Rory groaned. His father needed not say aught further. The MacDonell clan held lands in the north close to Hart lands and undertaking such an endeavor would indeed bode well for their future.
“Shite.” Rory grunted.
“I need Alpin here, but e’en if I didnae, he doesnae possess yer skills. He doesnae ken e’ery inch of the terrain as ye do. It must be ye.”
Chewing the inside of his cheek to stop him from saying things he would regret, Rory pushed up from the chair. Anger would get him nowhere. And he couldn’t show his reluctance to his clan. Such disrespect to their laird would not be withstood.
“A sennight. I will agree to that. Just until I can get her to safety and then I will send her on her way and return home.”
His father nodded. “She is currently in the village waiting.”
“Weel, then,” Rory clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “I best no’ keep her waiting,” he finished sarcastically.
Arthur frowned. “Mayhap ye should clean up and change afore ye go.”
Rory shook his head, his jaw clenched as he looked down at his dusty clothes. “Nay. I will go now.” He exited his father’s study, annoyance hanging over him like a heavy woolen cloak wet from a day’s rain. Making his way to the stables to ready his horse, he brushed the dust and dirt from his clothes. He laughed unbelievably. His fatherwanted him to change. What for? So he could just get dirty again on his way to meet the woman and the ride back? Absolutely not.
By the time his horse was ready, irritation filled his veins as he thought of how quickly he could get her to safety so he could return to Hartsmoor.
Chapter Two
Alana Duran letout a frustrated growl as she circled the muddy wreckage of her overturned carriage, throwing her hands up in defeat. The two guards that had been escorting her were nowhere to be found.
She was alone.
In the woods.
Far away from her home.
Her father would be furious. When only two men arrived at their home days ago to take her to her betrothed—something she still could not fathom—he had insisted that she deserved more protection than what was originally offered. They had to wait another fortnight for reinforcements to arrive. As soon as they were far enough away from Auchenford Castle, her now former home, those very same guards that had presented themselves as additional help to escort Alana to her new home, left them alone once again, so it was only the three of them.
Alana couldn’t ascertain if it was because her husband-to-be was uncaring for her welfare or unable to finance such an escort. Neither option set her mind at ease.
The weather had turned from pleasant enough to a full-on drenching rain not long afore they crashed. As the carriage rolled over, she found herself being tossed about, rolling along with it, trying to findsomething stable to hang onto so she wouldn’t be thrown from the cabin. As the carriage came to a rest with a severe jolt, upside down on the soft, wet ground, Alana had taken a steadying breath, thankful that the carriage hadn’t come crashing down upon her body.
She was sore and was for certs that in the next day or two her body would be dotted with numerous bruises, but she was alive and that was what was most important.
That is what her betrothed would be happy to hear about. Wouldn’t he? She asked herself. Actually, she was unsure of the answer he would give. She had never met the man. His age, his demeanor, his looks—all were a mystery to her.
The only thing she kenned was that her father and he had come to an agreement and in doing so, she was to be sent northeast to be married. She would be lady of the keep or castle. She laughed bitterly. She didn’t even ken what the name of her betrothed’s residence was.
Her boots were soaked through, making her feet cold even though it was early summer. Up here, the weather was cooler than it was at her home in the lowlands near the English border. A wet chill hung in the air now that the rain had subsided and the fact that the surrounding trees were packed so closely together that nary a ray of the faint sun could filter through—when the sun decided to reappear. A fire to warm her cold toes near sounded like heaven to her right now.
The betrothal ring her future husband had given her via a proxy was still nestled on her finger, a stark reminder of what her goal was—to marry. She would need to find transport to the place she would soon call home. It was what her father expected of her, and she would not let him down. She wouldn’t be the one to bring disrespect to their family by not following through with the order she had been tasked with.
Looking down, she noted the sad state of her gown. It had been perfect when she had left Auchenford Castle, but now not only was it wet and dirty, with clumps of mud stuck to it, a large tear rented thecenter of the skirt. She would mend it after it had been properly laundered, but until then she would change into another gown packed in the trunks that had been secured to the carriage afore they set out on their journey.
Her trunks!
Searching the surrounding area, she found them both and whispered a quick prayer that, even though they had broken away from the carriage, the lids remained locked in place. At least she wouldn’t have to launder all the items that she had brought.
“Hello?” She called out, foolishly hoping that her escorts had just wandered into the woods to relieve themselves.
She waited a few moments.
Naught.
No answer. No shuffling of someone walking through the woods.
