CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Their idyllic time at the hunting lodge passed too quickly. Emily glanced over a shoulder at the stone structure one last time before urging the chestnut mare to follow Gregor’s horse onto the trail through the trees.
They traversed the same track they’d traveled several days earlier in the reverse direction. Just before they would have ridden from the woods into the large meadow, Gregor held out a hand, motioning for her to halt.
“What is it?” she asked.
“A large party of riders cross from the Dunoon overland trail headed toward the Loch Fyne trail. Same as us. Few from this part of Scotland can afford to ride in such numbers. ’Tis either the Earl of Argyll, chief of Clan Campbell, or Ninian Stewart, the Sheriff of Bute.”
“Surely not the sheriff.” Emily’s pulse rate spiked. Considering Isobell’s description, the sheriff was the last person she wished to meet. “Do you think they are looking for me? For Tevin?”
“Easy, lass. We dinnae ken if it is the sheriff. However, we will let them pass before proceeding.”
They waited in silence while the riders crossed the meadow in a canter, their forms appearing smaller and smaller until completely disappearing upon entering the trail into the woods on the far side of the meadow.
Emily and Gregor waited another twenty minutes before crossing the field of summer grass and yellow gorse.
For the next hour or so, they kept to a slower pace, not wishing to overtake the larger party.
At the loch end of the trail, they lingered, watching the other riders from within the concealment of the trees instead of riding out onto the wide-open ridge above Loch Fyne.
“We are in luck, lass,” Gregor said. “They turn east toward Campbell country, away from Castle Lachlan.”
Emily released a heavy sigh of relief, her heart rate at last slowing to a normal beat.
Gregor leaned toward her, grasped her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. At the snap of a branch, his gaze jerked beyond her to the woods behind. His eyes narrowed, his stare fixated. “Dinnae move.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“The white stag,” he whispered in an awed voice.
In the distance she faced, farther down the slope, golden sunlight shimmered on the surface of the water surrounding Castle Lachlan in welcome.
“Go. Hunt your stag. The stables and castle are within sight. I’ll be perfectly safe continuing on alone.”
“You are sure?”
“Absolutely. Go. Give it your best shot.” She winked at him.
“I will return before nightfall.”
Emily watched him ride off. She bit the edge of her lip. Worry furrowed her brow. He was too obsessed with that damn white stag. Too obsessed with trying to prove himself to everyone. She supposed it was the way of men, especially in this time period.
With a click of her tongue against her teeth, she reined the mare toward the distant stables, following the tree line along the ridge.
The animal faltered mid-stride in a patch of tall grass and Emily barely kept her seat.
She patted its neck and murmured calming words.
The mare emitted a loud nasal snort then took a couple of steps.
The poor animal walked with a pronounced limp.
Craptastic! The horse was lame.
Emily slid from the saddle to the ground and squatted to check the animal’s foreleg.
She didn’t see anything wrong. Perhaps the horse pulled a muscle or tore a tendon.
She’d have to walk it on lead to the stables.
Emily stood and a large hand clamped over her mouth from behind, muffling her scream, the point of some sort of blade pressed beneath her left rib.
“Dinnae holler, and I will not harm ye,” snarled a hoarse male voice near her ear.
She gave an abrupt nod. Panic heaved bile up her throat, the taste sour in her mouth.
He removed the hand silencing her, but used the appendage to hold her trapped, her back pressed against a sturdy chest.
“Ye will come with me. The bairn, Tevin, has a need of ye.”
“Where is he?” she demanded, not that she could do anything if the man refused to answer. Tevin should be safe at the castle, playing with his new friend Lach.
She glanced at the saddlebag hanging on her horse, to the pocket that contained the knives she’d yet to touch.
If only she’d asked Gregor to show her how to strap them on and use them, she’d have a blade up her sleeve at this very moment to use in defense.
“Please, tell me where he is,” she said, in a more cajoling voice.
“Hunting dragons with my brother. The lad has been askin’ for ye.”
Why would Tevin have gone with a stranger? It’s my destiny to kill an orange dragon.
She flicked her gaze to the stables farther along the ridge. It was too distant for anyone there to hear a yell for help. Only the nearby long-haired cows chewing cud would hear her scream. She really didn’t have many options. She’d need to go with him. “Who are you?”
“Will ye come along with nae trouble?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Ye can come with me freely, or I will thump ye on the noggin and tie ye over the rump of my horse. Matters little to me.”
“I will come with you.”
“Wise lass.” He released her and stepped back. “Turn around slowly.”
She spun about instead and pinned a stocky blond-haired man—a man who looked somewhat familiar—with a hard glare. Then it occurred to her. “You’re Ciaran’s brother.”
“What of it?”
Ciaran must have lured Tevin away from the castle with the tale of dragons. But why?
“Where is Tevin? Is he hurt?”
“The lad talks too much, but he remains unharmed.”
“Why—”
“Nae more questions. We go now.”
“My horse is lame.”
“Then ye will ride with me.” He grabbed her arm and tugged, dragging her into the woods.
She glanced at the saddlebag again. Too late now. She’d have to go with him.
Hidden from the view of others, concealed by a screen of large bushes and small trees, he mounted a large black horse and yanked her up behind him.
