His Lady of Castlemora(23)

'They've gone,' she breathed.

Nell squeezed her arm murmuring, 'Thank heaven.'

No one moved for several minutes more; then she heard Ban's voice, soft through the gloom.

'They've ridden on.'

Isabelle felt weak with relief. 'Will they return, my lord?'

'Possibly, but I think it unlikely they will find this place. You chose well, my lady.'

She could make out only his outline, dark against the lighter gloom at  the cave mouth, but his presence was solid and reassuring.

'We will remain here tonight and move at first light,' he went on. 'The  horses are tired and it's too dangerous to go on anyway.'

Again she realised just how much he was risking for her sake.  Instinctively she reached out a hand and let it rest on his sleeve.

'Thank you.' Even as she said the words they sounded woefully inadequate to her ears.

'Did you think I would leave you behind?'

'In truth I have not been able to think at all.'

'That is hardly to be wondered at in the circumstances.' His hand closed  over hers. 'I am only sorry that I did not guess the extent of Murdo's  treachery.'

'No one could have guessed it.'

'He will pay for what he has done this day, Isabelle, I swear it.'

A lump formed in her throat and it was impossible to speak. Correctly interpreting her silence he squeezed her hand gently.

'Try to get some rest. It will be a long hard day tomorrow and we are still far from safety.'

He left her then to go and speak with his men. Feeling utterly bereft  she watched him go; then turned back to her companion. They found a  level space at the rear of the cave and lay down, rolled in their  cloaks, huddled together for comfort. The earthen floor was hard and the  night air cold now and Isabelle shivered. For a long time sleep eluded  her and her ears strained to catch every sound in the still night. Her  eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness and she could make out the  shapes of the men some yards off. Despite the reassurance their presence  afforded it could not dispel the chill of realisation that in the  broader scheme of things she was alone. With father and brother dead her  situation was dire indeed. However, even that did not match the  desolation she felt at their loss. Her father had at least lived to the  full. It was his time to go. Hugh should have had his whole life ahead  of him; not been cut down in first flush of manhood. Grief mingled with  loathing for his killer.

She might have escaped for the time being but knew full well the danger  was far from over. Murdo was single-minded in the pursuit of his goals  and patient too. He would stop at nothing to find her. The thought of  that eventuality made her feel sick. Death would be preferable. The only  glimmer of light in all the present gloom was that Ban had come back  for her. She had never been more thankful for anything in her life, but  for the first time it occurred to her that he might have other motives  than rescuing her from Murdo's clutches. With Hugh's death she was no  longer a widow with a meagre dowry; she was heiress to Castlemora. Had  that been part of Ban's calculations when he rescued her?

* * *

At some point amid these thoughts she eventually fell into an uneasy  sleep and woke at dawn, feeling stiff and cold, aching from the ride and  the hard ground. However, not for the world would she have complained.  Raising herself on to one elbow she looked around. Beside her Nell was  still asleep. The men were stirring though. Further off she saw Ban  speaking to Jock and Davy. Their voices were soft and she could not hear  the words, only a murmur of conversation. The young man called Ewan  stood on guard at the cave mouth, surveying the quiet woodland.                       
       
           



       

Isabelle rose slowly and straightened her dishevelled garments. Then she  fastened her cloak about her shoulders for the air was cool yet. For a  moment or two she hesitated and then moved towards the others. Sensing  her approach Ban looked round.

'Good morning. I hope you managed to get some sleep.'

The tone was courteous but his expression was hard to read. It did  nothing to alleviate her confusion. The knowledge of what she owed him  was counterbalanced by her doubts about his real motives.

'I did, my lord.'

'Are you hungry?' he asked.

In that moment she realised that she was, having eaten nothing since the  previous day and precious little then. She watched him take a small  bundle from the saddlebag. He handed her a small portion of bread and  cheese.

'Scant fare, I'm afraid,' he said, 'but it will stave off hunger the while.'

'Thank you.'

'Take some for your companion too.'

