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"Aye, she did," Dougall said on a sigh. "Mayhap me refusal to sell him horses no matter whether he has the coin or no' will stop his plans."
"For now, maybe," Conran said dubiously. "Though I suspect he'll go ahead with it in hopes ye'll change yer mind when he presents the payment. On the other hand, he could buy horses elsewhere . . . were he to get the coin."
Not wanting to encourage this line of conversation, Dougall didn't comment. He had no desire to think the woman would still be sold off like a cheap lightskirt. Besides, he could see something on the path ahead and was distracted by trying to sort out what it was.
Noting his sudden stillness in the saddle, Conran glanced ahead and squinted. "It looks like someone on horseback, but . . ."
"But 'tis a very strange horse," Dougall murmured. It looked short and wide, a squat creature that moved with a somewhat awkward gait.
"Is that a cow he's riding?" Conran asked with amazement as they drew closer.
"A bull," Dougall corrected as the rider shifted and he spotted a horn poking up into view. "And if I'm no' mistaken, he is a she. That looks like a gown to me."
"Hmm," Alick murmured behind them. "A rose gown. Lady Danvries was wearing a rose gown."
"Aye, she was," Dougall agreed, and urged his horse to move more quickly.
"Damn," Murine breathed when she heard the approaching horse. She'd spotted the men on horseback behind her just moments ago and had recognized them as the Scots Montrose had been trying to buy horses from. It could have been worse. Montrose could have discovered that she'd fled and come after her, but this was bad enough. These were the men her brother had tried to sell her to and the embarrassment and shame of what he'd done was overwhelming. She'd really rather not have to face them again.
"M'lady."
Murine kept her gaze straight ahead, hoping that if she pretended not to hear him, the man might just leave her be and travel on.
"Lady Danvries," he said, a little more loudly and when she again didn't respond, commented, "Yer brother did no' bother to mention ye were deaf when he offered ye to me. I should ha'e guessed as much, though. He's obviously a cheat and a louse, so o' course he'd try to pass off a defective lass in exchange fer me high-quality beasts."
Gasping in outrage, Murine gave up her pretense and turned to glare at the man as she snapped, "I'm no' defective! And ye'd ha'e been lucky to ha'e me, I'm worth a hundred o' yer horses."
When his mouth quirked up on one side and one eyebrow rose high on his forehead, she realized what she'd said and quickly added, "Not that I'd ha'e agreed to such a shameful bargain." Turning forward again, she muttered, "Me brother has obviously lost his mind to sink so low."
"And so ye're running away before he offers ye to someone who is no' as honorable as meself and might accept?"
Murine's mouth flattened with displeasure. That was exactly what she was doing . . . or trying to do. But now she was fretting over the possibility that this man might somehow interfere and prevent her escape.
"Dougall."
Murine glanced around at that shout, her eyes widening when she saw that his men, who had been keeping back apace, were suddenly urging their mounts to catch them up.
"What is it, Conran?" Dougall asked with a frown.
"Riders," the man explained, glancing worriedly toward Murine. "And I'm thinking it's Danvries's men after the lady here, to take her back."
Cursing under her breath, Murine started to turn her bull toward the trees, intent on hiding, but found her way blocked by horses as the other men caught up and surrounded them.
"No time fer that, m'lady," Conran said sympathetically. "They're moving fast; ye would no' make cover."
"Then we shall have to be her cover," Dougall said grimly. "Surround her, and cover her hair and dress. I'll meet the riders."
Murine opened her mouth to protest, but then let out a startled gasp when a cap landed on her head.
"Tuck yer hair up, lass," someone said.
"And here, put this round ye to hide yer pretty gown," someone else said, dropping a plaid around her shoulders.
Murine didn't argue, but clumsily shoved her hair up in the cap, then clutched the plaid around herself and glanced about at the Scots and their horses. Her bull sat perhaps a hand lower than their mounts, which helped hide what the plaid didn't cover of her skirts, but there were only three of them now and the two riderless horses they'd hoped to sell to her brother.
