Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
"Ye're certain there's naethin'?"
Leo shifted in his saddle, scanning the tree line with the same careful attention he'd been giving it for the past hour. "Nae a damn thing. Nay camps, nay tracks fresh enough to matter, nay signs of organized movement."
Harald's jaw tightened.
They'd been riding since first light, covering every approach to the castle, every known smuggler's route and hunting path. The forest should have yielded something—boot prints, disturbed ground, evidence of the brigands who'd attacked Enya's escort.
Instead, there was nothing. Like they'd vanished into smoke.
"They had tae go somewhere," Harald muttered, guiding his horse along a narrow deer trail. "Six men, maybe seven. Ye cannae move that many bodies without leavin' traces."
"Unless they kent exactly how tae cover their tracks." Leo's expression was grim. "These werenae common thieves, me laird."
"Aye." Harald had reached the same conclusion hours ago. "Which means someone hired them. Someone who kent when Lady Cameron would be travellin' and where."
"Her braither?"
The question hung in the cold morning air. Harald wanted to dismiss it, wanted to believe that even Finley Cameron wouldn't endanger his own sister. But the pieces fit too neatly to ignore.
"He sent her ahead with four guards," Harald said slowly. "On the most dangerous road on the island. At dusk. Then conveniently stayed behind tae 'establish camp.'"
"Could be he's just an idiot."
"Or he wanted her vulnerable." Harald's hands tightened on the reins. "The question is why. If he wanted tae break the Pact, he could've just refused the marriage. The king would've been furious, but it's nae treason tae reject an alliance."
"Unless he wants somethin' more than just breakin' the Pact." Leo glanced at him. "What if he wants Lewis tae look weak? If the bride disappears on our territory, the Crown blames us, nae him."
The logic was sound. Disturbingly sound. But it still didn't explain why Enya had lied about it.
Unless she didn't know. Unless her brother had used her as bait without her knowledge.
The thought made Harald's blood run cold.
"We keep searchin'," he said. "Expand the perimeter. I want every path checked, every hollow searched. If those bastards are still on this island, I want them found."
"And if they're nae?"
"Then we start askin' harder questions about who hired them and why." Harald turned his horse back toward the main road. "Ye head north. I'll cover the eastern approaches and circle back through the forest near the castle. Meet at the gates before sunset."
Leo nodded and spurred his mount away, leaving Harald alone with the trees and his growing unease.
Something was wrong. He could feel it like a weight between his shoulders—the sense that he was missing something crucial, that the pieces he had weren't forming the picture he needed to see.
The attack on Enya. Her brother's absence. The too-organized ambush. Her fear when she'd looked at him, and the way she'd lied so smoothly about Finley's reasons for staying away.
None of it added up to anything good.
Harald urged his horse into the forest, following game trails and old patrol routes, his mind only half on the search.
The other half kept circling back to the previous night—to Enya sitting beside him at dinner, her spine straight despite the bruise on her jaw, her voice steady even when Henry had been an insufferable arse about the wedding night.
She'd been humiliated.
Harald had seen it in the set of her shoulders, the way she'd stared at her plate like she could will herself to be invisible. But she hadn't fled. Hadn't broken down. Just endured with a quiet dignity that had made him want to put his fist through Henry's smug face.
It was dangerous. All of it. He couldn't afford to worry about a woman who might be part of whatever scheme her brother was running.
But saints help him, he was starting to anyway.
The thought was still troubling him when he heard it, a sound that didn't belong in the afternoon quiet.
A scream. Female. Distant but unmistakable.
Harald was moving before conscious thought caught up, spurring his horse toward the sound. The forest blurred past as he crashed through underbrush, following his instincts and the terrible silence that had fallen after that first cry.
Please let me be wrong. Please let it be a bird, an animal, anything but—
He broke through the trees into a small clearing and his heart stopped.
Wolves.
Three of them, circling something—someone—on the ground. And beyond them, pressed against a tree with terror written across her face, was Enya.
"Are ye certain about this, me lady?"
Amelia's voice was tight with worry as they walked through the castle gardens, pretending to admire the winter-bare plants. To anyone watching, they were just taking the air. Getting familiar with their new home.
In reality, Enya was counting steps to the eastern gate, memorizing the patrol patterns she'd observed from her chamber window. Harald was out patrolling and she wanted to make the most of her time to figure out how to communicate with her brother.
