Читать книгу The Highland Wife - Lyn Stone - Страница 11

Rob could not say how he knew for certain they were being followed, but he did know. He could feel it in his bones. If Ranald MacInness did not come himself, he would send others, just as he had hired men to rid him of Mairi’s father.

Rob knew that if anyone had deprived him of this woman, he would go to the very ends of the earth to retrieve her and would never trust the task to underlings. He hoped Ranald would risk himself. That would save a journey back to the Highlands to get rid of him later.

To pass the time as they traveled, Rob forced himself to think in words instead of images. Though it never came naturally for him to do so, he had made it a regular habit since he had learned to read. Early on he’d discovered that it provided good practice for forming speech, getting words in the proper order so that he would not appear unlearned.

He did that now, making lists of possible ways the eventual attack might occur if they were overtaken. Countering with exact accounts of his probable response to each and every one. In his experience, such preparedness often made a difference in dealing with any problem.

When dwelling upon Mairi, he had to make an even greater effort to prevent his mind’s collective vision of her overpowering all his senses at once. He put her into words.

Rob purposely gave name to her delicate fragrance of roses that blended so enticingly with her own sweet scent. Syllable by syllable, he inwardly described her tresses, like honey-colored silk sliding over his fingers. He spelled out the tangible hum of her voice as she spoke when he was touching her, and silently narrated his joy in the act of simply looking at her.

He composed poetry of epic length to celebrate her beauty and her courage, seeing the letters unfold upon an imaginary scroll of parchment as he did so.

Separating and enumerating her charms occupied a large portion of his time, he realized. So much time that he wondered whether it helped or hindered his attempt to reduce the stunning effect she worked upon him.

His dreams of her, of course, he would not be able to control. There she would likely spring to mind in her entirety. Given the way Mairi had reacted to their first kisses, Rob could not pretend he dreaded sleep during which thinking in words was impossible.

All day they had trekked through the Highlands, moving at a steady pace, halting to rest whenever the horses seemed weary. Though they were well away from Craigmuir, Rob did not alter their pace. Her kinsmen’s men could not move any more rapidly than this and hope to preserve their mounts.

He cast a brief glance behind him and noticed how proudly Mairi rode. She had her chin raised and her back straight as if she had not ridden the day long through terrain that would daunt the hardiest of travelers.

They had plodded up and down hillsides and through gorges so narrow his shoulders nearly touched each wall as they passed. And yet Mairi continued to endure without a protest. Or at least Wee Andy had not seen fit to pass it on to him if she had. Rob had a feeling she would not have waited for him to gain the news secondhand if she meant to issue any complaint.

The small clearing they now passed through would make as good a camp as any, he supposed. No place would prove truly safe until they entered the gates of Baincroft, but they could not hope to ride for four days without decent rest.

It was nearing dark and he admitted he could use a few hours of sleep himself, having had none the night before. The laird’s deathwatch had not allowed it. His bride must be ready to fall from the saddle, despite her determination to show no weakness.

The decision made, Rob reined in and dismounted. “We sleep here,” he announced as he strode back the few lengths necessary to reach Mairi’s mare.

He took the reins from her hands, plucked her from the saddle and set her on her feet. Her legs promptly buckled. Rob caught her before she crumpled to the ground. With a small laugh, he swung her into his arms and carried her to the nearest tree. It was huge with giant roots that rose above the ground. One provided a smooth seat for her.

“Make a fire,” he ordered Andy, and began dragging the packs from the horses. He unrolled a woolen blanket and placed it over a cushion of thick grass. On the other side of the fire Wee Andy was preparing, he placed another coverlet.

When he indicated with a gesture that Mairi should lie down, she frowned, shook her head and spoke. He caught the words sleep and beside you.

No test of his reasoning here. She would not sleep with him. Not surprising, he thought with a shrug. He had not expected her to lie willingly beneath him tonight.

