Warrior Untamed (19 page)

“No apologies necessary, MacCulloch. I’d be the first to agree this is no safe place for your sister.” Not that he could think of a better alternative right now. Staying with them was much safer than venturing
off on her own. “But I have little to say about what she does.”

“You have nothing to say about what I do, and no right to say it,” she asserted, pushing her wild hair back from her face.

“And what in the name of the Seven have you done to yer face?” Jamesy pulled his horse next to his sister’s and pushed back the hair covering her cheeks. “Oh, la, dinna tell me you gave yerself over to the auld stories. What fool allowed you to do this?” He turned a sharp eye toward Hall.

“No one
allowed
me to do anything. I did this of my own free will, choosing to honor the truth of our ancestors.” With a toss of her head, Bridget turned her mount, pulling away from the group to wait alone.

“They were but stories, Bridget,” her brother called after her. “Stories told to a small child to quiet her down for the night. And now look what you’ve done to yerself.”

“I dinna believe I’ve ever heard these stories, of beautiful women who decorate themselves as they might decorate their tapestries.” Jamesy’s friend Finn drew his horse closer, peering at Bridget. “But I would like to hear more of them.”

“Our mother’s stories,” Jamesy explained, shaking his head in disgust. “Children’s fantasies about our ancient ancestors, who painted their bodies with magical symbols to protect them in battle and frighten their enemies.”

“They’re not fantasies,” Bridget called, leaving little doubt she had heard every word even if she didn’t choose to respond to her brother.

Finn arched an eyebrow, turning his gaze from Bridget to Jamesy and back to her again. “The
whole
of their bodies? Now, that
does
sound like a story worth investigating.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that course of action,” Hall heard himself saying.

So much for maintaining his distance.

Finn laughed, his eyes lighting with amusement, and he dipped his head in mock apology. “As you say, O’Donar. All things considered, it’s perhaps best all round that I leave this subject entirely alone.”

“Is this yer missing minstrel?” Patrick MacDowylt brought them all back to the reason they were here. “Does this mean you’ve reclaimed the items we need?”

“Only the sword,” Hall answered. “It would appear that Dobbie Caskie made off with the scrolls. We’re headed now to the site where Mathew saw him last so that we might pick up his trail.”

“Dobbie Caskie! I had hoped one day to cross paths with that young man again.” Eric MacNicol’s lips curved in a humorless smile. “The lad claimed he was headed to family on Skye, back when I took Jeanne to deal with Eymer’s remains. If he’s still prowling these trails with the same claim—”

“Then like as not he’s part of a gang of thieves,” Patrick jumped in. “And that would mean they’ve
an encampment or a house or someplace out here where they hole up.”

“And that would mean we can find them,” Hall finished.

Patrick’s conclusions confirmed his own suspicions regarding Dobbie Caskie. He just needed a trail to follow.

“Why are we wasting time on the scrolls? We have the sword,” Bridget interrupted as she joined them again. “Why not simply cut our losses and go after Torquil now?”

Hall answered, “We need the scrolls if we’re to capture the Beast.”

“Then our path is settled. We follow you,” Patrick said. “We find this Dobbie Caskie and his friends, and we take back our scrolls so that we can get on with what’s most important—securing the future.”

W
AITING, WAITING—IT WAS
as if her whole life had come down to waiting! Brie pulled her fur up over her head and huddled against the wind blowing off the loch beyond the trees.

Just before noon they’d picked up Dobbie’s tracks and within another hour or so they’d arrived in this place. And here they sat, hours later, powerless to move against the men who held the treasure they sought.

Without having met Caskie, Brie already detested the wee thief with every bit of her being.

“I dinna suppose there’s a back way into the floating fortress?” Mathew sat across from her, close enough that she could just make out his form in the dark.

“They don’t float,” Hall corrected. “The crannog is set upon poles to hold it above the water. And no, there is no back way in, else we wouldn’t be sitting here in the cold dark, waiting for them to make a move. The only way in is to cross the water.”

