Highland Devil (Murray Family #22)(5)

"Aye, unless his own family is facing some threat. To Sigimor that would be the trouble he needed to deal with."

Mora nodded. "Of course it would be. Completely understandable."

"And your mother was right to not stay and mother everyone. She wouldnae  have agreed with all the ways he did it. I am fair certain of it. A  rough mon is Sigimor, but his brothers all turned out well and most of  them are still at home."

"It is a shame she didnae live to see that. Every now and then she  fretted over her decision. So Dubheidland is still a place filled with  big men with red hair?"

"Aye. Often a lot of MacFingals, too, although that has lessened some as  they get older and, I suspect, Sigimor doesnae appreciate any of them  flirting with his wife."

Mora laughed. "Who are these MacFingals?"

As she finished her food she was thoroughly entertained by Sir Gybbon's  talk of the MacFingals. Although the old laird was a scandal, she had to  admire him for the care he took of all his children, legitimate or not.  Few men would bother.

She was just setting her plate down when Freya stared at the road and  then hopped into her bag. "I need to hide," said Mora as she grabbed her  bag and tugged her hood up over her hair.

"Why?"

"Someone is coming down the road." She pointed to the woods just beyond  the horse, and added, "I will only be hiding over there."

Gybbon watched her head into the woods and wondered if she meant to  flee. Even as he thought he should make sure she did not, he heard the  hoofbeats of a couple of horses coming. A man and a woman rode by,  quietly talking to each other and taking no notice of him. As soon as  they passed by, he stood up and walked to the edge of the woods. He  stared into the shadowed area but caught no glimpse of Mora.

"Mora?"

Suddenly her head popped up and he was briefly startled. Her hood had  completely covered her hair. It appeared she had a true skill at hiding  and he idly wondered why.

"It was just a couple riding by. Naught to worry about."

Mora climbed out of her hiding place. She wondered why she had not taken  the chance to run. The man had said he knew Sigimor and knew how to get  to Dubheidland, but she had no way to test the truth of that until she  reached the gates and he was recognized by the Camerons. Then she  shrugged and brushed the debris from her cloak. He was the best hope she  had of getting where she needed to go before her cousins got to her,  and he had a horse.         

     



 

"I will come along in just a moment or two."

Gybbon started to ask why the wait and then clamped his mouth shut.  Women needed a moment of privacy just like men. He walked back to the  fire and began to clear up what small mess he had there. Just as he  began to put some sand over the embers of the fire, she walked back into  the campsite, that strange tiny cat at her side.

Mora stepped up to the fire and watched the man as he made certain it  was fully out, no heat evident. He was a very handsome fellow, she  mused. His hair was a gleaming black and a bit long, hanging a few  inches past his shoulders. There were slender braids at the front and  she recalled her father talking of warrior's braids when he would tell  her stories about old battles, although she had gotten the feeling that  was from a long time ago. It suited Gybbon, however. From the slightly  elegant lines of his face, she would judge him well born.

When he stood up and looked at her, she had to bite the inside of her  cheek to keep from making any sound. His eyes were a beautiful clear  green yet there appeared to be some blue in there as well. She wondered  how she had missed that.

He walked off into the trees and she released a small sigh of relief.  Now she had time to settle herself, calm the odd reaction she had to his  looks. She had to admit she had never seen such a fine-looking man or  had such a reaction to any man. Mora hoped that was not going to make  the trip they would soon take together awkward. She would be humiliated  if he caught her staring at him all cow-eyed.

When he returned he spread out a blanket for her, then spread another across the fire pit. "Sleep, lass."

"Is it safe to sleep out here?"

"Aye. Anything too mean and dangerous and Jester will alert us. I begin  to think so would your cat. Would it help if I relit a fire?"

"Nay. I will be fine. An unwatched fire would make me nervous."

"Get some rest then. My sword is at the ready."

She smiled faintly as she settled on the blanket and tugged the rest of  it over her. She also kept her cloak on. A moment later Freya nudged her  way under the blanket and curled up by her chest. He was right. Freya  would warn her if there was any danger. She just hoped her pet stayed  close and did not give in to the rare temptation to wander.



