Chapter 8 #3
She was on her knees, shoveling around heaps of snow and he cursed beneath his breath as he thought of her meal last night—and his own empty stomach—wondering how long she could make it in the saddle.
Already, his belly was grumbling and with the storm, it was a waste of time to try to hunt.
Even the squirrel he’d spied this morn was wise enough to find shelter.
Tomorrow might be the soonest they could hunt a proper meal.
He pulled Cameron aside, issuing orders privately, so as not to muddle things further between them.
Loyal or not, Cameron would have his pride.
“When you have the occasion, check Murdock’s and Brude’ satchels. One or both have something to lose once we reach Dunràth.” Both were under suspicion for treason, though as yet there was no proof.
“Should we press on?”
“Dunràth is but a day’s ride at most. The entire point was to dawdle along the way, to lure out the spy, so nay. Rather I am thinking Dunloppe, where we can resupply.”
“The men will suspect, since they have no knowledge of our mission. Why not Ailgin or Nairn—or even Keppenach? All these are closer and Jaime would see to our needs without question.”
So would Broc, although Cameron clearly did not wish to involve his cousin.
It just so happened that Dunloppe belonged to Broc Ceannfhionn, who ruled the fortress in the MacEanraig name.
He followed David by oath, but not by blood.
If Keane should feel the need to defy David over the girl, he wanted to be in the most neutral place.
Pondering that fact, Keane looked over his shoulder at Lianae, who was still crawling about upon her hands and knees, rifling through drifts of snow.
Her gown was now damp and her hair lashed about her face.
Unmindful of the snow that pelted her in the pate, she continued to search.
He dared not go to Keppenach… not yet.
Jaime Steorling was far more loyal to David, and Keane didn’t want to place his sister in a position to defy her husband.
“Dunloppe is the better choice,” he maintained.
Cameron gave a nod, his jaw taut, and Keane knew he understood instinctively why he had chosen Dunloppe. For a moment, he appeared as though he wished to argue the point, and then he shook his head and walked away.
Keane understood the position he would be placing Broc in, but until he knew for certain what Lianae was running from, he didn’t intend to place the girl at further risk.
It couldn’t be helped. Nor did he intend to simply hand her over to David.
Alas, the last place he could take her was the safest place he could go: to the vale.
Despite that his brother had never refused him aught, Keane knew very well that Aidan would refuse him this—although what this was, he wasn’t entirely sure.
In the end, all that would matter to Aidan was that Keane had brought conflict to his precious vale.
He gave Lianae until the final moments to search for her stones, and then Keane went to fetch her. “It’s time to go,” he said.
With the wind rising, it was nearly impossible to say whether she’d heard him or not, but she remained on her knees, tunneling desperately through the snow.
“Lianae,” he said, louder this time. “The snow is much too thick, lass; you’ll never find your stones.”
When she wouldn’t look up, Keane reached out to touch her arm. She shrugged him away. Refusing to be denied, Keane gripped her about the arm, gently drawing her to her feet. “It’s time to go,” he said again, more firmly.
Her eyes were full of unshed tears. “You promised!”
“I know I did, lass, and I had every intention of helping, but now it’s time to go.”
“Nay!” she shouted, shrugging away. “You go—I dinna have to!”
Only a madwoman would think to stay in this raging weather, without food and without shelter.
Cailleach herself would have had naught to do with the place.
The best thing they could do now would be to press on and find shelter elsewhere.
It would be colder yet come nightfall, so Keane tilted the girl a sympathetic look, lifting a hand to her face, brushing a thumb against the bruise on her cheek.
“Do ye truly mean to stay? I would not see you come to harm, Lianae.”
He couldn’t make her go—not without force—but he wasn’t entirely certain he could walk away.
If she forced him to decide one way or another, he would send the men away rather than force her where she would not go.
But that would breed a whole new set of problems for them all.
Fortunately, her anger seemed to melt away at Keane’s touch.
She lifted her hand to his. “Ye dinna ken,” she said, her eyes beseeching him. “I need those stones.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
She guarded her mysteries as well as Dubhtolargg, but Keane was no stranger to secrets. He could see them in her eyes, undecipherable as they were. “Are they worth your life, Lianae? What of the men who are after ye? Would ye have them find you here… alone?”
More than aught, Keane wanted to help her find her damned stones. In terms of gold, they were worth more than his horse, but this was not the time. The storm was worsening and they had one more mouth to feed and no rations to sustain them. As it was, Dunloppe was within two day’s reach.
“We will come back,” he said, and meant it. “I swear.”
“We?”
“We,” he affirmed with a nod. “Ye have my word, Lianae.” And with that promise, she gave him a nod and then her hand.