The Highlander's Folly (The Novels of Loch Moigh Book 3) (6 page)

By the time they made camp for the night, the weather had turned. Damp chill and a thick fog cloaked the surrounding hills and forest. “Under the circumstances, I believe ’twould be safe enough to build a fire. The fog will mask the smoke, and the heat will be a welcome relief from the cold and damp.” Hunter glanced at Meghan where she stood shivering by the wagon.

“Aye. ’Twould be good to sit before a fire this eve.” Tieren lifted the wagon’s tarp and withdrew a thick woolen blanket. “Come, my lady, rest a bit whilst the lads go about gathering wood.” He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.

“I should help,” she protested, glancing his way. “After all, I
am
Hunter’s squire.”

“No’ this time. There are enough hands to gather tinder as it is.” Tieren removed the board from its brackets at the end of the wagon and leaned it up against one of the rear wheels. He shoved their gear back far enough to create a place at the end for her to rest. “Sit.”

Meghan lifted her brow in question. Hunter nodded. “Do as he bids you, lass. As you said earlier, the day has been trying, to say the least.”

She gathered the blanket around herself, and was about to scramble up, when Tieren lifted her by the waist and set her upon the spot he’d cleared for her. Hunter stifled the growl rising in his throat.

Tieren smirked at him. “I’ll see to making ready our evening meal, such as it is.”

“You do that,” Hunter muttered and busied himself collecting stones to ring the fire pit the squires had prepared before they joined the men who were hunting. “Mayhap the others will be successful, and we’ll sup on fresh meat this eve.” Conscious of Meghan’s eyes upon him, he felt overly large and as awkward as a young page under her scrutiny. What was she feeling right now? What did she think of him? Mayhap ’twas his inability to read her that drew him to her so incessantly. Aye, that must be it.

By the time he had a fire going, Murray, Cecil and Gregory returned, bearing a few fat geese they’d already gutted and plucked. The squires followed, carrying a brace of coneys.

“The saints be praised!” Tieren exclaimed. “We shall feast this eve.”

The pages, Tristan and Allain, took the catch from the men and made quick work of adding what seasonings they carried, spitting the fowl on green wood, and placing them atop the two branches set into the ground on either side of the fire. George and John worked at dressing the coneys. Once the geese were done, they’d spit the hares and roast them to break their fast on the morrow. The two lads tended to the roasting geese, and the rest of the party gathered to sit near the welcoming warmth of the fire.

“Tell us the tale, Hunter,” Tieren said, helping Meghan to sit between them.

He sighed. “You dinna wish to wait until our bellies are full?”

“Nay.” Cecil laid down a bit of sheepskin and settled himself upon it. “I would hear it now, if you please.”

“All right.” Exhaustion made it far more difficult for him to close himself off from his companions’ reactions to the day’s mysteries. Curiosity, wariness and fear wafted over him. For certes he wished for a reprieve. He needed solitude, a full belly and a good night’s rest. “Gregory, keep watch but stand near enough to hear.”

“Aye.” He called to his squire to take up the watch on the opposite side of camp.

Hunter stared into the flames and wondered how much to reveal. If he kept to the tale and said naught of his ties to the fae, mayhap he wouldn’t be forced to lie. “I rode into the fair and began searching for Nevan and the lads. When I came to the green-and-white-striped tent, an old Romany woman stepped out. I thought she might have knowledge of Nevan, so when she bid me enter her tent, I did so. We conversed a bit, and she gave me tea. She asked that I do her a favor, and I felt ’twas my knightly duty to comply.”

From there, he related events exactly as they happened, leaving nothing out. “I snatched Meghan and brought her here, believing I was rescuing her from certain death. I was unaware that I’d been sent through time to do so. The two of us discovered the truth as we spoke.” He met the eyes of each of the men and lads sitting around the fire. “She is come to us from the distant future. The rest you ken, for we rode straight here upon finding the fair gone.”

“Impossible!” Cecil leaped to his feet. An overpowering determination to deny what he kent was the truth flowed from him. “This canna be.”

