Mad for the Plaid (24 page)

“Pistol,” Nik corrected. “Which doesn't shoot as far as a rifle.”

“Oh.” He had her there. “Fine.”

He sent her a lopsided grin and she realized that, were Gregor not nearby, Nik would have given her another kiss.

She bit her lip. What had those kisses meant? At the time, all she'd thought was that they'd felt so
right.

“
Krasavitsa
, we must go.”

She realized she'd been staring at his mouth, and her face heated. She was glad Gregor was behind her and hadn't witnessed her foolery. “Of course,” she managed. “I hope the others are close by.”

Nik's gaze flickered from her to Gregor and then back. “So do I,” he said politely, and with utter insincerity. With a final heated look, he turned and led the way back to the trail, leaving her to follow, her mind racing with thoughts of brigands, the safety of their horses, and the confusing feelings caused by a pair of demanding kisses.

Chapter 14

The object sat on the palm of Ailsa's hand, as smooth and round as a rock. She took a cautious sniff, but could find no trace of the yeasty scent she associated with bread.

“Ow!” Gregor glared at his roll while he gingerly rubbed his tooth. “Whatever you do, don't bite into it.”

Rurik chuckled. “Silly man. You eat it like this.” He flattened a roll into a disc, and then tore it in half, and then in half again. Once he had a piece that would fit in his mouth, he popped it in, and took a swig from his flask.

“Ah. You soften it with the water, eh?” Gregor picked up his flask.

“This is vodka. It will soften the bread. It will also soften dried beans, leather, and perhaps even your brain, if you wish it.”

MacKean, who was nearby leaning against a tree, his rifle loosely clasped in his arms, snorted a laugh.

Gregor flushed, but managed a weak laugh as well.

It was early evening and the sky burned a bright red, clouds scattering as if afraid. Ailsa shivered and tugged her cloak closer. “The weather is turning.”

“Aye. It will rain come morning.” MacKean finished his bread and then opened a pouch and handed out what looked like pieces of bark.

Gregor sniffed his.

“Dried rabbit,” Ailsa told him. She sat beside him, cross-legged. She was still sore from traveling, but not as much as she had been.

“Vodka will soften that, too,” Rurik said, obviously amused when Gregor reached for a flask.

Nik looked up from the map he was studying. “Do not let Rurik tease you. Vodka will soften the bread, but the rabbit needs no such help.”

Ailsa was glad to hear that vodka would not be necessary for her to digest their simple dinner. The one time she'd taken a few swallows of that potent stuff, it had given her the kind of brazen courage that usually led to massive errors in judgment. She was certain she made enough of those without the help of vodka.

She tore her bread as she'd seen Rurik do, and managed to eat a small piece. The rabbit fared better, for it was indeed more tender than the bread, and tastier, too.

The wind rustled overhead, and they all instantly raised their gazes to the sky, Gregor and MacKean reaching for their weapons.

Ailsa managed a dry chuckle. “We're a bit jumpy, we are. But we should nae be, for Stewart is on watch and he has sharp eyes.”

Nik settled back on his heels and nodded, though his gaze never stopped moving around the forest. “It has been a long day.”

“Too long,” Gregor agreed fervently.

MacKean relaxed visibly, pausing to swallow a piece of bread. “The rain will slow us.”

“Nae as much as snow,” Ailsa said. “Can we still reach Greer's camp tomorrow?”

“Perhaps,” MacKean said. “If we travel fast enough.”

Nik folded the map. “We must reach it. We will be safer out of these woods.”

No one disagreed. After their brush with the brigands, they'd traveled as quickly as they could, barely stopping to eat or rest. They'd made it quite a bit farther than Ailsa had expected, which was good. She, too, had had enough of the woods, the steep trails, and the unexpected kisses from a man she shouldn't trust. As much as she wished it otherwise, he consumed her thoughts.

Even now she remembered how agonizing it had been, waiting for Nik when he went to confront the thief. She told herself she'd have been just as worried had it been MacKean or Stewart or Gregor, but the stressful incident had left her exhausted and more ready than ever to be done with this adventure.

Unable to eat more of the hard bread, she tucked the leftover chunk into her pocket in the hopes that St. George might be persuaded to eat it. Then she leaned forward and clasped her arms around her bent knees. “'Tis a pity we cannae have a fire tonight.” She couldn't keep the wistful note from her voice.

A small fire wouldn't completely banish the cold, but it would brighten the gloom. As the sun slowly slid out of sight, the long shadows cast by the tall trees spread across the forest floor as if reaching for them.

She rested her chin on her folded arms and found her gaze going to the shoulder of Nik's cloak, where the bullet had sliced through it. She hadn't noticed the tear until they'd reached camp, but seeing it had made her stomach tighten into a hard ball.
So very close.

She tore her gaze from the rip, fearing he'd see the emotion she couldn't quite conceal. That she was upset was understandable; he was a member of her party, and as this was her rescue, he was under her care.
If he'd been injured . . .

She shivered and tugged her cloak closer. “We will have a fire once we meet oop with Greer.”

“Once we reach him, 'tis a short march to Ullapool,” MacKean noted. “There's an inn there.”

Gregor brightened. “An inn?”

“Aye. Ullapool is a port town.”

Rurik looked up from where he was cleaning his pistol. “How big is this town?”

