“A little. I thought I saw Fiona packing up some eggs. They will do nicely for lunch. We can lay them out on these.”
Conall took some of Fiona’s hard-boiled eggs out of his pack, along with a couple of slices of cold pie and put them on Molly’s grass platters. He handed one over.
“I don’t suppose we’ve got knives and forks? And maybe a pinch of salt and pepper?” she asked, then waved a hand at his blank look. “Never mind.”
Conall leaned against a log as they ate, stretching his legs out in front of him. Molly sat not two paces away. He gazed out over the landscape stretching ahead, wild and untamed. They could have been the only people alive in it.
He would like that, he realized. He would like it to be just him and Molly, alone like this. But then his gaze shifted to the north and his good mood evaporated. He was being pulled inexorably in that direction, no matter how much he resisted.
And he dreaded what he would find there.
Chapter 13
The short respite wasover all too soon for Molly. She ate slowly, savoring her meal, but it was soon finished and then it was time to leave. Molly didn’t want to. She was enjoying this time alone with Conall, just themselves and the moorland around them. She felt strangely contented, despite the circumstances.
But Conall climbed to his feet, indicating that lunch was over. “Ready, lass?”
Molly nodded reluctantly. She inspected the mud she’d smeared on her bites. It had dried to a pale, chalk-like consistency and as she brushed it, if flaked away like dust. Her bites no longer itched.
“What do you know?” she said with a smile. “It actually worked.”
“Ye mean ye doubted?”
“I did. But I shouldn’t have. I bet we’ve got nothing in the twenty-first century that works as well as that.”
Conall stamped out the campfire and Molly climbed to her feet, hefting her pack. She looked around. There was a primal energy humming through this place and she was all too aware of how dangerous it could be.
They moved out, picking their way along the rocky path. Molly’s legs ached from the morning’s trek. She was no stranger to physical toil, being a sailor and all, but this was a different kind of labor. She kept her mouth shut, determined not to show weakness, but she couldn’t help asking, “How much further?”
“If we keep a good pace, we should reach the Pinnacle by nightfall,” Conall replied.
Right. The Pinnacle. That was the place Conall had told her they were heading to. It seemed an odd name for a village but there it was.
“Conall,” she said after a while. “Can I ask you something?”
He glanced at her, his gaze wary. “Aye.”
