The Highlander's Lady (5 page)

Despite his bruised ego, he couldn’t let Lady Myra just go off alone in the wilds of the Highlands.
His stomach soured thinking what could have happened to her already. Especially with an enemy on her tail.

“I will go and retrieve her,” Daniel said
, surprised at the hard tone in his own voice
.

“N
ay
!” Rose shouted, her wide eyes connecting with his.
She looked like a feral animal, ready to pounce on him, save for the unsteadiness of her legs.
“You canna. Byron died giving her the message. She must be allowed to deliver it.”

“Has she any men with her?” Magnus asked.

“Aye. Two dozen,” Rose said quickly before falling into another fit of tears.

Well at least the
Munro
woman was protected. If she hadn’t been he would have insisted, message or no.
In any case, he’d keep an eye out for her
. S
oon he’d cut off toward Eilean Donan and who knew where she was headed.

“Come, let me attend to you,” Arbella said
to Rose
.

“Nay, wife, I must speak with her
regarding the attack
,
”
Magnus interjected.

Daniel and Blane both nodded their agreement. An attack on an ally meant an attack could be forthcoming.

Arbella sent Magnus a frown that Daniel had witnessed on more than one occasion—it meant she would get her way.
He did not want to be caught in the middle of it. He started toward the
main door
.

“I will let you speak to her after I’ve cleaned her up and gotten her something to eat. I’d hope for nothing less if I were in her shoes. She is with child.”

Daniel stopped, a sick sense of curiosity making him turn to see how Magnus reacted. He would enjoy ribbing his cousin later over this.
The last statement seemed to be what garnered Magnus’ agreement. In fact, it would have gained any man’s, for no man wanted to press matters onto a woman li
able
to either break into a fit of tears or a rage that could cow a seasoned warrior.

Daniel hadn’t had much experience with pregnant women
other than a
few of the servants who did their best to
remain
emotionless
.
Arbella was another story, and judging from the fit of t
ears and defiance Rose waffled between
, he was willing to bet most females were a bit on the mad side when carrying a child.

Blane sat quiet at the table, his face a little pale.

“What is it?” Daniel asked.

Blane shook his head.
Daniel groaned, unable to leave his cousin looking so odd.

“Come now, tell me.”

Daniel sat down and watched as Rose was led away with Arbella. Magnus rejoined them at the table.

“Just ye wait, brother,” Magnus said.

“Ah, so that is what has ye worried,” Daniel said, putting the clues together. “Aliah is with child.”

“Aye.”
Blane looked ready to lose his last meal.

Daniel laughed.

Both of his cousins glared at him. Daniel shrugged. “I feel for ye both. ’Tis something I’ll not have to deal with for a little while longer.”

“And then ye’ll have a hellion on your hands.”

“Not if I can help it,” Daniel said. “My wife will be sophisticated yet obedient.”

Both Blane and Magnus
snickered and glanced at each other in a knowing way that made Daniel’s blood burn
.

Daniel glared at them. “Just ye wait and see then. Ye’ll be mighty jealous of my bride.”

That only made them laugh
and Magnus slapped his large hand on the polished wood table
.

“To hell with ye both. I’m for Eilean Donan.
I need to warn the Bruce of the attack on Foulis. Ye send word there if ye find out anymore.
”

Daniel left Dunrobin
’s great hall
with the sounds of his cousins’ laughter burning an irritat
ing
path up his spine. He supposed he deserved their laughter. He’d made plenty of fun of them when they both married.
’Twas only fitting they’d return the favor.

His men were gathered outside, and when he approached they shifted slightly in manner, as though they were keeping something from him. Daniel
had gro
w
n
tired of their allegiance to a dead man—even if it was his sire
. The men were fiercely loyal to
the late laird
, and had not as yet grown quite so with
Daniel
—even if they had fought with him before
in battle
,
had his back and likewise. They
knew he
was
their leader
now, and yet they clung to the memory of his father and the black words his father had spewed
.

Frowning
,
Daniel
approached Leo, locking on the man’s countenance.
When he spoke his voice was low, deadly serious.
“I’ve grown tired of your attitude.”

“I know not what ye mean,” Leo said with a smirk.

Daniel replied with the answer he knew best—he reared back and punched Leo in the jaw. The man’s head snapped to the left and his feet left the ground, landing him squarely on his arse.

Daniel turned to the other men who stood, eyes wide.
He shook out his hand. T
he skin split over the middle knuckle
stung like the devil, but the sheer pleasure that raced through his veins made it worth it.

