Chapter 10
The Camp – Before Dawn
Cormac woke with her in his arms.
His first thought was that he did not want to move.
He lay still. The lass was curled against his chest, her cheek pressed into the space below his collarbone.
Her braid lay dark across his arm and over his chest, still carrying the faint trace of lavender.
One of her hands rested against his shirt, her fingers curled slightly, completely relaxed.
Her knee was drawn up across his thighs.
He had both arms wrapped around her and no memory of putting them there.
Cormac looked down at her.
She was frowning. That small crease between her brows, even in sleep, even entirely still – as if she was working something out and refused to put it down even in dreams. He reached across and traced the line of it very gently with the tip of one finger.
Then the curve of her brow. Then, before he fully decided to, the bow of her lips.
She did not stir.
He smiled. He was not a man who did that easily and he knew it. He smiled anyway, there in the dark, at this woman who had been trouble from the moment he pulled her out of that cart and who was presently using him as a mattress with complete contentment.
He breathed in the lavender scent of her hair and wondered what it would be like to wake up with her like this every morning for the rest of his life.
He frowned at the dark circles under her eyes.
Thought about the way she had stood behind him in the forest with her fingers gripping his plaid.
How she had accepted his instructions and followed without hesitation.
He had to admit he found her very appealing.
If only she were not the daughter of a thane, he might seriously consider keeping her.
Cormac shook his head slightly. He had no idea where all these thoughts were coming from. He had never met a woman who made him think about spending his future with her. It was a strange thing to ponder.
He had slept solidly. He could not remember the last time that had happened.
Then from outside, low and twice-repeated, came the bird call.
His jaw set.
It was time.
***
CORMAC MOVED SLOWLY, easing his arm from beneath Una by degrees. She stirred once and reached toward the warmth he had left before settling again.
Then he was up.
He crossed to the candle, lit it, and carried it to the window. He covered it with his hand twice, then three times. Paused. Once more. Then set it down.
Cormac went to the water pitcher and splashed his face. Dried his hands. Checked his knives – both at his belt, one in his boot. Rolled his shoulders.
Then he crossed to the pallet, crouched down, and put his hand lightly on her shoulder.
"Lass. 'Tis time to wake up."
She did not wake.
"Lass."
Her eyes opened. She blinked twice, rubbed her eyes, then focused on his face and sat up.
He put his finger to his lips.
"What's happening?" she whispered.
"My men are here." He kept his voice low. "Get dressed. Be quick and be quiet."
He turned his back.
Two minutes. That was all it took. He heard her moving, water pouring from the pitcher, the soft sounds of her dressing, the slide of her feet into her shoes, the quick work of her fingers in her hair. Then she said, "Ready."
He turned. She had plaited her hair and stood straight, waiting. No questions. No arguments. She held her tattered travel clothes in one arm.
He picked up her arisaidh and settled it around her shoulders himself, doing up the top fastening. His fingers brushed her throat briefly. He stepped back.
From outside the door came a dull soft thud. Then another.
Una's eyes went wide.
"The two guards," he said quietly. "They will not be bothering us for now."
He clasped her free hand firmly in his and led her out of the bothy.
***
IT HAPPENED FAST.
Men stepped from the treeline. Far more than Una had imagined – they came from every side, double the number of Drunstan's men, moving without noise and without hesitation. The battle was over quickly as Drunstan's men were overpowered.
Una stood at the bothy wall and watched as Cormac and his men fought as one to subdue the gang. When it was over, he strode back toward her, clasped her hand, and did not let go.
When he stopped to speak to one of his men, he kept her at his side. When he moved, she moved.
His men nodded when they passed her. One or two dipped their heads. Several looked quietly amused. None of them looked surprised.
Drunstan himself came out of his shelter armed and furious, cursing once he realized he had made a serious tactical error. He was easily disarmed by two of Cormac's men and made to kneel in the dirt.
Cormac walked Una forward until they stood a few paces away.
Drunstan looked up. His eyes moved from Cormac's face down to their joined hands and back again, and something shifted in his expression – a flicker of uncertainty beneath the fury.
"Well," he said. "So it was all a lie."
"Aye," Cormac said.
"Ye're going to kill us."
"No."
Drunstan's eyes narrowed. "Then what?"
"Ye'll face the people ye stole from." Cormac left it there.
Drunstan stared at him. He opened his mouth and closed it again. There was no good reply to that, and they both knew it.
Cormac reached into his plaid and drew out his mask.
The cursing stopped.
Drunstan stared at the pattern on the cloth and went very still. "You're the Shadow," he said.
"Aye," Cormac replied.
"So ye're going to hold her for ransom yerself?"
