Chapter 6
The Forest Road – Later That Day
Cormac sat astride his horse in the dappled shadows of the forest, watching the road below.
Seumas rode up alongside him. "Found them."
"How far?"
"About five miles north. A small group, twelve men, camped in a narrow stretch of road hemmed in by dense trees on both sides."
"So our friend at the local inn was telling the truth."
"Aye, it seems so. They use that passage to make exchanges, then take any pilfered goods to their leader."
Cormac gritted his teeth and nodded. He and his men had spent the past eight days discreetly gathering information from locals across the burghs, building a picture of who they were dealing with.
Now they had a location for the mercenary gang he was to join.
He just needed to find a way in without raising too many questions.
"Some of our men are keeping watch over them from the woods. What do ye suggest we do now?" Seumas asked.
"I need to find a way to offer my services to them without looking suspicious."
Just as they were speaking, something caught Cormac's eye on the little-used road below.
He nudged Seumas and gestured toward a covered cart being driven by one man, with another sitting on a bench in the back.
Something about the duo struck him as strange.
"Is it just me, or does that cart look out of place? They seem agitated," Cormac said.
"Aye, I think we need to take a closer look," Seumas replied.
Cormac had not become the Shadow for nothing. He had well-honed instincts and was extremely observant. The cart needed investigating.
He whistled, and before long several of his men emerged slowly from the surrounding woods, hidden and camouflaged amongst the brush. He gestured with hand signals and each man nodded.
Before riding down, Cormac reached up and pulled his signature mask into place – a dark cloth that covered the lower half of his face, marked with a distinctive pattern that had become known across the Highlands.
It was the Shadow's calling card, recognized and feared by travelers throughout Scotland.
"Seumas," he said, his voice slightly muffled. "I think 'tis time for the Shadow to make an appearance."
Seumas grinned as they rode down the hill toward the cart.
***
CORMAC AND HIS MEN had the cart surrounded within seconds.
The two men barely had time to register what was happening before they were hemmed in on all sides. Horses blocked the road. Armed riders appeared from the trees.
"Stand down!" Cormac commanded, his voice cutting through the sudden chaos.
The effect was immediate.
The driver went rigid, his eyes fixed on Cormac's masked face and the distinctive pattern of cloth covering it.
"No," Bearnas breathed. "No, no, no..."
"That's the Shadow's mask," Talorc whispered, his face draining of color. "That's... that's him."
"I told ye!" Bearnas hissed. "I told ye we should have stayed on the other road. Always with yer greedy schemes—"
"Silence," Cormac said quietly, and the command cut through their bickering.
Bearnas and Talorc obeyed immediately.
"Check the cart," Cormac ordered.
Seumas pulled back the canvas covering and stopped short. "There's a woman in here."
Cormac urged his horse closer and looked inside.
He was not prepared for what he saw. A woman, bound and gagged, glared up at him with eyes blazing with fury. Her dark hair was tangled with straw, her sage green gown filthy and torn. But it was her eyes that arrested him – brown, intelligent, and incandescent with rage.
Even trussed up as a prisoner, she was striking.
Una could not believe it. Were her kidnappers being robbed now by the notorious Shadow? Why could she not have simply stayed in bed?
Their leader was a large man wearing a distinctive half-mask.
He gave her a swift assessment, and his gaze settled on the bruise forming on her cheek.
She felt his eyes burn against her marred skin as though he were furious on her behalf, which made no sense at all.
But the expression vanished so quickly, replaced by something almost jovial, that she would have missed it had she not been watching him closely.
"Well, well," he said, his gaze shifting back to the two terrified men. "What have we here? A lass ye've been sporting with?"
"My wife," Bearnas blurted out desperately. "That's my beloved wife."
"'Tis a strange manner to treat a beloved wife," Cormac replied, his jaw clenching beneath the mask.
"Aye, she loves riding in the back with the cover over her to keep the dust from her clothes."
Cormac noticed the woman's eyes practically bug out of her head as she made a low growling sound at the driver. If the situation were not so dire, he might have found her response rather adorable. He gave himself a sharp mental shake. Adorable? What in heaven's name was the matter with him.
"Does yer wife enjoy having her hands bound and her mouth gagged when she's riding in yer cart?" Seumas asked.
