Chapter Seventeen
Errol woke afore the sun had risen, not able to sleep any longer. He stretched his arms above his head and cracked his back. The two blankets below him were more comfortable than sleeping on the bare floor, but they offered little comfort still. His bones were weary.
He didn’t look forward to the ride he and Moira would set on later.
His body would scream in protest. But if all went well, they would find what they were looking for and then return home where he would spend the day in a nice hot bath and then mayhap losing himself in a wench who would first massage the bunches out of his tired muscles.
He scoffed. He didn’t want another woman touching him.
Now Moira? He would love to lose himself in her. To have her rub away his aches and pains. Her small hands roving over his body. The thought was divine.
But he couldn’t. No matter how much he wished for it to be so, it couldn’t happen. That’s why he’d done what he had the night afore. If he made her hate him, it would be much easier to let her go. She wouldn’t want to stay near him.
And that’s what he needed. He needed her to not want to be near him.
To not like him.
To see him as the enemy.
To hate him.
But it hurt kenning that he had upset her.
He sat up and then stood. He was moving toward the table to grab a cup of ale when he stole a glance toward the bed. Moira was beautiful when she slept, and against his better judgement, he wanted to see her slumber again. It was usually when she looked most peaceful.
But the bed was empty where Moira was supposed to be. She wasn’t there.
“What the hell?” He said to the empty room, looking around. His gaze fell to his travel bag, sitting alone. He had set Moira’s bag beside his when they’d retired for the night.
“Shite!”
What had she done?
“I ken exactly what she has done,” he grumbled into the empty room as he pulled his trews on.
He had pushed her away last eve. That was his plan.
In his mind, doing so would stop her from pursuing aught betwixt them.
In no way did he think she would leave to continue on her own.
He should have kenned better. The lass was stubborn as a mule.
He shook his head as he stuffed his feet into his boots. Grabbing his bag, he rushed out the door and down the stairs.
The innkeeper was nowhere to be found. Errol assumed he wouldn’t be able to help him anyway, so he left the inn and made his way to the stables, kenning when he got there that Moira, and her mare would be absent.
The stable boy jumped up from the hay bale he had been sleeping on at Errol’s sharp voice.
“Did Lady Hart fetch her horse?”
“Aye, my laird,” he answered quickly.
“How long ago?”
The lad shrugged. “’Tis been under two hours, I would say. No’ more than that.”
“Which way did she leave?”
He shook his head, his long, brown hair swaying back and forth. “I didnae see.” He dropped his eyes, his shoulders slumping. “I am sorry, my laird. I should have stopped her.”
Errol pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t meant to upset the lad. It seemed like that was all he had been doing lately—upsetting people.
“There is naught for ye to apologize for. Here.” Errol reached into his coin purse and withdrew a coin and gave it to the wide-eyed boy. “Thank ye for taking care of our horses.”
Saddling Dubh Bàn quickly, Errol left within minutes. The lad may have not seen where Moira was headed, but he kenned.
Northeast.
Errol had no doubt if he headed Northeast, he would catch up to Moira. He could ride faster than she and even if she had a two-hour lead on him, he could get to her in half the time. He was sure of it. His horse was fast, and he would push him to his limits.
There was a half-moon hanging low in the sky, lighting enough of the ground in silvery brightness to see the ground in front of him.
His horse was sure-footed as they thundered out of the village and into the woods that would lead them to the sea and their last destination.
The whole time he rode, he fashed that he would come across Moira’s crumpled body after being thrown off her horse. The further he rode on, the more relieved he was that he didn’t see that.
But lord above, what was she thinking riding alone?
Not just alone, but at night as well? Traveling alone as a lady during the day was dangerous enough.
Adding the anonymity of darkness and the danger multiplied ten-fold.
Not only that, she was a Hart riding alone through MacLeod lands.
Errol didn’t want to think about what would happen to her if she came upon some MacLeod men in the woods.
He made a silent plea that she was safe and hadn’t met any harm. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if something happened to her. It didn’t matter that she was out of his care at the time.
At no point on this journey was she supposed to be anywhere but in his care. Under his guardianship. If he couldn’t manage that, her brothers and father would surely see him hang.
Noticing the trampled pine needles and crushed leaves on the ground, he was sure he’d found Moira’s trail.
He frowned. It looked to him like there were two travelers.
Had she met up with someone? Or mayhap she hired someone to escort her to the next destination.
Nay. He didn’t believe that to be the case.
Firstly, she didn’t trust easily, which was a good thing.
But, secondly, she didn’t have any coin to pay anyone to escort her.
He supposed she could have promised them part of the treasure she would uncover, but after the attack they suffered previously, all in the name of those who were after the treasure, he didn’t think she would speak so freely of what her intentions were.
That left the option that someone was following her.
His heart picked up speed and he gripped the reins tighter. Moira could be in grave danger. He had to get to her fast. Driving his heels into Dubh Bàn’s side, he urged the horse to push harder.
*
He heard the thunderous pounding of hooves approaching in the distance.
The MacLeod had tracked down the Hart wench.
He growled and pulled on the reins of his horse, veering him to the right so they could hide in the shadows of the trees whilst the MacLeod rode by.
The appearance of the laird-to-be meant that he would need to cut down both of them. It wouldn’t be easy. It would be harder now that he was joining her.
But he would figure it out.
One way or another, neither the MacLeod nor the Hart bitch would make it out of the highlands.
*
Dawn was cresting when Errol got his first glimpse of Moira riding her mare up ahead. He breathed a sigh of relief seeing that she was alone, and no harm had come to her.
Only the tracks of her horse could be seen on the trail. Mayhap it was only a coincidence that someone else was riding on the same route as she was earlier. Whoever it was, they were no longer here.
