Ian came around the table and embraced his brother. “Thank ye,” he said genuinely. “For everything.”
Alistair grabbed him in a headlock, rubbing his knuckles on Ian’s head. “Always, brother.”
Once they had finished their breakfast, Ian and Rhiannon headed to the stables where their horses were waiting, saddled. George pawed the earth, ready for the wind in his mane, his master on his back.
They rode over the familiar lands, following a path Ian could travel with his eyes closed and his hands tied behind his back. Along the route, he chose places he was familiar with to relieve themselves, rest, and water the horses, including a stop at his usual clearing for a noonday meal of cold chicken. They were mostly quiet, each deep in their thoughts as the journey drew closer to the end. And when the sun fell to the horizon, he determined, after what had happened to them previously on the road, it would be in their best interest not to sojourn at the usual tavern he liked to hole up in. Better to stay out of sight so no one else could be bribed into giving them up, the cost being their lives.
Instead, he found a dilapidated croft he was also acquainted with. While it was missing half its roof, the other half provided decent shelter, and he could start a fire to keep them warm, at least through the night. Though the smoke would be visible, anyone coming across them and seeing the walls might think twice. Maybe.
Inside, the makeshift cot he’d left behind was still there, propped against the wall. The place looked as untouched as he’d left it on the way to England. “Ye can take the cot,” he said, lowering it to the ground and shaking out the straw-filled mattress. “I’ll take a watch and sleep on the floor.”
Rhiannon wrinkled her nose. “Are you sure? I could take a watch while you sleep on the cot.”
“Ye’ll take a watch?” He tried unsuccessfully to keep himself from laughing.
“I admit to never having done it before,” she said with a dainty shrug, “but how hard can it be?” At that, she approached one of the windows and peered out. “All clear.”
Ian grinned. “There’s a little more to it than that. How about we practice first?”
Rhiannon smiled back and lifted on her tiptoes in excitement. “Excellent idea.”
They gathered wood and prepared a fire, their camp inside the croft cozier than their makeshift outdoor sites had been. After they ate the dinner that the cook had packaged up—bread and bacon (none for Rhiannon as she declined) and cheese—Ian led Rhiannon to the broken half door of the croft.
“Part of taking watch is watching. Hence the name. And the part ye got right a bit ago.”
“Oh, how odd. I would never have guessed it was called a watch because you watched.” She rolled her eyes.
Ian chuckled and nudged her with his shoulder. “Your sarcasm doesna go unnoticed.”
She smirked.
“Watch for anything shifting or changing,” he said. “That is, sight and sounds.”
Rhiannon nodded, and he watched as she scanned the darkening areas around the croft. “So, it’s really a watch and listen.”
“Aye. When it’s just moonlight or no moonlight at all, your eyes will adjust to the shadows. You’ll be able to pick up on if something moves and changes or a new shadow emerges, but at first, all the shadows and murky blobs will look as though they are moving, closing in on ye.”
Rhiannon nodded. “I can see that. The tree there has shifted to the left and the right now.”
Ian snorted. “Aye. Get used to the sounds. Ye’ll be able to identify the difference between the scurry of a wood rat and the crunch of boots. Or the silent and pausing steps of a deer versus the steadier steps of a horse. Or the rustling of Goosie in the gorse bushes.”
“Is that why you put our horses in the croft? So, we wouldn’t mistake the noise of an enemy for the noise of our horses?”
“Aye and nay. They are inside to keep them close, so they aren’t stolen, but also so we know their sounds.”
“There’s quite a lot to learn about taking watch,” she said.
“Aye. But with practice, ye’ll be an expert.”
“Do you think that Douglass’s husband will allow me to take watch on the wall?” The way she said it, so serious of tone, belied the laughter in her gaze.
Ian laughed softly at that. “Ye can try, but I doubt it.”
“Worth a shot.” She winked, and his insides melted.
“I hear he does whatever Douglass asks, so ye may only need to have her put in a good word for ye.”
She sighed. “It sounds as if he adores her.”
