The Hunter (Highland Guard #7)(62)

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.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

She pursed her mouth, thinking that it wasn’t like him to capitulate so easily.

She was about to question him further, when he said, “Don’t bring me into this. It isn’t my fight. It’s between you and Bruce.”

He was right, not that she liked being reminded of how he wasn’t interested. “How much longer of a delay do you think this will cost us?”

She couldn’t be late. Something important was brewing; what if she missed it?

The dark shadow of his broad shoulders shrugged. “Once I am sure they have taken the bait and followed MacKay and MacLean, we will find some horses. Hopefully by morning, so not more than a half-day, I should think.”

She heaved a sigh of relief.

They walked for hours, eventually reaching the end of the stream near a small village. By that time, her feet were no longer cold; they were too numb to feel anything.

Ewen was talking to Sir Kenneth. “There’s an old Roman road that runs through the village. We can take that until we catch another river—”

He stopped suddenly, catching a glimpse of her shivering, and muttered an oath that she heard quite distinctly. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were cold?”

After slogging through the water and snow for hours at a pace she would consider more running than walking, Janet wasn’t in the mood for his overprotective male attitude. In spite of what he would like to think, she wasn’t going to break like a poppet made out of porcelain. Nor was she going to feel blame for chattering teeth. Jerusalem’s temples! Any normal person’s teeth should be chattering.

“Of course, I’m cold,” she snapped back. “I’ve just been walking through a freezing river. Anyone normal human being would feel a little chilly, but it isn’t anything I can’t handle or haven’t done countless times before.”