Chapter 8
The rider dismounted and appeared to study the road for several moments, which made Pelna’s breath catch in her throat.
Had her horse’s hooves left prints for him to follow?
She would have assumed that such indicators had been almost immediately washed away by the rain, but then, she’d only been there a matter of minutes.
No. The more closely she watched what he was doing, the clearer it became that he was tracking the markings right back to the barn.
And he was walking right toward her. Purposefully.
Pelna darted away from the door of the barn and looked around wildly, trying to find something she could use as a weapon if she needed to.
Her journey had been a failure; she was willing to accept that.
However, she was not willing to allow herself to be captured over it, even if it meant dispatching some thug from the McDaugh keep to preserve her own life.
Still, the idea of such a confrontation terrified her mightily. She had never been in a fight with a man, let alone seriously hurt or killed one. What might she be forced to do now in order to save her own life? Would there be repercussions for her clan once the body was discovered?
Would she have to hide a corpse on top of it all?
She wasn’t sure how she’d be able to do such a thing, even if she wanted to.
The ground was so muddy and watery that digging a grave for it wouldn’t do; it would surely be uncovered by the rain again in a matter of hours.
For a surreal moment, she even entertained the possibility of slinging the body over the back of her horse and riding with it back to her own lands so it wouldn’t be found.
After all, a missing man might raise suspicions, but one found dead would confirm them in the worst possible ways.
One thing at a time, Pelna, she warned herself, still scouring the barn. Get out of this situation alive and intact first, and then worry about the aftermath.
Pelna found a pitchfork under some hay and hefted it.
It was rusted and blunt, but it would have to do.
If she spent any more time looking for something more suitable, she would surely be caught unprepared, and there was no telling what might happen to her next.
So she stood next to the barn door and brandished it, waiting for the rider to enter.
She held her breath, listening to his footsteps squelch in the muck, steadily drawing closer until his shadow dimly appeared on the floor. Just a few moments more, and he would be within striking range.
Make yer initial thrust strong and sure, she thought.
If ye do not kill him immediately, then it will take an extra moment or two tae pull the pitchfork out of him and use it again, and if he is not sufficiently wounded, he may draw a sword and begin tae fight back.
Even wounded, he might be more than a match fer ye if he is a seasoned warrior.
Oh, how she wished this was nothing but a nightmare. How she wished she could simply wake up suddenly in her own soft bed, warm and dry, instead of soaked and trembling and fearing for her very life.
The shape of the rider slowly crossed the threshold of the barn and Pelna leaped at him, jabbing the pitchfork forward.
To her dismay, he sidestepped it easily and grabbed the shaft just above the forked part, using it to pull her closer to him as she clung to it for dear life, unwilling to be disarmed so quickly and easily.
Before she knew what was happening, her face was inches away from his as the rain dripped off the tip of his nose and ran from the ends of his black hair.
His eyes blazed furiously, making him look like some avenging drowned pagan god of the sea.
“What the hell is the meanin’ of this?” Gareth demanded loudly. There was a longbow and quiver slung across his back. “Why are ye attackin’ me?”
Pelna was startled to see that it was Gareth, but nevertheless, she continued to cling to the handle of the fork.
“What? Why are ye followin’ me? Did yer father command ye tae make sure I didn’t return home? Is that it?”
He blinked, confused. “What are ye talkin’ about? I did not consult with my father after our meeting! Rather, I set out after ye moments later, hopin’ tae catch ye before ye reached the border.”
“Again, I demand to ken why!”
“Because,” he replied slowly, as though explaining a concept to a slow-witted child, “it seemed tae me, upon further reflection, that our conversation had not reached a satisfactory conclusion. Yer long journey will have served no purpose if ye return tae yer own lands still convinced that my people are responsible for this heinous crime. That way leads tae more war and madness, which, I feel, may yet be avoided if we are smart about it. Now, will ye please unhand the pitchfork so that we may speak as civilized people?”
Pelna peered at him warily. “How do I ken ye will not attack me the moment I am unarmed?”