Despite that, he assumed an aggrieved look and heaved a huge sigh of pretended resignation, not wanting Mairi to think he had not desired her. He certainly had…did, however, now was neither the time nor the place to relieve that. He pulled his cloak out of his pack and tossed it several feet away from the blanket meant for her.

He busied himself gathering more firewood, watching surreptitiously as she stood and tested her legs, then disappeared into the trees for a short while. When she returned, she snatched up the blanket and removed it to a place well away from where he had thrown his cloak.

Rob grinned. He would never take pleasure of his bride in such a place as this, but if it gave her peace of mind and a feeling of control to put a greater distance between them, he would allow it. Until she fell asleep.

He turned, saw the observant Andy frowning at him, and winked to assure the man he was not piqued. Wee Andy seemed to be developing protectiveness for the lady. He likely thought her sharp words might anger a new husband, but Rob did not take them amiss at all.

Mairi’s ire over her forced departure from her home obviously had not abated. He believed it was that alone that drove her to deny him, not the fact that she abhorred his deafness. He had thought it might distress her, and was relieved it had not seemed to. She had kissed him willingly enough yesterday in that glade. She had wed him, had she not?

However, he wondered now if it might not have been better to have laid the matter bare between them at the outset, before the wedding. That way he would have known exactly what he faced, and so would she.

He misliked guessing what she thought of it. Not once had she indicated that she cared one way or the other. Had she decided to ignore his lack of hearing altogether, pretend it did not exist? That would certainly not last for long.

Some people roundly feared the affliction and considered him cursed. Because of that, he had grown used to concealing it from all but his friends and family. Once he had learned to speak, that had never proved difficult with chance met acquaintances. They simply never thought to suspect such a thing.

It was a rare enough condition, so he’d been told. When it did occur, most people so stricken were also mute. His ability to speak usually prevented any suspicion of deafness.

A few did know, of course, and he imagined he was the object of some discussion behind his back. But he had never even considered withholding the knowledge from his intended bride or her father.

He had made a point of ordering Thomas to tell the laird before the betrothal contracts were drawn up, assuming that the laird would tell the daughter the problems she might encounter if she accepted the marriage.

Rob knew his deafness would affect their life together more than any other thing. Mairi would not understand that yet, but the realization must come to her one day soon.

He wondered how she would react if some fool accused him of consorting with devils, bartering his sense of sound in exchange for dark, evil powers. That had happened twice before, once with his mother’s uncle and then later with Thomas and Jehannie’s grandfather, Sir Simon. Even many priests believed it so.

Rob did have powers, of course. He smiled to himself, recalling the looks of awe—and sometimes fright—when he dealt with animals. Wild or tame, they loved him. He could coax them to do nearly anything he wished. Only he knew the secret was in caring about them, in showing no fear and banishing their fear of him. They sensed his respect and it calmed them, made a wild beastie as tractable as the laziest hound.

As he mulled that over, Rob unsaddled the horses and brushed them down with tufts of grass, examining their legs for scratches and their hooves for stones. All three nuzzled him in turn, thanking him for the attention.

His familiars, some accused. Strange word, to have such sinister meaning and yet be so descriptive of how he actually felt about most animals. He liked them more than people at times, for they were also hampered when it came to communicating what they truly needed. He made the effort to understand them and they returned the courtesy. It was that simple.

Also, his ability to see at night astounded many who knew him. For Rob, it seemed as natural as seeing in the day. God had given him that ability, he was certain. It proved quite valuable at times, and would later this night when they must rise and travel again with only the meager light of the moon. A gift.

He could sometimes divine exactly what others were thinking. This, however, was no real gift at all. He merely watched people more closely than most bothered to do. Or perhaps sounds distracted them so that they could not.

Expressions, arms closed about the chest, fists clenched, trembles of fear or rage not quite masked by a pretense of calm, shifting eyes. Those gave true thoughts away.

He could spot a liar before he opened his mouth to speak. And a plotting mind stood no chance of concealing itself. There was an air of intensity, of reckoning, so apparent as to be written in ink across the forehead.

