Page 74 of Desire of a Highlander

The sun had cleared the horizon now, painting the fields along the road side in pale gold. By this time the road should have been busy with farmers driving their cattle to pasture. With drovers moving sheep. With carts creaking towards market.

But it wasn’t. The only sound was the dawn chorus of birds in the trees lining the road and the steady crunch of many pairs of feet. In the crofts and small farms he could see in the distance, smoke only curled from a handful of cottages, far fewer than there should be.

His thoughts drifted unwillingly back to the burned croft they’d passed. He’d seen sights like that when he’d been a lad. His father had once taken him to such a place to show him what could happen when clan feuds got out of hand. But this? This felt different. Larger. More systematic.

Up ahead, the two dogs stopped abruptly. Every muscle in Bran’s body stiffened and Skye pulled back her lips. A low growl rumbled from deep inside her chest.

Ronan’s hands tightened on the reins and he threw up a hand to call a stop. He stared down the road, trying to see what had caught the hounds’ attention but in the weak light he could see nothing.

Then both dogs began barking right at the same moment that one of Ronan’s scouts appeared over a slight rise. Running straight for them.

Ronan’s heart leapt into his mouth. Tossing Angus’s reins to Elodie, he jogged out to meet the scout. It was Eamon. The lad skidded to a halt, struggling to catch his breath.

“Riders,” he gasped. “Up ahead. Blocking the road.”

Something cold settled in Ronan’s stomach. “How many?”

“I counted twelve.”

“Bandits?”

Eamon shook his head. “I dinna think so. Looked like they were wearing a uniform. And they have lots of weapons.”

The cold in Ronan’s stomach deepened. Did they work for Lord and Lady Murdoch? Had these riders been tracking them since they’d left the Steading?

“How far away are they?”

“Just over the rise.”

He nodded once. “Well done, lad. Now back to yer post.”

Eamon nodded. Ronan looked towards Elodie who was watching him with a concerned expression on her face. “Stay here. Keep everyone together. I willnae be long.”

He turned on his heel and jogged away before she could utter a word. Bran and Skye flanked him automatically and his hand drifted towards his pistol. It took all his willpower not to draw it.

As he reached the top of the rise, the road beyond came into view. This time, at least, Eamon hadn’t been exaggerating. A dozen mounted men blocked the road. Unlike the ragged lot they’d encountered before, these men looked professional. They wore dark blue coats and leather cross belts. Every one of them carried a sword and a brace of flintlock pistols.

Government men.

Perhaps this should have reassured Ronan, but it didn’t. In times like these even those tasked with protecting people could turn bandit. They were clearly waiting for him. As soon as he started down the far side of the rise, one rider nudged his horse forward. He was perhaps forty, with a scar running from his temple into his close-cropped beard.

“Stop right there!”

Ronan halted a comfortable distance away. “Aye?”

“Who are ye?”

Ronan shrugged. “Just travelers.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. He looked past Ronan towards the distant column. “Whose side are ye on?”

Ronan frowned. “Side?”

“The King’s? Or the rebels?”

Ronan blinked in confusion. “Rebels?”

The officer’s patience visibly shortened. “We’ve orders to root out Jacobite sympathizers and anyone opposing the Articles of Union.”