"Well, man to man, if truth be told she was becoming a wee bit too mouthy and amorous, if ye ken what I mean. She flirts too much for my liking."
The woman in question began kicking the side of the cart and shouting something that sounded like a muffled "liar" through the gag.
"I'll tell ye what," Cormac said, amusement gleaming in his eyes. "I'm in a generous mood today. So I'll give ye a choice." He paused. "Yer money or yer wife."
He knew any rational kidnapper awaiting a payday would choose the money and try to ride off, leaving the lass. What he was not prepared for was what came next.
"Take her!" they shouted in unison.
Before Cormac could react, the two men grabbed the bound woman by the arms and hurled her bodily out of the cart straight at him.
Time seemed to slow.
Cormac saw her flying through the air toward him, eyes wide with shock, and his arms moved on pure instinct. He caught her – barely – the impact sending him lurching backward in his saddle.
And then something extraordinary happened.
The moment his arms closed around her, the moment her body pressed against his chest and her eyes stared directly into his, Cormac felt it – a jolt so profound it nearly knocked the breath from his lungs.
He felt her gasp against the gag. Then the most inexplicable thing happened.
Cormac became instantly, helplessly aroused.
Her eyes flared with the knowledge. She scowled at him with indignation, then flushed scarlet and tried to squirm away, which only made his predicament considerably worse.
Cormac had never had such an immediate, ungovernable reaction to a woman. Not like this. It made no sense. He did not know her. Had never laid eyes on her before. But holding her felt, inexplicably, like something he had been waiting for.
"Stop moving, lass – ye're only making it worse," he growled low against her ear. She stilled instantly.
Cormac tightened his grip, pulling her closer as his horse danced sideways from the sudden added weight. Her warmth seeped through his clothing.
His heart was hammering against his ribs.
What in heaven's name was happening to him?
Una, for her part, was equally stunned.
She had been hurled through the air like a sack of grain, expecting to hit the ground hard. Instead, strong arms had caught her mid-flight, cradling her against the broadest, most solid chest she had ever encountered.
And the strangest thing happened.
She was not afraid.
She should have been terrified. She was bound and helpless, at the mercy of a masked stranger. But fear was not what she felt. She was breathless, her skin hot and flushed and strangely alive. She had the most bewildering urge to bury her face in the crook of his shoulder and weep.
It made no sense.
Then her eyes found his above the dark mask, and everything else fell away.
They were extraordinary – a clear, piercing grey that seemed to see straight through her. Intense and intelligent, framed by dark lashes, staring at her with an expression she could not quite read.
Una felt something pressing against her bottom and understood she affected him as much as he affected her. She frowned, bewildered, before sense reasserted itself. This man had just stolen her. This was, by her count, her second abduction of the day. The odds of that were surely impossible.
The bewilderment curdled into a scowl as her rage and the reality of the situation came rushing back, and she began cursing at him through the gag.
The moment shattered for Cormac as he found himself with a spitfire in his arms trying to wriggle free. He supposed he could not blame her. He sighed but tightened his hold lest she tumble to the ground.
He glanced up to find her former captors already sprinting for the hills. His men awaited instructions.
"Shadow?" Seumas asked, raising an eyebrow. "What do ye want us to do with them?"
"Send two men to track them. Find out where they go and report back."
Seumas gave the order at once, and two men disappeared into the trees.
Cormac swung down from his horse with the woman still in his arms, which was no small feat. His remaining men watched with undisguised curiosity. He ignored them and carried her a few paces from the road, setting her down carefully on a fallen log.
His hands lingered at her waist a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back and reached for his knife.
***
UNA SCRAMBLED BACKWARD, suddenly wary of the knife.
"Steady, lass. I'll not harm ye."
Before she could flinch, he cut through the gag, then the rope binding her wrists. She rubbed them; the skin was raw and painful. She noticed her new captor scowling at the welts on her arms and wrists.
She was about to demand he let her go when he turned back to his horse, produced a small bottle, and returned to crouch before her. He took her hands gently and poured the contents over the welts. She hissed at the sting.
"I ken it burns, lass, but ye need to tend to these lest they become infected."
Una was taken aback. What manner of mercenary stopped to play healer?
