Page 4 of Hold Fast

She was breathless now.

“And then, I will convince Lady Stewart to ask her husband to send for you.”

“Malcolm would never let me go,” he protested. “He likes me where he can see me.”

“Then you escape. And Laird Stewart sends him a letter that says you were running away and his men killed you by mistake, believing you to be an enemy.”

“Why would Laird Stewart do such a thing? He is my brother’s ally.”

“He is your brother’s ally because it suits him best to have protection against the Campbells. He doesnae have any love for Malcolm. I heard him say so when I was there.”

“He told you that?”

“He didnae tellme. But people dinnae think much about talking when a healer is present.”

He snorted.

“And what would a dead man do at the Stewarts?”

“Whatever you want. Be in the guard. Raise sheep. Find a lass and welp a dozen bairns on her,” Una said, so giddy that she was bouncing on her toes.

“You would do that for me?” Blair asked, his hand fumbling.

“After all you have done for me? ’Tis the least I can do. The very least, Blair. You saved my life.”

He narrowed his eyes, but she knew him well enough to know that he was caught. Because while she had been bound to Laird Cameron for a year, Blair had been the victim of his caprice and cruelty for his entire life. And the sentence would continue until his death, unless…

“You’ll send word when it is time for me to run?”

“I’ll find a way. I promise.”

He didn’t believe it yet. She could tell. But he would. She would show him. She was getting out of here for good and she was taking him with her and they would never,neverhave to think of Malcolm Cameron ever again.

“Ten days, Una,” he said quietly.

“Ten days,” she repeated, and let the arrow fly.

CHAPTER1

Ewan MacDonald laid his body nearly flat against his horse’s neck. The pair raced through the dense forest, ducking overhanging branches as they followed the wounded stag

“Faster, mo charaid. We cannae lose him,” Ewan said into the dappled gray stallion’s ear. The horse, understanding the urgency, snorted, lowered his head, and surged forward. Ewan could feel the animal’s power beneath him.

It was a perfect day for a hunt, and he and his men had taken advantage. The bulk of the hunting party was tracking a boar at the moment while Ewan cleaned up his youngest brother’s mistake. Sometimes as laird, it felt as if all he did was clean up other people’s mistakes. Other times, it felt like all he did was make them.

“Keep up, Mathan!” Ewan bellowed over his shoulder, though he did not need to. The massive, shaggy deerhound was just to the right of the horse’s flanks.

The low sun glinted sharply through the trees, and the heavy breathing of the two beasts created great clouds of white smoke in the early morning light. The stag ran like the devil before them, leaving a trail of bright blood on the ground.

At last, it stumbled. Ewan squeezed the stallion’s flanks with his legs. The horse stopped quickly. The hound stood at attention to his right.

Ewan shaded his eyes and watched as the deer weaved back and forth in the clearing. Its gaze desperate and unfocused as it stumbled again and fell onto the soft leaves beneath its hooves.

Ewan wasted no time. He unsheathed his knife as he jumped down from the horse and strode quietly toward the dying animal. The hound began to follow, but Ewan held up his hand and whispered, “Stay put, Mathan.” The dog sat obediently beside the horse.

Moving silently over the fallen leaves, Ewan crouched behind the stag, whose eyes followed him weakly. Taking his knife in hand, Ewan grabbed the stag’s antlers with the other and held the head steady as he drew the blade across its throat in one swift motion. He released his hold on the antlers and moved backwards to crouch again at the edge of the clearing.

“Hush. There now. You’re nearly home,” Ewan murmured softly to the stag as more of its blood rushed forward, seeping into the leaves. He could feel the change in the air. Snow was coming. The stag flinched once, twice, and was still.