Chapter 9
It was a good day to stay inside. Megan would have preferred that.
It was raining, not particularly unusual for the Highlands. Rain came pattering down in grayish sheets, streaming down the coach window. The Keep courtyard was sodden, more puddle than cobblestone, and after they passed the walls and entered the forest, the fields and woodlands were all mud.
We could have set up a fire in Alaina’s room, she thought moodily. We could have read books, or eaten, or talked… too late now. Instead, we’re out dress shoppin’, of all things.
Alaina and Sophie seemed excited, at least. They sat huddled up on one side of the carriage, a rug spread over their knees.
Megan sat alone on the other side, staring out of the window.
The lurching and rocking made her feel sick, and the roads only seemed to be getting worse the further they traveled from the Keep.
The rain pattered on top of the carriage, echoing and making her feel even more restricted and ill at ease.
I hate carriages. I hate enclosed spaces. I wish he’d let me take a horse.
She’d have much preferred riding, even with the rain. But Ryder had said that he wanted her in the carriage to watch the girls, and that seemed to be a fair request. She couldn’t argue with it, at the very least.
While Ewan sat on the back of the carriage, hanging on tight, Ryder had chosen to take his horse.
When she pulled back the curtain of the coach window, she could see him right beside them, sitting high in the saddle, focused and alert.
He wore a heavy cloak made of plain gray wool, without any pattern or tartan, and a hood drooped heavily over his head.
He glanced at her, perhaps sensing her eyes on him. The rain seemed to make his eyes greener than ever, a sharp glint of brightness through the gray. Abruptly, she let the curtain drop. Sitting back in the seat, Megan heaved a sigh.
“Do we have much longer to go?” she asked.
“About half an hour,” Alaina answered. “Mistress Weatherby is the finest dressmaker in these parts. Apparently, she used to travel all over the Highlands, makin’ clothes for various lairds and ladies at an extortionate price.
She cannae travel much now, bein’ old, but we do get the dresses cheaper now. ”
Megan bit back a sigh. How much time would this trip take up? And how dangerous would it be? At this time, it was likely dangerous for them even to set foot outside the Keep, and this Mistress Weatherby seemed to live miles away.
And that wasn’t even touching on how tense and grim Ryder seemed to be. Whenever Megan glanced out of the window at him, she saw him sitting bolt upright in the saddle, grim and stern, eyes raking the landscape around them as if he expected an attack.
Did he expect an attack? Perhaps.
“Did ye write to yer sisters, by the way?” Alaina enquired.
“Hm? What? Oh, aye, I did. How long do ye reckon it’ll take to get fitted for dresses?”
Alaina and Sophie exchanged glances, and Alaina shot Megan an odd stare.
“It takes as long as it takes. It’s always worth it, ye ken.”
“Perhaps for some,” Megan sighed, shifting uncomfortably. “I’ve never cared much for dresses. Buyin’ them always seems like a waste of time to me.”
Sophie giggled. “We daenae think that.”
Alaina laughed, and Megan broke into a smile.
“Aye, aye, each to their own,” she chuckled. “I cannae wait to see the two of ye in yer lovely dresses, that is for sure.”
The smile faded from Alaina’s face. “There’s nae much point in that,” she huffed. “I cannae go anywhere. Nobody can see me. What’s the point?”
Megan tilted her head. “Was there somewhere in particular ye wanted to go with yer new dress?”
A slow flush spread over Alaina’s face, and she kept her gaze pointedly down at the book in her lap.
“Nay,” she answered, missing a beat. “Of course nae.”
Megan said nothing, but narrowed her eyes. It was pretty clear that there was something Alaina wasn’t telling her. The question was most likely not where she wanted to visit with her new, beautiful dress, but who she wanted to visit.
Carefully composing a question in her head, Megan leaned forward, poised to speak. Alaina glanced up uncertainly, clearly braced for questioning.
“Alaina…” Megan began, but got no farther, because at that point there was a cry from up ahead, and the coach lurched to a sudden stop.
Megan was nearly thrown forward into the opposite seat, managing to save herself at the last moment.
“What is it? Are we bein’ attacked?” Alaina gasped fearfully.
“Megan, what’s happenin’?” Sophie cried, clutching her sister.
Megan bit her lip hard, straining her ears. She heard cries and a scuffling sound from the road ahead, and the horses whickered. Pulling back the curtain, she peered out just in time to see Ryder gallop past, face grim.
“Stay inside!” he shouted to her. “Lock the doors!”
Alaina gave a gasping moan of fright and shrank back into the corner of the carriage.
