Chapter 5
Ronan ran the curry comb down Angus’s flank in slow, steady strokes.
The big bay gelding flicked an ear but otherwise paid him little attention, content with munching hay from his manger. It was starting to get dark outside and he’d soon need to light a lantern.
“What do ye think of our strange new guest?” Ronan asked.
Angus continued chewing hay.
“Aye, that’s what I thought.”
The horse snorted. Ronan smiled faintly and continued grooming.
Grooming Angus in the evenings had become one of his habits.
The stable was one of the few places where he could find peace.
No disputes to settle. No questions about crops, roofs, fences or missing livestock.
Just him and Angus. The horse had always been a good listener—certainly better than most people.
“Faye thinks she’s trouble.”
Angus twitched an ear.
“Or that trouble might follow her.”
The horse’s tail swished lazily. He looked over his shoulder at his master, hay hanging out both sides of his mouth and snorted softly.
“Aye, ye are right. I’m worrying about things that have yet to happen.”
His smile faded as his thoughts drifted.
It always surprised him how old Angus was becoming.
The horse was graying around the muzzle now and he had faint scars on his chest from adventures best forgotten.
And he wasn’t the only one getting older.
Time had touched them both. Ronan was no longer the idealistic youth who’d rode away from his family’s lands all those years ago.
When he thought about it, he barely recognized that young man anymore.
But Angus had remained throughout it all.
He remembered the day his father had given him the horse.
Angus had been only a colt then, all legs and ears and gangly movement.
He remembered his father laughing when the colt had immediately started fighting the tether that Ronan had gripped with both hands.
“He’s stubborn,” his father had warned. “Ye will suit one another.”
His hand slowed against Angus’s coat. Back then the future had seemed simple—everything fixed, everything certain. But then everything had changed and any certainty Ronan had felt in the future had withered like a dead vine.
He noticed the direction of his thoughts and caught himself. Enough. There was no sense dwelling on ghosts. The past was the past and nothing could be done about it.
He had just begun brushing Angus down once more when the stable door flew open and Faye came stomping in. One look at her thunderous expression made Ronan’s stomach tighten.
“What is it?”
“The lass is gone.”
“What?”
“When I got home from my rounds, she wasnae there. No sign of her anywhere.”
“How long ago?”
“I dinna ken. The fire was nearly out.”
Ronan swore softly and Faye folded her arms.
“I told ye she was trouble.”
His jaw tightened. Aye, she had. Part of him wanted to be angry. The lass had taken a blow to the head earlier today and barely knew where she was. Wandering off alone was more than foolish—it was reckless and could put them all in danger. What was she thinking?
Yet beneath the irritation lay something stronger. Concern. The hills surrounding the Steading were unforgiving. One wrong step, one fall, one encounter with the wrong people...
And if Faye was right and Elodie was some runaway noblewoman with people out looking for her? Then every person under his protection could suffer if anything happened to her.
“I’ll find her.”
“Ye had better.”
Ronan threw down the curry comb and began saddling Angus with quick, practiced movements. It took only minutes, and the gelding danced eagerly as Ronan led him outside into the twilight.
He swung into the saddle and looked down at Faye. “Organize the watch. Have guards posted on all the approaches. Just in case.”
Faye nodded. “Dinna worry, Eamon and I will take care of it.”
Ronan clucked to Angus and pulled the big gelding around, heading north out of the settlement, calling Bran and Skye to his side as he went.
The ground was still soft from the earlier storm and it didn’t take long before Ronan found footprints clearly marked in the mud.
They had to be Elodie’s. Nobody else in the Steading would have been careless enough to leave them standing out like that.
He growled under his breath, nudged Angus into a fast walk and whistled for the dogs to fan out to either side, then rode through the trees and out into the heather-clad hills that surrounded the Steading.
Bran and Skye soon picked up her scent, barking excitedly as they wandered around, following the trail.
As they tracked Elodie, Ronan’s concern deepened.
Her trail wandered. Then doubled back. Then wandered again.
He frowned. “What in God’s name are ye doing, lass?”
She clearly wasn’t traveling with purpose. It seemed as though she didn’t have the first clue where she was going, nor any kind of survival skills if the way she was wandering up and down hills right into the bite of the wind was any indication.
