Page 24 of Sins of the Highlander

“Aye,” Drummond agreed, handing off the stallion’s reins to one of his men. May as well ring the one bright spot from this damnable turn. Lachlan was getting a prime stud from the deal. “Take Roald with ye, Seamus, and see the beast home to my stable. Tend his hurts if he’ll let ye.”

His men hurried to loop a pair of ropes over the stallion’s neck to insure he couldn’t break away from them once he regained his wind. Lachlan didn’t have to remind them he’d take the failure out of their hides if they lost this exceptional bit of horseflesh.

That settles the question of going home now, Lachlan thought with resignation.

Alistair Stewart had already turned around toward the woods to continue the search for his daughter. But Lachlan could see he’d lost hope. His shoulders sagged like a man destined for the rack.

***

“Ow!” Elspeth hopped one-legged toward a fallen log and plopped down on it, holding her velvet-wrapped foot. The increasingly soggy and ragged cloth was no match for thorns. She plucked a long, vicious one from her heel. “I dinna think I can go on like this.”

“’Tis no’ much farther, lass,” Rob said, looking as pale and tired as she felt.

“But I’m hungry and thirsty and I could lie down in the grass right now and sleep for a week,” she said, eyeing a flat spot alongside the game trail. Their fitful few hours of rest in the cave wasn’t nearly adequate for the events of the long night and longer morning. All their provisions had been lost when Falin bolted.

Elspeth would trade her best brooch for a single swallow of water right now.

“Ye’ll sleep soon enough once we get where we’re going.” He scooped her up and balanced her over one shoulder, letting her head and arms dangle down his back.

“No, wait, put me down!” She pushed herself up with her hands splayed on his back.

“Are ye willing to walk then?” He made no move to put her down.

“I canna. No’ a single step.”

Rob snorted and started on down the trail. “Then beggars canna be choosers, can they?” He gave her bottom a swat. “Be grateful for small favors.”

Elspeth sagged over his shoulder, but it was hard to breathe when her head was hanging down. Little pinpricks of light pressed against the corners of her vision, and she pushed herself back up again.

“Ye really did yourself some damage when ye hit your head on that log,” she said when she noticed that Rob’s hair was crusted with blood on the back of his head.

“Oh, aye? And I thought the splitting headache was from no’ having my morning bowl of parritch.”

“Do ye think the wolves might come back?” she asked. “Is that why ye insist on pressing on?”

“No. They hunt by night.”

He climbed over a thick trunk that had fallen across the path. A low-hanging branch caught in her hair and pulled out several strands.

“Ow!”

If Rob heard her, he gave no sign.

“So long as we have shelter by the time night falls, we should be safe.”

“If our destination truly isna far, ye really should stop and rest,” she said.

“And ye really should stop talking, lass.”

Elspeth heard the weary threat in his tone and decided to heed him.

They left the larger trees of the older forest behind. Rob trudged on through the young, spindly forest, sometimes weaving so she feared he’d topple over.

Then he stopped suddenly, cocking his head to listen.

Something was approaching through the brush, rustling branches and snapping downed twigs underfoot. A big something from the sounds of it.

Elspeth closed her eyes, the better to concentrate, and heard panting coming from farther up the trail. A decidedly wolfish sound.