The Hunter (25 page)

Unconsciously, her gaze sought out Ewen’s. As if feeling its weight, he glanced up. Her heart dropped. She knew before she asked, “What is it?”

She had new appreciation for his direct, matter-of-fact way of speaking when he didn’t try to soften or hide the truth. “We are being followed.”

She surprised him. Ewen expected tears or panic, or at least some other feminine sign of alarm, but Janet’s expression barely changed; her only sign of concern was a slight widening of the eyes that someone who had been watching her very closely—as he’d been doing—would have picked up.

He might not like the idea of women in war, but he had to admit, her cool-under-pressure reaction was as impressive as any battle-hardened warrior’s.

She didn’t waste time with questions about his certainty. “How close are they?”

“About three miles east, heading this way. I saw them from the top of the mountain,” he pointed to the hill above them, “so with the distance and obstacles, I can’t be sure, but I’d guess there are at least forty men.”

A slight paling of her cheeks told him that she fully understood the danger. “How are they tracking us?”

“They must have gotten lucky.” Whether they were the same men as before or new, he didn’t know. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to ask them. They were the enemy; that was all that mattered.

Ewen had covered their tracks as best he could, but the horses, the speed at which they were traveling, the darkness, and the damp ground made it impossible to hide all traces. A good tracker—a
very
good tracker—who knew
what he was looking for, and guessed their general direction, could find them. In the daylight, that is. “The darkness should slow them down.”

He glanced at the softly fallen snow blanketing the ground in a thin layer of white. Instead of the beauty, all he could see was disaster. Why the hell couldn’t it have snowed while they slept?

He didn’t realize he’d frowned until she asked, “But?”

“But the snow will show our path like a map.”

Again, she didn’t blink, and his estimation of her went up another notch. “What is the plan?”

“We were just discussing that,” Magnus interceded.

From the way she looked back and forth between the men, she seemed to have guessed that there was some disagreement. There was. MacLean wanted to head higher into the hills and lure them into a trap, while Ewen and Sutherland didn’t want to fight a battle with Janet anywhere nearby. Even though they were ninety-nine percent certain they would win, there was always that one percent chance that something could go wrong.

Fortunately, MacKay agreed with them—to a point. “We’ll head into the hills and try to lose them,” he said.

The English didn’t like venturing into the wild, for good reason. Bruce had taken control of the countryside, using the hills and forests to his advantage for his new pirate style of warfare.

“And if we don’t?” she asked.

“We’ll get rid of them another way,” MacKay answered. They’d try the conservative choice first, but if they couldn’t lose their pursuers, they would fight.

Sutherland smiled. “Never fear. One way or another we will get you back to Scotland and your sister safely.”

Janet managed a smile at him, but her eyes were for Ewen. “I do not doubt that.”

The mission. She knew he would see it done. The display
of faith should feel like a compliment, but instead it felt like a challenge:
Is that all this is?

Damn it, that’s all it could be.

Their eyes held for a tense heartbeat, but then he turned away, the need to leave as quickly as possible taking over.

“Make sure you don’t leave anything behind,” he warned her. The men didn’t need to be told, but she probably wasn’t used to taking such precautions. He didn’t want to leave any sign of their presence behind or make it easy for anyone to track them.

Not a handful of minutes later, they were mounted and racing as fast as the storm and shrouded moonlight would allow, higher into the hills west of Ettrick. They didn’t dare attempt to use a torch; it would be like a beacon blinking up the mountainside. Movement was easier to detect on hillsides as it was, and keeping themselves from being seen was going to be challenge enough. Fortunately, their progress need not be hampered by efforts to conceal their tracks. With the snow, Ewen didn’t bother; it wasn’t coming down heavily enough to cover them or any efforts to sweep them aside in time.

It was slow going. The horses, although good, all-purpose rouncies, were not the quick, agile, and surefooted hobby horses preferred by Bruce for the so-called “pirate” warfare of the Highland Guard. But they were bound by what fresh horseflesh was available to them. In the hills, snow, and darkness, it was a constant battle to keep the horses at a quickened pace.

