The Devil in Plaid(5)

Chapter Two


Fiona and Esme sat on a plaid spread over a fallen log while they filled their bellies with dried venison and chucks of crusty bread. After the horses were fed and rested, it was again time to set out. Fiona was happy to remount her mare, despite the protest of her aching backside. The sooner they made it home, the sooner she could soak in a hot bath. Towering Scot’s Pines lined the roadside, which hugged the curves of the Luath River on their right. Water swelled beyond the riverbed, intruding upon the road, which was muddy but not so much as to impede the horses.

Fiona cast her gaze high. Sunlight slanted through the branches, cutting through the cool shadows cast by the canopy of dark green needles overhead. She closed her eyes, savoring the warm light as she passed through a golden beam, but then she stiffened as whistling sounds sliced the air. An instant later, an arrow whizzed by her head and buried itself deep inside the tree next to her. Her horse reared. She cried out, grasping the reins with all her might. The moment her horse’s hooves touched down, a rush of warriors wearing the deep greens and blues of the MacLeod hunting plaid poured onto the road.

Alasdair drew his sword. “My lady, ride! Take to the wood!”

The clang of steel rang out. “Follow me,” Fiona shouted at Esme, then drove her heels into her horse’s flanks. Wind whipped through her hair. Her pulse raced. She sped away from the fray with Esme close behind. Veering off the roadside into the thicket, her heart pounded in her ears, muffling the sounds of battle.

It was darker in the forest. Her gaze darted left and right while she pushed her mount to leap over fallen logs and weave around clusters of trees.

“We must hide,” Esme called from behind.

“Not yet,” Fiona shouted back over the crunch of bracket and leaves beneath their horses’ hooves. “We must distance ourselves from the fray.”

“Not too far, or else we might get lost,” Esme cautioned.

“Here,” Fiona called before turning her horse down a narrow path that sliced between two copses of slender birch trees.

Checking to ensure Esme followed, Fiona slid to the ground, leading her horse on foot toward a wide stretch of tall thicket.

“Ye’re taking us too far,” Esme cried.

Fiona glanced back at her terrified maid. “Trust me. Just a little farther.”

When they reached the thick wall of bramble, Fiona stopped. She could no longer hear the clang of swords or shouts and grunts of the skirmishing warriors. Still, her heart raced.

“Oh, my lady, what is to become of us?” Esme exclaimed, her face pale.

Fiona fought down her own panic and gave Esme’s arm a comforting squeeze. “Fear not. Alasdair and our men are the better warriors by far. Soon, we will be back on the road home.”

A rustling drew Fiona’s gaze. She sucked in a sharp breath.

“What was that?” Esme hissed.

Fiona motioned for her maid to remain silent before peering through the thicket. There she spotted a pale brown fawn nibbling at some brush.

Fiona smiled with relief. “’Tis only a wee fawn, Esme. Look for yerself.”

“Saints be praised,” Esme said, sagging back against a tree trunk. “I thought we were done for.”

“I told ye, we’ve not to fear,” Fiona soothed, although she knew she lied. They had every reason to be afraid. Still, she needed to keep Esme calm. Panicking only made any situation worse. “’Tis a beauty,” Fiona said, shifting her gaze to study the fawn. White spots dotted its wee body, and its tawny coat shone in places where it caught slivers of sunlight glinting through the trees.

Fiona shifted her stance to get a better look, snapping a slim branch beneath her foot. The deer raised its head, but to her surprise, it didn’t dart away.

Fiona pressed her hand to her heart. “The poor dear is limping. ‘Tis hurt.”

“No matter, my lady, it will be fine,” Esme assured her.

Fiona shook her head. “I do not see its mother anywhere. What if they’ve been separated?”

“Please, my lady,” Esme pleaded.

Fiona started to push through the bramble. “I must at least try to help it.”

“To do so is folly! Need I remind ye that we are hiding to save our very lives. The MacLeod has attacked our men. The devil himself could be out there right now, scouring the forest for us.”

Fiona glanced back at her maid’s face, which was drawn with worry. Even her knuckles shone white from gripping her reins so tightly. Fiona knew Esme was right, helping the fawn was a risk. Still, she couldn’t ignore the baby animal’s need and said as much, “We can’t leave an injured babe alone in the woods. Come nightfall, it will fall prey to the wolves.” Fiona tied her horse’s reins around the truck of a slender pine tree.

Esme made the sign of the cross, her eyes looking heavenward. “God save us.”

“Wheest,” Fiona hissed. “Ye’ll frighten the poor sweetling away.”

“But, my lady, ye have a farm of wounded animals already healing at the keep.”

Ignoring Esme’s continued protests, Fiona quietly followed the fawn. She wove through the trees, keeping the slender, tawny beast in sight. But the thicket snagged at her clothing, slowing her progress, and soon she lost sight of it.

“It must have squeezed through here,” Fiona called back to Esme, who begrudgingly tramped behind her. Pushing through bramble that tore at her cloak and hair, Fiona glanced back at her maid. “I’m sure it must just be on the other si—” Her last word turned into a scream as she stepped with not but air to catch her weight. Falling, she twisted and landed with a thud on her side. Pain shot through her shoulder and hip. She lay, unmoving, while the world around her spun. When the shock of the fall faded, she rolled onto her back and gripped her dizzy head between her hands and fought to calm her racing breaths. Then she slowly sat up.