Aiden cast his torch into the sweltering inferno and glanced back.
Soot smudging Gwendolyn’s cheeks, she trailed her tallow-dredged torch across a swath of oats. Flames consumed the leaves. Wiping away tears, she stumbled back, her face forlorn, her steps faltering.
Aiden took her torch, tossed the weapon of destruction into the field. Sparks ignited, then a wavering orange-red grew until only a vague outline remained. Thick clouds of smoke and soot billowed into the late afternoon sky as the fire destroyed all within its path, leaving naught butcharred waste.
“I hate the English,” she rasped, her rough words dampened by tears. “Damn that Comyn made a pact with the bastards, an act I will never understand, or forgive.” Aiden drew her against him, damning the necessity of destroying this field, this home, along with the other crofters’ huts. “He is desperate,” he said, comprehending too well the decisions of such men, a desperation that had swayed France’s king to betray the Knights Templar, men who had protected him for years. “I pray Lord Comyn will one day learn that the Sassenach canna be trusted.”
On a sob, Gwendolyn looked skyward. The smoke-smeared rays of sunlight underscoring her dirt- and soot-streaked face, and the grief haunting her eyes.
“This is far from over,” he ground out. “We will reclaim Latharn Castle. That I promise!”
Eyes dark with fury met his.“Aye, wewill.”
He clenched his hand to staunch the urge to sweep back the blond lock lying across her sweat-drenched cheek. Yes, by God, beneath the Bruce’s lead he would reclaim the stronghold for this courageous woman.
“We must leave. If the English havena seen the smoke from the fields by now, they will have discovered our absence.” Aiden gestured toward a depression on the far horizon, clogged with bushes and downed trees. “Though not deep, ’twill provide adequate coveras we depart.”
She nodded.
With long strides, he headed toward the ditch; she followed.
Hours later, though they had long since journeyed beyond the lands surrounding the castle, on foot they had far from traveled a safe distance. Mounted, the English could cover significant ground. Another day, mayhap two, then if they saw no sign of the English, he’d believe they’d escaped. Safe wasanother matter.
Lord Comyn’s men roamed the woods in search of the Bruce and his supporters. God help them if he and Gwendolyn were discovered. She might believe her lord’s men were honorable, but too often he’d seen warriors who, with the right incentive, strayed from morality. She was a beautiful woman, a fact that could lure warriors to make vile, lust-filled decisions.
Thunder rumbled overhead. A drop of rain hit his face, then another. Aiden glared at the swirl of angry clouds. God’s sword. A storm would complicate everything.
He looked back. Rain splattered the pale curve of her cheek, exhaustion rimmed her eyes, and loose tendrils of hair escaped her braid in disheveled tangles around her shoulders. “We will soon rest.”
“I am fine.” Gwendolyn stumbled over a wet clump of mud, belying her words.
Far from it, nor with her stubborn attitude would she admit such. In the murky light, Aiden scanned the rocky ground, the dark patches of terrain inundated with shadows. All offered some protection, but not enough to safeguard her. “As you are familiar with the land, is there a place close by where we can hide?”
“Aye, there is a waterfall with a hidden cave about two hours ahead.” Her hand trembled as she wiped her brow. “Except ’tis farther south and puts us too closeto the Bruce.”
Thunderrumbled nearby.
The thrum of rain upon the leaves increased. A gust of wind swept past, and droplets splattered to the earth with a hard slap.
Blast it. However necessary to put more distance between them and the English, he couldn’t risk pushing her. “’Tis too far. We must find shelter before it begins to pour.” A jagged streak of light illuminated a copse of firs to their right. Thunder slammed in its wake.
He gestured toward the trees. “We will shelter therefor the night.”
Gwendolyn gave a weary nod.
Soaked by the driving rain, Aiden slipped his hand around her upper arm, pulled her along with him over the rocky terrain, an overwhelming need to protect this woman burning through his veins.
She stumbled, fell against him. “Steady, lass,” he whispered. However much he cursed the weather, ’twould slow the English as well as wash away any telltale signs oftheir passing.
The fresh scent of fir filled the damp air as he shoved aside a large bough. “Climb under.” Gwendolyn crawled beneath and he followed, lowering the thick, bristled limb into place to shield themfrom the storm.
Another slash of lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the roll of the land. A blast of thunder followed.
Her body shivered against his.
Aiden removed a blanket from his pack and draped it over her shoulders. “Better?”
“I-I thank you.”