“The lot of ye have not been showing me the respect I deserve. I’m your laird, your chieftain. If ye canna bow her
e
and now and offer me your complete loyalty then be gone with ye. I’ll not tolerate another slight.”

The men glanced from Leo to Daniel, which only served to make Daniel’s anger hotter.
Leo was still sprawled on the ground, looking about himself deliriously.

“Dinna look to him for your answer. If ye canna answer for yourself while looking at me, then ye are not man enough to belong in my guard. Murrays are not flaccid cocks.
Kneel or run.
”

One by one the men knelt before him, swords drawn and stabbed deep into the earth, hands over their hearts. Even Leo, arse that he was, knelt and gave his loyalty.
A tightness filled
Daniel’s
chest. Pride. Pow
er. Daniel’s jaw muscles flexed, his breaths deep and slow.

“Better. Now up with ye. We must make haste to reach the Wallace camp before the first snow.”

Several hours later, Myra pulled Coney to a halt beside a shallow, trickling burn.
The water gleamed crisp and clean over rocks cover
ed
in algae.
Her muscles were stiff
as boards.
So painful she could cry.
With a
groan
,
she dismounted
and stretched
, feeling the ache from the top of her head to the tip of her toes.

Judging from the particularly bright spot behind the clouds, the sun was high in the sky, meaning it was
midday
. Myra knelt before the water, filled her water skin, and then cupping her hands
stuck them in the water to get a drink. Cold!
Holy Heavens!
She jerked back without tak
ing
a sip. With a deep breath of fortitude, she plunged her hands back
into the near frozen
stream
and
took a long sip of the cold water. It trailed a soothing path down her throat and filled her hungry stomach, quelling some of the
hunger
pains.
But she needed food. Real food.
’Twas probably a good idea to look for something to eat
while she was
here
as there might not be another opportunity
.

With no
coin
, she’d not be able to buy anything from a
tavern
or even a vegetable
cart
, and she was safer not calling attention to herself. A woman alone was a woman likely to be a victim.
That much she’d learned.

Myra had no interest in being a victim today. Coney dipped his head down to the water, taking long sips. She pulled her makeshift spear from where she’d secured it along the side of the horse.

Glancing i
nto the burn, she spied no fish, only the occasional floating leaf passed by.
She waited several more
minutes, begging even a small
fish to
appear
. But there was nothing.

Rabbit perhaps? She crept along the brush, shaking limbs, but not one animal ran out. She would have settled for eating a mouse at this point.
Her legs were starting to shake and pains shot through her belly like knives.

If there were no rabbits
or mice
offering themselves up to her, at least she could use
the spear
to dig or k
nock a few
chestnuts
from the trees. Judging from the trees, the only nut she was likely to eat was an acorn…
Damn
.

Myra
checked around the ground, but found not one mushroom she could eat. She
shrugged
, disappointed but not defeated,
and gathered several handfuls of acorns and two rocks she could crush them with. She went back to Coney, sat heavily on the ground and began to crush an acorn. Her first bite was bitter and she cringed, but chewed anyway. She’d no time to light a fire
to roast the acorns
, and if she didn’t eat something, she’d never be able to make it as far as she wanted to before making camp for the night. After the
six
th acorn, she
could take it no longer. She drank
several more handfuls of water, hoping the cool liquid would fill her up.
She e
ven
though
t
briefly of eating the
algae but wasn’t sure about whether it would harm her or not
.

“We’d best be on our way, Coney.”

The horse glanced up from the
small patch of
grass he was munching and nodded. Or at least, it appeared that he was nodding.
Was he nodding? She rubbed her eyes and blinked. Or was she overcome with delirium?
This couldn’t be good, she needed to get moving while she still could.
Myra tucked the leftover acorns into the pouch attached to her saddle. If it came down to it, she supposed she could choke down a few more tonight.
Sliding her spear in place, she mounted and
urged Coney to walk along the burn. She’d follow it for a pace
to keep herself on course. Myra had only a brief idea of where to go. But she couldn’t let that thought linger.
A case of n
erves w
as
not something she needed to
deal with
now.

Coney had much more strength that she did—having been able to munch freely on grass and clover. Myra would have, but she’d heard it had to be cooked first, else she’d get sick. Lighting a fire would only draw unwanted attention, so she left the grass to her horse.

Thank goodness for
Coney
. She’d never be able to walk all the way to Eilean Donan—and not because of starvation. There was just simply no way she’d make it there alive
on foot. She was bound to be accosted, or at the very least someone would want to steal her horse.
W
ith Coney’s speed
,
she had the chance of escape.