Journey to Bongary Spring by Kasey Stockton
Chapter Six
Three days had passed since Isobel fled Castle Moraigh, and she was beginning to wonder if McEwan hadn’t bothered sending anyone after her at all. She was relieved but had difficulty believing he wouldn’t want her returned forthwith. So she continued on, keeping off the main roads, sleeping but a few hours at a time, and moving swiftly in between. She’d seen men on the paths a few times but had managed to hide until they’d passed, and none of them were McEwans she’d recognized. Even with her quick pace though, she imagined a good tracker would have caught up to her by now.
Reaching into her saddle bag, Isobel pulled out a slice of dried meat and gnawed at it. Her supply was dwindling, and she worried it would be gone before she reached Bongary Spring, but she only had one more day of travel to go. She was more than halfway there.
The wide, open grasslands of Glen Ellen had dwindled into forested lands, thick with beech trees, birch trees, swallows, and red squirrels. The lane she followed now wove through shaded woods, a thin stream following every curve to the side of the road like a loyal hound. Isobel had skirted the last fermtoun and thankfully passed it unseen. She’d need to keep an eye out later for the turn toward Bongary, but she wasn’t quite there yet. As long as she stayed alert—
“Good afternoon,” a smooth voice called, and Isobel startled, dropping the last of her dried meat on the ground. Och. That was her dinner. She turned toward the sound, and a flash of red caught her eye between the trees.
English soldiers.
She swallowed.
The group stepped forward. The man in front had a scar through his left eyebrow that stretched down his cheekbone, drawing the skin tight and giving him an uneven expression. He was flanked by three others in the same pretentious red uniform, their horses gathered behind them, heads bent to the stream.
“Do you travel alone, miss?” The scarred leader watched her intently through dark, beady eyes, the handful of soldiers beside him doing the same. She felt rude remaining atop her horse, but the threat of armed men kept her pasted to the saddle.
“’Tis missus,” she corrected, hoping he could not discern the tremor in her voice. “I’m traveling wi’ my husband.”
The soldier’s eyebrows rose, and he made a point of looking behind her. He had a disbelieving eye, and she could tell at once that he was questioning the validity of her claim. Lifting the hat from his head, the soldier took a step forward.
“Captain Hunt, at your service.” He sketched a quick bow that didn’t amount to much more than the dip of his head. “Can we escort you back to your husband, Mrs.…?”
“Mrs. Buchanan,” Isobel said quickly, ignoring the thrill that ran through her body as a result of hearing that name aloud. Kieran would never know.
Captain Hunt stepped forward again, his hands draped casually behind his back. Was the man inching toward her intentionally? She tightened her hold on Teine’s reins. She’d heard stories of the brutality of the English soldiers garrisoning at Fort William. She needed to remain attentive, ready to bolt should the need arise.
“Where can your husband be found, Mrs. Buchanan?”
“He’s hunting for our supper, sir.”
He gestured to the bedroll strapped behind her saddle. “And he left you alone?”
Isobel’s fingers itched to reach for her dirk, but she tightened her hold on her reins. “He’s no’ far.”
Appraising her, the captain asked, “You are traveling?”
“Aye.”
Another step closer. “For what business?”
He was nearly close enough to reach out and touch her now, each step increasing her pulsing heart rate, and Isobel did her best to appear calm. The air grew thick around them, the captain’s men patiently silent. Teine took a skittish step away as if she could sense the shift around her, or perhaps it was only Isobel’s anxious shaking which tipped the horse off.
“Whoa,” Captain Hunt said. He reached for the bridle, taking it securely in his hand, and looked up at Isobel, an uncomfortable gleam in his eye. “I do not wish for your horse to be spooked, of course. We wouldn’t want you to be thrown.”
“Nay, we dinna want that,” Isobel said. She cast her mind about for anything which might aid in her quick escape. Her dirk was nearly useless, nestled snugly at her waist and hidden by the thick folds of her gray arisaid. She couldn’t use it unless she had no other choice. Harming an English officer was a sure way to land her neck in the noose. Her only other weapon was her wit.
Captain Hunt’s smile grew, widening as he swept his gaze over her.
“My husband directed me ta meet him back on the road where we separated. He’ll be wondering where I’ve gone.” If only she hadn’t lost her ring, then she could offer it up in exchange for allowing her to pass. Now, she had nothing with which she could bribe these men, only the hope that they’d believe her tale.
Captain Hunt’s gaze flicked toward his men and back at Teine. Fear bloomed in the pit of Isobel’s stomach, unfurling and filling the crevices in her body until she was tense all over. She cleared her dry throat, tugging softly on Teine’s reins. If she could break away suddenly like she had from Kieran when she left Moraigh, she had a chance of escaping. None of the soldiers were on horses. She looked around again. Two men held their rifles. If she did attempt to bolt, she might not get very far.
Isobel needed to create a diversion. She’d passed a crofter’s house just before entering the denser woodland area. If Isobel rode fast enough, perhaps she could seek safety within its stone walls.
