The Ranger Read online

  The hunt was on.

  Anna tried not to think about how late it was getting. But as darkness descended and the moon rose high in the sky, it became harder and harder to convince herself that he was all right.

  The fear that had been held at bay by the tumult of their effort to evade the enemy soldiers had returned full force once they’d reached safety. And with each hour that passed, and Arthur still hadn’t returned, it only grew worse.

  He could torment her all he wanted; she didn’t care. Just let him come back safely.

  She drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders and told herself not to worry. Arthur would lead them on a merry chase, and it would take some time to make his way to them.

  But would it take this long?

  She bit her lip, trying to slow the rising sense of panic.

  He wouldn’t get caught.

  But there were so many of them and only one of him.

  He can’t be dead.

  She would know it if he was. Her heart clenched. Wouldn’t she?

  “The stew is delicious, m’lady. Here.” Berta held out a spoon to her. “Try a bite. Just a little one,” she added, as if Anna were a five-year-old refusing to eat her turnips.

  She still didn’t like them.

  Anna shook her head, managing a small smile for her worried maidservant. “I’m not hungry.”

  The older woman frowned, her soft brown eyes crinkling into a spray of fine lines at the edges. At barely a hair over five feet and as thin as a whip, Berta didn’t look very formidable. But in this case, looks deceived. She could be as stubborn and testy as an old goat. “You have to eat something. You’ll make yourself ill.”

  She already was ill—with worry. The thought of food made her stomach turn. She bit back the bile that rose to the back of her throat. “I will,” she lied. “In a little while.”

  Berta patted her hand, which rested on the mossy log between them. They had gathered around the fire with the rest of the men, but the camp was unusually quiet, the men subdued. They were all aware of the narrow escape they’d made earlier, and she wasn’t the only one wondering what had happened to the knight who’d given them the warning to do so.

  “Starving yourself won’t bring him back any faster,” Berta said.

  Anna’s thoughts were more transparent than she’d realized, but she was too worried to feign ignorance. “Do you think something has happened to him?”

  Berta squeezed her hand and gave a sad shake of her head. “I don’t know, lassie-mine. I don’t know.”

  Anna’s heart gave a sharp tug. It had to be bad if Berta wasn’t even going to lie to her.

  They fell back into silence, Anna staring blindly into the flames of the fire and Berta finishing her stew.

  Anna jumped at the sound of a twig cracking behind her. Heart in her throat, she turned around, expecting to see a mail-clad knight atop his horse.

  She did, and for a second she thought it was Arthur.

  But then her heart tumbled in disappointment. It was only her brother. Alan hopped down and tied the reins of his horse to a nearby tree. The grim expression on his face as he walked toward her filled her with panic. “Did you find something?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Nay. There’s no sign of him.”

  “Do you think …” She couldn’t bear to say it.

  Alan gave her a long look. “He should have returned by now.”

  The truth hit like a hammer to the gut. Anguished tears sprang to her eyes. The first one had seeped from the corner of her eye when she heard a whistle pierce the night air.

  “It’s the night sentry,” Alan said, before she could ask. “Someone’s approaching.”

  The alert had caused something of a commotion. Though Anna had shot to her feet at once, so had everyone else. She heard the raucous cheer of excitement and relief go up before she caught sight of him.

  A moment later, her heart leapt high in her chest when Arthur strode into the circle of light provided by the campfire. Her eyes raked over him for any sign of injury. But other than the weariness on his handsome face and the dirt and dust staining his mail, he looked hale. Perfectly hale.

  The swell of emotion overwhelmed her. She took a step forward before she caught herself.

  She fought the urge to go to him. To run into his arms, throw her arms around his neck, and sob out her relief on his dirty, grimy, mail-clad chest.

  She had no right. No cause. They were not courting or betrothed. They were nothing to each other. Soon, she’d belong to another man.

  He saw her then.

  For one foolish moment she told herself he’d been looking for her.

  Their eyes met. She felt the force of it in her chest. Reverberating. Pounding. Squeezing with longing.

  If he’d turned away from her then, coldly dismissing her, she might have been able to face her future with a steady heart. But instead, sensing her desperation, he gave her a short nod. I’m fine.

  It was a small chip, but a chip nonetheless, and an acknowledgment of the connection between them. There was something special between them; he could no longer deny it. She mattered.

  With one last look, he turned away and strode forward to meet her brother.

  Anna’s emotions were reeling. She listened with half an ear while he gave his report, too caught up in what had just happened to focus on anything else.

  Bruce’s men. A large war party. The number drew her attention. She gasped. Twenty-five men? He should be dead.

  Arthur had led them a few miles north of Urquhart Castle before attempting to head east. The outlaws proved hard to lose, however, and he’d been forced to abandon his horse and make his way to them on foot. Anna suspected there was much he was leaving out.

  Alan thanked him for the service he’d done them all, before sitting him down and ordering food and drink.

  Her brother spoke with him awhile longer, in low tones that she could not hear, before leaving Arthur to his meal—alone.

  Anna nibbled on an oatcake and piece of dried beef, lingering as most of the men had done.

  As the night drew on, however, something began to trouble her. The camp had livened with his return—the men were clearly relieved that he’d evaded capture—but there wasn’t the celebration that she’d expected. She frowned. And there was something strange going on. Other than her brother, no one else had gone near him. Instead of the backslaps, crude jests, and toasts that would usually be called for, she noticed more than one of the men casting him uneasy glances.

  Arthur didn’t seem to notice. He finished his food, finished the skin of ale that had been brought him, and retreated to the solitude of the forest.

  She watched him go, feeling the overwhelming urge to do something. She looked around at her clansmen. What was wrong with them? Why were they acting like this?

  When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she excused herself and went to find her brother. He was speaking with some of his men, but seeing her approach, he dismissed them.

  “I thought you’d be relieved,” Alan said.

  She didn’t pretend to misunderstand what he was talking about. “I am.”

  “Then why the frown, little one?”

  “Why are the men acting like this? Why don’t they thank him? Why are they avoiding him?”

  A wry smile turned his mouth. “Are you sure it’s not the other way around, sister? Campbell isn’t exactly known for his sociability. He likes to keep to himself.”

  He was right, but there was something more this time. The men were uneasy—almost fearful. When she said as much to her brother, he sighed and shook his head. “Something happened today when the men were scouting. Richard told me about it and probably some of the other men as well. Apparently, Campbell heard the riders well before there was any sign of them. Richard said it was unnatural.”

  Any delight she might have felt in having her own suspicions confirmed after what had happened with the wolves paled in comparison to the fury that stormed through her.