Highland Wolf (Highland Brides, #10)(4)

“But does she ken that?” Roderick asked.

“Probably no’,” Payton answered for him. “All she probably kens is that he’s handsome, wealthy and would marry her. And no doubt he’s taken the trouble to be charming to her in the wooing.” The warrior shook his head. “Meanwhile, ye carried her off with no explanation at all. Even were she no’ taken in by his good looks and sweet lies, surely she must still be concerned about being kidnapped?”

“I did no’ kidnap her,” Conall growled. “Her own father sent me to rescue her.”

“But she does no’ ken that,” Roderick reminded him.

A knot forming in his chest now, Conall turned to peer toward the woods again. He debated the issue in his head, and then cursed and dismounted. He had no desire to embarrass the lass by intruding on her privacy while she was relieving herself, but now he was concerned she might just be making a run for it. He wouldn’t have explained that he was her betrothed—that had to remain a secret—but he could have explained that her father had sent him to fetch her back. That should have soothed her, he knew, and he berated himself for not doing so. Especially before letting her rush off.

Silently calling himself an idiot, he strode into the woods.





Chapter 2




Conall had hoped to find Claray either on her way back, or five or ten feet inside the tree line, squatting behind a large tree to tend her business. However, she wasn’t five or ten feet in . . . or even twenty, and Conall was just about to shout for his men to come help him search when he spotted a splash of pale blue among the brown and green of the trees ahead.

Breath leaving him on a sigh of relief as he recognized the material of her gown, Conall moved slowly forward, just wanting to get close enough to assure himself it was her. Then he would turn his back and afford her the privacy she deserved, he told himself.

Several steps later, Conall was quite sure it was her, but now was a bit confused as to what she was doing. She wasn’t squatting, though she was low to the ground. However, it looked to him as if she was on her knees and hunched slightly as if her stomach pained her. Forgetting his desire to allow her privacy, Conall hurried forward and found the trees suddenly disappearing on either side of him as he stepped out of the woods onto a six-foot strip of grassy verge that ran along the river. Turning his head to the right, he could see where the clearing started some twenty feet away. They weren’t very far from it, he noted.

“There, there now. ’Tis over.”

Conall shifted his gaze back to Claray at those murmured words. All he could see was her back, but there didn’t appear to be anyone in front of her that she could be speaking to. In fact, she was kneeling at the river’s edge. Was she comforting herself? Perhaps she’d been sick and was telling herself it was over?

“What is over?” he asked brusquely.

Claray glanced sharply over her shoulder, her eyes widening when she saw him behind her. “Oh, heaven’s, m’laird, ye startled me.”

As Conall mumbled an apology for giving her a fright, she stood and whirled to face him with a bunny in her hands. Its fur was wet, it wasn’t moving and there were three long wounds on its side. Conall eyed it briefly, wondering how she’d killed it. She had no bow and arrow, so he supposed she’d used her sgian dubh to end the wee beastie’s life. It was impressive, and he wasn’t surprised if she was hungry after riding all day, but—

“Lass, I’m sure MacNaughton has sent his men chasing after us,” he said solemnly. “We’ve no time to skin and cook a rabbit.”

Claray’s eyes widened with horror at his words, and she cuddled the bunny protectively to her chest. “Ye’re no’ skinning this bunny!”

Conall eyed her with uncertainty. “Then why did ye kill it, lass? ’Tis just wrong to kill a wee beastie ye do no’ plan to eat.”

“I did no’ kill it!” she exclaimed, peering down at the furry creature with concern. “I washed the blood away . . . and ’tis no’ dead, just wounded. I think a hawk or falcon must have tried to carry it away and dropped it or something o’ the like. It has scratches on its side that could have been from talons.”

Conall dropped his gaze back to the rabbit, grimacing slightly when he saw one of its long ears twitch. It was alive, and he had a bad feeling that she planned to—

“I’m going to take it with me. It will no’ survive out here wounded as ’tis. It would be easy prey for the first fox or hawk that came along.”

Conall had to clamp his lips together to keep in his instinctive protest. They were on the run. He had to get her back to the safety of MacFarlane and her father before MacNaughton’s—and possibly even her uncle’s—men caught up to them and tried to steal her back despite the scroll he’d handed to Gilchrist Kerr. It had been from her father, claiming something unexpected had occurred and he needed her back home, and the Wolf and his comrades were to escort her back at once.

The message had been MacFarlane’s idea. For some reason the man had hoped it would save his daughter. Conall had thought it a foolish hope himself. After all, Kerr and MacNaughton had planned to force the lass into marriage without his approval or her agreement—why would they care that he wanted her home? However, the missive had come in handy for distracting Kerr long enough for him to snatch up the lass and ride off with her.