She watched him apply the ointment with careful hands. Then he glanced at his men and made a series of quick hand signals. They nodded and melted into the forest, leaving only one man standing a few paces away. Now it was just the three of them, on the side of the road beside an abandoned cart.
Her masked captor asked gruffly, "Are ye that man's wife?"
"No."
"Do ye have a husband somewhere?"
She noticed he stiffened slightly. She shook her head. He seemed to relax.
"Are ye betrothed?"
She shook her head.
"Are ye courting anyone?"
Una frowned. What manner of questions were these? She shook her head regardless.
"Did those men harm ye? Take ye against yer will?"
She paused, because the look on his face was pure fury.
"No." She shook her head, and he closed his eyes briefly, as though relieved, before opening them and studying her.
"What is yer name?"
Una was about to tell him the truth, then stopped as a thought struck her.
She had been kept alive because everyone believed she was a nobleman's daughter worthy of ransom.
As a seamstress named Una Murray, she was worthless to these men.
Disposable. They could be rid of her and no one would come looking.
"My name is Lady Fenella Lockhart," she replied, hating the lie as it left her tongue.
"Thane Ruadhán of Dunreith is yer father?"
"Aye."
"I see," was his only reply.
After a moment's pause Una asked, "And your name?"
"Shadow."
"Well, Mr. Shadow, perhaps ye could allow me to return home."
"'Tis just Shadow. I have no other title." He paused. "Did ye ken what those men had planned for ye?"
"They were to take me to a gang and exchange me for coin, but thought better of it."
"What happened?" Cormac asked.
"They decided it would be more profitable to keep me and approach the thane, I mean my da, directly."
"Damned fools," Cormac said.
"Do ye ken the men they were supposed to hand me over to?" she asked.
Cormac nodded and continued attending to her wounds. Then a thought struck him.
This was it. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for.
A way to join the gang without suspicion. He could deliver the lass to them and take it from there.
He caught Seumas's eye and saw his second-in-command nodding slowly, as if he had arrived at the same conclusion.
Cormac grappled with it. It would mean drawing the lass into another dangerous situation.
But he had no choice if he wanted to gain these men's trust and uncover which nobleman was funding them. The king's mission had to come first.
He stared at the lass for a long moment.
The bruises, the welts, the exhaustion she was fighting to hide behind a brave face.
He had never felt protective over a woman he did not know, but he felt it now.
He caught her bottom lip tremble slightly, as though she were holding back tears, and something in him stilled.
He could not use her as bait. He would have to find another way.
He was about to offer to take her home when one of his men materialized from the trees, spoke quietly to Seumas, and vanished again.
Cormac went on immediate alert. "What is it?"
Seumas glanced at Una, then drew Cormac a few paces aside before speaking. "The mercenaries are heading this way. A quarter of a mile out. They're searching for a Lady Fenella. Seems they didn't trust the men with the cart to deliver her after all."
"Damn it!" Whether Cormac liked it or not, she was involved now. He had to think quickly.
"Whatever ye decide, ye best decide soon," Seumas said.
"All right. I need ye and the men to lay low in the woods. I'll take the lass in the cart and go to meet them. I'll bargain to join them in exchange for her."
"Aye. We'll stay close – just signal if ye need us."
"Thank ye, Seumas. But whatever happens, the men are to protect her. Above everything else. Her safety comes first."
Seumas paused at the unusual instruction, then nodded. They turned back to speak to the woman in question, only to find she was gone.
"Bloody hell!" Cormac cursed, and sprinted into the woods after her.
***
THERE WAS NO WAY UNA was staying to be exchanged and bartered like cattle.
The moment the masked man nodded that he knew the men she was to be handed over to, she knew she had to run.
Despite feeling inexplicably safe with him, she could not trust him.
For all she knew, he could be the gang's leader himself and the entire encounter had been a ruse to bring her to heel.
She had watched the exchange between him and his second carefully. The urgent whispers. None of it boded well.
Now that her hands were free and the cramp was easing from her legs, she had to move.
And she did.
It took little effort to slip quietly from the fallen log and drop into the ditch beside the cart. Once she saw a clear path, she ran – in the opposite direction from where she had seen his men disappear into the woods.
***