The Ranger (Highland Guard #3)(89)

But after a few minutes, he knew something was wrong. He hadn’t heard anything. Either the man hadn’t moved or Arthur’s skills were failing him.

Again.

But when a dark figure emerged from behind a tree about twenty feet away, he knew there was a third answer: The man’s skill at stealth matched Arthur’s skill at hearing.

Damn. This wasn’t what he needed. He let out the hoot that should identify him as a friend. Although he suspected that the man who approached might disagree.

Apparently, Lachlan MacRuairi was no longer harassing Ross in the north, and he had picked this night for guard duty.

MacRuairi stilled, readying his bow in Arthur’s direction, despite the secret call. “Who’s there?”

“Ranger,” Arthur replied, flipping back the steel visor from his helm and stepping out from behind the tree that had shielded him.

Even in the darkness he could see MacRuairi’s eyes narrow, the unnatural glow slitted. He shifted his arm to the left, aiming the point of the arrow right between Arthur’s eyes. MacRuairi had an uncanny ability to see in the dark—a hell of a thing to remember now.

“Are you going to use that?” Arthur said.

“I haven’t decided. One death doesn’t seem like much when compared to nine. I could claim I thought it was a traitor—which wouldn’t be that far off.”

Arthur swallowed the crude retort that sprang to his tongue. Knowing he deserved the other man’s scorn didn’t make it any easier to hear. He ignored the arrow pointed at him and strode forward. “Do you think I don’t regret what happened?”

“Do you? I sure as hell couldn’t tell. You looked like you were having too much fun fighting alongside Alan MacDougall, not to mention saving his bloody life.”

They were separated by only a few feet, but MacRuairi wouldn’t have missed at a hundred. “I will answer to the king, Viper, not to you. I need to speak with him.”

“He’s abed.”

Arthur gritted his teeth, clenching his fists at his side. It wouldn’t help anything to come to blows with MacRuairi, but he didn’t have time for his shite. “Then you’ll have to wake him. And my brother as well.”

Finally, MacRuairi lowered his bow. “You sure as hell better have something good to report.” He gave him a hard stare. “And it better have been worth it.”

Had it been? Arthur hadn’t been thinking in terms of worth at the time. He hadn’t had time to make that kind of analysis; he’d been too busy defending himself and protecting Anna.

Less than fifteen minutes later, he was ushered into the king’s tent. If Bruce had been asleep, his appearance gave no indication that he’d just wakened. His dark hair had been combed, his eyes were as clear and sharp as ever, and he was dressed in a richly embroidered dark surcoat and chausses.

He was seated on a trunk. The lack of furniture attested to the lightness and speed with which the army was moving. King Edward would never have dreamed of leaving on campaign without carts full of his household goods and plate. But living as an outlaw for over a year with his headquarters in the heather, Robert the Bruce had grown accustomed to far less.

Neil, looking slightly more disheveled, stood to his left and Tor MacLeod, leader of the Highland Guard, to his right. Like the king’s, MacLeod’s expression was grim.

The question in his brother’s gaze cut like a knife. Surely Neil couldn’t be questioning his loyalty.

“What the hell happened out there, Ranger?” the king asked.

As succinctly as possible, Arthur gave his account of the events leading up to his unexpected trip north, the planned betrothal between Lorn’s daughter and Sir Hugh Ross, Lorn’s hope to join forces, and Arthur’s intention to prevent the alliance from happening.

“You were successful?” Bruce asked.

Arthur kept his expression neutral. “Aye, your grace.”

The king nodded, pleased. If any of the men wondered how this had been accomplished they did not ask.

Arthur went on to explain how he’d led the patrol away from the MacDougall party on the way north but had been forced to defend himself to protect his cover.

“That was you?” MacLeod said. “Our men at Urquhart Castle were furious that a solitary rider managed to elude them.”

“Not completely. I wish I had. But the men had me pinned near a cliff. I couldn’t tell them who I was.”

None of the men said anything. Like him, they knew such situations were necessary to preserve his cover, but none of them liked it.

He continued, explaining that he’d been surprised by MacRuairi and his men on the way back to Dunstaffnage.

Neil drew in his brows. “You didn’t hear them?”

Arthur shook his head, offering no further explanation. He explained how at first he’d simply reacted, then, when he’d realized who the attackers were, he’d retreated to defensive maneuvering. When it came to the point where he’d saved Alan MacDougall’s life, he offered no excuse other than the truth. He’d only meant to block the blow; killing the man had been an accident.

Neil asked the question no doubt all of them were thinking. “But why save him at all? Protecting Lorn’s heir is not part of your mission. Killing him would almost be as good as killing Lorn himself.”

Arthur met his brother’s gaze, not shirking from the truth. “I wasn’t trying to protect him.”