Chapter 20
Ronan didn’t slow Angus until the sky had begun to lighten.
The stream had carried them far from the Murdochs’ camp, twisting between steep banks overhung with alder and willow that all but hid the stream from view. Only when he was certain they had put several miles between themselves and their pursuers did he guide the horse up the muddy bank.
Angus scrambled onto solid ground, water streaming from his fetlocks, closely followed by Bran and Skye who shook themselves down, spraying water droplets everywhere.
Ronan looked around, every instinct alert.
The countryside here was broken by rocky outcrops and scattered birch woodland.
Ahead, a tumble of gray boulders leaned together beneath the hillside, forming a shallow hollow almost hidden beneath hazel scrub and bracken.
“Over there,” he said quietly.
He guided Angus into the shelter of the rocks before finally pulling him to a halt. Ronan went very still, cocked his head, and listened. He heard no sounds of pursuit. No shouting. No distant barking of dogs. Only birds beginning their dawn chorus.
Ronan closed his eyes briefly and breathed a long, slow breath. Slinging one leg over Angus’s back, he slid from the saddle and landed lightly on the ground before reaching up to help Elodie down. As she shifted her weight in the saddle, she winced.
Ronan frowned. “What is it?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
He placed his hands around her waist and lowered her carefully to the ground but the moment her feet touched the earth, her knees buckled. His arm shot out automatically, catching her before she could fall.
“Ye are not all right, lass.” He guided her across to one of the rocks. “Sit.”
She opened her mouth to argue then seemed to think better of it. She settled onto the flat stone gingerly. “Happy?”
“Not yet.” He crouched in front of her. “May I?”
She looked puzzled until he nodded towards her neck. “Oh.”
She held still as Ronan reached out and gently brushed her hair back.
His stomach lurched. Bruises were forming along both sides of her neck where that bastard had grabbed her.
Fury flashed through him so hot and stinging that for an instant his vision swam.
His fingers itched with the need for violence.
“Ye should have let me kill him,” he growled.
She grabbed his clenched fists in her hands. “No, I should not. Don’t become like them, Ronan. Don’t let them turn you into something you’ve fought so hard to resist.”
For several heartbeats the fury rampaged through him so strongly that he could barely think straight. That man had hurt Elodie. He deserved to die for it!
But slowly, her words reached him. She was right. He’d spent too long resisting what the world wanted to make him. He couldn’t give in now.
“Aye,” he breathed. “Ye are right. Doesnae mean he doesnae deserve one hell of a beating though.”
He rose to his feet and crossed to where Angus was idly cropping grass. Reaching into the saddle bag, he pulled out a small glass jar and returned to Elodie. He pulled out the wax stopper, sending a pungent smell through the air.
“What is that?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
“Comfrey ointment. Faye swears by it. Now hold still.”
He was as gentle as possible as he spread the salve across the bruised skin of her neck but even so she hissed in pain.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. It just stings a bit.”
Only when he’d finished did he really look at her. Her hair had escaped its braid and there was dirt on one cheek. She looked exhausted. Something inside him twisted painfully.
“I should never have left ye,” he said roughly.
She laid her hand over his. “You couldn’t save both Morag and me.”
“I should have found another way.”
She squeezed his fingers. “You came back for me.” She slid from the rock and knelt in front of him, resting her forehead against his.
He kissed her forehead. “I’ll always come for ye.”
“I know.”
The certainty in her voice humbled him. He wasn’t sure he deserved that kind of faith. He wanted to remain here, in this hideaway, with her. He wanted to forget about the problems that waited for them in the world beyond this outcrop and just be with Elodie. But he knew it wasn’t possible.
“They’ll be coming,” he said quietly.
“I know that too.”
He looked south, where somewhere beyond the rolling hills his people were making their slow journey towards the lands he had abandoned years before.
He prayed they had gained enough of a head start because from this moment onwards, every mile mattered.
Beyond their little hollow the wind sighed across the heather, carrying with it the haunting cry of a curlew.
Elodie took a steadying breath. “There are things I need to tell you. I overheard them. The Murdochs, I mean.”
His whole attention sharpened. “What did ye hear?”
She looked back the way they’d come as though she could still see the Murdochs’ camp. “They’re not interested in helping you. Their offer of alliance is just a ruse.”
