Mad for the Plaid (23 page)

He met her gaze for a long moment. “It is not wise to tell you all my secrets.”

She smiled, which worried him. “Then I am wise to nae tell you mine.”

Bloody hell, what did that mean? He thought of asking, but couldn't do so without admitting she'd caught
his interest. Frustrated, he found himself abruptly changing the subject. “When will we reach Greer's camp?”

“If the weather holds, by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Tomorrow it will be, then. There's not a single cloud in the sky.”

“The weather is nae a certainty here. It changes hour to hour and—”

Bang!
The bark on a tree just past Nik exploded as a bullet embedded itself in the trunk.

D'yoval neighed wildly and tried to rear up, and it was all Nik could do to calm him.

“Brigands!” Ailsa yelled. “Disperse!”

The next few minutes were chaos. Men shouting, horses neighing as they plunged wildly through the woods on both sides of the trail.

“I see them!” Rurik could be heard behind them. “To the south!”

Just up the trail, MacKean had turned his horse back and looked at Ailsa, who'd disappeared off the trail, St. George plunging through the shrubbery without hesitation.

“I've got her,” Nik shouted, guiding D'yoval off the trail after her.

Another pistol shot rang out. Nik's cloak tugged at his shoulder and he looked down, irked to see that the wool had been sliced as if it had been made of paper.

“This way!”
Ailsa shouted over her shoulder.

He urged D'yoval after her, and soon they were away, galloping madly through the woods, the sound of horses' hooves muffled by the damp forest floor.

They rode as fast as they could without endangering
the horses, only slowing when they came to a steep embankment. D'yoval slipped here and there, but good, solid St. George didn't miss a step.

They went a short way farther, and then Nik pulled D'yoval to a halt.

Ailsa started to speak, but he held up a hand, listening.

Deep in the woods behind them came the unmistakable sound of a horse—or were there two?—racing toward them on the trail.

“This way!” He turned to where a thick wall of young birch trees stood. More shrubs than anything else, they clung to one another and formed a small circle. Nik jumped down and turned to her.

Ailsa barely had time to kick the stirrups free before he plucked her from her horse's back and set her on her feet. His face grim, he asked in a quiet voice, “Do you have a weapon?”

She patted her belt. “Two.”

“Good. Get in those bushes and hide. I'll join you in a moment.”

“What are you going to do?”

“As soon as they pass, I'm going to follow those bastards and put an end to this.”

“We,” she corrected firmly. “We will put an end to this.”

Nik sent her a dark look and tied St. George's reins to D'yoval's saddle and then gave an odd whistle.

D'yoval neighed in answer and then, tail swishing, trotted on down the path, St. George following after, led by the tug on his reins.

“What are you doing?”

“D'yoval will go a few hundred feet away and wait.” Nik's warm hand closed over her elbow, and he led her into the shrubs. “Lie down. We must be quiet.”

She crept into the greenery, clenching her teeth when her hair snagged on the branches. Once there, she dropped down on her stomach, tugging her cloak about her. Soon, she was hidden deep inside the small sheltered center, feeling as if she were in a cave and not mere branches.

Nik followed and was soon beside her on the damp ground, his pistol drawn and ready before him.

For a long moment, they were silent. They could hear very little of the others—a shout from Stewart to MacKean. The thrashing of a horse off in a distance. And then nothing.

She frowned in the silence. “I don't hear anyone now.”

“Neither do I,” he whispered back. “But they will come.”

She nodded. “It is good D'yoval knows this trick. It will lead the thieves away from us.”

“My brother Max is the general of all the armies of Oxenburg and he trained my horse. I— Ah! They come.” His gaze locked on the path they'd just left.

She turned her head and heard footsteps and the soft whicker of a horse. One person, leading their mount. Was it one of the brigands come to finish them off? Was he after the horses? Was it possible that was all these bloody thieves wanted?

She thought of St. George waiting down the path and
her jaw set. She'd not give up her horse without a fight.