He slowed his horse, so the sound of its pounding hooves didn’t startle Moira and cause her to topple off her mount.
As he neared, he noticed Moira’s back stiffen. She heard him approaching. She didn’t look back, but he did watch as she leaned forward to scratch her leg, at least that was what she wanted the casual onlooker to see. He kenned better. He’d seen that move afore.
She wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her small dagger and brought it up with her, hiding it along the inseam of her arm.
Since she was aware he was there. That someone was there, he thought it best he call out to her. That way she wasn’t frightened and could set herself at ease.
“Moira,” he called out, his voice loud enough for her to hear, but not so loud that it would startle her.
Her head turned slightly to the left. Was she trying to see him out of the corner of her eye?
“Moira,” he called again. “Halt.”
She straightened her spine, sitting up straighter in her saddle. “Ye shouldnae have followed me,” she snapped, making no move to slow or stop.
“Ye were foolish to leave. Do ye ken what type of danger ye put yerself in?” He hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but he could not help it. Her choice to leave could have brought her great harm.
Her horse stopped and she spun it around to face him. “Ye have no right to tell me what I should or shouldnae be doing, Errol MacLeod. Ye lost that privilege when ye turned me away. Shunned me, in essence.”
“’Twas no’ like that.”
“No? Ye pushed me away. Said I meant naught to ye.”
She swiped at a tear that spilled down her cheek.
He felt like an arse. He was a bastard. What seemed like the right approach when he didn’t ken how it affected her was much easier when he didn’t see her cry. Her tears were like a fist to his gut.
“Will ye stop? Please.”
“I am taking yer advice and attempting to finish this quest so that we may return to our respective homes. Ye said it yerself. ’Tis the only way to move forward,” she said with a sniffle.
“Moira.” His voice was low.
She looked at him, her gaze boring into his. His heart broke at the unshed tears glistening in her eyes.
He’d done that to her.
“If ye stop, I can explain.”
A flock of birds took flight, startling them both. His eyes snapped to the area, scanning the thick canopy of trees. He didn’t see aught suspicious and turned his attention back to Moira.
“I beg of ye, Lass. Please.”
She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth as she slowed her horse. Looking up at the sky, he could see that she was conflicted. Her mare stopped and he stopped Dubh Bàn beside her, dismounting and approaching Moira.
“Have ye been riding all this time or have ye stopped to rest?”
Swinging her leg over she slid down, but when her feet touched the ground, her legs gave away.
Quickly, he moved to catch her so she didn’t fall.
“I have got ye,” he said warmly, cradling her to him, reveling in the feel of her in his arms.
She made no move to push him away and he smiled, saying a silent prayer of thanks. If she didn’t pull away, mayhap she was thinking about giving him a chance to explain himself. He was hopeful that she would.
Remaining stiff in his arms, she didn’t say a word.
He didn’t mind. He was content holding her as close as she would allow.
After a few long moments, he looked down at her. “Do ye think ye can stand on yer own?”
Nodding, she peeled away from him and took a step back.
A fallen log provided the perfect place for them to sit and talk and he pointed to it in offering.
Her lips pinched together, she clasped her hand in front of her and made her way to the log, dropping down and taking a seat. Folding her hands in her lap, she waited for him to join her.
When he did, she straightened her legs in front of her, saying naught.
Sitting so close to her, Errol could feel the heat emanating off her body, seeping into his arm that touched hers. “I am sorry.”
Moira snapped her eyes to his. “For what do ye apologize for?”
He sighed. Of course, she would want him to say everything aloud. “For pushing ye away.”
“Pfft. Ye are no’ the first man to do that to me. I am for certs ye willnae be the last.”
That last statement made him angry. She was acting as if there would be someone else after him. As if she would return to Hartsmoor and find someone else to capture her heart.
Over his dead body.
He blew out an exasperated breath. “If I am being honest, truly honest, I must admit that I am scared.” There.
He’d said it. He refused to look at her face.
He didn’t want to see the way she would look at him once she learned he was less than a man.
Men don’t get scared. Not men like him. He was a warrior.
Made for battle. “I feel like a coward for no’ admitting to my true feelings.
This,” he pointed his index finger between the two of them.
“Whate’er this is that we have happening betwixt us, ’tis something that we have been told our whole lives that it cannae be. ” He wet his dry lips afore continuing.
“I am conflicted betwixt following my heart and completing my duty to the clan. Duty that has been hammered into my head since the day I was born.”
“I can understand that,” she said quietly.
Her statement surprised him.
“But just because ye understand it, doesnae make it right. When we kissed,” he turned to her, taking hold of her tiny hand in his. “I felt those kisses with the whole of my being. A feeling I have ne’er experienced afore. It scared me.”
“Did ye like our kisses?” Her voice was quiet, small, and filled with uncertainty. He hated that he was the one that was the cause of her pain. He hated that in his decision to protect her by pushing her away, he had instead pushed her into danger.
“Och, aye, Lass. I liked them verra much. Mayhap, too much. It caused all these new emotions that I have ne’er had to deal with afore. I could hear my da’s voice in my head, continuously saying ‘she’s a Hart. She’s a Hart.’ And that goes against all that I have been taught.”
“But we have uncovered documents that show that we shouldnae be enemies. That at one time we were joined and that we can be joined again. Dinnae ye want that?”
“I do. But there are so many barriers we need to break through.”
“Tell me one.”
Errol studied Moira’s face. Her big, blue eyes that reminded him of the sea in the middle of summer, wild and bright.
Her pale skin that she protected from the sun.
Her thick, dark blonde hair that she’d plaited and hung over her shoulder.
She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
It pained him to think that if they couldn’t overcome the obstacles that stood in their way that he would need to let her go.
And that revelation scared him more than aught else.