Warrior Untamed (21 page)

This wouldn’t work at all. These men were all warriors and not likely to sleep through her rising, rolling up her blankets and slipping away in the middle of the night.

Looking across the fire, she caught Hall staring in her direction and she glanced away. Sometimes it almost felt as if they shared thoughts, and she couldn’t afford to risk any suspicion tonight.

But the moment of connection with him made her remember his actions of the night before, when they’d waited for Dobbie Caskie at the loch.

Foolishly, she’d chosen a spot to sleep where the winds swept off the water and buffeted her mercilessly, ruining any chance for a decent night’s sleep. When the sharp sting of the wind had suddenly ceased, she’d peeked out from under her furs to find Hall had moved close by, blocking the wind with his body.

One more thing for which she owed him her thanks. The list just kept growing. And now she could add another item to it. His actions of last night gave her an idea of how to solve her current problem.

Putting her arms around herself, she exaggerated a shiver and rose to her feet. “I am not sleeping in a draft again tonight,” she grumbled as she gathered up her blankets and pack. “This will do,” she announced, and dropped her things beyond the fire’s circle of light, separated from her companions by a big rock.

“You’ll regret that choice in a few hours,” her brother cautioned. “It’s warmer by the fire—and besides, I hardly feel the wind at all.”

“Maybe not where your bedding lies,” she
responded, curling into her furs. “But I felt it. I like this spot much better.”

When the only sounds in the camp were those made by sleeping men, Brie quietly gathered her things and made her way to her horse. She loosened his tether and led him into the forest, walking him for at least half an hour before risking the noise of taking to her saddle.

She wouldn’t look back, wouldn’t consider the concern the men she’d left behind would feel in the morning. By their actions, they had chosen her path for her.

Except for Hall. She did feel a moment of regret at not having said good-bye. But of all of them, he, more than any other, would understand.

At least, she hoped he would.

H
E SHOULD HAVE
guessed she’d do something as stubbornly foolish as this. But he hadn’t, so which of them was truly the more foolish?

Hall stood beside the smoldering remains of their campfire, staring at the empty spot where Bridget had slept the night before.

When she’d moved her bedding so far from everyone else, he’d convinced himself it was just to find a warmer spot.

When she’d offered to cook, that should have been clue enough. She hadn’t the natural ability to boil water without burning it.

And taking her brother’s criticism of her efforts in stride without a single angry retort?

Beyond foolish for him to have missed all the signs.

He should have known she would do exactly this. It had all been laid out before him as if it were a bedtime story, and he had closed his ears, closed his mind, and ignored every piece of evidence.

His normal suspicions, his ability to reason, even his good sense, had all lacked their usual clarity since Bridget had entered his life.

When he found her, and he
would
find her, he planned to give her such a talking-to she’d think twice before ever trying something like this again.

“Get yer gear packed and let’s be on our way,” Patrick called out as he headed toward the horses. “We’ll need to push hard to reach the MacGahan this night.”

“Bridget’s gone.”

His announcement sounded flat and lifeless—surprising, considering the panic bubbling in his chest. He could have waited to let them discover it for themselves, but the sooner they all knew, the sooner he could be on his way to find her.

“I’m sure she’s only strayed a bit. Down to the water, mayhap,” Jamesy said, crossing the camp to stare down at her empty spot as if he expected that she would suddenly reappear.

“She’s gone,” Hall repeated, lifting his pack and heading for his own horse. “Bridget, her horse, and her packs. All gone.”

There was no time to spare. He knew from experience that, unburdened by hunting for tracks as she had been the last time he went after her, she would be hard to catch. The woman could ride like the wind. He’d seen her do it.

“Where could she . . .” The words died in Jamesy’s mouth.

Her brother, as well as every other person in their camp, had to know where she was bound.

“Did you see her leave? Why dinna you try to stop her?”

An idiot question, that. If Hall had seen her leave, he wouldn’t have
tried
to stop her. He
would
have stopped her.

