The Ranger (Highland Guard #3)(59)

Arthur’s mouth thinned. He stood and quickly remounted his horse. “There’s a large party of horsemen heading straight for us.”

Richard looked at him as if he were crazy. “I don’t hear anything.”

The fools were going to get them all killed. With no time for subtlety, Arthur grabbed the big man by the thick scruff of his neck. Lifting him a few inches off his saddle, he brought his face to his. “Do as I say, damn it. In another few minutes it will be too late. Do you want to see the lady killed for your stupidity?”

Shocked by the change that had come over Arthur, the man shook his head. When he started gasping, Arthur released him with a harsh shove.

“I’ll circle around and try to distract them.” Hopefully leading them north. “Tell Sir Alan to get off the road right away. To head east and ride as fast as he can. Leave the carts behind if necessary. I’ll meet you when I can at the loch.”

Suddenly, Richard’s thick head jerked to the north. The faint sound of pounding hooves floated toward them. He turned to Arthur, eyes wide with fear and suspicion. Unconsciously, he backed his horse away. “Christ’s bones, you’re right! I hear them.”

Arthur didn’t have time to worry about the other man’s unease.

“I’ll go with you,” Alex said.

“Nay,” Arthur said, in a voice that brokered no argument. “I go alone.”

It would be easier to evade capture. Besides, there was always a chance he would know someone. MacGregor, Gordon, and MacKay were supposed to be in the north.

“Go,” he said.

With no further argument, the men did as he bid.

Arthur didn’t waste any more time. Horse and man plunged through the trees, as he raced to get behind the approaching riders before they came up on the MacDougall party. Even with the warning, he knew it would take time to maneuver them to safety. Anna was a good rider, but her maidservant wasn’t. The carts would slow them down further. If there was one thing about women he knew, they didn’t like to leave their fine shoes and gowns behind.

At least she hadn’t insisted on bringing that damned pup of hers. He was tired of dodging piss on his toes.

Using the sound of the horses as a guide, he weaved through the trees, riding parallel to the men for a few, all-important seconds before darting toward them.

Now came the tricky part: getting close enough to draw them away, but not so close that he got captured.

He muttered a curse, as a gap in the trees gave him his first look at the riders. A war party, by the looks of it. There were more of them than he would have liked. At least a score of men armed to the teeth in dark-colored plaids, war coats blackened with pitch, and blackened helms—a means of blending into the night utilized by the Highland Guard, but adopted later by many of Bruce’s warriors.

Normally, the sight of such a formidable force wouldn’t give him a second thought. He’d been trained for worse. But these men knew the terrain and he didn’t. They would have the advantage. One wrong turn and he could end up trapped.

Still, he had advantages they did not: razor-sharp senses, speed, superior strength and training, and the ability to fade into the shadows.

Ahead of him, he saw a break in the trees. This was it. Clenching his jaw, he lowered his head and shot toward the clearing. Pretending he’d just noticed the men, he veered sharply off to the left as if he were trying to avoid being seen.

When he heard the cry go out, he knew they’d sighted him. He didn’t dare slow down to look behind him, waiting to see if they’d taken the bait. A fraction of a second’s delay could mean the difference between escape and capture.

But a moment later, hearing the thunder of hooves behind him, he smiled.

The hunt was on.

Anna tried not to think about how late it was getting. But as darkness descended and the moon rose high in the sky, it became harder and harder to convince herself that he was all right.

The fear that had been held at bay by the tumult of their effort to evade the enemy soldiers had returned full force once they’d reached safety. And with each hour that passed, and Arthur still hadn’t returned, it only grew worse.

He could torment her all he wanted; she didn’t care. Just let him come back safely.

She drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders and told herself not to worry. Arthur would lead them on a merry chase, and it would take some time to make his way to them.

But would it take this long?

She bit her lip, trying to slow the rising sense of panic.

He wouldn’t get caught.

But there were so many of them and only one of him.

He can’t be dead.

She would know it if he was. Her heart clenched. Wouldn’t she?

“The stew is delicious, m’lady. Here.” Berta held out a spoon to her. “Try a bite. Just a little one,” she added, as if Anna were a five-year-old refusing to eat her turnips.

She still didn’t like them.

Anna shook her head, managing a small smile for her worried maidservant. “I’m not hungry.”

The older woman frowned, her soft brown eyes crinkling into a spray of fine lines at the edges. At barely a hair over five feet and as thin as a whip, Berta didn’t look very formidable. But in this case, looks deceived. She could be as stubborn and testy as an old goat. “You have to eat something. You’ll make yourself ill.”