Chapter 26
Fear pierced Eleanor’s heart and she prayed that Brice would hide before the soldiers discovered him. But then the forest swallowed her up and she could see him no more. She knew the best thing to do was to get as far into the forest as possible, so as not to be discovered.
Her chest was pounding in dread as she ducked beneath low tree branches. She looked around but could find no one; better yet, she couldn’t hear anyone. That was good.
She kept riding. Eventually the trees became so dense that she had to dismount and lead her horse through the brush.
She stopped every now and then to listen and evaluate the surroundings.
But everything looked the same, and she had no idea how long she’d been walking. Surely the English had passed by now.
Then she heard a noise. A low moan. She strained to hear.
There it was again. To her right. As quietly as possible, she made her way in that direction to find one of Brice’s men, the one who had taken the mother with him.
The woman was standing beside the horse, bent in half, her hand supporting her belly and her face contorted in pain.
Brice’s man stood to the side, a look of raw terror on his pale face.
“What’s happening?” Eleanor whispered.
“I think the babe is coming,” he said, his voice strangled as he looked around wildly. Eleanor didn’t know if he was afraid of the English finding them or of being present during a birth. She wasn’t enamored of either situation herself.
She approached the woman and put a hand on her shoulder. The woman looked up at her. She was much younger than what she first appeared, probably a good five years younger than Eleanor’s twenty-three years.
“Are you ill?” Eleanor asked hopefully.
The woman shook her head and gasped, then moaned low.
“Is the babe coming?”
The woman nodded and Eleanor cursed silently. This was not a good time for birthing a baby. Not to mention that she had no idea how to birth a baby, and she was certain Brice’s man didn’t know, either.
The woman straightened, closed her eyes, and breathed in and out of clenched teeth as her hand made circling motions on her belly.
“What do you need me to do?” Eleanor asked.
“Help me walk,” the woman said. She took Eleanor’s arm and they walked away from the horse and the man.
“I have no idea how to help you,” Eleanor finally admitted.
The woman’s smile was more of a grimace. “No’ much to it. The babe comes on its own.”
“How many have you had?” Eleanor asked in surprise.
“Four. One that lived.” She suddenly bent over and moaned low.
Helpless, Eleanor could only watch until the pain ended. She knew so little about birthing. Next to nothing. Actually she knew nothing other than the very basics.
The poor woman. She’d birthed four babies, and only one had lived. How terrifying.
The woman straightened and drew in a deep breath.
“That one was powerful. Won’t be much time.
” She turned stricken eyes to Eleanor. “I thought we could make it to Canada before the babe arrived. I had hoped. But it’s early.
” Tears shimmered in her eyes, and Eleanor could read her thoughts plainly on her face. What if this one didn’t make it?
“My name is Eleanor,” Eleanor said, trying to take the woman’s mind off her problems, although she knew that might be a tall task.
“Morna is my name. I thank ye.”
Eleanor waved her hand in the air as if it were just another day delivering a baby. The thought had her insides quivering. She looked back at Brice’s man, who had taken a blanket off the back of the horse and was shaking it out.
“I’ll be right back, Morna. Don’t wander far.”
The woman chuckled, which had been Eleanor’s hope. Eleanor approached the man. “She’s going to have this baby now.”
“Here?” He looked around the forest as if hoping a hut would suddenly appear or, better yet, a midwife. Eleanor wished for the midwife as well.
“Yes, here. I need you to find a soft place to lay that blanket.”
“On the forest floor?” he asked.
“Yes,” Eleanor snapped. “She’s having this baby here, on the forest floor. It’s not as if we can tell the little one to wait for a more opportune moment.”
He swallowed and nodded, then set off to find a comfortable spot for a woman to birth a baby.
Morna was bent over again, her hand clutching her belly, her other hand clutching a tree limb that appeared to be the only thing holding her up. “It’s time,” she gasped between pains. A keening sound erupted from her, and she bit it off quickly.
“Well, then. Let’s have a baby,” Eleanor said with false cheer.
—
Brice’s blood had turned cold with fear.
He couldn’t find Eleanor anywhere. As per his instructions, his men had disappeared into the nearby trees when they’d been warned that English soldiers were approaching.
However, Eleanor had not been behind him like he’d thought, and now he couldn’t find her.
He wanted to call out her name, to scream for her.
But he knew that was not possible. The soldiers were not that far away, and who knew if another retinue was nearby.
He rode through the forest, but that was fruitless.
He could be riding in circles looking for her. He had no idea where she had gone.
He’d found most of his men and the father and son they were transporting, but no Eleanor and not the mother, either.
He did a quick head count. He was also missing Oliver, one of his younger men.
He prayed they were together and that nothing bad had befallen them.
With the mother, heavy with child, they would be moving slowly.
Pray God the soldiers had not spotted them as easy prey.
He knew his Eleanor enough to know she would fight like hell for that mother.
He sat in his saddle and gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep from running around like a lunatic looking for her.
He had to find out if the English had caught her. He had to catch up with the English and see for himself that they didn’t have Eleanor.
“Where are ye going?” Lachlan asked, putting his horse between Brice and the road.
Brice had no time for this. The longer he waited, the farther the English, and possibly Eleanor, got. “I have to see if the English have her.”
“That is madness. Ye’ll get caught.”
“Nay. I’ll stay to the shadows, but I have to know, Lachlan.”
“She went into the forest, just like ye told her to do.”
Brice hoped to God that was true, but it was easier to follow the English and assuage that fear first. He glared at Lachlan. “What if it were Hannah? What would ye do?”
Lachlan hesitated, then moved his mount out of the way.
“Try to round up the men,” Brice said. “And look for Eleanor.”
He rode on, his heart in his stomach and a prayer on his lips. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t. He would die if he lost Eleanor.
He roughly pushed away the thought that he was going to lose her no matter what when his ship arrived in a week’s time.
He was as stealthy as he could be. Galad was a good horse, well trained, and Brice knew he would do what he was told. Brice had left the other men and the two refugees in Lachlan’s care. They had another safe house to go to before the night was over. But first Eleanor.
Brice caught up to the English three quarters of an hour later and pulled Galad back. There were six of them riding in single file, all silent. Eleanor wasn’t with them and neither was Oliver.
Brice slumped in his saddle, his heart thundering. But his relief didn’t last long, because he knew she was still out there somewhere.
He turned his mount around and found Lachlan alone in the middle of the road, waiting for him. When he saw his friend’s expression, his heart dropped.