He rolled his eyes, and then, with a series of movements so swift and fluid that they were barely more than a blur to her, he snapped the pitchfork out of her hands, tossed it aside, then drew his own sword and raised it.
She threw her hands up defensively, cringing so hard she nearly fell over backward.
“There,” he said briskly, sheathing his weapon once more.
“If that were my intention, I could have done so. Since I did not, perhaps we might try tae communicate a bit more meaningfully than we have previously. Unless ye have any other ill-advised attacks ye wish tae launch on my person? A concealed dagger, perhaps?” He frowned, looking around the barn.
“Come tae think of it, why are ye here alone? Where are yer guardsmen?”
She briefly considered lying, telling him that they had gone to look for more suitable shelter and were expected to return any moment, but after what he’d just done with the pitchfork, stalling him further seemed a bit silly.
She hated to admit it, but he had a point.
If he had meant her harm, he’d had any number of opportunities to hurt her ever since she’d first walked through the gates of the McDaugh keep.
Instead, he had chosen to hear her; he’d released her without incident.
And now, when it was just the two of them, he had still demonstrated that he wasn’t inclined to harm her in any way.
All of which made her all the more bewildered and uncertain regarding the true cause of Bran’s death or the motivations behind it.
Could Gareth have been telling the truth all along?
“We were separated,” she confessed. “By the tree in the road, which ye no doubt noticed before doubling back tae find me. Though how ye were able tae do that in weather such as this is a mystery tae me, I must confess.”
“My skills as a hunter and tracker are quite refined,” he said with no small trace of pride.
Then his expression darkened slightly. “Nae that I have had any real time fer huntin’ or falconin’, or any of my other preferred activities, due tae the wars which rage on both sides of my clan.
That is why I meant what I said tae ye earlier in the great hall, Lady Pelna.
Ye and I may be the only hope fer peace in our time. ”
“I’m sure ye can understand my skepticism,” she retorted primly. “It is difficult tae trust the son of the man who has ordered so many of my clansmen slain.”
“The same goes both ways,” he observed evenly. “Yet try we must, else it will all end in the needless ruin of a great house. Yers or mine.”
She nodded. “And as ye pointed out, the Sinclairs would be only too happy tae watch us scramble fer each other’s throats so they could pick up whatever pieces were left behind.
But if ye were not the ones who committed this shameful act, then who might it have been?
Sinclairs pitting us against each other? ”
“That,” he replied, “or perhaps one of yer own people who had a grudge against the old farmer and got hold of one of our tartans. They would have been easy enough tae collect from the corpses on a battlefield after the fightin’.”
“A grudge? Against some helpless farmer?” she scoffed. “Surely ye cannot possibly be puttin’ that forth as a credible theory!”
“We can trade ideas on the subject later,” he said, “but fer now, ye are drenched, and ye are sure tae catch yer death if ye remain out here much longer. Come, we must return tae the keep at once. There ye can get warm and dry yerself by the fire while we try tae determine what has transpired here and what we can do about it.”
“Ye are changing the subject,” she countered. “And besides, how am I meant tae come with ye when my own men are sure tae be lookin’ for me? If they do not find me, they are sure tae think the worst!”
“If they find ye and ye’ve caught a chill which claims yer life, it will be the worst,” he answered sharply. “And more than that, yer father will be sure tae blame me fer the entire thing. You must follow me back tae the keep. They will come and look fer ye there, I’m certain of it.”
“I think I ken my own guardsmen better than ye do,” she shot back.
“Are ye simply determined tae be difficult fer nay bloody good reason at all?” he demanded.
“Ever since ye appeared before me in the great hall, it seems as though yer entire inclination is tae immediately contradict anything I say as soon as I’ve finished sayin’ it.
How do ye expect us tae find any common ground that way?
” He let out a growl of impatience. “And why are we still standin’ around here and bickerin’ when we could be well on our way tae safety by now? Are ye tryin’ tae drive me mad?”
She was about to answer him—to throw it in his face once more that they were enemies, that she would be a fool to trust him out of hand—when suddenly, an arrow punched through the left side of his chest, up near his shoulder.