Or perhaps there would only be another danger awaiting her there. Fear slithered up her spine, sending shivers over her arms. She was alone.
“My husband will be waiting, sir,” Isobel repeated, hoping Captain Hunt understood her implication that if she was not on her way soon, her alleged husband would come looking for her.
He paused, glancing over his shoulder, his knuckles white from the strain of holding Teine’s bridle.
“This is a dangerous place to be found alone, ma’am. There is unrest in these parts.” Captain Hunt’s hand remained fastened to her horse, and she watched his knuckles for any sign of release, for the blood to rush back into the white areas on his fingers. She was prepared to bolt.
“Aye, there is unrest all along the creek line,” Isobel agreed. “The McEwans and the Duncans dinna see eye to eye.” She’d traveled the long way around, and they were currently situated on the border of the Duncan lands, but she’d been careful to remain on the McEwan side. If she was to be found by a group of unruly Duncans, would they believe her claim that she was going to marry their Laird of Dulnain?
Captain Hunt caressed Teine’s neck, his hand coming uncomfortably close to Isobel’s knee. Teine knickered, pulling her head away from the stranger’s touch, and Isobel yanked on the reins, hoping to break free of Captain Hunt’s grip.
He held fast, though, moving forward with them until he had Teine calm again.
“I assure ye,” Isobel said, chuckling despite the lack of mirth she felt. “I am perfectly capable of managing my horse.”
“She is a fine specimen,” Hunt said, turning his predatory gaze on Teine. He ran his fingers lightly over her front flank, sending a chill down Isobel’s spine. “Prime horseflesh.”
“Aye.” It was on the tip of Isobel’s tongue to explain that Teine belonged to the daughter of a clan chief, but that would open up too many questions, surely.
“Would you consider selling her?” Hunt asked, but his gaze remained on Teine, rubbing her nose before he pulled back her lips to check her teeth.
“She isna for sale.”
“Oh, but surely—”
A rustle in the trees behind her drew their attention and four men appeared around the bend, pulling up behind her in a row. The familiar McEwan men all sat straight in their saddles, their faces bland to avoid revealing their thoughts.
Kieran urged his horse forward just slightly, a heavy line creased between his eyebrows and his mouth flat. Relief warred with frustration within Isobel. She’d never before been so happy to see his face—and Isobel was always pleased to see Kieran—but she hadn’t made it to Bongary yet. She hadn’t yet drunk from its healing spring, and the flip of her stomach upon meeting Kieran’s gray gaze was proof of that.
The soldiers’ hands immediately went to their hilts, and the Scots did likewise, their hands resting on guns and swords in the event that they would need them.
She needed to act quickly, to dispel the tension before actions were taken which could not be undone. “Were we not meant to meet at the crossroad?” she called.
A flicker of confusion passed over Kieran’s face.
“Ah, the husband,” Captain Hunt said, his voice rising at the end as though he was surprised she had been speaking the truth. He continued to hold Teine’s bridle, appraising the McEwan men. “I see you’ve had no luck this evening.”
“Nay luck,” Kieran agreed, though he surely had no idea what the captain referred to. He was likely thinking that the luck of finding Isobel was canceled by the misfortune of finding her surrounded by predatory redcoats.
Captain Hunt narrowed his gaze. “Which of you is Mr. Buchanan?”
Isobel’s stomach dropped clear to the ground, and her neck heated. Kieran directed his horse forward a step while the other men, Hugh, Ian, and Young Rupert, remained behind. Their expressions were stone as they watched the soldiers with unveiled interest.
“What will you feed your wife for dinner this evening?”
Kieran’s gaze flicked to Isobel, and she tried to hold it steadily, though she felt shaky and nervous. “Fish,” Kieran said. “If we can manage to catch any.”
“Where do you plan to make camp for the night?” Captain Hunt asked. “Perhaps my men and I can be of assistance.”
Kieran looked up and stared hard at Isobel. She swallowed. She was so close to her goal, had traveled so far and slept so little on the cold, hard ground, eating nothing but dried meat and stale oatcakes, and her legs were wildly sore. She’d worked so hard, come so far, only to be caught a day’s travel before her destination. Her limbs were achy with the need to stretch them, her voice clamoring to be heard, to scream her frustration.
Suppressing the tension gnawing at her, Isobel hardened her resolve.
If Kieran wanted to take her back to Moraigh, he could do so. After accompanying her to Bongary Spring.
* * *
Kieran wanted to pull Isobel from the back of her horse and splash water over her face. Anything which would either knock sense into the woman or shock the British officer would be helpful. The entire conversation thus far had been confusing, but Kieran had picked up a few key points. Namely, Isobel had chosen to protect herself by claiming she was married. And evidently, Kieran was the lucky man she’d chosen to be her fictitious husband.
Not a surprise, really, when one considered that Kieran’s face was the last she’d seen before escaping Moraigh. But if she had used the McEwan name, any of the other three men riding with Kieran would have qualified as her husband.
“I think we’ll manage,” Kieran said in response to the ugly officer. The redcoat clearly had his eye on Isobel, or he wouldn’t be holding her horse so tightly. It was a show of strength, of his interest. It was repulsive.