"Mayhap we should . . ." Rather than finish the suggestion, someone suddenly tossed another plaid over her, this one covering her head as well. She then felt pressure on the back of her neck as someone silently urged her to press herself flat to the bull's back. Hoping it was enough, Murine ignored the fact that she found it difficult to breathe in this position with the heavy cloth over her, closed her eyes and began to pray.
Dougall managed to get about twenty feet back up the path before the oncoming English riders reached him. He hoped it was far enough away from the woman his men were trying to provide cover for, but there was little he could do if it wasn't. The choice then would be whether or not to fight for the lass. Dougall hadn't yet made up his mind on the matter. It wasn't the fact that there were twenty of them. He and his brothers were skilled fighters. They could easily beat twenty lazy, poorly trained English soldiers. But he wasn't sure if Lady Danvries was worth fighting, and killing, over. If she was anything like her brother, she definitely wasn't . . . and really, this was none of his business. He supposed he'd have to play it by ear.
"Did Danvries find coin fer the horses, after all?" he asked lightly by way of greeting once the riders had stopped.
"Nay." The man in the lead glanced past him to his brothers and then back. "We are looking for Lord Danvries's sister. She went out for a ride and has not yet returned. Her brother grows concerned."
"A ride ye say?" Dougall asked, feigning surprise. "Are ye sure? I understood she was without a mount. 'Sides, she was sitting in the hall when we arrived and 'tis sure I am that she went above stairs ere we left."
"Aye." The man frowned and glanced back the way he'd come. "I gather she left after you and your men, and we did not pass her ere encountering you. She must have gone another way."
"That would make sense," Dougall agreed and he supposed it did make sense if you didn't know that he and his brothers had stopped for a meal ere leaving Danvries land.
The man nodded, and spun his horse back the way he'd come with a brusque "Good journey to ye."
"And to ye," Dougall said cheerfully and grinned as he watched the English soldier lead his men away. He hadn't even had to lie. Gad, the English were stupid. Of course, now he had to deal with the woman, he acknowledged, his smile fading.
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Ah well. Dougall shook his head and turned to ride back to his own men.
"Lookin' fer the lass, were they?" Conran asked as the men eased aside to allow Dougall to move his horse up beside the woman's bull.
"Aye." Dougall glanced toward Lady Danvries, expecting her to thank him for his aid. But she proved she was English by refusing to even acknowledge his presence. The woman was still huddled low on her cow, the plaid covering her.
Scowling, he tugged the plaid off her, and then leaned quickly to the side to catch the woman when she started to tumble from the back of her beast.
"Well," Conran breathed with disgust when Dougall pulled her unconscious body across his horse to peer at her. "It looks like she's gone and died on us. That could cause trouble with the English."
"Nah, 'tis a faint," Dougall said, but then had to tear his gaze from her pale face to her chest just to make sure she was breathing. She was, but shallowly.
"It can no' be a faint," Alick protested at once, standing in the saddle and craning his head to try to get a look at the woman. "If the lass is brave enough to run away on her own, she's hardly the type to faint o'er a little scare like this."
"Unless it was no' courage that had her running away," Conran pointed out.
"What else would it be?" Alick asked with a scowl.
"She could be lacking the sense God gives most," Geordie suggested.
"Or she could be a few men short o' an army," Alick added reluctantly.
"This lass is no' daft," Conran snapped. "Nor is she witless. The two o' ye ought to be ashamed to suggest it."
"Well, why do ye think she's fainted then?"
Conran eyed her briefly and then said, "Well, now, mayhap she's ailing. 'Tis obvious her brother cares little for her well-being. Mayhap she's taken ill."
"And mayhap," Dougall said, shifting the woman to a more comfortable position on his lap, "Ye should stop acting like a bunch o' old women so we can continue on with our journey."
