The Hunter Read online

  “Probably.”

  The knowledge eased her conscience somewhat about the lost cap. It hadn’t been all her fault. Moreover, as she expected it was going to be hard to convince Robert to let her return to Roxburgh after what had happened, the fact that the soldiers had been after Ewen and the others and not her, would help. Of course, there was no question of Ewen escorting her back. It was too dangerous for him. But it wouldn’t be for Novice Eleanor.

  “Shall we be much delayed, do you think? I must be back in Roxburgh within the fortnight.”

  A strange look crossed his face. He looked away almost uncomfortably. “You will have plenty of time. But we should go.”

  “What about Sir Kenneth? How will he know how to find us?”

  “Don’t worry about Sutherland. He’ll catch up with us if he can.”

  If. She caught something in his expression that she’d been too scared and upset to notice before. A slight darkening of the eyes and tightening around the mouth.

  Janet stilled, as horror slowly dawned. “You think something has happened to my sister’s husband?”

  As if Mary didn’t have cause to hate her enough already.

  She must have looked as stricken as she sounded because he swore, drawing his fingers through his hair. “Damn it, that’s not what I meant. I’m sure he’s fine.”

  “And if he’s not?”

  He took her chin and tipped her face toward his. “If he’s not, it has nothing to do with you. This is what he does, and sometimes—most of the time—it’s dangerous. Mary knows that.”

  Janet nodded, but in her heart she couldn’t accept it. If anything happened to her sister’s husband, Janet would never forgive herself.

  A cap. A blasted cap! He couldn’t have died over something so insignificant … could he?

  Tears filled her eyes. Ewen’s thumb stroked her cheek, as if he’d wipe them away before they could fall. The gentleness caught in her heart and wouldn’t let go.

  I could love him.

  With the smallest amount of encouragement, she could love him. The realization of how easy that would be rose up and grabbed her by the throat, both awe-inspiring and terrifying. It would change everything.

  He looked as if he might say something more, but instead he dropped his hand from her face and stepped away. “Get ready and have something to eat while I take another look around. The mist isn’t as thick this morning, and I want to be off these mountains before it lifts.”

  He was almost through the entrance when she called out, “Ewen!”

  He turned and looked at her over his shoulder. Her heart squeezed. With his dark hair, steely blue eyes, rough-hewn features and stubble-shadowed jaw, he looked so ruggedly handsome it hurt.

  Why him? After all these years, why had this one man finally threatened into her heart?

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  She blushed. For being here with her. For keeping her safe and warm. For holding her in his arms. For bringing her the water to wash this morning. For not blaming her, and trying to make her feel better.

  “For everything,” she said softly.

  Confused, his brows furrowed slightly, but he nodded.

  A short while later they were climbing more hills, continuing on their way east. Although rested, her legs were still sore from the day before, and she was glad that he’d eased up on the pace a little.

  She frowned, wondering if his leg was bothering him. But after watching him for a while, she didn’t detect any sign of the injury or pain and concluded that the ointment must have worked.

  He was right about the mist. It did not linger, lifting by mid-morning, about the same time they reached the burn of which he’d spoken. The stream was about three feet wide, flowing through a deep ravine. It was beautiful, set in the landscape of moss, rock, and a light dusting of snow—patches of snow, more accurately, as the warm sun was already melting winter’s icy breath.

  She took her time, washing her face and hands and enjoying the moment of peace. She should have known it wouldn’t last.

  Ewen gritted his teeth for the battle ahead. He should have known she wasn’t going to like his plan. God, did all women have so many opinions? Thinking of his fellow Guardsmen’s wives, he suspected they did.

  Bloody hell, what was happening to him? It had been so much easier when he didn’t think about what a lass thought or wanted.

  Her gaze slid over him in a silent scoff that sure as hell shouldn’t make him hot, but his cock didn’t seem to notice her flashing eyes.

  “A change of clothes does not hide what you are, Ewen. Anyone who looks at you will see that you are a warrior.” The observation pleased him far more than it should. As did the way her eyes lingered appreciatively on his shoulders and arms. “Let me go with you—I can help. You will be less obvious with a wife by your side.”

  Remembering how well that had gone the first time, he declined. “I’m buying a horse, Janet. I’ve done this hundreds of times before. There is nothing to worry about. I will be back before you even realize I’m gone.”

  She shook her head. “But what if there are soldiers about?”

  “There won’t be. As you can see,” he pointed down into the valley at the dozen or so holdings and small church nestled into the hillside, “it’s a small village. No castle means no English.”

  “I can help you. Remember what happened in the inn? I’m good at talking with people.”

  And he wasn’t. But he could bloody well bargain for a horse. Knowing that they’d be standing here forever if he didn’t do something, Ewen tried a different tack. One that held more truth than he wanted to admit. “That’s not why I don’t want you to go. I know you could help, but having you with me would put us both in danger.”

  “Why?”

  “I’d be worrying about you. Focusing on you. You make me …”

  He didn’t know how to explain. Weak. Vulnerable. Words he’d never used to describe himself before.

  Christ!

  If she noticed his discomfort, it didn’t stop her from asking, “Make you what?”

  He settled on, “Distracted.”

  His answer didn’t appear to satisfy her. She wrinkled her delicately turned nose. “I’ll stay out of the way; you won’t even know I’m there.”

  As if that were bloody possible. “I always know you’re there.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” he repeated, not having anticipated the question.

  “Aye, why do you always know I’m there? Why am I so different?”

  His jaw hardened. “You know why.”

  She lifted her chin in a manner that told him that she intended to be difficult about this. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

  He knew what she was trying to do, damn it. But if it meant keeping her safe, he’d say whatever the hell she wanted him to. “Because I care about you. Because the thought of something happening to you makes me lose my damned mind. That’s why I don’t want you going with me.”

  She smiled, and he swore it was as if the sun had just come out. “All right.”

  The acquiescence had come so easily, he didn’t think he’d heard her right. “All right?”

  She nodded. “And just so you know, you distract me, too.” She gave him a small smile. “I had no idea you were so romantic.”

  Romantic? Him? Bloody hell! She was reading too much into this. “Janet, you don’t understand—”

  She waved him off—actually waved him off. He didn’t think anyone had done that since the cook had shooed him away from the kitchen—and the freshly baked tarts—when he was a lad.

  “I understand quite well. You’d better go now, before I reconsider, while I’m still agog over the poetry of ‘lose my damned mind.’ ”

  His mouth twisted. She was teasing him. It was still difficult for him to believe how natural it seemed.

  He should correct her and make sure she understood that this didn’t change anything, but she was right: he didn’t wan