The Hunter Read online

  Ewen should be relieved. His mission was all but complete—or would be in the morning, when they met Hawk and Chief in Ayr with the birlinn. He would return Janet to her family, and he would go back to his duties with the Guard, tracking the next enemy or missing ally. Bruce would be grateful, and Ewen would be one step closer to restoring the name of Lamont—and, he hoped, the lands as well.

  It was exactly what he wanted. Exactly what he’d been fighting for.

  Then why was he trying to eke out every minute on this horse? Why did it feel like the moment he let go of her, this would all be over?

  But there was no “this.” There never had been. She couldn’t be his. He’d made that clear. He’d told her he couldn’t marry her, and from her silence since, it seemed she finally understood.

  It was what he wanted.

  So why was he disappointed that she hadn’t protested? Why had a tiny part of him hoped the idea of marriage to him wasn’t so inconceivable?

  He stopped at a small burn in the Broad Wood to water the horse for the last time before reaching Sundrum. His leg was much improved since acquiring the mount, but it grew tight without movement, and it felt good to move about.

  He wasn’t delaying.

  Janet returned from tending her needs and sat on a rock by the stream, nibbling on a piece of dried beef, while he held the horse to water.

  “Tell me about Helen.”

  He glanced over at her in surprise. Not exactly the conversation he was expecting after their last. He stiffened slightly, wondering if she’d noticed something about his leg. He was careful not to favor the other, but the lass was too damned observant. “What do you want to know?”

  She shrugged. “She’s good at what she does?”

  “She’s one of the best.”

  “You said she could be a physician? How could that be? She is a woman.”

  “It’s rare, but not impossible. Your brother-in-law’s brother, the Earl of Sutherland, is married to a woman who trained in Edinburgh for a while at one of the guilds until she married. Helen might have as well.”

  “But then she married Magnus?”

  Ewen wasn’t sure where she was going with this. “Aye, but Helen never wanted the guilds. She’s happy doing what she’s doing.”

  “And what exactly is that?”

  Ewen finished letting the horse drink and then led it from the burn, tying the rein around a tree. He crossed his arms and looked at her, knowing he was treading dangerous ground. She was no doubt trying to trick him into revealing something about the Guard or confirm his place in it. “She tends to the ill; what else would she do?”

  “Does she go into battle with you?”

  “No.”

  “But she is nearby?”

  “Why are you so interested in this?”

  She shrugged. “I just am. It’s not usual, you must admit, for a gently born lady to take on such a role.”

  “Helen is unusual.”

  “As is her husband. He is a rare man to permit his wife to put herself in such danger.”

  He laughed. “MacKay hates every bloody minute of it.”

  She looked genuinely perplexed. “Then why does he go along with it?”

  “Because he knows she is needed. And—”

  He stopped.

  “And?”

  He shrugged uncomfortably. “And because he loves her.”

  “Oh.” It obviously wasn’t the answer she expected.

  His mouth twisted in a smile. “Surely you’ve heard of it?”

  Their eyes met, and a sharp frisson of awareness passed between them.

  She blushed, lowering her gaze. “Aye, just not in marriage.”

  The wry tone did not hide the sadness underneath. “Your parents did not have a happy marriage?”

  She made a sharp sound. “My father gave my mother as much consideration as he would have given a serf. Most of the time he forgot she was there. When she did find the courage to speak, he would cut her down so cruelly, she eventually began to believe that she was as stupid as he made her feel.”

  He winced, having seen more than his share of similar marriages. “Not all marriages are like that, lass.”

  Her mouth twisted with cynicism. “Aye—some, like my sister Mary’s, are full of misery, heartbreak, and infidelity, and others, like my brother Duncan’s, are constant battlegrounds of strife and discord. He and Christina would fight for hours. He was constantly dragging her off to their chamber to do God-knows-what to the poor woman.”

  Realizing she was serious, Ewen burst out laughing.

  She bristled. “I don’t see what is funny.”

  Seeing the hurt on her face, he sobered. “I’m sorry, lass. I can’t speak to your sister Mary’s first marriage. I knew the Earl of Atholl, and though he was a hell of a warrior, I didn’t pay much mind to his relations with women who were not his wife. I’ve known Sutherland for a while, though, and to my knowledge he has been faithful to your sister since he first set eyes on her.” He left out how amused they’d all been by it, given that Mary had rejected him as a suitor. “It was your comment about Duncan that made me laugh. His passion for his wife was well known—both in and out of the bedchamber. I suspect they made up just as passionately as they argued.”

  Janet’s eyes widened, her cheeks reddening as she took in his meaning.

  Her brows drew together. “How do you know so much about my brother?”

  Damn. This wasn’t exactly a subject he wanted to be discussing with her. “I fought with him for a while.”

  She looked stunned. “You did? Why did you not tell me before?” She seemed to realize something even as the words left her mouth. “You were with him at Loch Ryan, weren’t you?”

  He nodded.

  She let out a slow breath. The way it hitched painfully made his chest squeeze. He wanted to reach for her, but forced his hands to his side.

  She was quiet for a moment, as if steadying her emotions. “How did he die?”

  Ewen saw the blade flashing in the sunlight before it came down upon Duncan’s neck and forced the hideous image away. She didn’t need to know the details. “Bravely, lass. Like the fierce Highland warrior that he was. I was proud to fight alongside him.”

  She knew he wasn’t telling her all of it, but for once she didn’t press. “It must have been horrible,” she said. “All those men who died.” She shuddered. “You were fortunate to make it out alive.”

  “Aye.”

  It had been a bloodbath. The MacDowells had been told of their arrival and had been waiting for them. Ewen had been in one of only two birlinns that had managed to escape. Whoever had betrayed them had cost almost seven hundred men their lives. One day that person would pay.

  Janet saw the dark emotions cross his face and regretted invoking the painful memories. But somehow it made her feel better to know that Ewen was with Duncan when he died. Though the loss of her brother would always be a painful hole in her heart, Ewen had soothed the hurt just a little bit.

  Was it true what he’d said about Duncan and Christina? Had she so misinterpreted the feelings between them? What went on behind those closed doors?

  Apparently more than she’d realized.

  Suddenly, all those long hours in the bedchamber took on a very different meaning—one sensual rather than sinister. Her brother had always seemed so subdued afterward. She’d taken it for regret, but what if it was something else?

  It was disconcerting to realize how little she knew about something that had been going on right before her.

  She arched a brow, watching as Ewen fiddled with a bag tied to the horse, eventually removing a skin. How did he know so much?

  After taking a long swig, he sat down beside her. It was nice, this, sitting here with him without a cloud of danger hanging over them. Apparently, in no hurry to continue their journey, she decided to ask him. “Did your parents love each other?”

  He tensed almost imperceptibly. She sensed right away that the subject was not a