Nik placed his hand on her shoulder.

She cast him a hard glance, and he shook his head and mouthed, “
Nyet.
”

For a splendid minute, she imagined bursting into the clearing, her pistol drawn as she confronted the filthy brigand who'd dared put her people in danger. She'd disarm the thief and make him empty his pockets, shame him royally, and then send him on his way, cowed and frightened, never to thieve again.

It was a grand image that took her all of two seconds to realize would work only
if
she managed to get through this thick shrubbery without getting her cloak or hair caught, and
if
her pistol presented enough of a threat to a hardened brigand to cause him to rethink his violent way of life, and
if
Nik didn't interfere. It was a lot of
if
s.

She gritted her teeth and resigned herself to waiting.

The steps came closer, and then went on past. She lowered her head and watched as the boots went by. They were black, and surprisingly new and shiny.
He must have stolen them recently.
She watched as they disappeared, following their horses.

Nik waited until the footsteps were gone before he bent close and whispered, “Stay here,
krasavitsa
. I will be back.”

He was going to leave her here? Not while she had breath in her body. She parted her lips to say so, when he covered them with his and gave her a long, hard, possessive kiss.

Her body, already primed by the danger of the last
few moments, shivered against his. She couldn't think when he covered her mouth with his own, when he engulfed her with warmth and passion that only left her craving more of both.

She lifted her arm to slip it about his neck when he broke the kiss. “Ah, you tempt me even now,” he murmured against her mouth.

She pulled back. “I'm coming with you.”

“Not this time.”

“But—”

He stilled her words with another hard kiss and then, before she could catch her breath, was gone. She scrambled to her knees, intent on following him, but her hair caught in a branch. Before she could free it, he was out in the open, exposed for all the world to see.

One noise, and the thief might look back and see Nik.
Dammit, now I must stay here.

Ailsa wished she'd followed her impulses and stopped the brigand on her own. Now all she could do was watch through the leaves as Nik moved stealthily. . . . A step. One more.

A noise in the distance made him stop, and then he took another step.

He was leaving, walking away from her and toward danger.
Alone.

She scowled.
Like hell he'll go alone.
He was farther away now, as was the thief. Ailsa rose to her knees and gathered her cloak close. As quietly as she could, she followed him from their hiding place.

As soon as she reached the path, she straightened. Nik's broad shoulders were barely visible ahead as he
silently eased his way toward where the horses would be waiting.

Could he see the bandit? She wasn't certain, but knew she had to stay out of sight. It wouldn't do to confuse Nik; he had his hands full as it was.

Nik disappeared into the woods, and she followed, watching where she placed her feet, and using all the lessons she'd learned from years of hunting to stay silent.

Just as she reached a turn in the path, she caught sight of a movement to her right. She froze in place, her eyes narrowing. The brigand had walked this way, Nik after him. But what if the thief had realized he was being followed? Could he have slipped to one side to set up an ambush?

She crouched low and stepped in the direction of the movement.

A man rested on his haunches behind a fallen tree, his cloak mud brown, the sun flashing off the barrel of his rifle. It was aimed toward the spot where Nik had disappeared.

Ailsa's heart thudded in her ears, her palms damp. She had to stop this man. She stealthily crept forward, getting closer.

Closer.

The man braced the rifle on the fallen log, his head lowering as if to aim.

She raised her pistol, sighting down the barrel and rested her finger on the trigger just as the sun broke through overhead and lit the man's hair—

“Gregor?” she whispered.

He turned, his face pale in the sunlight that flickered over him. Relief flooded his face as he recognized her, followed quickly by shock when he saw her pistol pointed in his direction.

She lowered her weapon and he took a grateful breath before gesturing for her to join him.

As quietly as she could, she made her way through the brush, stooping beside him behind the fallen log. “Good God, I could have shot you,” she whispered.

“Thank God you didn't,” he whispered back. “The brigand came this way.”

