Page 84 of Desire of a Highlander

Almost.

Angus stood to one side of him. Bran and Skye on the other. Ronan looked at the three of them. “Well then. Ready to do something foolish?”

As if they understood every word, the dogs’ tails immediately began wagging. Angus snorted.

He laughed softly, despite everything. “Aye. I thought ye might approve.”

He checked his pistol. His dagger slid free an inch before returning to its sheath with a quiet hiss. He looked once towards the south where his people were already disappearing into the distance, then he mounted Angus and rode north. Towards the Murdochs. Towards Elodie.

“Hold on, Elodie,” he murmured. “I’m coming.”

Chapter 19

Elodie had never realized how oppressive the dark could be.

The Murdochs’ camp was quiet. Men spoke in low voices around a central campfire. Horses stamped occasionally on the edge of camp. Somewhere, an owl called from deep within the forest. A heavy watchfulness hung over everything, anticipation like the air before a storm.

Elodie sat on a folded blanket beneath a huge pine tree, hugging her knees. Nobody had tied her up and she supposed she ought to be grateful for that. Despite the Murdoch’s assertion that she was a ‘guest’, she knew the truth. She was a prisoner. A hostage. A surety that Ronan would do what they wanted.

Ronan. Had he made it back to their people? Had he got Morag safely away?

She closed her eyes, drew a deep, steadying breath. She felt completely, utterly alone. She might be surrounded by people but that made no difference. They were enemies. She had no doubt that they would harm her if it suited their purposes. That thought made panic well up inside her like bile and she had to swallow a few times to squash it.

A broad-shouldered guard sat against a nearby tree with a musket resting across his lap. Every so often he glanced her way to remind her he hadn’t forgotten she was there. She might not be tied up but she knew her guard wouldn’t let her take five steps before he stopped her. She’d considered making a run for it three times already. Each time she’d counted at least a dozen armed men between herself and the woods.

No. Running blindly would only get her caught. Or killed.

Instead, she forced her thoughts to Ronan. She pictured the determined set of his jaw when he’d left the clearing with Morag. He would come. She knew he would. Despite herself, she felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Only a few weeks ago she’d never heard his name. Now she trusted him with her life.

How had that happened? She didn’t know. She only knew that she trusted Ronan Campbell more than she’d ever trusted anyone.

A rustle of skirts interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see Lady Alana Murdoch approaching carrying two wooden cups. Unlike her husband, Alana wore no obvious weapons, although somehow that made her seem even more dangerous.

She smiled pleasantly although it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I thought ye might appreciate something warm.”

She held out one of the cups and Elodie accepted it cautiously. It smelled faintly of herbs. “Thank you.”

Alana lowered herself gracefully onto a nearby log. For several moments neither woman spoke, but Alana studied Elodie intently. Finally, Alana broke the silence.

“Ye intrigue me.”

Elodie swallowed thickly, uncomfortable under the other woman’s scrutiny. “Oh?”

“Aye. Ye aren’t what ye pretend to be.”

Elodie’s stomach tightened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The older woman cocked her head. Even in the midst of a woodland campsite, she looked well-groomed and regal, with not a hair out of place. “Ye carry yerself like a noblewoman, like someone accustomed to giving instructions.”

“So?”

“Yet ye dinna speak like one. Ye speak strangely. Ye use words I’ve never heard.” Alana’s gaze sharpened. “Where are ye from?”

Elodie hesitated only for a heartbeat. Think. Think. Think. “I’m from the south.”

Alana smiled faintly. “The south is rather large.”

“My father held lands there.”