“Throw all your muskets over here. Slowly.”
The unharmed man tossed his, then pulled the other two from his companions. Neal glared at Rory from the ground, but he ignored it.
“There is a healer in Dalwhinnie. I suggest ye all ride there before ye bleed to death.” Then he turned to Juliana and held out his hand, hoping for once she’d listen to him because his strength was fast fading. “I suggest we leave.”
But of course, she didn’t. Instead, she walked over to the men—much too close—and retrieved hersgian dubh.
“I’ve grown rather fond of this,” she said, and then she walked to where Misty still waited by the rock. In another moment, she had mounted by herself. “Now we can leave,” she said as she spurred Misty to a canter.
Baron followed, and one of the last coherent thoughts Rory had as he leaned low in the saddle to wrap his arms around his horse’s neck was that Juliana had just ridden to his rescue.
…
Juliana refused to think. Or maybe shecouldn’tthink. She was aware that Misty was galloping along a road, but she felt a strange, numb detachment, as though she were someone observing from afar the events that had just taken place. Watching as some coolly calculating woman had calmly threatened to kill three men. The woman hadwantedto do that. Had only been waiting for someone to make a wrong move so she could avenge every woman who had ever been molested by a man. The weapon in her hand had felt good. Powerful. She was the one wielding power, not some damn man.
But Rory had come to her rescue. Maybe not all men were monsters. She recalled that moment of terror when she’d been defenseless. Rory had charged like some gallant knight of old. Not that she believed in gallant knights.
The pounding of the horse’s hooves was jarring her back to reality. She heard Baron thundering behind her, trying to catch up, and glanced over her shoulder. Then she nearly unseated herself at the sight of Rory sagging over Baron’s neck. She reined in Misty.
“Are you—”
“Just ride,” he managed to grit out. “We have to get to Dalnacardoch.”
“You are hurt. Should we not go back to Dalwhinnie?”
“Doona argue.” His voice was barely audible. “Just. This. Once.”
Juliana frowned. “But…” She stopped when he completely slumped over Baron’s neck, eyes closed. Good Lord! He’d passed out. What was she going to do if he fell off? There wasn’t any way she could lift him. She fought the panic that was rising in her. She needed to secure him to his saddle. How? She thought a moment, then opened her valise and pulled out a shawl.
Slipping off Misty, she rolled the wool tightly until she had a rope of sorts. Tying one side around his wrist, she dipped under Baron’s neck and secured his other wrist as closely to the first as she could. It was a makeshift manacle at best, but hopefully it would keep him from sliding off. She tugged Baron’s reins loose so she could lead him and remounted Misty.
She looked in both directions. Should she return to Dalwhinnie in spite of what Rory had said? The healer was there…but the Camerons would be there as well. There was a real possibility she would run into them on the road before they got to Dalwhinnie. Neal Cameron would be as angry as a poked bear. Worse than a poked bear. He would be more like a rabid wolf. She couldn’t fight three of them, even if two were wounded. And they could easily kill Rory.
Sighing, Juliana turned Misty’s head to the south. She would have to keep both horses at a walk, since Rory’s position was precarious. It was probably just as well, since the snow was falling more thickly now and she couldn’t see that far ahead. The last thing she needed to do was wander off the road.
Rory’s eyes remained closed as they made their slow way, but his lips weren’t blue, so at least he was breathing. His mouth was slightly open and looked rather soft against the coarse hair of Baron’s mane. She remembered how his lips had felt that day in the woods… How skillfully he’d used them to nibble and nuzzle, tempt and tease…
Juliana felt a hysterical bubble rising in her throat. She was thinking of Rory’s kissesnow? She was out in the middle of snow-covered mountains—in a near blizzard—trying to manage two horses when she was no horsewoman.Andshe had an unconscious man tied to his saddle. And where were her thoughts straying? She giggled at the absurdity of it, then hiccuped and wiped her eyes, realizing the laughter had turned to tears. She rarely cried. Shenevergiggled. And yet she had a strange desire to start laughing out loud or even shriek and scream. She never did those things, either.What is the matter with me?
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to focus. She had no idea how badly Rory was hurt. He’d been hit in the head, and she remembered old Gwendolyn telling everyone to keep Emily awake after her sister had had an accident at Strae Castle, but she could hardly stop the horses and try to do that now. They’d freeze to death if they didn’t find that hunting lodge.
As they proceeded slowly along, wrapped in a swirling haze of white, she began to talk to Rory, even though she knew he could not hear her. She told him how sorry she was that she’d been rude to him. She told him that most of the time she thought he was right, even though she wouldn’t admit it. She even told him—finally, when she’d run out of things to confess—whyshe’d run away from him in the woods that day. Other than Emily and Lorelei, she’d never told anyone about that awful day. But at least her secret was still safe. Rory hadn’t made a sound or even so much as shifted once since he’d passed out.
Finally, after her voice grew raspy from talking and the horses had slowed their walk to a plod, she saw the hunting lodge. She almost missed it, since the buildings were painted white and set off the road.
There was no sign of life as she turned the tired horses into the carriageway in front of the main building. No door opened to them, but perhaps their arrival hadn’t been noticed. Surely the king must keep a small staff here, even when he wasn’t in attendance? But it was just after Yule and the mid of winter.
Juliana had a growing sense of trepidation as she walked to the entrance and banged the heavy brass knocker several times. Hearing no sound from within, she tried again. Nothing. She tried turning the knob, but the door was locked. Had she really expected it to be open?
She looked around. She knew they had arrived at Dalnacardoch, because they had passed a sign by the road. It seemed the entire place was deserted.What are we to do?
…
Rory stirred as warm air swept his face. At least, it felt warm, and he’d been so cold. His nose twitched. Something coarse was rubbing his face, and it smelled…like horse. He opened his eyes. One of them, anyway. The other seemed pressed closed.
He sniffed again, and this time the sweet aroma of hay filled his nostrils. With his open eye, he assessed what he could see. Exposed beams, not too high. A wooden wall…no, a stall. He was definitely in a stable. And using his horse for a pillow.
He started to sit up, only to be pulled back down on Baron’s neck. He tugged at his hands and realized they were bound. By the devil’s own horns! Had he been taken captive by the damn Camerons? But he remembered riding away. Following Juliana.Have we been captured? Where is she?He attuned his hearing for sounds, but could discern only a soft nicker. The mare? No other horse responded, so maybe the Camerons weren’t there. Raising his head as much as he could with his arms shackled around Baron’s neck, he looked around, breathing a sigh of relief as Juliana stepped out of a stall.