“I saw him go by. Nik sent the horses ahead, so the thief is following their trail. Nik is hard after the ruffian.”

A startled look flickered over her cousin's face. “The prince is out there, too? Bloody hell, I could have shot him by accident.” Gregor had already lowered the rifle, though the barrel still rested on the log. “I'm glad you came when you did,” he said in a fervent whisper.

“Me, too,” she whispered back. “I wish we could do something, but I fear we'd only make the situation worse for Nik.”

Gregor slanted her a side look. “ ‘Nik,' is it?”

She ignored him and settled in to wait, both of them scanning the woods for movement of any kind. The wind stirred the branches overhead, and brown leaves drifted down, but that was all.

The minutes lengthened, and the sun began to slant into their eyes. Ailsa's heart ached with each beat. As
the seconds wore on, her imagination came to life. Where the hell was Nik? Had the thief ambushed him and left him for dead? Was he even now struggling to crawl to the path for help?

She raised up and peered into the woods, straining to see something
—anything.
Beside her, Gregor stirred uneasily and she glanced at him, stiffening when she saw him brush his hand under his nose, his eyes watery. He looked as if he were going to— Oh no! He couldn't, not now when—

Achoo!

The sneeze echoed loud in the silence of the forest.

“Gregor!” she whispered furiously.

“I couldn't help it!” Gregor returned, looking miserable.

Ailsa peered toward the woods, her heart thundering in her ears.

For the longest time, there was no sound. But then, just as she'd started to relax, the brush rattled and she saw the flicker of a figure between the trees.

“Someone is coming,” she whispered, pistol at the ready.

Beside her, Gregor lifted his rifle into place.

Nik appeared between the trees, leading the horses.

“
Thank goodness!
” She lowered her pistol and stood, peering behind him. “Did you find him? What happened?”

“Nothing.” Nik sent a sour look at Gregor. “That was your sneeze, was it?”

Gregor flushed. “I'm sorry. The sun got in my eyes. I always sneeze when that happens.”

“What happened to the thief?” Ailsa asked again. “Did you get a look at him?”

“
Nyet
. He was on the other side of the horses.” Nik frowned. “He wasn't moving at all; it was as if he were waiting for someone. But when Mackenzie sneezed, the blackguard turned and bolted into the woods. By the time I got around the horses to reach him, he was already gone.”

“Do you know which direction he went?” Gregor asked.

Nik shook his head. “The thick pine needles made it impossible to follow.”

“Perhaps I can find the trail,” Gregor said, clearly eager to remedy his error. “I'm used to tracking on this surface and know some tricks.”

“It would not be safe. We must stay together.”

Gregor looked disappointed, but he refused to give up. “You and I can go, then, and Ailsa can return to the trail. The others will be waiting by now.”

“I'll not leave her alone.”

Ailsa shrugged. “I'll be fine—”

“
Nyet
.” His tone and his expression brooked no argument. “I do not understand these thieves. Two perfectly good horses right there for the taking, and he chose instead to disappear into the woods. That does not make sense.”

“Do you think he knew about the gold, but was nae certain where it was?”

“I don't know. But we must be careful.” Nik handed St. George's reins to Ailsa. “Take your horse. He's tried to bite me twice.”

She patted St. George's neck. “I wish he'd bitten the thief.”

“So do I,” Gregor agreed. He stared down the path behind Nik, and then frowned. “Perhaps these men have their own mounts and are looking for something more portable, like gold and guns.”

“Perhaps.” Still looking perplexed, Nik fished a withered apple from his saddlebag and fed D'yoval. “We should find the others. Have you seen any of them?”

Gregor shook his head. “When the shots began, I plunged into the woods and hid, and then, once things grew quiet, I went after the two of you. I haven't seen anything of the others.”

“Let's return to the trail, then. I will lead.” Nik gestured to Gregor. “Keep your rifle at the ready and guard our flank.”

“I'll keep rear guard,” Ailsa protested. “I have a weapon—”