forest floor beneath her.
It felt as if she were kneeling upon a pillow.
The tangy scent of pine surrounded her, infiltrating her senses. Birds tweeted from the branches above, their happy birdsong echoing in the air, lightening her mood. She loved the freedom the woods offered. It was her second favorite place to be.
Moira had to be getting close to MacLeod lands. She’d been riding for what seemed like hours and her surroundings were unfamiliar. She was either on the thin strip of Mackenzie land that separated the Hart and MacLeod lands, or she’d crossed over onto MacLeod lands. She wasn’t certain.
Her horse lifted its head, sniffing the air for a moment before turning its attention back to the burn and continued drinking.
The forest suddenly grew quiet and once again her horse stopped drinking. He huffed as he bobbed his head and stomped his hoof into the soft ground.
Unease flooded Moira and she held her breath, her gaze scanning the trees.
She couldn’t see anything, but there was a reason why the critters stopped chattering.
Someone was watching her. She could feel it. She couldn’t see them, but they were there.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, praying it was friend and not foe. Just in case, she slowly dropped her hand to clasp the dirk tucked into her boot.
“Dinnae move.” The order came from a low voice, just over her right shoulder.
Moira froze, not daring to move at the gruff voice that ordered her to remain still. Her eyes widened at the feel of steel prodding her back. She didn’t ken who it was, but she kenned very well when a sword was pointed at her.
“Whate’er ye are reaching for, I suggest ye stop,” the man growled.