Rob straightened from his task and looked at Mairi. She now sat upon the blanket, her elbows resting on her drawn-up knees, one finger absently twirling a strand of hair that had escaped her shining braid at the temple. Such a pensive, faraway look she wore.

Child’s play to see inside that mind, Rob thought with a wry twist of his mouth. Mairi was forming a plan of some sort. She either thought to escape him and return to Craigmuir to avenge her sire, or she meant to cajole her new husband into promising he would do the deed for her.

Powerless at the moment, she obviously hadn’t quite decided as yet which she would do. And so, he must watch her and keep her from acting on the first option, should she choose that one.

Mayhaps soon he would tell her he had already elected to return and set matters to rights if Ranald did not come after them and seal his fate. Rob smiled. He was not above allowing her to ply her charms first to convince him that he should accede to her wishes. He might have a bit of the devil in him, after all, to consider such a thing.

Andy soon summoned them to partake of the bread, cheese and cold meats he had packed before they left Craigmuir. They sat near the weak blaze and passed a wineskin among them.

If Mairi minded the silent meal, she did not say so. Rob suspected her exhaustion prevented her caring one way or the other.

“Sleep now,” he told her when she had finished eating. Obediently, she gave them good-night and retired to her blanket. Rob wrapped himself in his cloak and sat against a nearby tree. Andy moved to the shadows beyond the fire to keep first watch, as was his duty.

Rob had not meant to sleep until he could claim a place close enough to Mairi that he might be awakened should she attempt to leave in the night. However, he awoke with a start several hours later when the pale moon had tracked high overhead.

A sense of impending threat made his skin tingle. He rose quickly and hurried toward the horses.

What is it? Andy signed as he approached from across the clearing, an arrow already nocked in his bow.

Danger, Rob indicated. Wait here. Keep close watch.

At Andy’s obedient nod, Rob quietly saddled his horse and led him into the trees. He mounted quickly and retraced their earlier path for nearly an hour. At intervals, he would stop, sniff the air in all directions for wood smoke. When he smelled it finally, he let the scent lead him where it would.

The enemy camp had bedded for the night. Rob counted four sleeping bodies, rolled in blankets around the glowing coals. Another man had been set to guard duty, but had fallen asleep.

Five corresponded with the number of mounts. Rob took the time to lead the horses well away from the camp and tether them near his own.

Could one of these men be the cousin, Ranald? Rob hoped so. Then it would end here.

Unthinkable to slay sleeping men, he decided. And there was the slight chance these were not sent by the new laird of Craigmuir.

“Ho, the camp!” he shouted. “MacBain is here!”

He laughed aloud at their sudden confusion. Two tangled so helplessly in their wraps, they could not gain their feet.

The wakened guard rushed him, sword drawn. Rob dispatched him cleanly and kicked him off the blade. The advantage of surprise worked quite well.

A second man managed a nearly lethal thrust before Rob cut him down. He handily caught the next one with the backswing of his blade. The fourth laggard, mouth open and eyes wide with sheer terror as he looked back, took to the woods on the opposite side of the clearing and disappeared.

Rob trapped the last of the clumsy group still fighting his way out of his blanket. The oaf smelled of strong drink. A sharp rap on the head stopped his struggles.

Ranald MacInness must have combed the Highlands for the worst trained warriors available. Rob imagined his lowliest cotters armed with sticks could have held their own against these dullards.

A pitiful excuse for a fight, Rob thought as he bound his captive. He thought about chasing down the man who had escaped, but decided not to bother. That one was on foot and would require at least two days to make Craigmuir.

Besides, Mairi’s cousin needed to receive the message his minion would carry. What the MacBain claimed remained his own, and Mairi belonged to none other. Could Ranald resist such a taunt? Rob thought not. He would come after Mairi himself next time, but now would be at least three or four days behind them.