But the rouncies weren’t the only problem. Though a capable rider, Janet did not have the experience and stamina of a warrior. MacKay, who had been only a passable horseman when they’d started, through years of experience and that stoic Highland grit and determination had forced an aptitude that nature had not intended. But Janet hadn’t had that kind of experience, and it was clear that the long night of riding the day before had taken its toll.

As the night drew on, her struggle to keep her seat and control of the horse increased. A horse needed a strong, confident rider at a time like this, and Janet was faltering with every mile.

But she didn’t complain. Even when her mount took a misstep that nearly toppled her off her saddle.

Ewen saw it happen in what seemed like half the normal beat of time. He was watching the steady up and down of her shadow, when all of a sudden the rhythm broke. She lurched to the side—his heart doing the same—and cried out. He saw her slipping, saw the distance to the ground, and realized how hard that ground would be. A couple of inches of snow would not cushion her bones from breaking.

He shot forward to try to catch her, wrenching his leg in the process. If he weren’t so focused on her, the burning knife of pain might have concerned him.

Somehow she managed to stay seated.

He grabbed the reins, pulling her to a stop. “Are you all right?” It happened so quickly, he didn’t have time to keep the emotion from his voice. She’d scared him, damn it. More than he wanted to think about.

Her face was lost in the shadows and the darkness, but he could see the movement of her nod. “I think so.” Her voice shook a little, and he had to fight not to pull her into his arms.
Not yours
. “I’m sorry, I’ll try to be more careful.”

He could see her readjust the plaid she wore over her head like a hood, which had fallen off as she nearly fell.

His mouth hardened. “It isn’t your fault. These are treacherous riding conditions for anyone.”

MacKay hadn’t seen what had happened, as he’d been riding ahead with Sutherland, but he must have guessed. “We’re pushing you too hard.”

“No, really, I can do this. I’ll pay more attention.”

MacKay and Ewen exchanged looks. Despite her protest, they both knew this wasn’t working.

When they’d started out from the cave, they had about seventy miles or so to reach the
birlinn
in Ayr, much of that over rough countryside. They weren’t using roads—not that many existed through the hills and forests of southwestern Scotland. In the past few hours, going as fast as they dared, they’d probably covered no more than ten miles. Even if they could outpace the English at night, the enemy would catch up with them in a few hours of daylight.

If the English were still following them, that is. And every instinct in his body clamored that they were. Ewen couldn’t see them, but he could feel them pressing, a far more ominous force than the snowy darkness around them. The last time he’d felt like this was five years ago, when he and the rest of the Guard were fleeing west with Bruce across the Highlands and the king had been forced to seek refuge in the Isles. Then, as now, it felt like they were being hunted. Used to being the stalker and not the quarry, it was an odd sensation for him—and not one that he enjoyed.

They didn’t have a choice. He wasn’t going to take any chances with her. His first—his only—objective was to keep her safe. “We need to separate.”

Janet’s heart dropped. “Separate? We can’t separate.” What if the English caught up with them? The odds were horribly against them as it was.

It’s because of me
. Janet hated knowing that she was slowing them down. It wasn’t often that she was forced to confront her weaknesses so openly, but she did not hide from them.

She might not have the physical strength or endurance that these men did, but she was every bit as determined and had no intention of giving up. “Please,” she looked
back and forth between the four shadows, wishing she could see their faces. “I can do this.”

From the concern in Ewen’s voice before, she thought he might have been worried about her, but there wasn’t a hint of concern now when he snapped, “No, you can’t. You aren’t a strong enough rider.”

She flinched. Trust Ewen not to cushion the blow. The worst part, of course, was that he was right.

Sir Kenneth attempted to ease the sting of Ewen’s words. “What Lamont means to say—”

She cut him off. “It’s all right. He’s right. I’m not strong enough. But I don’t see how that will change if we split up.”