Light wavered eerily from the center of the loch,
taunting them. With only a sliver of moon, and that well hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, it was impossible to see exactly where the light came from. It was as if a magical sprite danced out there in the black just beyond their reach.

In spite of the way it looked now, she knew well enough that there was nothing at all magical about the house on stilts sitting out in the water. The sun hadn’t yet set when they’d arrived here, and they’d all seen it well enough. But without a boat to reach the man-made island, seeing it was all they could do.

“If it were summer, we might try to swim over,” Eric muttered.

“And if I were only the eldest MacCormack son, I’d be home in my warm bed, fast asleep,” Finn retorted with a chuckle. “Alas, I’m sixth in line to a holding that would do well to support one, and here we all sit, freezing our arses off, with no fire and no way across those waters.”

“And snow beginning to fall.” Brie held out a hand to make sure she’d been right as a few groans pierced the dark. “Don’t forget to add that to our list of complaints.”

Maybe if it got cold enough, the lake would freeze and they’d be able to walk out and knock on the gate to demand entrance.

Something wet and cold touched her cheek and she jumped, realizing as she did that it was only Finn’s huge wolfhound nuzzling up next to her. The big animal’s soft brown eyes seemed to beg, and she
lifted her fur to allow him to edge in close. He lay down with his big head on her lap before she pulled the fur back up to cover them both. The extra body heat more than made up for his dirty smell.

“Quiet yer blethering, all of you,” Patrick ordered, his voice moving away from them in the dark. “I’ll take the first watch. You’ve only a few hours left to get some rest. We’ll want to be sharp when they begin to stir and head for the shore.”

“
If
they head for shore,” someone muttered in the dark.

If
was right. With proper stores, the thieves might remain in their compound for days.

Brie huddled down into her fur and put her arms around the big dog, who seemed quite agreeable to cuddling. With his warmth next to her, she couldn’t help but think of another large body she’d so recently held even closer.

Memories of her night with Hall tumbled one over the other, leaving her aching for his touch and wishing it was he who shared her bed.

But only Dog wanted to be her sleeping companion this night. Hall had remained withdrawn and aloof ever since they’d joined up with the men from Castle MacGahan, ignoring her completely.

She scratched the big dog’s ear and he breathed a heavy sigh of contentment. When all this was over, she just might get a dog of her own. A dog would return her affection and her loyalty. A dog wouldn’t ignore her.

Unlike one particular man she could name. And after all she’d done to help him, this was how he repaid her.

Yes, she was definitely getting herself a dog. One who hated men as much as she did.

H
ALL KEPT HIS
gaze fixed on the woman across the clearing. Unlike his fully Mortal companions, he was able to see, despite the lack of light.

Though Brie had shown herself to be a resilient warrior and a skilled tracker, it was apparent that she’d paid no attention at all to any lessons on how to choose a place to bed down.

Lying in the open, she caught the full effect of the winds blowing across the big loch. Even without the whiffs of snow that assaulted them throughout the night, the wind itself blew cuttingly cold across the water.

Bridget had rolled herself into a ball, curved around the massive dog that belonged to her brother’s friend. Shielded by her body from the breezes blowing off the loch, no doubt the animal was quite comfortable lying there in his spot.

Hall’s
spot.

It should be him lying next to Bridget, not that ragged animal. It should be him holding her in his arms, protecting her from the biting cold. It should be him—

But none of that was possible. She was not his to hold.

Hall dragged his palms over his face, scrubbing his eyes. He’d given up that right when he’d rejected her last night. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t do something to ease her discomfort.

Though he had no right to hold her, that wouldn’t deter him from protecting her.

He waited until the sounds in the camp assured him that everyone slept before he made his move.

Quietly, he crept across the campsite to position himself only feet from Bridget, using his own bulk to shield her from the wind. The big dog at her side lifted his head, peeking out from under the furs where he huddled, but made no sound.

“As well you shouldn’t,” Hall muttered under his breath.

The lucky beast would benefit from his move as well.

Hunched against the biting breeze, Hall tightened his fur, confident in his ability to serve as an effective windbreak, if nothing else.