“They’ve come for me,” she whispered. “Whoever it is, they’ve come for me.”
“Aye, but they’ll nae take ye,” Megan shot back. “Nae with yer braither protectin’ ye. Nae with me protectin’ ye. Stay here.”
She reached for the knife on her belt. It wasn’t as good as a bow and arrow, but she’d never have been able to sneak that onto the coach.
“Ryder said we were to stay here,” Sophie pointed out.
“Aye, but that was for ye, nae me,” Megan responded.
Pushing open the door, she jumped nimbly down, closing it behind her.
On the road ahead of the coach, four men with handkerchiefs wrapped over their faces were fighting Ryder.
The coachman struggled with the nervous horses, looking pale with worry.
One of the horses kept trying to rear up, and of course, if they bolted, it would be dangerous for the people inside the carriage.
Ewan stood at the horses’ heads, holding onto the bridle of the most nervous one.
Without him, the horse would definitely rear up and bolt forward to escape.
Ewan couldn’t risk letting go, not yet. He had clearly drawn his sword, rushing to help Ryder, but had to drop it to calm the horse.
He kept turning around, trying to get glimpses of his laird.
Ryder had at some point dismounted, his great sword flashing in the sun. She watched, open-mouthed. He had shrugged off his heavy cloak, presumably to avoid it tangling around his limbs.
He moved with a sinuous sort of grace, the sword a glinting extension of his arm. The rain dampened his linen shirt, making it translucent and clinging to the rippling muscles of his back and shoulders.
As she watched, he ducked a sword-swing from one of the attackers as easily as if he were ducking a thrown bread roll. His sword came forward, impaling the man. Without missing a beat, he withdrew the blade and rounded on the next man, darting past his parry and striking off his head.
The third man fell, then the fourth, and then there was silence. Ryder stood, his back still turned to her, the rain falling all around him. It pattered on the rough track, splashing in already overflowing puddles, gray water reflecting the gray sky.
Ryder let out a long, shaky breath and then turned at last toward the coach. His eyebrows shot up when he saw Megan standing there.
“I thought I told ye to stay in the carriage,” he managed, annoyance creeping into his voice.
Megan cleared her throat. Her dagger seemed a bit silly beside his great sword, dripping with blood and rainwater.
“Aye, well, that wasnae a command for me, was it?”
His jaw clenched, and he strode toward her. She flinched, half tempted to step away, perhaps to dive back into the safety of the carriage, but that seemed cowardly. So she stood her ground, lifting her chin.
“Ye thought it wasnae a command for ye, eh?” he snapped, glowering at her. His dark hair clung to his forehead in damp curls. “How did ye reckon that, exactly?”
Megan opened her mouth, ready to let loose with a witty retort. To her horror, however, she found that she had none ready. Ryder gave a brittle smile when she stayed silent.
“That’s what I thought,” he said brusquely.
There was a rattle behind them, and Alaina gingerly eased open the door.
“Close that door!” Ryder shouted, pointing at her. “Stay inside. Keep it closed and locked, do ye understand?”
Alaina paled and retreated. It didn’t seem as though she’d gotten a look at the dead men, for which Megan was grateful.
“Ye see what ye have done?” Ryder snarled. “Ye encourage me sisters to be disobedient to me, too.”
“If ye cannae command their obedience yerself, I am nae sure that ye deserve it,” Megan shot back before she could stop herself. “And look at what ye have done here. All of these men are dead!”
Ryder’s eyebrows shot up. “Ye say it like it is a bad thing.”
“Ye should have kept one of them alive. How will ye ever discover who is behind these attacks if ye keep killin’ all the people who could tell ye?”
Ryder sniffed. “They would nae have told me the truth. It matters nae.”
“Oh, it doesnae matter, does it?” Megan growled, clenching her jaw. She was surprised at just how angry she felt. How dare he throw orders at her like that? His sisters might grumpily concede to his requests, but Megan had no intention of obeying him.
“Nay, it does nae,” he continued. “They will nae succeed, anyway. The only thing that could have gone wrong here is ye or the girls getting’ out of the coach and distractin’ me. Which, of course, ye bloody well did.”
She pointed at the dead bodies littering the road in front of them.
“Ye didnae look very distracted to me, if ye daenae mind me sayin’.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What if I do mind ye saying it?”
“Well, there’s nowt that can be done about it now. I’ve said it, and I’ll nae take it back.”
He gave an incredulous snort, shaking his head. “Ye have some gall, lass. Ye arenae even denyin’ the fact that ye defied a direct order from me. Ye daenae seem to think that it matters at all.”