“What about Noah?”she whispered as he guided her toward the door.
“He’ll find us,”Hector replied, his voice carrying just enough for those nearby to hear. “He’s the best tracker in the Highlands. We’ll wait somewhere safer.”
The tavern keeperemerged from the back room, approaching Hector with hurried steps. Concern was written all over his honest face. “Is aught amiss, Me Laird? The meal?—”
“Was excellent as always, Finlay,”Hector cut in smoothly. He tossed several coins on the table—far more than their barely touched meal warranted. “A private matter requires our attention. Me thanks for yer hospitality.”
As they movedtoward the door, Gabriella felt the weight of two dozen stares on her back. Hector maintained his dignified pace, his hand on her waist both a support and a shield. Only she could feel the tension in his fingers, the alertness in his posture that belied his casual demeanor,
“Keep yer head high,”he murmured. “Dinnae show fear.”
Gabriella straightenedher spine with effort, trying to match his confident strides. The Laird of Clan McCulloch would not scurry like a frightened rabbit out of a village tavern, and neither would the woman under his protection.
But as thedoor closed behind them and bright daylight replaced the tavern’s dimness, Gabriella couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through her.
Rory had found her.Which meant Lewis would know that she was still in the village, and with the Laird. He would not miss another opportunity to make money off her back.
“Fresh fish! Caught at dawn!”A merchant’s cry pierced the air as Gabriella stepped into the swirling chaos of the market square.
Colorful awnings flappedin the breeze above wooden stalls that formed crooked rows across the village center.
“Best wool in the Highlands!”called another, holding up a length of plaid.
A child dashed past,nearly colliding with her skirts. She started, her hand flying to her throat as her heart thudded painfully. The boy’s laughter trailed behind him as he disappeared into the crowd, oblivious to how he’d shaken her.
Two farmers argued loudlyover the price of a lamb, their voices rising above the general din. Gabriella flinched again, pressing herself harder into Hector’s side.
A woman carryinga basket of eggs bumped into her, and Gabriella had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her skirt, her knuckles white with tension.
Hector’slarge hand remained on the small of her back, steady and warm. His eyes constantly swept their surroundings, alert for danger.
“We’ll headtoward the blacksmith’s,” he said quietly.
Gabriella nodded,forcing herself to breathe deeply despite the tightness in her chest. She scanned the crowd, a habit born from months of captivity when awareness meant survival.
That’swhen she saw him. Another of Lewis’s men. Angus, the tall, lanky one with a missing front tooth.
He stoodby a baker’s stall, pretending to examine a loaf of bread while his eyes darted in their direction.
“There’s another one,”she whispered, not pointing but inclining her head slightly. “By the bread cart. The tall man with patched sleeves. His name is Angus.”
Hector’s griptightened almost imperceptibly. “Ye ken their names,” he noted, surprise coloring his tone.
“I ken everythin’they said while they thought I was too weak to listen,” she mumbled. “Lewis usually keeps two men with him. Rory was the one who escaped with him the day ye found me. Angus comes to the tavern often—he is likely replacin’ the man ye caught. They work in patterns, keepin’ watch for each other.”
Hector glanceddown at her with new appreciation. “Anythin’ else ye noticed that might help us?”
Before she could answer,a stooped older man intercepted them, bowing deeply to Hector.
“Laird McCulloch!Thank the saints I’ve found ye,” he exclaimed, breathless with urgency. “It’s Tavish again! His sheep are grazin’ on me land, destroyin’ me crops!”
Hector’s expressiondarkened with impatience. “This isnae the time, Callum?—”
“He’s movin’the stone markers at night, he is!” the man pressed, desperation evident on his weathered face. “The barley field me family has farmed for three generations—he claims more of it every day! I’ve four wee ones to feed, Me Laird!”
Hector’s jaw clenched.“Again, this isnae the time.”
“They’re cuttin’timber as we speak, Me Laird!” Callum continued regardless. “Yer faither always said that any encroachment must be addressed immediately, or?—”