Satisfied that he had taken care of the problem for the duration of their journey to Baincroft, Rob hauled the bound man toward the horses, threw him aloft and tied him on.

He meant to have answers of this one. Rob would soon know the number and sort of men Mairi’s cousin commanded and whether he would pursue her all the way to the Midlothian.

The information he would gain should assist him in eventually deposing the treacherous cousin. He hoped Mairi would feel her father partly avenged by this night’s work.

“It’s Lord Rob!” Wee Andy called, waving his arm and hurrying around the fire to where Mairi stood. “You see? I told you he’d be back soon!”

She pulled her blanket closer against the night’s chill. “Who is that?” she asked, pointing at the body draped across the shaggy, unfamiliar mount her husband towed into camp.

“Your cousin’s man,” MacBain answered as he reined up before the fire. He dismounted and stretched, obviously weary.

“He only sent one?” she asked in disbelief.

“Five,” he said calmly, and turned away to drag his captive off the horse.

“Five? Where are the others? What happened? And how did ye know they—”

“My lady, please,” Wee Andy interrupted, stepping between her and MacBain. “There’s naught to be worried about. Leave off a moment and let’s see what we’ve got here, eh?”

Mairi blew out a breath of exasperation and desisted, though she could hardly contain herself.

With anxious eyes, she scanned the darkness of the tree line, wondering if at any moment the other four would emerge to wage a fight for their friend.

“Where are they?” she asked Andy. “What happened to them?”

“Dead, I expect,” he said gleefully, rubbing his hands together. “Or breaking a new road straight back to where they came from.”

“Rest now, Andy,” her husband ordered as he returned from where he’d laid his unconscious burden against a tree. To her, he said, “Go to sleep.”

“Sleep?” she all but screeched. “Ye ride in here, dragging one of those devils, say there are four more out there and expect me ta sleep?” Mairi threw up her hands. “Why, they could ride down on us at any moment! Or are they truly dead? Five against one and ye’d have me believe ye slew them all? If not, the least ye can do is tell me—”

He placed his fingertips to her mouth and impatiently shook his head. “You are safe.”

She shook off his hand. “Safe? And that is all ye say? Why do ye never answer me straightly, MacBain? Why do ye treat me like a stray bairn unworthy of regard? Ye might as well strike me as ignore me the way ye do. I despise that! I would know what transpired in the woods this night and why ye come back with only—”

“I ken nothing!” he said through gritted teeth. “Nothing you say!”

“Well I know that!” she shouted, leaning toward him, shaking one fist. “And do not wonder at it! Ye never listen to me! It’s as if I do not exist for ye half the time, and the other half—”

“Leave off, woman!” he thundered, drawing up to his full height, his fists clenched, causing the muscles in his arms to bunch. The flickering light from the campfire played over his features, lending them a menacing, otherworldly glow.

Fear greater than any she felt for Ranald’s hirelings skittered up her spine. Here was true danger and all too immediate. He looked fit to strike her down.

Silently, Mairi backed away from him, gripping her trembling hands together, sorely afraid she had tread too far. Never before had he exhibited real anger toward her. But she had seen the effect of his rage at Craigmuir during that battle with Ranald’s men.

Wives held no immunity from the ire of their husbands and she had certainly courted MacBain’s with her loud demands just now. Righteous, she might be, but she should not have shouted at him.

Neither should she have refused to sleep beside him earlier, but she had not wanted to grant him forgiveness all that quickly for hauling her away from Craigmuir as roughly as he had done. To admit to him how profoundly he affected her would surely have given her husband the upper hand.

Which he certainly had now anyway.

Without another word she quickly retreated to her blanket, lay down upon the grass and turned her back to him. She would not be able to sleep, but she would pretend for all she was worth. Hopefully by morn, his surly mood would have improved. If the other four men Ranald had sent after them did not slay them all before then.

