Flynn studied the mark with a doubtful look. “Half the Highlands ride mares,” he muttered.
Ian gave a faint shake of his head. “This one was shod recently,” he said. “See the clean edges of the print.”
Flynn squinted. “Aye… I see it.”
Ian rose slowly, scanning the brush that lined the road.
“She rode north just as we suspected.”
Flynn exhaled heavily. “Then we’re still behind her. But there's more than one way to reach McDonald Castle.”
“Aye,” Ian said grimly. “I could hope that she has chosen this path and these are her tracks, but I willnae risk her to hope.”
“What will ye do?” Flynn asked.
“We will follow this path. Brian!” Ian shouted.
Brian rode forward, “Aye, me Laird.”
“Take five men and follow the western path to McDonald lands. Search for any sign of her Lady McGuire. If ye find her, take her to castle McDonald.”
“Aye, me Laird,” Brian said. “Ye five with me.” Then Brian rode off with five men.
Ian swung back into the saddle. “Forward!”
The riders urged their horses onward once more, following the winding road deeper into the northern Highlands. Ian’s sharp gaze swept constantly between the trail ahead and the surrounding hills.
Every broken blade of grass, every disturbed stone told him a story. And he followed it relentlessly.
Flynn rode close beside him, glancing occasionally at the ground as if trying to see what Ian saw so easily. After a while, he finally spoke again.
“She had a fair head start,” Flynn said. “If she rode through the night. Perhaps she is already near the castle?”
Ian nodded. “Aye, I am hoping that is true, but if it is nae true, then I daenae want to miss any sign of her.”
“I should have taken her to her family meself the moment I discovered the clause,” he said quietly.
Flynn looked at him in surprise.
Ian kept his eyes on the trail. “Had I done that, none of this would be happening,” he continued. “Her brothers would have heard the truth from me directly.”
Flynn frowned. “Ye cannae blame yerself for every choice she makes.”
Ian let out a bitter breath. “I gave her reason to doubt me,” he said.
Flynn shook his head. “Nay,” he replied firmly. “That cursed clause did.”
Ian was not convinced. They rode in silence for several moments before Ian suddenly leaned down from the saddle again. He pointed toward a narrow patch of soft earth beside the trail.
“There,” he said.
Flynn leaned closer.
Another hoofprint. Clearer this time. “She passed here,” Ian said.
Flynn’s eyebrows rose. “Then we’re on the right path.”
Ian straightened in the saddle. “Aye.”
