True to the Highlander(107)

She was responsible for the rift between Malcolm and his father. She’d been dropped into a place and time not her own and had no right to stay. She prayed her leaving would restore things to the way they were meant to be—except her heart. That would never be the same. She would leave tomorrow, and take Hunter with her.




“Where are we going?” Hunter asked from the back of his sturdy little pony.

Alethia had fastened her duffel bag to the back of his saddle, and her violin she tied to the back of her own. “We are going to Inverness.”

“Without Da?”

“Yes, without him.” The words made her heart ache.

“I don’t think we should.” Hunter stopped his pony on the back side of the first hill. His face wore the expression of a child whose hand is caught in a cookie jar.

“I must. There is someone there I have to talk to.”

“Ask Da. He’ll come with us.”

“Hunter, if you do not want to come with me, turn back. I won’t force you.”

He regarded her for several moments, shook his head, and reached around for the quiver holding his bow and arrows. He strung the bow and draped it over his shoulder. Straightening in the saddle, he firmed his little chin. “I will ride with you. But this is foolish.”

As heartbroken as she was, she couldn’t help smiling. Her little man saw himself as her protector. Her own bow hung down her back, and her dirk was within easy reach strapped to her calf. She wore her plain brown gown and no jewelry. It was unlikely they would encounter any travelers until they were closer to Inverness.

They’d only ridden a short while, and already she had a raging headache. Hunter had kept up a constant stream of admonitions—turn back, this is not a good idea, Da wouldn’t like it. Maybe bringing him had been a mistake. She stopped Ikwe on the trail and rubbed her temples. They had come to the same forest that held the sacred spring. The road narrowed to a darkened path cutting through it. A new feeling took hold. Unease.

She urged her mare forward and scanned the shadows near the trail. Something about this stretch of road sent prickles of anxiety down her spine. There were too many places to hide—the path too narrow, and escape routes too few. Even her mare tossed her head and sidestepped.

“Please, let’s turn back. I don’t like it here.” Hunter’s eyes had grown large with fear. Whatever lurked ahead, he felt it too.

Hunter’s constant harangue had eroded her certainty, replacing it with doubt and fear. What had seemed like the right thing to do now felt foolish and dangerous. Defeat weighed heavy on her shoulders. She would have to regroup. They would return to Moigh Hall. Maybe she could bribe a few MacKintosh warriors to go with her the next time. “All right. We’ll turn back.”

Just as they turned their horses around, two figures on horseback emerged from the forest to block their way. Tension squeezed the breath from her lungs, and her mouth dried to dust. She turned her horse’s head around to run in the opposite direction. Two more men emerged to cut off their escape, one of them all too familiar.

Her heart lodged in her throat—Black Hugh faced her from his horse, evil intent pulsing from him in waves that made her ill.





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO



Hugh dismounted and moved toward her. “When first I cast my net this day, I did not think to catch so fine a fish.” He sneered. “And we were going to abandon our plan if another day passed without sight of our quarry. ’Tis fortuitous indeed you happened by.”

The malice radiating from him raised goose bumps all over. She reached down to get the dirk strapped to her calf. Hugh gripped her wrist and a handful of her hair and dragged her from her horse. She struggled to break his hold. He wrenched her arm painfully up behind her. Her eyes stinging with tears, she stopped struggling and instead fought to maintain her wits.

Hunter’s terror was clear as he surveyed the men surrounding them. She willed him to look her way. Forcing everything else out of her mind, she sent her energy to him. Thank God, he felt it and turned to look at her. She sent him images of Moigh Hall, and images of her signing to him. “Go. Get help. Go back the way we came. Hurry.”

Hunter gave her a slight nod, and the fear left his face to be replaced with determination. He kicked the sides of his pony, heading into the cover of the forest before the men could stop him.

“Damnation. Go after him, Fergus,” Hugh snapped at one of the men. “I dinna care what becomes of the lad, but there may be valuables in the pack.”

The man set out after Hunter, and a wave of dread and grief swamped her. Had she sent Hunter to his death? Hugh had a tight hold on her hair, almost ripping it from her scalp. He released her arm to reach down to yank her dirk from its sheath and used it to cut the quiver from her back.