"I have tae," Enya said quietly. "Finley will be waitin'. If I dinnae show, he'll think somethin's wrong."
"Somethin' is wrong." Amelia kept her voice low. "Ye're spyin' on a man who's been naethin' but kind tae ye. A man who defended ye last night in front of the whole hall."
"I ken what he did." Enya's throat was tight. She hadn't stopped thinking about it—about Harald's cold fury when Henry had embarrassed her, about the way he'd looked at her after and said she was worth defending. "But that daesnae change what I promised Finley."
"It should." Amelia caught her arm, forcing her to stop. "Me lady, please. Ye dinnae owe yer braither this. Nae after he sent ye intae that ambush."
"We dinnae ken it was him. "
"Dinnae we?" Amelia's eyes were fierce. "Four guards, me lady. Four. On the most dangerous road at the worst possible time. The laird said as much, I’ve heard. Ye ken how people speak in the keep. And where was Finley? Safe in his hidden camp, nae anywhere near the danger he put ye in."
The words hit too close to thoughts Enya had been trying not to have. She'd spent half the night lying awake, replaying the ambush, wondering if her brother had known. If he'd planned it.
If he'd been willing to risk her life for his schemes.
"I have tae go," she said instead of answering. "Just... keep watch, aye? If anyone comes, signal me."
Amelia looked like she wanted to argue more, but finally nodded. "Be quick. And be careful."
Enya slipped through the eastern gate while the guards were changing shifts—a gap in coverage she'd noticed that morning.
The forest was cold and quiet, shadows already lengthening despite the early hour. She moved quickly, following the directions Finley had given her, counting her steps until she reached the clearing he'd described.
He was already there, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. The sight of him should have brought relief. Instead, Enya felt only unease.
"Ye're late," Finley said by way of greeting.
"I had tae wait fer the patrol tae pass." Enya stopped a few paces away, suddenly aware of how alone they were. How far from the castle. "I shouldnae be out so soon. I've barely been here a day."
"Long enough tae observe, I hope." Finley pushed off the tree, his expression intent. "What have ye learned?"
What had she learned?
That Harald's eyes were grey like winter sky. That he defended her without hesitation. That his people respected rather than feared him. That nothing about him matched the monster Finley had described.
"Nae much yet," Enya said carefully. "The castle's well-defended. He has patrols runnin' day and night."
"I ken all that already." Finley's impatience was sharp. "I need details, Enya. Troop numbers. Defensive weaknesses. His plans fer expansion."
"I've been here one day, Finley. I dinnae have the answers tae that."
He stepped closer. "This is important. More important than whatever misplaced sympathy ye're feelin' fer the Hawk."
"I'm nae feelin' sympathy."
"Arenae ye?" Finley's eyes narrowed. "Because ye look like ye're havin' doubts. And I need ye focused, Enya. I need ye tae remember who killed Faither. I need ye tae remember what these Norse bastards are capable of."
Guilt twisted in Enya's stomach. Her father's death had shaped everything—her brother's hatred, the distance that had grown between them. How could she forget?
"I remember," she said quietly. "But Finley, what if ye're wrong? What if Harald isnae plannin' anythin' against us? What if the Pact is exactly what it seems, an attempt at peace?"
"Then, as I already told ye, ye'll have naethin' tae report, and we'll all be pleasantly surprised." Finley's voice was hard. "But I'm nae wrong, Enya. And the sooner ye accept that, the easier this will be."
"Easier fer who?"
"Fer both of us. Fer our clan." Finley's expression softened slightly. "I ken this is difficult. I ken ye didnae want this. But ye're daein' the right thing, sister. Ye're protectin' our people."
Was she? Or was she just helping Finley chase ghosts while lying to a man who'd shown her more kindness in a day than her own brother had in years?
"I need tae go," Enya said abruptly. "If I'm gone too long, someone will notice."
"Next week," Finley cut her off. "Same place, same time. And Enya? Have somethin' useful tae tell me. I'm countin' on ye."
The weight of his expectation settled on her shoulders like stones. Enya nodded, not trusting her voice, and turned to go.
She was halfway back to the castle when she realized she was being followed.
The sound was subtle, a rustle of movement that didn't match the wind, the snap of a twig that came from too close behind. Enya's heart kicked into a higher rhythm as she quickened her pace.
Probably just a deer. Or a bird. Nothing to worry about.
The growl that rumbled through the trees told her otherwise.