“Oh.” She was silent for a moment. “Is that why you said it was your lucky day?”
“Precisely.”
She giggled. “It all makes sense now. I’m so glad you came. I didn’t know if any of my letters even made it passed the castle walls.”
“Letters? Douglass only received one.” Ian frowned.
“Then it’s a good thing I sent three.”
But Ian didn’t think it was good at all. That meant two hadn’t made it to Douglass, and there was a chance at least one of them had ended up in the wrong hands.
3
Beside Rhiannon, whose boots clomped through the forest, Goosie’s bell jangled. The noise mingled, sounding like freedom.
However, they hadn’t made it very far before the massive Highlander bent down and gripped her cat’s back with the same strong hands that had been prepared to grip her arm should she not come with him willingly, she supposed.
Sinclair brandished a mean-looking dagger, and Rhiannon gasped.
Immediately, she flew into action, slapping his shoulder, and his face. How could he have tricked her into going deeper into the woods only to kill her most precious pet?
“You will not kill my Goosie! I promised to go with you, and you said you weren’t a devil but a rescuer, so what are you doing?” Each word was punctuated by a blow from her.
The Highlander growled. “Saints, stop it, woman. I’m no’ going to kill your wee kitty. I’m merely removing the bell. Half the damned forest can hear us coming with the jangling. And the wee thing is likely starving, and having this damned bell sets off a warning to her prey before she gets even a chance to sink in her claws.”
His words wounded as she took note of poor Goosie’s thinning ribcage. Normally, in the castle, she’d provided meals daily for her cat, and she hadn’t even thought of the bell when she’d assumed Goosie could survive until her brother let her out. After all, the stable was rife with mice for the taking.
“Oh, no.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she picked up her cat, sobbing into her soft fur while her rescuer cut off the bell. He tossed it to the ground. “Oh, Goosie, do forgive me, you poor, sweet thing.”
“She’s free now. No need to sob. She’ll be fine, and besides, all that noise will surely draw your brother and his cronies out of hiding.”
Rhiannon shook her head, swiping at the tears. “They aren’t likely to be hiding in the woods. Or anywhere, really.”
“Shocking.” He rolled his eyes as he said it and she couldn’t help but laugh. “I had noticed their lack of attention and order.”
Goosie squirmed in her arms, and she let her go, watching her leap to the ground and stretch before taking off.
“Oh,” Rhiannon said, starting to chase after her. “She’ll be lost.”
“Nay, I doubt it. Animals have good instincts for finding their humans. She’s got a nose on her, and as soon as she’s run off her freedom, perhaps caught a mouse or two, she’ll follow.”
Rhiannon nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure she believed it. Goosie was also stubborn and sometimes remained away for days at a time. If she decided to do that now and they were far away on horseback, then how would she ever catch up? What if the cat forgot that Rhiannon wasn’t at the castle and went back there? Oh, goodness, but her brother would likely torture Goosie until a miracle happened, and she figured out how to confess to Rhiannon’s whereabouts.
Ian took hold of Rhiannon’s hand, his grip sure but not forceful, and because she wasn’t sure if she trusted herself not to run after Goosie, she allowed him to hold on. His stride was easily twice as long as hers, but she didn’t want to complain. Already, he’d done much for her by braving the border crossing to rescue her from her prison. She had to trust that Goosie would follow; there was no other thought process she could cling to because anything else was miserable.
But after several minutes, she was panting and had tripped over a root, stumbling forward. Sinclair finally slowed, his narrowed gaze on her as if she had two left feet. And to be fair, she felt that way herself. Her toes were starting to go a little numb, and while she’d worried before about not bringing a cloak with her, she was hot and sweaty enough now not to have needed one.
“Are ye all right there, lass?” His gaze scanned the length of her, perhaps trying to discern if her legs worked properly, which she wasn’t certain at this point.
“I’m tired.” Who knew that being locked away for two weeks could weaken a person so much?
“We’ve barely walked a half mile.”
“I’ve been running the entire time,” she panted, rubbing a stitch in her ribs that stung. “And I’ve been locked in my room for two weeks. Have you ever been locked away for two weeks? Not much room for exercise.”
“I have.” The way he said it made it sound as if, indeed, there was room for exercise, and she’d failed.
But also, his being locked away was something she would need to question him on later. “Then you know what it does to a body. How it weakens you.”
