Highland Wolf (Highland Brides #10)(77)

Conall couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to have so many siblings running about the keep. It must have been chaos at times, he thought, but loving chaos. It made him ask, “How many bairns would ye hope to have?”

Claray had gone back to sorting out rushes again, but paused now and looked thoughtful. Finally, she shook her head. “I am no’ sure. I would no’ mind havin’ a lot o’ children, but it did seem to wear me mother down havin’ them so close together as she did with Annis, Arabella, Cairstane, Cristane and Islay. I think I’d hope fer two or three years between each child.” She shrugged. “But I guess I shall just have to be happy with whatever God sees fit to give us.”

“Aye,” Conall murmured, but he was trying to imagine Claray heavy with child as she carried their bairn, and the idea pleased him. A little girl who looked like her would be nice, or a little boy he could teach to be a good man. Mayhap two of each would even be good, but he didn’t want Claray to be heavy with child every year. He’d heard that could wear a woman down and kill her.

Claray’s suddenly sliding off the back of the wagon caught his attention, and he raised his eyebrows in question.

“I’m just going to step into the woods for a minute,” she muttered. If the words hadn’t given him an idea of why, the way she blushed as she said it did, and Conall merely nodded and didn’t say anything . . . until Roderick, Hamish, Hendrie and Colban all moved away from the wagon where they’d been standing guard and started to follow her.

“Halt,” he said at once, and strode into their midst, his own four-man guard following now. “Ye can no’ go with her. She’s goin’ to tend to personal matters.”

“Aye, but do ye think it’s wise fer her to be alone?” Roderick asked, and then pointed out, “She’s already been injured once.”

Conall frowned, his gaze moving to the trees where Claray had disappeared. He really didn’t think the attacks had been meant to harm her. On the other hand, MacNaughton could try to kidnap her away from him, he thought suddenly. Mouth tightening, he nodded and strode toward the trees. “Fine. I’ll go keep a look out meself. The rest o’ ye stay here though.”

“That will no’ stop an arrow,” Hamish pointed out quietly. “She was alone with ye when she took the arrow last time.”

Conall paused again, and then cursed, before saying, “All right, we’ll follow and spread out and surround her. But do it quietly and do no’ let her see ye. Drop to the ground if ye ha’e to if she looks yer way. I’ll no’ ha’e her embarrassed.”





Chapter 23




Claray walked further into the woods than she’d hoped to have to, to find some privacy. While the area outside the curtain wall was forested with trees, most were only ten or fifteen years old this close to the wall. They hadn’t suddenly sprouted up the very moment Deagh Fhortan was abandoned. The surrounding woods had just slowly crept closer to the castle, spreading out a little further each year.

With the trees being so young, there weren’t any nice wide ones she could step around and squat behind, so she walked until she couldn’t see the men anymore when she glanced back. Claray thought she’d caught a glimpse of movement close to the ground when she looked back this last time, but it was so quick she wasn’t sure what she’d seen. She was fretting over what it might be when she heard bleating. Turning back the way she’d been heading, she scanned the surrounding area, her gaze halting on a sweet little baby deer moving toward her on wobbly legs.

“Ohhh,” she almost moaned, enchanted at the sight. It was obviously very young, and not yet used to walking, or perhaps not strong enough. Rather than his legs being directly under him, they were spread out somewhat and he was staggering like a drunken fool.

“Oh, ye sweet thing,” Claray cooed when it made its way directly to her and into her skirts. Lifting them several inches to get them out of his way, she watched with amazement as he began to lick and then suckle at her ankle, moving around it as he did, obviously in search of a teat.

“Oh, ye poor dear! Ye’re hungry,” she said, bending to scoop him up into her arms. The moment she did, he started rooting around on her upper arms and chest, taking material into his mouth and trying to suck milk out of it.

“Where’s yer mother?” Claray murmured, giving him a soothing pet as she examined him. He didn’t look to be more than a day or two old, but his eyes were dull, and his ears were curling at the tip, a sure indication that he was dehydrated.

Biting her lip, Claray glanced around for any sign of his mother, but suspected the poor doe might have been dinner last night or the night before. Conall had brought her fish for sup last night, but he’d eaten venison and had mentioned the men had returned from the hunt with three bucks and a doe that morning.

Her need to relieve herself forgotten, Claray cuddled the still bleating fawn to her chest and turned to head back the way she’d come. She needed to get it some milk, and quickly. Dehydration was dangerous for one so young.

Not wanting to trip and hurt the fawn, Claray kept her attention divided half on the bleating baby deer, and half on the ground she was covering. She didn’t glance up until the shade of the trees suddenly gave way to bright sunlight. She raised her head then, and came to an abrupt halt when she saw Conall and all eight of their guards standing in a half circle in front of her. Not all eight, she realized as Colban stumbled out of the woods beside her and quickly joined the other men.