The Hunter (Highland Guard #7)(60)

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.