His body odor swamped her sinuses and made her want to gag.
He stayed within the trees as they rode away from Castle Lachlan and the only people she knew in Scotland circa 1521.
“What is your name?” she asked after they’d been riding for a while.
“Cinead.” That was all he said for the rest of the journey.
The man didn’t seem to mind her observing the ground they covered and marking the way in her mind. Either they weren’t concerned she’d escape and bring others against them, or they had no intention of letting her leave alive.
But why had they taken Tevin and now her?
They rode for the better part of the afternoon. As the sun set, they crossed a stream, or what Gregor would call a burn. Gosh, she missed him. What would he think when he didn’t find her at the castle? Would he come after her?
When Emily finally slid off the horse, she was chilled and ached everywhere. She’d love to curl up and go to sleep, but needed to keep her wits about her. She had a feeling that both hers and Tevin’s lives were at risk.
“Where are we?” she demanded, again, as if she had some measure of control.
Her captor said nothing. He went about the business of removing branches, still green with leaves, from where they camouflaged the mouth of a cave.
Emily shuddered. She hated dark, tight places.
Cinead lit a torch. “Come. The lad is within.”
She clamped down on escalating panic and followed him into the cavernous space that narrowed and split.
“Finally. You have brought her.” Ciaran strode from the darkness and grabbed her arm in a painful grip. He dragged her farther into the abyss and shoved her into another smaller chamber within the network of caverns. “Now care for the bairn.”
Tevin sat on a bed of sorts. He raised a tearstained face. “Em!”
“Oh, sweetheart, are you okay?”
The child lunged for her, wrapped his thin arms around her legs, and sobbed.
The sound broke her heart. She lowered into a squat and hugged him. “Did they hurt you?”
He shook his head. “The pixies were here. The one with the blue wings told me not to cry. She said you and Gregor would come for me. But I couldn’t stop crying. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Tev. I’m here now.”
“Where’s Gregor?”
“He’ll come.” She prayed for her words to be true.
She picked up Tevin and hugged him close, then returned to the outer chamber. “I don’t understand,” she said to Ciaran and his brother. “Why are you keeping us prisoner?”
Ciaran glared at Tevin. “Because his father is responsible for our dear sister’s death.”
“Maybe we should let them go,” Cinead suggested. “’Tisn’t like we can keep them, and we cannot kill them. Can we?”
Shit. These men were crazy. Emily’s heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach. Please Gregor. Come for us. If he didn’t, she didn’t want to imagine what would happen to her and Tevin.
* * *
Gregor had stalked the white stag a distance from where he left his horse when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. An uneasy dread settled in his gut. He scanned his surroundings. Afternoon waned. Shadows darkened the wood. He sensed he wasn’t alone.
He held his bow in a taut grip.
A sudden breeze blew through the trees, rustling leaves, and within its breath buzzed three pixies. The lavender pixie flew in close, hovered in front of his face, and blew dust in his face, again, then backed away quick. Tee teehee hee.
Gregor swatted at her. He didn’t want to hurt her, just wanted her to leave him alone.
She landed on his shoulder, grasped wee handfuls of his hair and, with a flutter of wings, yanked. He shook his head. She lost her hold, fell to his shoulder on her rump, tumbled backwards twice, and then lifted into the air.
The other two pixies snickered then joined the assault. All three wee creatures flew at him, each grabbing hair and pulling as if to draw him in the opposite direction from that taken by the white stag.
“Stop it!” he shouted, annoyance making his voice harsh. He attempted to fend them off without hurting them, but after several minutes, he gave in. “All right. What is it you want?”
One flew backwards, waving an arm for him to follow. The other two joined the first. He nodded and followed their erratic flight through the wood to...
His horse grazed sparse grass in the shade of an oak exactly where he staked the beast. If he hurried, they’d arrive home as the hour before gloaming shadowed the land.
Tee teehee hee. Tee teehee hee.
The pixies giggled then vanished as if they’d never been there.
He must be daft to trust the fae pixies.
Gregor grimaced and straddled his horse.
He reined the animal homeward. Clearing the wood, he rode along the ridge headed for the stable, beyond exhausted, eager for a hot bath, hot meal, and an eve’n within his wife’s warm embrace.
When he rode into the stable yard, he found the chief and his lèine-chneas gathered, preparing to mount.
“Tevin has gone missing,” the chief exclaimed.
“Lach admitted having learned in confidence that the wee lad set off with Ciaran. Stephen’s bairn believes they travel to Ben Nevis to hunt dragons.
I doubt they have traveled to the mountain.
My guess is Ciaran has something more nefarious planned, and closer to home.
” The chief glanced past Gregor. “Where is Emily?”
“We parted where the woodland trail meets the ridge. She was to head directly to the stables and Castle Lachlan while I stalked the white stag. Did she not arrive at the keep?”
“Lad, did Mistress Emily return her mount?” the chief asked of a passing stable lad.
“Nae, sir. The horse wandered in alone, and lame. I have not seen the lady.”
“Why was I not informed?” he blustered. “Never mind. Bring a fresh mount for Gregor.”
Stunned by the news, Gregor stood still as stone. What the hell happened to Emily?