There was a silence.
"Damn. I should have killed ye when I had the chance," Drunstan said.
"Aye, ye should have," Cormac replied, then turned and walked away.
Seumas fell into step beside him. He looked at Cormac's and Una's joined hands, then very deliberately looked at the sky, grinning.
"Not a word," Cormac said.
"I said nothing," Seumas replied.
***
THE KING'S ENFORCER and several plain-clothed guards arrived within the hour.
To Una they simply looked like more of the Shadow's men, and Cormac ensured she remained in the dark about their real identity.
They took charge of Drunstan and his men without ceremony and headed back the way they had come.
Bearnas and Talorc were already in their custody, picked up from the road the previous day.
None of Drunstan's men would know until they arrived where they were being taken, or who had arranged it. That was how the Shadow worked. That was how it had always worked.
With the camp cleared and the prisoners gone, Cormac's men stood easy for the first time in days. Several sat around the fire enjoying the provisions and taking the opportunity to rest. Another mission completed, and they would all be rewarded handsomely by the king.
Cormac took the time to thank each man for his service and check that none were injured.
Two were nursing cuts from the brief fighting – one on his forearm deep enough to need attention, another across the ribs bleeding through his shirt.
Una saw them, and before Cormac could speak she had already crossed to the man with the arm wound and crouched down to examine it.
"Have ye a needle and thread?" she asked Cormac.
He blinked. "Ye can stitch a wound?"
"I can stitch anything," she replied.
Seumas produced a kit from his pack and Una took it and set to work. She cleaned the needles with boiling water and cleaned the wound before beginning.
The man with the arm wound – a broad, quiet fellow called Tam – went pale when he saw the needle.
Una gently assured him she would be careful, and he took a large swig of whiskey to fortify himself regardless.
He went paler still when she was halfway through and bore it in complete silence, which she respected.
"Try not to use this arm for two days," she told him as she finished binding the wound. "And keep it clean."
Tam looked at the neat, even stitches and then at her. "Thank ye, my lady."
She cleaned the needles again and moved on to the man with the rib wound. He was less stoic than Tam, and she talked steadily while she worked, which seemed to help. When she finished, he thanked her with genuine warmth.
Cormac watched from a few paces away and said nothing. He was struck again by how different she was from other noblewomen. The lass had a kind heart, and that appealed to him even more.
***
THEY MOVED OUT BY MID-morning, heading south. Cormac rode with Una in front of him and she went without complaint. She was quiet but watchful, and he had learned enough about her in two days to know that quiet and watchful meant she was thinking.
He kept one arm always around her as they rode and told himself it was practical. The terrain was uneven and he did not want her falling. But the truth was he could not quite keep his hands off her. He needed to feel her close.
Una was aware of every point where his body met hers. His arm at her waist. His chest at her back. The warmth of him through the fabric of her cloak. She tried to concentrate on forming an escape plan and found it extremely difficult.
She asked what his plans were for her. His responses were vague at first, until he mentioned returning her to her father. Una stiffened immediately. Now she had an even bigger problem. Fenella's entire family were currently spending the summer in Edinburgh.
She had no choice but to mention it before they wound up at her uncle's estate to find it empty.
"Cormac?"
"Aye, love?"
"My family are in Edinburgh for the summer."
"Oh?"
"Aye. But if ye leave me at the estate, I'm sure the thane – I mean my da – will forward ye a reward when they return." Una was hoping that would buy her some time to work out how to produce coin for these men without revealing her true identity.
"Dinnae fash, Fenella. We shall return ye to Edinburgh directly. 'Twould be more convenient as we are headed that way regardless."
"Ye are?"
"Aye. Did ye think we merely raid near small villages? Edinburgh is full of nobles with deep pockets." Cormac smirked and glanced down at her.
"But surely ye'd travel faster without me. I dinnae need to go to Edinburgh – my servants at the estate can care for my needs until my family returns."
"Dinnae be ridiculous. 'Tis not safe for a gently bred noblewoman to be left alone in an estate when the head of the household is away."
Una tried to argue but Cormac had a ready reply for every objection. Eventually she simply nodded and stared directly ahead as his arm tightened around her and he quickened their pace.
She understood then that she needed to escape. At the next stop, or the one after, she could slip away, head back to Kyleakin, and throw herself on the mercy of Boyd and Bella MacKinnon at their keep.
The plan was sensible. It was the right thing to do.
The problem was that Cormac never let her out of his sight. He was always nearby – holding her hand, riding with her against him, positioned just within reach.
He was not obvious about it. He simply always seemed to be there.
She also could not decide whether she wanted him to stop.
That was the more inconvenient problem.
***