Sim shook his head slowly. “A shame it is. Hyatt and Neil were good men, but the Dragon will see the wolf that killed them caught and revenge their deaths. Henry and his men will be here soon to wrap them for burial.”
“Then I will say a silent prayer for them as I pick some flowers along the edge of the woods.”
“Do not go into the woods, my lady. Danger lurks there until the beast is caught.”
“I will not stray from the edge,” she said with a cheerful smile. “You take care of that wound, Sim, and if it should trouble you let me know.”
“Thank you, my lady, you are most kind.”
Heather went to the edge of the woods and began picking the wildflowers that grew there, intending to take them to Bea when she went to see how Douglas was faring. Heather continued to drift along the edge of the woods, making her way behind the barn. When Sim’s glance finally ceased following her, she knew other eyes had to be on her. With all that had happened, her husband probably had doubled or tripled the sentries so that there were eyes everywhere on the village.
It was when she spotted a lose board on the back of the barn that she got an idea. She looked at her handful of flowers and smiled, as if pleased with the bouquet. She walked without haste away from the woods, though stopped abruptly, staring down and shook her head.
She pretended that she had stepped in something unsavory and went to lean against the barn with one hand while wiping her boot along the grass as if cleaning it off. She only hoped that whoever had an eye on her would get tired of her actions after a few minutes and take his eyes off her.
Hoping she picked the right moment, she squeezed behind the loose board and slipped into the barn. Sunlight filtered through the numerous cracks and holes in the worn barn and it was easy to locate the two bodies. They lay on the ground in a stall, blankets covering each of them.
Heather knew she did not have much time. She had to take a quick look and be on her way and pray she did not get caught. She placed the flowers on a nearby barrel top and lifted the blanket covering one of the warriors. No claw marks marred his body. Her heart broke for him, for he was a young, strong warrior and the only wound she could see was a wound to his chest, no doubt made by an arrow. She said a silent prayer as she dropped the blanket over him.
Her free hand shot to her mouth to stifle her gasp when she raised the blanket on the other warrior. His eyes had been gorged from his head and his throat had been cut. This had been done on purpose. It was meant as a message, a clear one, and fear rushed up to grip her heart.
Heather heard voices approach and quickly dropped the blanket down, grabbed her flowers, and hurried to the broken board, slipping out with ease, only to turn and see her husband standing there with his arms folded across his chest and his dark eyes filled with anger.
“Do you truly think that I do not have eyes on you at all times?” he snapped. “What excuse doyou have for your actions now? And do not tell me you were restless.”
She spoke the truth. “I was curious.”
“Of two dead warriors?”
“Of their deaths. I could not make sense of why you would be summoned away from your bride because two of your warriors had been mauled to death by a wolf. You could have been told of it in the morning.”
“It is none of your concern,” he said in a tone that warned. “And you will speak of this to no one. Now go to my solar and wait for me there.” He raised his hand when she went to speak. “Not a word. Go!”
Heather had no choice but to obey. She hurried around the side of the barn and stopped when she saw Henry and two other men enter. They would wrap the bodies for burial and only a few would know the truth and whether a wolf was caught or not, a beast still remained on the loose.
“Go!” her husband said as he came up alongside her.
She bobbed her head and walked off, glancing back to see Rhys enter the barn, the doors closing behind him.
“My lady! My lady!”
The frantic voice had Heather turning around to see Bea running toward her.
“Douglas is beset with fever,” Bea said with tears in her eyes and fear in her voice.
Heather did not hesitate; she hurried along with the desperate woman.
* * *
Rhys stoodas the two murdered men were swathed in cloth, their graves ready and waiting to receive them. Their families consisted of ghost warriors, both having arrived together and trained together three years now. They had met up on the road in hopes of joining and becoming one of the infamous ghost warriors. They were good warriors, filled with the potential to be the best and Rhys hated losing them, especially in this fashion. Neither deserved to die, and certainly not to die in the manner one had. Their deaths would be revenged and all the ones to follow, for his enemy was not done with him yet.
The village would turn out for the burial and pay tribute to these two brave souls. Rhys would go and collect his wife and they would stand side by side as the two were placed in the ground.
There was much he had to say to Heather, though he wondered what good it would do. She did as she pleased at every turn and thought nothing of it. Her father had warned him that Heather did not follow the path of others. She had forged her own out of necessity with such heavy responsibility having been placed on her since she was young. In other words, Donald Macinnes had been warninghim that it would be difficult for Heather to change her ways after all this time.
After only a day spent with his bride, Rhys discovered how right her father was. But as difficult as it may be, his wife had to learn to follow his dictate whether she liked it or agreed with it or not. It was for her own good and for his sanity.
“Toll the bell when it is time for all to gather for the ceremony,” Rhys instructed and left the men to finish their solemn task.