“Decent sized. They trade quite a bit with the clans of the Western Isles.”

“A real bed,” Gregor said reverently. “And the food at this inn?”

“I've eaten there before, and would nae mind going again.”

From MacKean, that was high praise indeed.

Gregor rubbed his hands together. “A hot meal would be welcome.”

“We should have the horses looked to while we're there, as well,” Rurik said. “If we have the chance.”

MacKean nodded. “There's a blacksmith in town, if any shoes need replacing.”

Perhaps I can get a hot bath,
Ailsa thought longingly. “We will stay in Ullapool, then. At least one night.”

“Good.” Nik folded the map and tucked it away, his gaze flickering to Ailsa. “But then we must decide how to proceed, as it's a straight march from there to Kylestrome.”

She felt his gaze, but resolutely stared into the growing dark instead.

After a moment, he said firmly, as if in challenge, “We will make some decisions when we reach the inn in Ullapool.”

He was right, and she could only be glad he was not pressing for that conversation right now. The day had been wearing and she'd never been so tired and at the same time, fearful that sleep would elude her. Despite her brave words earlier, every time there was the faintest rustle in the woods, her heart leapt to her throat while she waited for a crazed band of ruffians to burst forth, pistols blazing. And somehow, in her wide-awake vision, the ruffians always aimed at Nik.

MacKean took a swig from his flask. “I've been thinking aboot these brigands.”

Everyone looked at the usually taciturn woodsman.

“And?” Nik said.

“We're dealing with only one mon.”

Ailsa frowned at the usually taciturn tracker. “Rurik saw more than one.”

Rurik nodded. “
Da.
There were two, perhaps more.”

MacKean sent Rurik a hard look. “The attack came from only one direction. If I were a brigand, and I had an accomplice or two, I'd set us oop so tha' we covered
all the members of this little party, and nae a one would have escaped.”

“So you'd have placed your men on both sides of the trail?” Nik looked thoughtful.

MacKean nodded. “Staggered, so they dinnae shoot one another, but enough to encircle the whole lot of us. Two men could do tha'. Three, for certain.”

“We could not have withstood an attack like that,” Nik agreed.

“So why dinnae they do it?” MacKean demanded.

Rurik nodded slowly. “You make a good point. At least for this recent attack.”

“Now I really wish I'd tried to track that lout,” Gregor said.

“'Tis guid you dinnae,” MacKean said sharply. “The last thing any of us should do is go oot on our own.”

Rurik grunted his agreement. “
Da
. You'd be a lone target and would not have lasted long. It's possible that is what this scoundrel will try when he comes back—he could attempt to lure us out one at a time and pick us off like plump pheasants.”

Gregor offered in a mild tone, “Since there's only one thief, perhaps we should attempt to strike a bargain with him?”

“And how would you do that?” MacKean asked, looking astonished. “Do you go into the woods and shout, ‘Mr. Brigand, I would like to parley'?”

Rurik snorted a laugh.

“No,” Gregor said defensively. “We leave something here, an offering of a sort.”

“We dinnae know what he wants,” Ailsa pointed out. “It could be horses or weapons or gold.”

“But if we offer him a bribe of some sort, it might convince him to leave us be.”

“Or he might think we had something of value to hide, like gold, and are tryin' to put him off from the real treasure,” MacKean pointed out.

Rurik nodded. “It would only encourage him to come after us. And this time, he might get lucky and kill someone.”

Gregor subsided into quiet, looking a little crushed.

Ailsa slid her foot over to nudge his. When he looked up, she smiled. “We'll be with Greer tomorrow and on the main road, and then we won't have to worry aboot thieves.”

“They don't attack travelers on the main roads?” Nik looked surprised.

“Nae normally,” Ailsa answered. “Most brigands confine themselves to the woods and the more isolated roads.”

MacKean finished his dinner and wiped his fingers on his cloak. “I will join Stewart on the first watch. We should keep a double eye tonight, eh?”

“MacKean, stay here. I'll go.” Nik stood, towering over them all, his face outlined by the graying sky. “It's my turn.”

After a startled moment, MacKean settled back down. “Thank you. I'll relieve you after midnight. Rurik here can join me.”

Rurik murmured an agreement and Nik walked into the woods and disappeared among the trees.

Ailsa had to fight the urge to go after him and—
And what?
she asked herself.
Tell him I'm worried for us all? He knows that, and feels the same. It's difficult, knowing how close I came to losing him today.
The thought sent a chill up her spine, and the realization of the danger of their mission rested on her shoulders with renewed weight.

She hugged her knees tighter.

“'Tis getting dark.” Rurik reached for his bedroll and spread it out beside the tree.

“Aye.” MacKean arose and gathered the other bedding. “We should all get some sleep.”

Soon the bedrolls were in place around the fire.

“Guid night, my lady.” MacKean climbed into his bed and pulled the furs around his head, Rurik following shortly after.

Soon they were snoring softly.

After several more moments, Gregor yawned. “What a day!” He arose and then climbed between the fur blankets of his bed.

Though tired, Ailsa stayed where she was, her chin on her knee as she looked up into the sky, which had darkened to deep gray. The moon was a sliver, while the stars sparkled wildly.

“Aren't you coming to bed?” Gregor asked.

“In a moment. I need some time to calm my thoughts.”