“They won’t be following you,” Ewen said with his typical lack of explanation. The get-the-job done soldier had taken over. He turned to Magnus. “Take the horses and head north toward Broad Law. With any luck Boyd and Seton will still be there with Douglas, and you can give our English pursuers a nice surprise. I’ll head west with the lass and take cover in the forest. As soon as it is safe, I’ll find some horses and catch up with you at Ayr.”

At least he meant to go with her. She didn’t know what she would have done if he’d tried to send her with someone else.

“I’m going with you,” Sir Kenneth said. Ewen seemed poised to argue, when her brother-in-law added, “If this doesn’t work, you’ll need my sword.” He paused. “She’s my sister.”

The show of family loyalty touched her, but she still didn’t understand. “But how can you be sure they won’t follow our tracks instead?”

She could almost hear Ewen smiling. “We won’t have any.”

She learned what he meant a few minutes later when she found herself tromping through the icy water of a small burn. They’d led the horses to the water, making it look
like the group had stopped to rest, and then with Ewen in the lead and Sir Kenneth behind her, the three of them had taken off on foot through the water, leaving no tracks in the freshly fallen snow (which thankfully had abated), while Magnus and Eoin had ridden off with all five horses.

She was so cold, she almost missed the horses. Almost. Her feet might be freezing, but her aching muscles and sore backside welcomed the change of movement, especially as they seemed to be heading downhill.

Ewen was right; the English would never be able to follow their path now. But when she said so aloud, he corrected her. “Tracks can be followed in shallow water. Can you feel the stones shifting under your feet? A good tracker would see the signs. It isn’t easy but if you know what to look for, it’s possible. Of course, our pursuers won’t know to look for it.” He turned around. “Watch your step—there is a large rock ahead.”

Janet took note of the shadow sticking out from the few inches of water and stepped around it, drawing her plaid in tight and making sure the bottom stayed clear of the water. She’d rolled up the edges of her leather breeches, trying to contain the discomfort to wet feet and hose.

She wouldn’t ask how long. She wouldn’t. Even if it killed her. No matter how cold and miserable, she wasn’t going to complain. She might not be able to ride a horse as well as they could, but she could certainly walk for long distances. As a courier, she’d walked for miles. Although never this fast, and never through cold water in December. She suspected that if it weren’t for her they would be running, even loaded up with weapons and carrying all the bags, including hers. She was determined to impress Ewen, even if it killed her.

“How do you know so much about tracking?” she asked.

“It’s what I do.”

Why did she feel that was an understatement? She suspected he was good at it—very good at it. “You really are
one of Robert’s phantoms, aren’t you? Moving around like a ghost.”

She said it as a jest, but both men fell oddly quiet. Her brother-in-law recovered first, chuckling from behind. “What do you think, Lamont? You want to be a phantom? Maybe we should ask the king if he needs any new
recruits
when we return?”

“I hear they’ll take just about anyone nowadays,” Ewen replied in way that made Janet feel that she was missing something.

“I must admit I was surprised to hear that Christina’s brother is reputed to be one of the illustrious phantoms,” she said. “I remember Lachlan MacRuairi as a mean, black-tempered brigand. He must have changed.”

Neither man responded. Ewen stopped to help her over a branch that had fallen in the stream. Though he held her hand for only a moment, it was enough to make her heart quicken.

He dropped it the moment she was clear.

“Do either of you know him?” she asked, her voice a little breathless.

She was growing rather used to dead pauses. Ewen finally answered. “A bit.”

“Has he changed?”

Another pause. “Nay. You’d do best to stay away from him.”

Janet took another step in the frigid water, trying to ignore the soppy feeling in her boots, and frowned. “I won’t be there long enough to see much of anyone beyond my sister. I must be back in Roxburgh as soon as possible. I need to be back in time for St. Drostan’s.”

Sir Kenneth started to say something, but Ewen cut him off sharply. “Assuming you can convince the king to let you return.”

He was being far too complacent; she knew how he felt
about her part in this war. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

“I thought you were sure that once you explained it to the king, he would agree?”

She bristled, knowing he was challenging her but unable to resist. “I am.”