Whether she was trouble or not, whether she was a runaway noblewoman or not, he knew what the consequences would be if she was stranded alone out here after dark. The thought of her being injured twisted something unpleasant in his chest and he found himself pushing Angus harder.
Bran and Skye suddenly froze, staring ahead, just as a sound drifted to him on the wind.
Voices. Many voices. Ronan yanked Angus to a halt, cocking his head to listen.
Slowly he drew one of his flintlock pistols and urged Angus cautiously forward.
The path came out from a stand of thorny trees and he spotted a group of people ahead moving along the track towards him.
There were dozens of them and he realized immediately what they were. He knew the look. The exhaustion. The fear. The desperation. Refugees from another ruined village, no doubt.
Then, to his utter shock, he spotted Elodie striding along at the front of the group, hand in hand with a young girl.
The girl was chattering incessantly and Elodie nodded now and then and murmured an answer.
Suddenly the girl spotted Ronan up ahead and gave out a little shriek, her face going white with fear.
Elodie’s head snapped up, her eyes going wide, but the moment she saw him her entire face lit up, a smile of relief curling her lips. The sight made an odd sensation flare in Ronan’s chest.
Releasing the girl’s hand, Elodie took off running towards him. He quickly holstered the pistol and swung down from Angus. Elodie came gasping up to him, a wide grin splitting her face.
“Ronan! You have no idea how pleased I am to see you!” She laid a hand on his arm, the contact sending a shot of warmth right through him. “I found them. They were looking for the Steading. I was bringing them back, but...” She grimaced. “I think I may have become a little...um... turned around.”
“A little?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
She looked entirely unrepentant. “All right. Perhaps more than a little. Perhaps ‘completely lost’ would be a more accurate description.” She turned to the group of people. “This is Ronan Campbell. The man you’ve been looking for.”
Ronan winced at the sudden hope that flashed across dozens of tired faces. He had never gotten used to people looking at him that way. He doubted he ever would. The group clustered close, firing questions at him.
“Is it true ye take folk in?”
“Is the settlement nearby?”
“Will there be food?”
Ronan raised a hand and the questions slowly died away, the group staring at him expectantly. “The Steading isnae far,” he said. “And aye, ye are welcome. And aye, there will be food. “
They looked a sorry and ragged bunch. He wondered how long they’d been on the road.
“Put the youngest children on Angus,” he instructed. “He can carry them easily enough.”
Within minutes several small children had been settled onto the gelding’s broad back and their weary parents looked grateful enough to weep.
Ronan took Angus’s reins. “Everyone stay together and follow me.”
As they set off, Elodie fell into step beside him.
Ronan wanted to ask her why she had left so suddenly, without saying goodbye, but he kept his mouth shut.
It was almost an unspoken rule that you didn’t pry into another person’s business.
Yet Ronan found himself wanting to break that rule.
He found himself wanting to get to know Elodie better.
He found himself wanting to know everything.
THE JOURNEY BACK TO the settlement took far less time than Elodie expected. This was partly because Ronan actually knew where he was going, unlike her, who it quickly became apparent, had been leading everyone around in circles.
But it was also partly because she spent most of the journey trying not to think about how relieved she was to have Ronan walking by her side.
It was ridiculous. She’d known the man for less than a day yet the moment she’d seen him coming towards them on that huge horse of his, something inside her had unclenched.
The panic she’d been carrying all day had simply... evaporated.
She glanced sideways at him. Ronan held the horse’s reins loosely in one hand while the children perched atop the horse, Morag included, looking around in wide-eyed wonder. The refugees followed behind in a long ragged column.
Ronan looked in his element. He was alert, blue eyes scanning the terrain around them and a slight frown on his face, and yet he looked...calm. Assured. As though escorting thirty desperate strangers through the wilderness was the most natural thing in the world.
Perhaps for him it was. After all, she knew exactly nothing about him. But she was curious. Oh yes, she was curious. The swords hanging on the wall in the forge. The huge horse that was clearly a purebred. The way everyone deferred to him and the quiet authority that seemed to surround him.
None of it fit with the image of a simple blacksmith.