“Do ye want me to help with the horses first?”
“Nae. Just check on the food supply.”
Annie noticed that his mouth looked tight and a bit white at the corners. Maybe he was really thinking there would be no food at all or maybe he was just really hungry. Standing there and pondering wasn’t going to help. She hurried inside.
Niall was right about the shelter being sturdy. Even though it was nearly dark, Annie could see no openings in the overhead thatch or the mud and wattle walls, and the dirt floor was dry. The only furniture in the small room was a rough-hewn table and two straight-back chairs. A tin basin, along with a candlestick and tinder box, sat on top of a cabinet on one side of the room. Annie took a pile of wool blankets from the table and placed them on the chair and then lit the candle, carried it to the table, and finished her visual tour.
A good-sized hearth took up most of the space on the other side of the tiny enclosure. Annie eyed the kettle hanging from a thin pole laid across two Y-shaped iron yokes. A stew pot meant there might be food after all. She went to the cabinet and opened the doors and breathed a sigh of relief. Along with tin plates and bowls, there was a mortar and pestle and a small sack of oats. A half-full jar of honey sat next to it. There was also a partial wheel of cheese wrapped in oilskin, and when she undid it, the cheese had only a few mold spots, which meant it hadn’t been there all that long. It would be a meager supper, but it would feel like a meal fit for kings.
Annie poured some oats into the mortar and ground them, then placed the mashed contents in a bowl to add the water that Niall would bring. Once she was satisfied she had enough to fill both their stomachs, she cleaned the hearth of ashes from a half-burned log, then went outside to look for kindling. Niall must have taken the horses behind the shack since there was no sign of them. She wasn’t sure how far the burn was, either, although she remembered hearing it for a short way while they cut through a forest trail. Hopefully, she could have a fire going by the time he came back.
Going back inside, she laid the twigs and small branches she had gathered around the log. One of her jobs at the boardinghouse had been to lay the fires, so it didn’t take much time to strike the tinder box and get a small flame started. Once that was done, she looked around to see if there was anything else to do and then frowned. Total darkness had fallen. Wherever that burn was, Niall should have been back by now.
Had they been followed after all? She didn’t think it possible since Niall had left the main road as soon as they cleared Glasgow. They’d cut through fields and forests and across several burns and avoided country roads. She didn’t think even bloodhounds would have been able to track them. So where was Niall?
She moved to the door, reached for the dagger Niall had insisted she keep strapped to her leg, and cautiously stepped back outside. Only the silence of the country filled her ears. Day creatures had settled in and night creatures were not yet about. Annie began walking around to the back of the shack. If one of the horses was missing, perhaps Niall had ridden off in search of food.
Both horses nickered as she came around the corner. Annie frowned again. If the horses were here…
Then she heard the moan. Squinting in the darkness—why hadn’t she brought the candle?—she moved forward and then nearly tripped over something. She bent lower and then gasped as her eyes adjusted.
Niall lay on the ground, a red stain running down his left leg.
****
Something warm and soft and gentle stroked his forehead. A woman’s hand? Niall murmured incoherently. God’s teeth! The lady had the most uncomfortable bed he had ever slept in. Still, she smelled good. His arm flailed out, finding silken hair. His hand instinctively cupped her head and he drew her down on top of him.
“Stop it! Let me go!”
Hmmm. Those weren’t the right words. The lady wanted him…
“I said,let me go!”
Niall groaned. His leg felt like it was on fire, but this very soft, curvy woman fit against him perfectly. He never was one to say no…
“Are ye daft? Did ye hit your head?”
That was definitely not the tone of a woman encouraging him. Niall opened his eyes woozily. “Annie?”
“Aye!” She scrambled off him as soon as his hold relaxed. “What do ye think ye are doing?”
Niall wasn’t really sure. He remembered taking the horses to the burn for water, then bringing them back. One minute he’d been tending the animals, getting them settled, and the next he was lying on the ground, looking up at a very irate Annie Ferguson. He bit back another moan as pain seared through his thigh again.
“I was stabbed.”
Instantly, her look changed to one of concern. “Here? By the cottage?” She picked up the dagger she’d dropped and looked around.
“Nae.” Niall forced himself to a sitting position. “It happened while we were leaving.”
Annie stared at him. “Ye rode all day with a wound? Why did ye nae say something?”
Niall shook his head. “What good would it have done? We had to get away.”
“We should have stopped sooner.”
“It was more important to put mileage between us and the weavers.”
“Stubborn man.” Annie put her hand to his forehead. “Ye are fevered. I need to get ye inside.”