“It’s true.” Meghan’s chin lifted. “I’m from the twenty-first century. My father and I were putting on a sword fighting demonstration at a Renaissance festival when Hunter appeared and snatched me away. It’s what we do. My family teaches sword fighting and other skills from your era.” She gestured to their surroundings. “Hunter snatched me from what he thought was a fight to the death, and here I am.”

“You saw the proof for yourself when you went to see if the fair had indeed disappeared. Why do you doubt me now?” Hunter sent Cecil a look sharp enough to split wood. “What would I gain from making up such an outrageous tale?”

“
’Tis sorcery.” Cecil paced.

“Aye, for certes, but no’ of our doing. Surely you see that,” Hunter offered in a placating tone. Cecil’s mounting panic and fear assaulted Hunter’s senses. “There are none here who are capable of sorcery, as well you ken. I speak naught but the truth.”

“Nay?” Cecil’s pacing came to a sudden halt, and his suspicious glare fixed upon Meghan. Distrust and malice cloaked him in a thick cloud. “What do you ken about
that lass
in truth?” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “Mayhap she’s fae and wishes to steal our souls whilst we sleep.”

“I’m not!” Meghan cried, jumping to her feet. “I told you. I was just minding my own business when Hunter popped out of that tent and grabbed me. Everything that has happened today has been totally against my will.” She sucked in a breath. “Besides, why would I want to steal anybody’s soul? Not that I could,” she muttered. “Because I can’t.”

“Why, to make it all the easier to take our gold and silver, of course.” Cecil’s hands fisted at his sides.
“
’Tis naught but sorcery, and I will no’ consort with the fae.” Spittle flew from his mouth as he ranted and paced. “Heresy, I tell you!” he shouted, pointing at Meghan again. “I say we bind her and leave her here in the wood. Let her own kind take her back. We dinna want her with us.” He stopped and drew his sword. “Be gone, witch, and may God have mercy upon your black soul.”

“First she’s fae and now she’s a witch? Here now, Cecil, you’re spewing nonsense.” Tieren was the next to rise to his feet. He shoved Meghan behind him. “Have you lost your wits?”

“Humph. She has already bewitched you, sir.” Cecil waved his sword in front of him. “Do ye no’ see it is so?”

“Enough.” Hunter got up and relieved Cecil of his claymore. “Be reasonable. Sit down. Once you’ve filled your belly with a hot meal, things will look better.”

“Once she is gone from us, things will look better.” Cecil glared. “
You
brought her into our midst.
You
must force her away.”

“I will do no such thing.” He caught Gregory’s frantic movements from the corner of his eye. “Och, cease with crossing yourself, Gregory. ’Tis causing my head to pound worse than it already does.” He stuck the point of Cecil’s sword into the dirt. Massaging his temples, he tried once more to restore reason. “By all that is holy, I swear to you—neither I nor Meghan had aught to do with what happened this day, and for the last time, she is no’ fae.” He sent a pointed look around the circle of men. “She’s Irish.”

Strangled hysteria-tinged laughter broke free from Meghan. He quelled it with a stern look.
“
’Tis true, is it no’, lass?”

“It’s true. Not even a little bit faerie.” She crossed her heart and held up her hand in some sort of salute. “Scout’s honor. I’m one hundred percent Irish.”

“
’Tis just as bad,” Cecil cried, but once again he took his place by the fire. “Were it no’ for the fact that I’ve lived in close quarters with you for nigh on four years, Hunter, I would take my leave anon. ’Tis true you have never led me false in the past. For that alone, I have no reason to doubt things went just as you say they did.” He cast Meghan a dark glance. “Still—”

“You have my word, Cecil. Let us sup together and say no more about bewitchings and such.” Hunter handed him back his sword and settled himself once again. “Smells good, lads. Do we have any wine left?”

“Aye.” Allain rushed to do his bidding. “I’ll fetch it from the wagon.”

His heart and temples pounding, Hunter did his best to behave as if all were well, even though he now had a new worry. He signed to Tieren,
“We must guard Meghan carefully this night. I sense Cecil’s hatred and fear. I worry he might try to slit her throat as we sleep.”