Or gone along with her.

“I found her place empty when I awoke.”

“I canna believe this. This is yer fault, O’Donar.” Jamesy, eyes flashing, turned and stalked toward him. “You could have spoken up in favor of Brie returning to Castle MacGahan. She might have listened to you, since she seems to agree with everything you say. Instead, you held yer peace and encouraged her to this action with yer silence. Whatever befalls her is on yer hands, and it’s me you’ll answer to for it.”

“You didn’t strike me as a fool, MacCulloch.” Hall continued to saddle up his horse as the young man approached. They had no time for this senseless bickering. “But if you think anything I could have said would have stopped your sister from doing what she wanted to do, a fool is exactly what you are. You would have been better off had you not insisted on her staying behind. At least then we’d have the ability to protect her. Bridget is a strong-minded woman, with a will of her own.”

“What do you ken of my sister?” Jamesy demanded, puffing out his chest.

“Best you stand down, Jamesy,” his friend Alex advised, placing a hand to his shoulder and pulling him back. “Now is the time to deal with the situation at hand, not to fight over what might have been or to attempt to assign blame.”

“Your friend gives you good advice.” Especially considering the peril Bridget rode toward. “We should focus our efforts on catching up to her before she reaches Tordenet. She may have the sword in her possession, but she left the scrolls behind. Without them, she has no chance of survival.”

Patrick mounted his animal and extended a hand to Mathew, pulling the boy up behind him. “Be off with you, then, all of you. Find her. I’ll take Mathew to Castle MacGahan and meet you at the gates of Tordenet with reinforcements.”

With kicks to his animal’s sides, Patrick was gone, and silence reigned in the little clearing until no sound of hoofbeats could be heard.

The five of them were headed north before anyone spoke again.

“How would the scrolls save her?” Jamesy sounded calmer now, though worry was evident in his expression. “I’ve seen my sister use her weapons. Many’s the time I’ve practiced with her. Between her bow and the sword, Bridget is a formidable opponent. So why do you say she canna survive without the scrolls?”

Formidable wasn’t good enough in a fight with a beast the likes of Fenrir.

“The treasures we carry work as a single unit to defeat the Beast. The sword drives the Beast from Torquil’s body. The scrolls capture the essence of the Beast and contain it. The jewels serve to hold everything in check, like a lock.”

“Trying to think as my sister might”—a sheepish expression crept over Jamesy’s face—“which I should have tried before now, she has no interest in capturing yer Beast. She plans to kill it.”

Hall knew well enough how Bridget thought. He’d already considered the scenario her brother described, and it was that knowledge that worried him most and drove him to ride harder now.

“The Beast knows all too well the danger of the sword. As a result, it can only be destroyed while it is contained within the scrolls. If it is driven from Torquil’s body without the scrolls being close enough to capture it, it will simply enter and inhabit the nearest living host.”

Jamesy’s expression of horror indicated the moment he understood the danger to Bridget.

“Yer telling me that the Beast will claim Brie.”

“Body and soul,” Hall confirmed. Neither of which he was willing to cede to Fenrir.

B
RIE AWOKE LONG
before the sun made its appearance. Not that she’d slept all that well to begin with. She was too close to Tordenet to risk a fire of any size, and the night had been especially cold.

In spite of the nerves churning her stomach, she needed to eat to prepare herself for the long day ahead. Today she would face the greatest challenge of her life, and this time she would not fail.

Before nightfall had forced her to seek shelter, she’d spotted the tower spires that heralded the approach to Tordenet. They’d been little more than tiny lines against the sky, but she’d known them for what they were. As she drew closer today, they would gleam white in the sun.

Not in welcome, but in warning.

She reached out from under her heavy furs to drag her pack in next to her. Digging inside it, she found the dried meat she hunted. Tough and salty, it did little to settle her stomach, but she ate it anyway for nourishment. She couldn’t afford to falter due to weakness.

