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Lying flat next to the wide gap in the trail, Egan could see where the recent rain had weakened the soil and feared another hunk was about to break loose. “I’ll pull you up,” he swore, but that the woman he adored was in such grave peril made him sick clear through.
Convinced by Egan’s earnest vow, Oriana kicked against the mountain, found a toehold, and braced herself to help him. He was frowning with fierce concentration, but in her mind, she saw only his usual cocky grin, and it did not even occur to her that she might slip from his grasp and fall to her death.
Egan grit his teeth and crawled backward on his belly. To avoid loosening more of the rocky earth, he exercised extraordinary care and moved at an agonizingly slow pace. When he finally succeeded in pulling Oriana up onto the trail, he grabbed her in a convulsive hug. Once satisfied she was safe, he sat back to assess her injuries.
The left side of her face was scraped raw, and her arms bore long, deep scratches. Several of her fingernails were torn down to the quick. Jagged holes had been ripped in her tunic and gown, but she looked so vibrantly alive that he hugged her again.
Oriana was trembling all over. “We’ve lost your mother’s cloak,” she murmured between sobs, “and my tent.”
“They can be replaced, but I promised Albyn I’d take good care of you, and look what happened.”
“It appears even the mountain disapproves of me,” Oriana whispered.
“Aye, Mount Royal has always had a restless spirit, but I love you dearly, and that’s all that matters.”
He made a quick search of the trail and was relieved to find their bag of provisions within easy reach. He pulled out the skin of ale. “Have a drink; then I want you to try and walk. I’d stop right here, but I’m afraid the ground isn’t safe.”
Oriana was surprised to find her slippers were still on her feet, but even after several sips of ale, she doubted she could stand. She looked up toward the sun and wondered how much daylight they had left. She hurt all over, but with her hands so bloody and painful, she feared she would be no help at all.
“Oh, Egan, what are we going to do?”
He kissed away her tears. “That magnificent hawk showed me the way to fly this morning. Do you think Lugh might return to help us build a snug cottage?”
Oriana leaned away from him. “Lugh appears whenever he wishes. My mother and I never summoned him. Although, I will admit to hoping that should the need be dire, he might come to my aid.”
She looked as though she had been badly beaten, and Egan took care to aim his kiss toward her lips. “This might well be that time, my love.”
A fresh wave of tears flooded Oriana’s eyes. “But if he didn’t appear,” she struggled to confess, “I’d fear I wasn’t truly his daughter.”
Egan had not meant to call her heritage into question. “Of course you’re his child. Anyone who looks into your remarkable golden eyes can see you’re no ordinary woman. Now, let’s not worry about Lugh yet. Let’s just try to move a little farther on up the trail.”
Oriana was reluctant to let go of him even to allow him to stand, but neither did she want to remain perched beside a break in the trail and risk another disastrous fall. “How will we get back down the trail in the morning?” she asked.
Egan wished they had thought to bring a rope. If they had not lost the tent, he could have cut it into strips and braided one, but the tent had slid out of sight. “I mean to cut sturdy branches for our shelter. Tomorrow, I’ll cut a few more and build a bridge here. Now let me help you rise.”
The trail was wide enough for Oriana to walk beside him, but she was so badly shaken, she was unable to stand on her own. She closed her eyes and shook her head, but Egan slid his arms around her waist and gently pulled her to her feet. He then kept her clasped firmly against his side.
As they rounded the next bend, the path widened, and the branches of a stately oak grew up over the trail. Egan did not recall seeing the tree that morning, but he was even more astonished by the large hawk perched in the upper branches.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Look who’s come to our rescue.”
They had never been this close to the splendid hawk, and the bird stared back at them with equal curiosity. Egan recognized Lugh’s voice, and it was no longer an accusing whisper. “This fine tree is a gift,” Egan murmered under his breath. “We ought to thank him for it.”
The hawk was so very beautiful, Oriana found it nearly impossible to think at all. “Thank you for all your many gifts, Lugh,” she finally found the presence of mind to say.
In response, the hawk dipped his head slightly toward Egan.
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“Why, Egan,” Oriana exclaimed. “You’re also one of his gifts.”
“Nay,” Egan argued. “You are the most remarkable gift any man has ever received.”
Apparently pleased with Egan’s remark, the hawk spread his wings in a graceful arc, left the oak to soar toward the sun, and swiftly vanished from sight.
Egan hated to destroy the mood of rapt wonder, but he could not keep still. “I swear to you this tree wasn’t here this morning, but its placed so perfectly against the mountain that we could climb into the branches and spend a restful night.”
Oriana swayed against him. “Aren’t we expected to do more than sleep in a tree?”
