Chapter 22
S andy and Brigid dozed in their little hiding hole for a few hours. They did not move until the sun was high in the sky. By now, Sandy thought, Edmondson’s men must be long gone.
“I think it’s about noon now,” Sandy said, squinting up at the small patch of sky that showed through the rock. “Maybe a little later.”
Brigid didn’t move. She’d fallen fast asleep against his shoulder, breathing deeply. Her sunshine-coloured hair lay spread out across his chest, and he resisted the urge to stroke it.
Sandy’s stomach growled loudly, and he winced. He and Brigid had shared the oatcakes he always carried in his leather pouch, but it was nowhere near enough food for a full day. They needed to get home fast, before hunger caught up with them.
He hated to wake Brigid up when she looked so comfortable, but there was nothing for it. They had to get moving. So, he shook her awake, feeling terrible. She groaned a little, but opened her eyes willingly enough.
“Is it time to go?” she asked softly. Sandy smiled down into those vivid blue eyes. Why did she have to be so lovely? It didn’t make things any easier.
“I’m afraid so,” he said, equally softly.
They clambered back across the pool and walked along the woodland paths. Sandy didn’t hold her hand this time. It felt too personal, somehow, as if their time in the cave had changed things yet again.
Sandy was hopeful that they would face no further trouble. With any luck, Edmondson’s men would have given up and returned to the camp hours ago. These woods should be safe enough, for now. Still, Sandy kept to the smaller, less well-travelled routes. There was no point in taking foolish chances.
Then something moved between the trees. Sandy knew it was no bird. So much for his optimism.
“Run,” he hissed to Brigid. Her eyes widened in fright, and she took to her heels. They pelted through the woods as fast as their tired legs could carry them. With a few seconds’ head start, they quickly outpaced Edmondson’s men, although Sandy could still hear them crashing through the undergrowth somewhere behind them. He steered Brigid along a stream to obscure their footprints, then through a thick copse of trees to hide them from view.
Finally, they reached the road. Sandy could turn left and reach Gillies Tower in just a few moments. But he pulled Brigid straight across the road, and into the trees beyond. He prayed desperately that their pursuers would take the bait and turn down the road. It was the only hope he had.
Sandy’s body protested as he pushed it harder. Despite the nap and the oatcakes, he was tired and hungry, and he was sure Brigid must be even worse, but they could not stop. They ran for a little longer, until Brigid finally collapsed against a tree, gasping for breath.
“I need a break,” she managed to say. “How much further?”
Sandy grimaced. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I led them away from Gillies Tower on purpose. It’s an even longer walk home now than before.”
Brigid groaned and rested her forehead against the rough bark of the tree.
Sandy felt terrible at putting her through even more, when she was already suffering enough. But he’d made the best decision, and he could not regret it. He had to keep Gillies Tower safe at all costs. It was his home, and the home of his ancestors. Besides, his tenants depended on him. He could not let them down.
They did not encounter any more of Edmondson’s men as they walked the final distance home. Tired and famished, they finally arrived in the late afternoon, long after they had left their little cave.
Sandy had never felt such powerful relief as when he saw the familiar gates in front of him. Even Brigid smiled through her exhaustion, and picked up the pace a little for the final short stretch.
But Sandy couldn’t stop worrying. What if Edmondson’s men had guessed where they were going, despite his efforts? What if his careful disguise had finally fallen apart?