Gybbon woke up and stared into the moonlit forest wondering what woke  him before the sun rose. Jester was making no sounds to wake him. He  turned and looked across the small fire pit at his companion. She was  asleep, and right next to her, staring back at him, was her odd little  cat.

The cat showed no sign of alarm, but he was surprised it stayed with her  in the blanket. He had always thought that cats loved to roam the  night. This one seemed perfectly content to stay curled up with the  woman. Shaking his head, he decided he had been awakened simply by a  need to make certain everything was quiet. He closed his eyes,  determined to get a little more sleep, and hoped Sigimor would help her.

If Sigimor did not, or could not, then the Murrays would, he decided.  Falsely accused and with a set of brothers close on her trail, she was  going to need help. He began to go through the long, long list of his  kinsmen and connections to think of which would be the best one to  approach. It was enough to put him peacefully back to sleep.





Chapter Three


Someone was shaking her, Mora realized, as she became fully aware of a  big hand gripping her by the shoulder. She swatted at it even as she  felt sleep loosen its hold on her. Then a familiar furry head butted her  and rubbed against her face. It was the loud purr that finally caused  her to open her eyes. Freya sat tidily next to a pair of thick deer hide  boots. She frowned as she slowly looked up long legs, over a kilt and a  shirt, until her eyes finally rested upon a face.

Her sleep-clouded mind cleared abruptly as she stared into a pair of  bright green eyes. Last night she had agreed to allow this man to take  her to Dubheidland. In the clear light of day, she now questioned that  decision. Freya leaned against his boot and Mora decided to trust in her  pet. It was obvious that Freya trusted the man, or that fine boot she  rubbed her head against would be shredded. Carefully, Mora sat up and  rubbed her eyes.

A minute later she became acutely aware of needing a little privacy. She  was just standing up when Freya spun to face the road and hissed. When  the cat dashed to her side, still staring at the road and growling deep  in her throat, Mora picked her up.

"What is wrong with her?" Gybbon asked.

"She hears someone riding our way. I need to hide again."

"How could she know?"

"I dinnae ken. The same way she can tell a wee mousie is running through  the grass farther away than we can see, I think. She has been a great  help. I always kenned when someone was riding our way and would hide."  She put Freya in her bag, pulled her hood up to cover her hair, and  darted into the trees.         

     



 

Gybbon grabbed a branch, snapping it off the nearest tree, and brushed  away all sign of her footprints. Tossing it back into the trees, he  wondered why he was acting as if that cursed cat had just warned her of  danger. He stared toward the wood she had run into, but could not see  her.

Next, he looked toward the road as he folded up the blanket she had  slept on. A moment later, four men came riding into view, pausing to  stare at his campsite, which was much more visible in the daylight. When  they cautiously turned off the road and rode toward him, he took his  porridge pot off the fire, drew his sword, and faced them.

"We dinnae mean any harm, sir," said the one in the lead, looking almost  apologetic with his blue eyes and blond hair tumbling around his face  as he bent his head in greeting.

"Then why do four of ye approach a lone mon?"

"We are looking for someone."

"Who?"

He glanced at the man just to the right of the man he was speaking to.  He was leaning forward in his saddle and looked as if he wanted to be  the one to speak. He also had a badly scratched face. Looking at the  ones close to his eyes, Gybbon was surprised the man still had eyes.  Looking a little more closely, he decided they were also too red and  swelling somewhat.

"Our young cousins. A woman and a boy of about six or seven. Their  parents recently died and in their grief and fear, they saw danger  everywhere, and finally fled."

Gybbon looked past the three men in front of him and saw the young  bruised man at the back. He was slowly shaking his head and Gybbon  chanced a nod of acknowledgment, rubbing his chin while he stared at the  ground as if he was thinking. That young man, he was sure, was Murdoch,  and Mora was right. The boy was not in league with his brothers. Sadly,  she was also right to think he might not survive not joining with them  wholeheartedly.