Silence reigned in the clearing behind her, which seemed odd. Why was he not telling Wee Andy what had happened? Or making plans in the event they sustained an attack? Surely he would not ride in that way and simply lie down and fall asleep! But she dared not turn over to see for herself.

Mairi closed her eyes as tightly as she could and prayed she would be alive to open them come the morn.

A pelting rain woke her soon after daybreak. Though the ground beneath her felt relatively dry, the covering above her, supported by a framework of branches, did leak a bit. She brushed the droplets off her hair and face.

How had he managed to build that thing right over her without her waking?

Mairi raised herself to her elbows and peered out into the soggy morning.

Across the clearing, Wee Andy lay beneath a makeshift tent much like her own. She spied the hindquarters of the gray MacBain rode disappearing into the trees.

“Wait!” she cried, quickly crawling out of her cover and dashing after him. “Dinna leave us! Where is it ye go?”

Before she could get halfway to the tree line, he had disappeared.

“Gone back to bury them what he killed,” Wee Andy called, “and see what he can find amongst their packs.”

Mairi released a pent-up breath. For a moment she feared he had gone on without them, then realized he was headed in the wrong direction for that.

Besides, he would not have left his man behind. Now she was a different matter. After the way she had railed at him last night, she admitted she wouldn’t much blame him.

The rain was letting up, but she was already wet. Hopefully, the sun would be out soon to dry her clothes and hair. Bedraggled and aching from her night on the hard ground, Mairi made her way to the packs that lay sheltered by a small shelf of rock.

Wee Andy joined her there, accepting the portion of bread she tore off a loaf and handed to him. “He’ll be back afore noon. Said we was to stay put and guard the prisoner.” Taking a bite of the bread, Andy nodded toward the unfortunate man still tied to a tree and soaked to the skin. The wretch looked miserable.

“I suppose we are taking him with us?” Mairi asked, slicing off a portion of cheese with her eating knife and offering it.

Andy thanked her with a smile and a bob of his head. “Aye. Rob—Lord Rob, that is—plans to have him questioned. Find out more about your cousin.”

“To what end?”

“I did not ask,” Andy admitted. “And he seldom announces his reasons. Nonetheless, they are always sound.”

Mairi hesitated to talk about her husband with a man who served him, but she had to find out about him somehow. “I do wish he’d answer my questions, if not yer own! He rarely speaks to me and never seems to hear a thing I say.”

Wee Andy shot her a worried frown. She realized she should never have criticized her husband’s behavior to one of his men. “I do not speak ill of him,” she assured. “Truly. I but wonder why he seems so stern. Is he always like that?”

“Stern?” Andy repeated with a gust of laughter. “Aye, I suppose he can be when there’s a need for it.” His eyes sparkled then. “But Rob loves a good jest. None of us was safe from him as lads and he’s not much improved since then.”

“Jests?” Mairi asked, unable to imagine the stoic MacBain playing tricks for fun.

“Oh, aye,” Andy assured her, warming up to a tale. “Why just last month he smartly humbled one of his knights, Sir Belden—he’s a God-cursed temper, that man. Ever one to pick a fight for no good cause.”

“Go on,” she encouraged. “What did the MacBain do to him?”

“Goaded the man past bearing. Did it exactly the way Sir Belden would do to another. Niggling, smirking, poking fun. Kept at him until he demanded Rob fight him.”

Andy chuckled and shook his head. “The man will think twice afore he strikes up another match over some piddling words.”

“MacBain defeated him soundly, did he?” she asked, ripping off another chunk of bread.

“You might say that. They was squared off, y’see.” Wee Andy demonstrated, standing with his short legs spread, stretching his arms as if about to draw his blade for attack.

“Go on, finish it!” Mairi encouraged, eager to hear the outcome.

Andy nodded and shifted his stance. “Then Robbie slides that huge sword of his out of its scabbard and holds it gleaming in the sun, evil grin on his face, looking ready to fight to the death.” He narrowed his eyes at Mairi, but his lips quivered with barely contained mirth, spoiling the effect.