“Done,”
Tieren signed back.

“I will no’ have it.” Cecil leaped back up and launched into a fresh complaint. “I like it no’ when you two speak with your hands. You share secrets.” He narrowed his eyes at them. “Do you plot some treachery against me?”

“
’Tis naught but the language of the deaf I learned as a bairn. You ken I lost my hearing for a time as a young lad.” Hunter shook his head.
“
’Tis habit is all. I was just asking Tieren to take the first watch.” Partly true, at least. They would both be on guard through the night. “No treachery involved.”

Hunter awoke with a start.
Shite!
He’d failed to stay awake as he’d intended. He checked to see that Meghan and Tieren were well. Once assured of their safety, he stilled himself. Listening with both his ears and his senses, he cast about for the source of his unease. Did he hear the sound of horses in the distance? Turning toward the warm glow of the fire, he spied Murray staring into the flames whilst tugging at his beard—a sure sign his friend wrestled with troubling thoughts. Rising quietly, he went to join him.

“Cecil and Gregory have left us,” Murray said in a low tone.

“Aye?” Hunter sat down beside him. “Och, it could have been worse. I feared Cecil would attempt some nefarious deed as we slept.”

“I let them go without an argument. They took only what belonged tae them, and their lads went with them.”

“Humph. We are down to the same number we set out with from Moigh Hall when we left for the continent with naught but our gear and ambition.” Not enough. Not nearly enough, considering what they carried and how they traveled. “In what direction did they go?”

“Back toward Edinburgh, though I dinna believe they mean tae stay tae that course. There are, after all, many roads they could take along the way.” Murray shifted and rolled his shoulders. “As ye ken, Cecil’s family seat is in Dumfriesshire. Mayhap that is where he means tae go. Should I ha’ awakened you as they gathered their things?”

“Nay. Given Cecil’s bent, ’tis best they are gone from us, though I fear ’twill no’ be the last we hear from either of them. Their armor and gear is on the way to Inverness as we speak.” He shook his head. “I’m grateful they took only what belonged to them. I thought Gregory at least would remain, though I reckoned Cecil had some plot in mind.”

“
’Tis nearly dawn,” Murray said, studying the eastern horizon. “Mayhap ’twould be wise tae get an early start.”

“Aye.” He rose and gave Murray’s shoulder a squeeze. “Where is young John?”

“My squire keeps watch upon yon hill. Let us wake the others. John can take his rest upon the wagon, since the load is considerably lighter now.” Murray stood and stretched. “Cecil and Gregory took one of Nevan’s palfreys for a packhorse, and I allowed them tae do so without protest. I want no bad blood between us lest they return with bloodshed on their minds.”

“Fair enough. I’ll see to waking everyone. Put out the fire and recall John to camp. We’ll be off in a trice.”

“This is my fault, isn’t it?” Meghan came up behind them, still wrapped in her blanket. “I heard you talking.” She tugged the wool tighter around her shoulders and looked to him. Her lovely brown eyes were large and filled with worry. “I’m sorry.”

His insides knotted, and his heart took a tumble. “Nay. ’Tis no more your fault than mine. Madame Giselle is responsible, and since we now have naught but the company of my clansmen and the lads whose clans have long been allied with ours, we might speak more freely.” He reached out and tucked an errant strand of her silken hair behind her ear. Why could he not resist the urge to touch her? “Go on. See to your needs whilst we keep watch. Once we break our fast, we’ll depart.”

It took considerably longer than a trice to get everyone up, fed and moving, and once again Meghan’s expression said much about her state of mind. Distress turned the corners of her mouth down and creased her brow. Tieren hovered close to her, and for that Hunter was glad—at least he told himself ’twas so. “Let us be off,” he grumbled his order. “By the saints, I canna fathom what is taking you lads so long this morn.”

Neither the squires nor the pages answered, but a flurry of activity ensued. “George, you will drive the wagon, and once John is rested, he can take over. You may then take your turn to rest. Mayhap we can travel longer this day if you lads all take turns thus. Fix a lead for the palfreys.”