Today she would ride north, keeping under cover of the woods while she skirted the castle walls, until she reached the sea. From there she would follow the shoreline to the castle and make her way inside.

She refused to worry about locating the passageway that Hall and Patrick had mentioned. If it was there, she would find it.

She had to.

It was her only chance to get inside.

Her only chance to surprise the mighty laird and mete out the punishment he and his Beast deserved.

Next to her the sword sparkled, as if a stray shaft of light had reflected off the weapon’s blade.

Her imagination must be playing tricks on her. There was no light to reflect. No moon, no fire, and no sun yet brightening the sky.

Curiosity piqued, she reached for the sword, surprised at how warm the metal felt to her touch. Distracted by the odd warmth, she inadvertently let her finger glance along the edge of the sharp blade.

She jerked her hand away and quickly brought her stinging finger up to her mouth. The coppery tang of blood coated her tongue and she fought back a momentary panic.

How could she have been so careless? To have her second chance at taking her vengeance cut short by such a small and insignificant wound was simply wrong. A perverted prank on the part of some bored god.

She waited for the pain she’d seen Hall endure.
Waited for the debilitating weakness that had brought him to his knees. Waited, her unwavering gaze fixed on the sword, until once again she could have sworn a streak of light glimmered down the length of the metal.

She might have thought she was seeing things as a result of the wound, if not for the fact that she’d seen the first glimmer before she’d touched the blade. And after the wound . . . nothing out of the ordinary. Just the sting of a simple cut as anyone might expect. Not one single bit of the suffering Hall had endured.

How could that be possible? What was it that protected her from the effects of the sword but hadn’t protected him?

A little stab of longing pricked at her heart as she pictured Hall in her thoughts. She saw him as she wanted to remember him best, his face clean-shaven, his beautiful lips drawn up in the smile that never failed to squeeze her heart.

More than anything she’d ever wanted, she wished that he was with her now, as if his presence might somehow make her braver.

“I’m brave enough,” she whispered into the dark, denying that which her heart called out for. “As brave as I need to be. I’ve no need of him or any other man to make me into the woman I’m supposed to be.”

One day, if she repeated the assertion often enough, she might actually believe it. Until then,
she would have to be vigilant in keeping him from her thoughts.

To do otherwise was simply too painful.

Her finger had ceased to bleed, and still nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Apparently the gods had more to occupy their time today than messing with her pathetic little life.

The first glimmer of gray pushed up into the eastern sky; it was time to get going.

She closed her pack and pushed herself up to stand, her muscles protesting a night of cramped inactivity in the cold. She had a long day ahead of her, and the last thing she needed was to get caught due to wasting time daydreaming.

B
RIDGET HAD BEEN
here. In this very spot.

Hall squatted on the ground, balancing himself on one knee while he ran his fingers over the almost imperceptible depression in the soft earth.

She’d slept here. He was sure of it. And not too long ago, at that.

“We might well have already missed her.” Jamesy stared out toward the towers in the distance, ragged worry haunting his eyes. “What if we’re too late? What if she’s already inside? What if the Beast has found her and she’s already . . .” He clamped his lips together as if saying anything more would be too painful.

“We’re not too late,” Hall reassured him, rising to his feet. “We’re only an hour or two behind her at most. I can’t imagine the secret entrance into the castle will be easily located. It is, after all,
secret.
Have faith in that, Jamesy. Have faith that we’ll reach her in time. We still have an opportunity to find her before she makes her way inside.”

Hall had faith that he would find her. He would not fail in this.

“I’ve no wish to distract from the importance of the rescue at hand but, as close as we are to the castle, should we no consider coming to some decision about what we plan to do?” Eric’s gaze was fixed upon Tordenet as well. “Once we’re spotted, as we likely will be when we move in closer, we’ll no have the luxury of waiting for Patrick and his reinforcements.”

“We don’t need reinforcements.” Hall had tried to tell them this all along. “Not with the tools we carry.”