Just before the first glimmer of light painted the sky, he quietly moved back to his original spot. His muscles protested after hours of cramped exposure to the wind, but the effort had been well worth it.

He’d barely slipped into a comfortable position before Patrick entered the circle, bending to shake Eric’s shoulder first before approaching him.

“There’s movement out in the crannog,” Patrick said, his voice a husky whisper. “Keep yer noise to a minimum so we dinna alert them to our presence.”

Hall tossed off his fur and made his way toward the shore for a better view.

He’d best remember to send thanks up to his
Hamingja,
because the luck riding at his side today appeared to be all good. Dobbie Caskie himself waited at the open gate as an older man lowered a small, rounded boat into the water.

“No more worthless scribbles,” the man ordered with a slap to the back of the boy’s head. “It’s food and silver yer to bring back. You ken yer orders this time? Food and silver.”

Dobbie nodded, rubbing his head before he dipped an oar into the water.

“It’s him, for sure,” Eric whispered as he kneeled at Hall’s side. “One of my fondest wishes is to cross paths with this wee lying turd again.”

“I’ll be the first to admit the lad has done naught to endear himself to us,” Hall returned. “But it could be he has a story of his own to tell.”

Eric snorted. “There’s never an excuse for stealing from those who extend you a helping hand. Especially not when yer theft endangers their lives as he endangered Jeanne’s when he stole our horse and provisions.”

Hall shrugged, remembering the circumstances of his first meeting with Eric and the woman who was now his wife. The warrior had good reason for his ire and in his position, he’d like as not react in the same way.

“No, no excuse,” he agreed. “But perhaps a reason.”

Crouching low, Hall began to make his way through the brush to position himself along the bank to intercept the boy once he brought the small boat ashore. He heard the others join him, but he kept his eyes fixed on the approaching craft.

They all waited, watching as the boy drew the boat up onto the bank and hopped out, his stride long to avoid the cold water. He wedged the small boat into the bushes and tied its rope to a sapling before they made any move.

At a whispered command from Finn, the big dog pushed past Hall and out into the open ground around the shoreline.

“Oho,” Dobbie called, obviously surprised to see the animal. “Where did you come from?”

Tentatively he reached out one hand toward the big animal and the dog licked him, his tail wagging as if he’d discovered a long-lost friend.

Dobbie dropped to one knee, burying his hands in the dog’s fur to scratch his head. When he stood, he shook his head and turned his back on the dog.

“Sorry, boy. I’ve nothing at all to give you, no even a morsel. Off with you, then.”

Dobbie started forward toward an area where the underbrush was trampled down, obviously a well-used trail for the crannog’s inhabitants. Only lack of experience kept the boy from recognizing that
the big dog now stood guard, blocking the pathway between him and his only means of escape.

Hall rose to his feet and the others followed.

“Dobbie Caskie!” he called out. “Stop where you are with your hands in the air.”

The boy froze for just an instant, his expression that of a hunted animal before he turned to run, only to find his way blocked by the snarling dog.

Dobbie turned back to them, looking resigned to whatever fate awaited him.

“I only want the scrolls you took,” Hall said as he approached the boy. “We have no wish to harm you.”

“Speak for yerself,” Eric growled, coming up to join him. “Remember me, do you? Me and the generous lady who shared our food, only to have you steal her horse and all our provisions?”

Dobbie backed up a step, unable to move farther away thanks to the big dog directly behind him.

“Maybe I recall you,” he said, his eyes shifting from one to the other of the men confronting him. “Maybe no. I meet many people along the trails.”

“Well, lad, you met yerself the wrong one this time,” Eric threatened, cracking his knuckles for effect.

Dobbie shook his head and lifted his chin. “Do you think to frighten me? I’m no afraid of the likes of you. I been beat regularly by men twice yer size.” The boy lifted his fists as if to invite a fight. “Be warned, I’ve learned to give as good as I get.”

A memory of the last time Hall had heard those words flashed through his mind, and he glanced up to find Brie staring directly at him. From the color rising in her cheeks when her gaze met his, he had no need to wonder whether she remembered too.