Page 46 of Highland Fire

Andrew MacBain was the last man to tumble into a drunken stupor. Tavig closed his eyes. He had been staring so long and so hard at his captors that his eyes burned. After the stinging eased he glanced toward the men again. He had to be certain they were past waking before he attempted his escape. His only chance to remain free was to get as deep into the hills as he could before they realized he was gone. Only briefly did he contemplate stealing one of their horses. The animals were too close to the men. Tavig could not chance rousing them.

It was several more minutes before he felt confident that none of the men could move until morning. Tavig continued to watch them closely, however, as he edged back into the forest. He nearly groaned aloud when he finally stood up. His first steps were awkward and unsettlingly noisy as he wound his way through the dark wood. When he finally reached the rocky base of the hills, he ached to rest, but pressed on.

Tavig was surprised at how long it took him before he caught his first hint that Moira was directly ahead of him. He had to smile, for he heard her before he saw her. Alone she could creep about like a ghost. Dragging the stubborn goat stole every bit of stealth from her movements. He knew he could walk up beside her and tap her on the shoulder before she would know he was even near at hand. That would frighten her too much to be amusing, however.

“Moira,” he called, smiling faintly at the way she gasped, spinning round to gape at him.

“Is that ye, Tavig?”

“Nay, ’tis a spirit that simply sounds like me.”

“How verra amusing. I ken it was a foolish question,” she said as he walked over to her, “but ye cannae expect a lass’s wits to be verra sharp after she has been dragging this cursed beast about all night long.”

After lightly rubbing the goat’s head, Tavig took the lead from her hands. “He wants to rest. Ye cannae fault him for that.” He glanced at the way she had secured their supplies to the goat’s back. “A good idea.”

“Thank ye. Ye dinnae think it will cause the beast’s milk to dry up, do ye?”

“It may, but not before we reach Mungan’s.” He touched a kiss to her mouth. “Thank ye for saving my fool neck.” Tugging on the goat’s lead, he started to walk. “Ye shouldnae have done it, though. I thought I had made it clear that ye should take the bairn and run—as far and as fast as ye could.”

“Aye, ye made it verra clear,” she agreed as she followed him up the rocky slope, glad to hear no real anger in his voice. “I didnae like deserting ye, but I was doing exactly what ye told me to do.”

“If ye had been, ye wouldnae have been creeping through the grass and cutting my bonds.”

“I meant I was obeying you in the beginning, but once I saw where ye were and that ye were still alive, I had to do something.”

“Ye put yourself and my son in danger. I wasnae lying when I told ye it would be dangerous for ye and Adair if Iver got his hands on you. As dangerous as it is for me.”

“Oh, I believed you. As I said, I was being verra obedient. Then I saw ye, captive but still alive. I also saw how weak your guard was. I had a long talk with myself and decided I couldnae just walk away. ’Twould forever trouble me. Aye, and I thought of how someday your son might ask me about this day. I decided to do just one little thing, to give ye the chance to save yourself. The drunken state of your guards made it easy to slip up through the trees and cut your ropes.”

“And what did ye do with the bairn while ye were creeping about?” When she did not answer, he stopped, turning to look at her. “From the guilty look upon your face, I have the feeling ye are about to tell me ye carried my son into the verra heart of the enemy’s camp.”

“Actually I was trying to think of a way not to tell ye the truth yet not lie to you, either.”

“Moira!”

“Weel, I couldnae leave him alone, could I? And it wasnae into the verra heart of the enemy’s camp, just on the edge.” She gave him a weak smile as he stared at her in disbelief for a full moment. “I am sorry, Tavig. I couldnae do nothing when I could see you, bound and helpless. If I had left Adair alone and been captured, he would have died anyway. A wee bairn could ne’er survive out here alone. I was sure I could get close enough to cut your bonds without being seen or heard.”

“Adair could have made a noise and alerted Iver’s men.”

“True, but he is such a quiet, contented lad I felt the chance of him remaining quiet was verra good.”

Tavig cursed softly, shaking his head as he started walking again. “Ye are mad. Aye, and I must be a wee bit mad myself for I can understand your reasoning. Just where did ye learn to move about with a stealth any soldier would envy? ’Tis not a skill a wee lass usually acquires.”

“When ye live with a mon like Bearnard Robertson, ye learn to keep verra quiet and out of sight. The verra last thing I wished to do was to draw his attention, for he seemed to be forever angry with me. ’Tis nice that I could put that skill to a good use, one besides keeping myself safe from Bearnard’s anger.”

“I really hate to be grateful to that mon for anything, even for teaching you something that worked to save my miserable life.”

“Ah, but he didnae teach me. He just inspired me to teach myself.” She matched his quick grin with one of her own. “In truth, ’tis not such an unusual skill at Sir Bearnard’s keep. Most everyone trapped there learns to move about like a ghost.”

“And yet ye are planning to return to that wretched place.”

“I have no choice.”

Tavig stopped short, spinning round to stare at her so abruptly she took a quick step backward. “Aye, ye do have a choice. I have been offering ye one since the day we woke up on that pitiful beach. Ye just refuse to take it. Considering how much ye just risked to save my life, I understand the reasons for your refusal less and less.”

“That is because ye refuse to listen to my reasons or accept how the incidents at those thrice-cursed villages justify them. A match between us will only enflame people’s superstitions, thus putting us both in peril. I have said that so often I begin to feel like a child repeating her lessons for a verra demanding tutor.”

“Ye are no coward, Moira. Your courage has been proven time and again on this journey. I find it hard to believe ye will run back to Bearnard’s brutal care because ye believe our marriage will stir superstition. I find it hard to believe ye would run from superstition at all.”