Page 15 of His Runaway Bride
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HIDDEN AMONG THE ROCKSand bracken, a small group of men tracked their progress.
"There she is," murmured Dugald Ferguson to his companions, his eyes fixed on the small figure riding beside the MacNeil laird."The clever lass who can brew liquid gold.Our laird will be well pleased when we bring her to him."
"She's married now," pointed out one of his men uneasily."Taking her will mean war with the MacNeils."
"Let MacNeil weep for his bride," Dugald replied callously."Our laird has greater need of her skills.Besides, what's one more feud in the Highlands?"
They withdrew deeper into the hills, following the small party at a distance, waiting for the right moment to make their move.The Ferguson clan had been watching and waiting for weeks, ever since word had reached them of the brewster responsible for the abbey's increased production.
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Chapter 7: First Night
As evening approachedand they made camp for the night, Lileas noticed Patrick hunched over the cooking pot with the determined expression of a man doing battle with forces beyond his understanding.
"Sweet Mary," she muttered under her breath as she caught sight of whatever unholy concoction was bubbling in the iron vessel.The mixture resembled nothing so much as what might result if someone had attempted to make porridge from tree bark and regret.
"Patrick," she called out, approaching cautiously."What exactly are ye preparing there?"
The burly Scotsman looked up with obvious relief."Och, mistress, 'tis meant to be a stew, but I fear it's gone a bit..."He gestured helplessly at the pot, where something gray and lumpy was doing its best impression of mortar.
Grant, who had been gathering firewood nearby, peered over Lileas's shoulder into the pot."God's blood, Patrick, what did ye do to it?"
Lileas peered into the pot and immediately regretted it."This looks like it could be used to patch the castle walls."
"Aye," Grant added cheerfully, "or perhaps as weapon against our enemies.One whiff of that and they'd flee for the hills."
"Aye, well," Patrick scratched his beard sheepishly."At least I try to cook, which is more than can be said for some who just scratch their arse and do nothing."
Lileas couldn't help but grin at that quip.
Grant replied, "At least I can ken me arse from me face."
Patrick turned as if he was ready to clobber Grant, so Lileas intervened.