He hadn’t expected otherwise. “They’re using me,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question.
She nodded. “Henry told Alana that once you’ve helped them get rid of Bryce, they’ll take your lands for themselves.”
He felt no shock. Only confirmation. “And my people?”
Her eyes met his. “They intend to conscript every man who can carry a weapon.”
His jaw tightened. “Do they now? We’ll see about that.”
“They talked about the Steading,” Elodie went on. “They intend to take it and use it as their base.”
The muscles in Ronan’s neck drew taut. All this time, all these years the Steading had been a place people could go to avoid the troubles of the world. Now, if the Murdochs had their way, it would become a center for the very thing they’d been so desperate to avoid.
Silence settled between them and for several moments Ronan stared into the gloom.
He had known men like Henry Murdoch before, men who spoke of honor while counting the cost in other people’s blood.
Men who wrapped ambition and self-serving greed in noble words and fancy sentiments and spent other people’s lives like coin.
He had ridden away from exactly that sort of life.
“And Bryce?” he asked. “Did they speak of him?”
Elodie nodded. “They hate him. They blame him for taking everything from them after their rebellion failed.”
Ronan let out a long sigh and scrubbed the side of his face.
Bryce again. He leaned back against the rock.
He had no idea how many followers the Murdochs had but he guessed it couldn’t be many.
Bryce commanded hundreds. No sensible person would believe they could defeat the Earl of Newborough in open battle.
Unless...
Unless they believed someone else would get rid of Bryce for them.
Unless that person was him. The Murdoch’s had offered him revenge.
They wanted to use him to eliminate his brother, believing he hated Bryce as much as they did.
Was that true? He searched his feelings for Bryce and found them tangled and complicated.
It would be easier if he could hate him.
But it wasn’t hatred he felt. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was.
Anger, certainly. But other things as well. Regret. Sadness. Guilt.
He’d left because he didn’t want to hurt anyone. Because he’d already done enough damage and because he wanted peace. How then could he justify riding back and causing conflict?
Because it’s to keep your people safe, he told himself.
Elodie studied him. “You still care what happens to him.”
Ronan gave a humorless laugh. “I’ve spent years trying not to.”
“But you do. It’s not that easy to stop caring, is it?”
He stared into the darkness. “I hate what he became.” He paused.
“I hate what all of us became, me included. But he’s still my brother.
When I was little, he used to take care of me.
I have to believe that some small part of the big brother I idolized is in there somewhere.
And I willnae let the Murdochs use me against him. ”
Elodie reached across and laid her hand over his. “Of course you won’t. So the question is: what are we going to do?”
He had been asking himself exactly the same question.
“Everyone from the Steading is heading south. Faye and Eamon will keep them moving and I’ve instructed them to avoid the roads where they can.
But even when we reach my lands, I canna simply walk onto them.
Bryce still believes I surrendered them.
He willnae give them up easily. He’ll defend them if he has to. ”
“But they’re yours by law.”
He shrugged. “Law matters very little when a man commands enough soldiers.”
She was silent for a moment. “So what will you do?”
“I’ll speak to him.”
“And if he refuses to listen?”
His gaze drifted to the pistol at his side. “I pray he doesnae. I’ll do everything in my power not to have to fight him. But if I have to choose between my brother’s pride and my people’s lives...”
He didn’t finish the sentence. Elodie studied him, her face caught in the shadow from the rocks around them. Worry shone in her eyes.
“So we might end up caught between your brother’s forces in front and the Murdochs’ forces behind.”
“Aye. Either way we are in a race now. Should the Murdoch’s catch us before we make it to my lands...”
He didn’t need to finish that sentence either. Elodie swallowed thickly but then lifted her chin and met his gaze defiantly. “Then we better make sure that doesn’t happen hadn’t we? And when we reach your brother we’ll have to talk some sense into him, won’t we?”
Her eyes flashed and he recognized the stubborn set of her jaw. Despite himself, he smiled. “Ah, Elodie MacNeil. Ye are formidable, ye know that?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Ye should. Because it is.”
He bent his head and kissed her lightly on the lips. Even this short contact sent heat spearing through him but he resisted the urge to take it further. They had to get moving.
“The sun will be up soon. We’d best be on our way.”