As she took the offering his fingers brushed hers, unintentionally  perhaps, but the touch sent a charge along her skin. His hands were  strong and capable; hands that could wield a sword or dagger or hold a  woman close. When she recalled some of their other qualities it brought a  tinge of colour to her cheeks, and in confusion she addressed herself  to the food. Thankfully he had turned away to supply his men, thus  failing to see her discomfiture.

She found a convenient rock to sit on and ate her portion. Having done  so, she took the other to Nell. The older woman groaned and roused  herself with difficulty, for the night spent on hard ground had taken  its toll, but she said no word of complaint. Instead she smiled at  Isabelle and took the food gratefully.

At length the horses were saddled and the fugitives remounted, leaving  the shelter of the cave and descending the narrow path into the wood.  Wreaths of mist lingered in the hollows and wound about the grey trunks  of the trees where, hidden from view, birds sang. Progress was slow at  first, for Ban had no wish to stumble unawares on an enemy camp or a  chance patrol.

Isabelle, riding pillion now, watched the undergrowth closely for any  sign of movement that might suggest an ambush. Nothing stirred. Even so  they spoke soft for sound carried in the still air.

'When we get out of the trees we'll pick up the pace,' he told her.

'How far are we from Glengarron?'

'About a day and a half,' he replied, 'as near as I can estimate.'

Her heart sank. 'Still so far?'

'Far enough,' he conceded, 'but we'll get there.'

'Will we?' She paused. 'Forgive me, I did not mean to doubt you. It's just that I cannot help feeling afraid.'

'I can understand that, given the nature of the enemy, but he won't take you back.'

She experienced a twinge of guilt. He had risked much for her sake, was  still risking much, when he could have abandoned her and saved his own  skin. And still so many perils lay ahead. On the other hand she was now a  considerable prize; valuable enough to be worth the risk involved.  Their betrothal had only ever been a business arrangement but now the  stakes had increased dramatically. When he came back for her he knew she  would go with him because there was no alternative.

Riding so close to him she was at leisure to observe without being seen.  Her eyes followed the strong line of his back to the broad shoulders  and the tawny hair that curled over the collar of his tunic, and thence  to the hollow of his neck, the familiar planes of cheek and jaw, the  curve of his mouth. If he turned round their lips would be close enough  to kiss. She blinked back tears as desire competed with suspicion.

* * *

Once clear of the trees Ban picked up the pace to a steady canter that  covered the ground without tiring the horses too much. The time might  yet come when they would need every bit of speed the animals could  summon. As they rode they kept sharp watch, looking for any evidence of  their pursuers, but the landscape was empty and they advanced  unchallenged. Guessing the road would be the first place that Murdo's  men would watch, Ban chose a cross-country route using sheep tracks and  narrow ways, avoiding the crests of the hills where they would be on  view for miles around and using the natural features of the landscape to  hide their progress.                       
       
           



       

* * *

At noon they stopped to water the horses and to rest awhile. The men took it in turns to keep watch.

Seeing the women refreshing themselves at the stream Ban took his companions aside for a quiet word.

'We make good progress,' he said, 'but we're not home yet and Murdo is not the type to give up his prey easily.'

'Would that we might get word tae Glengarron,' said Ewan. 'Reinforcements would be welcome just now.'

'Aye, they would,' agreed Davy. 'I'm ne'er one to run from a fight, but odds of ten to one are no so good.'

Ban glanced towards the two women feeling all the weight of his  responsibility. Isabelle's vulnerability seemed all the more pointed.  Somehow he must get her to safety. There would be time enough to think  after that. Since their escape from Castlemora her manner to him had  been different somehow; it was courteous but at the same time a little  more aloof as though something preyed on her mind. Given what had  happened in the last few days it wasn't surprising. Her father's death  had been bad enough but with Hugh's murder on top of that... Ban vowed  silently that he would keep his promise. Murdo would answer for his  crime. In the interim Isabelle needed time to grieve. When they reached  Glengarron he could give her that at least.