Kieran kicked his horse’s flank lightly, clicking his tongue. He moved forward cautiously. “I’ve been looking for ye,” he said to Isobel, mildly rebuking her.
Her deep brown eyes sparkled, and despite the danger they faced, he couldn’t help but feel relieved to find her whole and unscathed. She tilted her head softly to the side. “Were we not meant to meet at the crossroad just up the lane?”
He clenched his jaw. “’Tis time we return home.”
“Home? Where is that?” the scarred soldier asked.
Blast. The less these men knew of them and their plans, the better. The soldier blinked at him, and Kieran had no choice but to respond. “Near Loch Gileach. We should be on our way.”
The soldier looked at Isobel and then at Teine before releasing his grip, and Isobel’s shoulders deflated just the slightest bit. If Kieran had not been watching her, he wouldn’t have noticed. She must have been terrified, and he didn’t blame her. When she’d been placed in trouble, she had no idea Kieran and his men were that close behind her, that he would be there shortly to save her from whatever fate gleamed in the scarred soldier’s eye. Indeed, Kieran hadn’t known he’d been that close to her, either. He’d spent the entire day wondering if he’d passed her on the road somewhere, or if she had taken a path he wasn’t aware existed.
He was glad he’d chosen to follow the path beside the creek. It had led him directly to Isobel when it appeared she needed him most.
“Of course,” the soldier said. “Do not let me keep you.”
Turning away from the redcoats, Kieran clicked his tongue again, and Isobel followed him. They needed to get out of earshot and into safety before the soldiers changed their minds. Ian, Hugh, and Rupert allowed them to both pass before turning around and following them, the five of them quietly leaving the small clearing beside the spring.
“Ye havna been easy ta find,” Kieran murmured once they were far enough away not to be overheard.
Isobel scowled. Her face was dirty, shadows smudged beneath her eyes and her blonde eyebrows darkened from dust.
Kieran turned back toward Moraigh, the direction they had come from, and Isobel halted her horse once they were away from the soldiers.
“I willna return yet,” she called.
He fought to remain patient. He turned back to her, lowering his voice. “Ye dinna have a choice.”
Isobel’s eyes flashed. “I didna come this far to fail. Ye dinna have ta come, but I’ll be going on ta Bongary.”
Was the woman not tired of sleeping on the ground and riding all day? The stubborn set of her chin said otherwise.
“What’ll ye do when the redcoats find ye?” he asked. He slid down from his horse and crossed the space between them, and Isobel tipped her chin down to hold his gaze. “What will ye do when ye’ve got no one there ta pretend to be yer husband?”
Isobel moved swiftly, slicing the air with a silver blade and stopping it just a hand’s width before connecting to Kieran’s throat, the gleaming steel shining from the late afternoon sun. Her knuckles were white, her control admirable.
“I had a plan,” she said through clenched teeth.
Shock rippled through Kieran’s body, admiration close on its heels. He’d never seen her wield a knife, and he was glad he hadn’t needed to. She was clearly skilled with that small piece of weaponry, and it had Kieran wondering what else lay hidden in her arsenal.
Behind them, a man whistled low, undoubtedly impressed by Isobel as well, and Kieran took a step back at the same time that Isobel dropped her arm to her side. Running a hand over his face, Kieran tried to hide his surprise at her speed and precision in brandishing her weapon. But perhaps he shouldn’t have been so surprised. She had made it this far on her own.
He nodded toward the black-handled dirk in her fist. “If ye’d used that on the redcoat, ye wouldna survive the week.”
“Which is precisely why I didna use it.”
Ian, Hugh, and Rupert had all dismounted and approached, standing behind Kieran in a soft semi-circle.
“What is the plan?” Ian asked, resting his hands on his belted waist, his great kilt flapping slightly in the breeze.
Kieran looked between his men’s faces and Isobel’s frown, uncertain. He didn’t want to drag Isobel home—he wanted to convince her to come willingly. They had three days of travel ahead of them, and it would be much more pleasant if he wasn’t fighting her the entire way.
“We’ll move up the road, far enough to give the soldiers some space, and make camp for the night. Find some fish or maybe a rabbit if Hugh can get a shot off.” He sent Hugh a smile, and the man shook his head. He’d missed two rabbits yesterday, and Kieran wasn’t going to let him forget it. “Then we’ll set off at first light.”
The men nodded, returning to their horses, and Kieran retook his saddle. Pulling his horse alongside Isobel, he slid his gaze quickly over her, assessing her for injury. She was dirty and disheveled but appeared unharmed.
He forced himself to meet her eyes. Had she always possessed such a bonny figure? “Ye willna be running off in the night, ye ken?”
She said nothing, regarding him with a calculating eye.
“After ye,” Kieran added with a large sweep of his hand.
Isobel hesitated a moment before falling in line behind Rupert, and Kieran brought up the rear. Until he felt secure in the knowledge that Isobel would willingly return to Castle Moraigh with him, he was not going to let her out of his sight.