Page 23 of Deception of a Highlander

“Thank you so much.” Mariel beamed a grateful smile up at Colin and purposefully avoided meeting Jane’s eyes.

The faux maid turned on her heel and stalked down the hall with Colin at her side.

Only when they disappeared from view did Mariel allow herself to collapse against the sturdy wall of the inn and gasp for breath. Her heart still slammed against her chest, and her palms were slick with sweat. That had been close. Too close.

Her quick thinking and Colin’s unexpected assistance had bought her time, but how much?

* * *

The onset of overcast dawn lit the sky with a wet, smoky gray that settled into Kieran’s bones. He glanced to where Mariel rode several paces beside him. A gust of wind blasted them with air so cold it cut through the heavy fabric of his plaid. She did not so much as wince. Her lower lip remained tucked into her mouth, and her gaze fixed unseeing into the snow-dusted ferns layering the forest floor. She had been like that the last four days since they had left the Sheep’s Heid Inn. Ever since he had walked out on her.

He’d meant to apologize but found reasons not to—from the inability to speak privately to the justification that it was best for her to dislike him. The thought of being alone with her had shot through him in a thrilling mix of excitement and bittersweet trepidation.

Mariel’s eyes slid to where Jane rode ahead with Colin, and her knuckles whitened where she gripped the reins.

The party’s mood was solemn, as though the loss of Mariel’s tinkling laughs somehow dampened everyone’s spirit. Or perhaps he’d grown so used to her pleasant conversation that the silence now seemed hollow in comparison.

Time was a bitter mistress, and he realized too late he should have spoken to her sooner. A spike of anticipation shot through him.

That night when they set up camp, he would speak to her.

* * *

Mariel surveyed the bleak surroundings as they rode in silence. Snowfall had ceased, and the struggling rays of sunlight melted the pristine white blanket to a dingy gray. The horses’ hooves squished over sodden leaves and thick mud, making a rhythmic squish suck, squish suck.

She glanced once more to where Jane rode ahead with Colin, and her stomach clenched against the twisting ball of fire beneath her breast. He seemed to sense the unease between the women and used light jests and quick humor as a barrier to keep the tension from snapping.

Despite the passing of days, Mariel was still no closer to a permanent solution to Jane’s very real threat. The familiar swell of panic fluttered in her chest, and her palms were slick despite the cold. She had to figure something out and soon. For Jack.

The weight of Kieran’s gaze settled on her again. Her cheeks warmed with heat. For an uninterested man, he certainly did stare a lot. Though he often watched her, he had yet to approach her. Not that she minded. While his rejection still stung, she already had enough to occupy her mind.

The trees to her left rustled, and a flash of blue showed behind the red-and-gold leaves. A warning of unease slipped down her back like an icy blanket. She stiffened. They were being watched.

Kieran eased his horse close to her, and his hand slid intimately over her thigh, accompanied by the weight of something pressed into her lap. Mariel jerked her head up at him and found him smiling affectionately at her. His eyes were serious as he glanced down to where his hand lay. She followed his gaze and caught the glint of a blade nestled in her skirts. As discreetly as possible, she fingered the folds of her dress to assess the weapon. The edge was razor sharp and significantly longer than the dagger hidden in the depths of her travel bag.

“Down,” Kieran hissed unexpectedly. His large hand clasped the back of her head and shoved her forward against her horse’s velvety neck.

The musty aroma of the animal’s sweat filled her nostrils, and time held still. The whizz of an arrow sailed past the very spot where her head had been. A feral cry pierced the air, and the once peaceful forest erupted into chaos. Terror hovered on the edges of her awareness as men leapt from the trees with swords and axes brandished. Kieran positioned his horse in front of hers and jerked his blade free of its scabbard. With one powerful stroke, he cut the first man down.

Mariel swallowed the scream that threatened to tear from her throat and dug her fingernails into her palms. Losing her composure would mean certain death. She clutched the blade in her fist and assessed their situation.

By her quick count, there were at least ten men. Each was smeared with grime and swathed in plaids like the barbarians from English nightmares. Their savage cries filled the forest as they swung their large swords with both hands.

The sounds of war raged around them, from the ringing metal of fended blows to the guttural curses uttered by Alec and Colin, who valiantly fought back.

Two men ran toward Kieran, their eyes wild with rage. They came at him from both sides, and Kieran met them without hesitation. Each blow was deftly blocked with the resounding clang. A third man lunged at Kieran’s back.

“Kieran, behind you,” Mariel cried.

He turned in his saddle, parried the blow, and sunk his sword into the man’s chest.

“Get out of here,” he said through his teeth and jerked his blade free.

Before Mariel had a chance to obey, a vicelike grip wrapped around her ankle and tugged. She clawed at her saddle in an attempt to stay upon her stead. Then, her eyes fell upon a riderless horse with a body lying face up next to it.

The shock of loss slammed into her and robbed her of breath and thought. The hand around her leg yanked once more, and this time she had not the strength to hold on.

CHAPTER 11