The Hunter Read online

  “ ‘We’?”

  Something flickered in his gaze. “Bruce’s army,” he said quickly, but she had the feeling that he had been referring to something else.

  They were silent for a while, the sounds of the night enveloping them. It was so quiet. Almost eerily so. “Do you think we are safe?”

  “Aye, lass. Lamont’s the best. It would take more than luck for the English to find us now.”

  “And Magnus and Eoin?”

  He laughed. “Don’t worry about them. They can take care of themselves. MacLean probably already has picked out the perfect place for a surprise attack. The English don’t stand a chance.”

  “But forty against two?”

  “Hopefully they caught up with Douglas—Sir James,” he clarified. But he needn’t have. The Black Douglas was well known along the Borders. “But even if they didn’t, forty Englishmen aren’t enough for two Highlanders.”

  Janet dismissed his boasting as typical Highland hyperbole. It had to be an exaggeration, didn’t it? Then why did he seem genuinely unworried?

  Ewen returned a few minutes later, and she heaved a sigh of relief.

  “I think they took the bait,” he said. “We can rest here for a few hours. In the morning, I will see about finding some horses in the village.”

  She nodded and laid her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. The difficulty of the past few days seemed to catch up with her all at once. She didn’t notice the hard ground, the stony pillow, or the cold, and didn’t even bother to lie down, all she could think about was sleep.

  Feeling the weight of his gaze on her, her eyes flickered open just before she was about to doze off. Something fierce and poignant passed between them. Something undeniable. Something that made her feel safe. “Sleep,” he said.

  And for once in her life, Janet obeyed without argument.

  She woke with a start. With a premonition. With a feeling of dread. It was almost dawn, and a quick glance around told her that once again, Ewen was gone. Sir Kenneth had been asleep, but he stirred at her movement.

  “What is it?”

  Janet shook her head. “I don’t know.” She squeezed her plaid in tight, as if it would protect her in his absence. But then she heard a sound. A distant sharp, keening howl. “What is that? A wolf?”

  Like a wraith summoned by her voice, Ewen appeared in the doorway. “It’s not a wolf, it’s a hound. We need to move … now.”

  Fourteen

  Dogs, damn it! How in the hell had they caught their scent?

  Ewen didn’t have time to think about it. They needed to lose themselves in the forests and hills of Lowther before the English caught up with them. If he could hear the dogs, they had to be close.

  The Highland Guard used the countryside as a weapon. The more dense the forest, the steeper and more unfriendly the terrain, the more they could take away the English advantage—both in number and their superior weaponry. The English heavy armor and horses were a liability in the wild, and Bruce had learned to use that to his benefit.

  Ewen didn’t waste time trying to cover signs of their presence, breaking camp as soon as they could gather their belongings. The old motte and fort had provided shelter, but it would provide little defense. Worse, Janet would be right in the middle of it.

  She made him feel vulnerable in a way that he’d never felt before. Bàs roimh Gèill. Death before surrender, the motto of the Highland Guard. He’d never thought he would question it. But he would surrender a thousand times before he let anything happen to her.

  He didn’t know what that meant, but he knew it was significant. In the heat of danger, in the face of an attack, he wasn’t thinking about Bruce, Stewart, an unfinished castle or his responsibility to his clan, he was thinking about her—her safety was all that mattered, and it wasn’t just because of the mission.

  Steeling himself, he turned to face her. But nothing could have prepared him for the fist that wrapped around his heart and tugged when their eyes met. He could see the fear, but also the trust that no matter how desperate it might seem, he would protect her. It moved him. Humbled him. Nearly brought him to his knees with the force of an emotion he’d never felt before. God, he—

  He didn’t finish the thought.

  But nothing could stop him from reaching out to cup her face. She nuzzled her cheek into the leather of his gauntleted hand, burrowing right into his heart.

  “We have to run,” he said, his voice unrecognizably tender.

  She nodded. “I can do this.”

  He believed her. She was strong and determined. And for the first time, he realized that he wouldn’t want it any other way. He’d never thought of a woman as anything more than a bed partner or the keeper of the home and hearth. A delicate, fragile creature whom it was his job to protect. A necessity, but never someone to stand by his side, to talk to and argue with—not to mention drive him crazy. But Janet made him want all those things.

  He swept his thumb over her mouth tenderly. “Don’t stop, no matter what you hear. I will find you.”

  The small smile that curved her mouth stole his breath. “I know.”

  And so they ran. Ran as fast as he could push her into the snow-covered moors and mist-shrouded hilltops that loomed in the distance. Bruce’s army had taken refuge in them many times before, but it would be too much to expect to find anyone this near to the village. It was up to him and Sutherland to get them out of this. They wouldn’t be able to outrun their pursuers, not on foot, with dogs and horses chasing them.

  They didn’t have as much time as he’d hoped. The shadow of the fort behind him in the breaking dawn had yet to fade when he caught the first glimpse of horses.

  “The river!” he shouted over his shoulder to Janet. “A few hundred feet ahead through the trees. Follow it until you reach the edge of the tree line and then into the hills. Remember what I said. Don’t stop. No matter what you hear.”

  Her face was flushed from the exertion of running, but he thought she paled. “Ewen, I—”

  He didn’t let her finish. “Go!”

  He couldn’t hear it. Not now. He waited until she’d disappeared into the forest before turning to Sutherland. But the newest member of the Highland Guard had already anticipated him. “The pass?”

  Ewen nodded. The deep, narrow valley of the glen would slow the horses down and give him and Sutherland time to get into position.

  But there wasn’t time. The enemy was already breathing down his neck. He turned and drew his sword right as the first mailed arm came swinging down toward him. He blocked the blow of the poleaxe with a quick twist of his sword that send the Englishman’s weapon flying from his hands. A moment later, Ewen’s sword struck down hard on the rider’s leg, nearly severing it.

  He heard the man’s startled cry before he toppled to the ground, his life’s blood pouring from him. A quick glance told Ewen what he needed to know: a dozen men-at-arms, one knight, de Beaumont’s arms, two dogs barking wildly.

  No sooner had he apprised himself of the situation than the next rider was on him. He felt a roar of energy surge through his blood as the rush of battle crashed over him. He held his sword in two hands over his head and brought it down against the other man’s blade with enough force to knock him from his saddle.

  One by one he and Sutherland struck down the enemy, working in tandem as they moved the attacking Englishmen into position in the narrow pass.

  Just like that, the battle shifted. The horses couldn’t maneuver. Instead of the aggressors, the English knight and his men became like herring trapped in a barrel. With Ewen on one side and Sutherland on the other, there was nowhere for them to go. They were forced to abandon their horses or die.

  They died anyway.

  The loud clash of battle began to dull as the English fell beneath their swords. The barking had stopped. One of the dogs appeared to have been trampled by the fleeing horses, and the other …

  Ewen swore, shaking off some of the sweat that had gathered b