From what she understood, even the Scots weren’t always welcoming to their own countrymen if they were caught on their land. Which meant that they were still in serious danger.
And she had no idea how far they were from Buanaiche, but Ian had said it would be several days, which meant it was very unlikely that these men were Sinclair warriors. But it was possible they were allies.
Rhiannon’s brain was firing in a hundred different directions. Scenarios and plans for what to do in each blazing through her mind.
She wished she’d studied the maps in her uncle’s office closer. Then she’d better understand where she was, but unfortunately, she was clueless. And all she could do now was pray the men moved along. Nothing to see here.
But they didn’t.
The men came fully into view now. Maybe a dozen paces away from where she hid in the bushes. If one of them even turned to look in her direction and examined the bush a little closer, they would see her. There was only so much a thin bush could hide.
She counted three riders dressed in plaids on horseback. Unfortunately, she’d also not studied clan tartans and had no idea what the colors signified. What she could discern was that the coloring of their plaids was not the same as Ian’s. A different clan. But she suspended judgment yet on whether they were friend or foe.
She glanced back nervously toward the croft for any sign of Ian or that they’d been there at all. From where she was, she could catch a glimpse of the horses through the broken wall, but not Ian. Damn. If they caught sight of the horses—nay, when they saw them—they would know that trespassers were in there, and they would approach.
But to her surprise, they turned and kept on going. Didn’t even bother with a closer inspection of the croft. Perhaps they were passing through on rounds? She waited several moments and then started to rise, to hurry back to the croft. When she reached her full height, a hand clamped on her shoulder, stilling her.
Rhiannon opened her mouth to scream, swiveling her neck to stab the ever-loving hell out of her attacker. Only to see it was Ian. He held a finger pressed to his lips for her to be quiet. Relief flooded to know it was him, and the scream died in her throat. When had he snuck up on her? She’d not heard anything.
Ian pointed toward the trees where the men had disappeared, but she was blind to whatever he indicated. Neither could she hear anything other than the rustle of the wind in the trees. But he was trained to pick up on things no ordinary person would. And she was happy to trust him since he’d gotten them this far and made it through his wild life with only a few scars to show for it.
A shrill whistle rent the air, and an arrow came whizzing from the forest beyond, stabbing at the ground right outside the croft, the shaft wobbling with force. Then a voice shouted, “Come out. We know ye’re in there.”
Ian made no sound. He didn’t move. Rhiannon didn’t either. They’d looked as if they were leaving, as though they hadn’t noticed the croft was occupied, and yet, they had seen. Did they know she was in the bushes, and they were trying to mess with her sanity? A game?
But then, Goosie came trotting out of the croft, her interest piqued by the sound of the voice, the arrow. She sniffed it where it stabbed into the earth.
Rhiannon gasped, her body stiffening in fear. If not for Ian, she’d have bolted from the trees to save her beloved pet.
“A cat,” someone called incredulously.
The men laughed. “The cat rode the horses in, aye?”
“Come out now, or we kill the cat.”
That was the last straw. Without thinking or asking, Rhiannon called out, “I will come out. Please do not shoot. I mean no harm. And I want no trouble.”
“What are ye doing, woman?” Ian growled. “Ye stay right there.”
“Is that a Sassenach woman?” asked one of the intruders.
“Aye.” Rhiannon jerked away from Ian’s hold and came out of the brush, hiding her dagger up her sleeve so the men wouldn’t see she was armed. Maybe if they thought it was just her, they would move on.
“Well, now, what have we got here.” The sinister tone made her realize that no, seeing it was just her was not going to have them moving on. It was practically an invitation to stay.
“I am just passing through. Going to my cousin’s,” she said. “My cat and I will leave now and won’t disturb you further. Good day, sirs.”
They ignored her attempts to dismiss them. “Your cousin is Scottish?” The question was spoken with a great measure of skepticism.
“Aye,” she lied.
“And ye have no escort?” They sounded very intrigued indeed, and not for any honorable reasons.
“I believe you met my escort. The cat.”
Several men chuckled, and then whoever had been up in the trees and shot the arrow jumped down in front of her, his large, booted feet landing with a thud that rumbled the ground around her. He was massive, and for a second, she wondered how he’d gotten up in the tree at his size. The Scot leered at her. “Did your cat ride her own horse, then, lass?”
Rhiannon nodded, not trusting her voice to keep Ian a secret.
