The Hunter (Highland Guard #7)(103)

Though the parley was held under the sacred banner of truce, Chief wanted them to serve as part of the escort. They were supposed to leave tomorrow to catch up with the others before they reached Selkirk.

Ewen’s mouth fell in a thin line, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t explain that he wasn’t going to Selkirk, and that he was no longer a part of the Highland Guard.

Sutherland had come around to stand next to his brother-in-law. He gave Ewen a hard look. “Why do I get the feeling there is something you aren’t telling us? What exactly did you and the king discuss?”

The conversation with the king had gone exactly how Ewen had expected it to go. Once everyone had left the room, he’d explained what had happened. Bruce would have put a blade through his gut—or perhaps an area slightly lower—if Ewen hadn’t been on his back, unarmed, and weak from fever. Instead, his worst fears had been realized. The king stripped him of his land, his reward, and his place in the Guard, and he would have taken his freedom as well had Ewen not convinced him to let him find Janet to ensure she was not in danger.

And it had taken some convincing. The king had been inclined to defer to Janet’s judgment: if she thought it was important, he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the informant or the information their contact might pass on. No matter how hard Ewen pressed him the king would not disclose the identity of the informant—except to say that it was someone in Roxburgh highly connected to Edward’s lieutenants. Who did Ewen think had been bringing them all the recent intelligence, enabling the Highland Guard to know exactly where to attack?

Ewen had been stunned. Janet was responsible for that? He’d underestimated her importance and knew it. He owed her an apology—one of many—if she would ever listen to him again.

But learning just how in the thick of it Janet was only ratcheted up his concern. Hell, it wasn’t concern, it was mind-numbing, bloodcurdling, bone-chilling fear. The stakes would be even higher if the English were to discover her role.

He had just as much faith in her as Bruce did, but Ewen’s faith was blinded by something the king’s was not. It wasn’t until Ewen had lost everything that he could see clearly what duty and loyalty had prevented him from acknowledging. The emotion burning his chest and tearing his gut apart could only be one thing. Nothing else could strike this kind of fear and misery in him. He loved her. And he’d taken her love and thrown it back in her face.

“You will have me.”

Her words ate at him. How could he have thought it wouldn’t be enough? She was everything. Without her, nothing else mattered.

For the first time in his life, Ewen could see his father not with embarrassment, shame or anger, but with admiration. For he’d done what Ewen had not: he’d had the courage to risk everything and fight for the woman he loved.

And now the woman Ewen loved was God knows where, doing God knows what, because he’d been too much of a fool to do whatever he needed to do to hold on to her. When he thought of how he’d turned away after making love to her, how he’d told her he was going to take her back and hand her over to another man …

No wonder she’d run. He would spend the rest of his life making it up to her, if she would let him.

But what if he didn’t get a chance to explain? What if something happened to her, and he couldn’t tell her how much he loved her?

He had to find her, damn it. He’d tear apart every nunnery on both sides of the Border if he had to.

The danger had finally caused Bruce to relent—but only so far. Hence, Ewen’s role as an observer. As for the rest, the Guardsmen would find out soon enough.

“That’s between Bruce and me,” he told Sutherland.

“Janet is my sister now,” Sutherland said, his notoriously hot temper sparking in his eyes. “If you did something to dishonor her …”

Ewen’s mouth tightened. Sutherland would have to stand in line. “I buggered up, all right. But I’m trying to make it right.” He paused, distracted, as another nun emerged from the priory. But even from this distance he could see the build wasn’t right. He needed to at least get closer. He turned back to Sutherland impatiently. “I am not going to have this conversation right now. As soon as we find her, I will answer whatever damned questions you want. Now unless you are going to try to stop me, get the hell out of my way.”

The challenge was issued to all three of the men blocking his path. They looked at one another and must have recognized the determination in his gaze—or maybe it was the wild, frenzied, just-on-the-edge-of-madness look that convinced them.

MacLean shook his head and sighed, stepping aside first. “You’d better know what the hell you are doing.”

Ewen didn’t, but he had to do something. He couldn’t stand here and wait another minute.

His eyes scanned the area in front of him as he moved through the trees. The river wound to the east side of the priory. From there he would have a closer view of the yard. He could leave his armor behind and pretend to be a fisher—

Suddenly, he stopped. His gaze flickered back to something he had skimmed over earlier.

“What is it?” MacLean whispered, coming up behind him.

“The lad,” Ewen said. “Sitting on the rocks by the river.”

“What about him?” MacKay asked.

“I’ve seen him before.” Something prickled at the back of his neck. “The first time I was here, and a few days ago.”