Seducing the Laird (27 page)

"Let me protect you."

"Who will protect Jon and Hadran? How many people have to die for us to be together?"

"What do you suggest?" Cairn planted his feet, clearly unwilling to abandon her. Verena wanted to weep with frustration. "Am I to leave you to return to being Gundy’s servant? What will happen to our child then?"

She forced herself to take deep, calming breaths. She had been pondering those questions since she learned about the child. When the war was over, she intended to run away. She would lose herself in holy lands. It would be hard for a woman alone, but perhaps Jon would come with her. She didn’t know what kind of life she would find there, but she and her child would be alive.

"I will run away. There are places so remote no one will find me."

"Unacceptable. I know you are strong, but you need a man’s protection. You need me and I need you."

He needed her?
Every fiber of her being vibrated with excitement.
She wanted to shout her love for Cairn and beg him to take her back to Scotland. She wanted to wrap herself in his embrace and pretend Gundy and her foolish band of spies didn’t matter, but she couldn’t. Before she could respond, Jon’s overly loud voice rang out from the trees.

"Hey Mary!
Have you come to check on us?"

"I’m sorry," the words were whispered as she turned and fled, dodging the hand that reached out to restrain her. She couldn’t kiss him goodbye, she couldn’t say anything more. If she looked back, all her conviction would melt away.

Verena was a good spy. When plans went horribly awry, Hadran taught her to act with confidence and maintain a level head. Verena grasped at that lesson desperately as she wiped at her tears.

When she emerged from the trees, her face was serene. Her eyes were calm, but puckered with annoyance at Mary’s unwanted presence. She irritably adjusted her skirts as she strode to the stream.

"What is taking so long?" Mary asked, glancing about in suspicion.

Verena smiled in mockery of her distrust. "I don’t need your permission to relieve myself. The camp has not yet begun to march."

"I don’t know how you usually operate, but with me everyone pulls their own weight." Mary grabbed Verena’s arm as she walked past, her fingers dug painfully into her biceps, but she didn’t flinch. "You aren’t a lady anymore."

"I am whoever Gundy wants me to be."

Verena waited, silently counting a full ten seconds until Mary’s hand slipped from her arm. Verena stalked away with her head proudly high. Had she won this round? It was difficult to tell. Mary was too assessing. She hadn’t given any ground in their confrontation, only tilted her head to one side, mocking Verena’s dignity.

Chapter 49

Despite Mary’s words, Hadran quickly saw the advantage in arranging the spies around Verena as Gundy’s ward. That status legitimized them in the camp, and ensured they received better supplies for the journey. Mary found a simple though expensive gown and took on the role of her nurse while the others became her guards and assistants.

Their attentions were exemplary. Each spy treated her with such courtesy that she began to feel like an invalid. Gundy insisted she ride in a litter painted in gaudy shades of yellow, gold and green and carried by Hadran and Owen. The sway of the contraption as they carried her over the rough terrain made Verena immediately nauseous.

The massive army traveled at a snail’s pace through the forest, clearing much of the ancient trees as they passed. Their passage was agonizingly slow. With every swaying step of her carriers, she was reminded of her first journey through these woods when she was able to comfortably rest in Cairn’s arms.

Had he returned to Scotland? He must, for there was no way Cairn could reach her trapped in the middle of Gundy’s army. He should be back at the castle, hurriedly preparing for battle. Perhaps she would catch a glimpse of him shouting orders to his men from the parapets.

An alarmed shout cut into Verena’s grim musing. It was abruptly cut off and followed by the dull thud of a heavy object falling to the ground. More shouts quickly followed as a thick rain of arrows descended upon them. Contradictory orders were given as each lord instructed his men to see to their own protection. The army’s superficial unity disintegrated.

She resisted the urge to lean her head out the window to see what the commotion was about. The wooden walls of the litter gave her a modicum of protection and she would be a fool to abandon it. She heard Hadran order a curt "to the left!" and carried the litter into the shade of some trees. Other servants followed their example, leaving the nobles to the protection of the confused knights. A few soldiers organized themselves into a unit and charged to meet their attackers, but their advance was quickly halted by the deadly accuracy of Scottish arrows.

There was nothing she could do, but cower in her wooden box and pray the archers didn’t confuse her for one of the English lords. One small sword was in each hand. Her skirts were raised to her thighs, revealing the knives strapped to them. Should the swords fail, she could fling the knives and buy herself precious minutes to escape. She would be
loathe
to injure one of the McPhersons, but they may not recognize her in the heat of battle.

She strained her ears to pick out the muffled sounds of battle. The archers seemed to have only attacked the front of the army where the nobles and knights marched—including Verena. If Cairn knew of her role in Gundy’s camp, would he have still attacked? She shook her head, forcing the question from her mind. Cairn had a duty to protect his people and she had flatly refused to go with him. She didn’t deserve his consideration.

"Run!" Hadran yelled as he pulled the door open. He grasped Verena by the forearm and pulled her from the litter. They ran together through the trees, following Owen and the other servants. Even the most ruthless army would take care of the enemy soldiers first before turning their attention to the fleeing women and servants. Taking advantage of this wisdom, the non-combatants tried to put as much distance as possible between them and the battle.

To her horror, her flight didn’t go unnoticed. Taking perverse pride in his new ‘relation’ Gundy ordered a small group of men to see to her safety. They pursued her in brightly colored livery that was sure to be noticed by the Scots. Predictably a volley of arrows flew in her direction as the Scots suspected a detachment of men was trying to flank them.

"Fools!"
Verena shouted as she ducked under an old, gnarled oak. They were protected by armor, but she had naught but the silk dress. "They are following you! Leave me be!"

The soldiers ignored her words. One of them lifted her protesting form onto his horse, but an arrow in his back stopped his brave attempt. Using the soldier’s body as a shield, she held him in place with one arm. Her other hand grabbed the reins and kicked the horse into a gallop. She led them in an abrupt left angle, drawing the fire away from the fleeing servants.

"Milady, we must rejoin the others," shouted one of the men. He tried to grab her reins and she irritably slapped his hands away.

"Not yet," she insisted. The arrows finally stopped as the Scots decided against splitting up their forces to follow such a small group, but she didn’t feel safe. The sounds of battle had diminished, leaving the forest in eerie silence, but the furious pounding of her heart had yet to slow. They had not recognized her, which meant her group could still be a target.

Should she try to escape? Verena could easily lose herself in the forest. She would be halfway to London before Mary or Owen came after her. It would take only a moment to retrieve the money she stashed near Gundy’s hunting cottage. That small savings should sustain her until she found a safe place to settle.

A painful groan cut into her thoughts. Behind her she felt the soldier shift in the saddle. He had not died as she suspected, but merely fainted from the pain. A bitter grimace twisted Verena’s lips. If she left now, the solders would have to chase after her. It could be hours before the injured man received medical treatment.

Leaving Gundy’s employ meant more than Verena’s freedom. It meant she would never have to lie, steal and murder. The small flutter of life resting in her belly urged Verena to be better.

The men helped to lower him to the ground while she hunted for supplies. They were unprepared for the attack and brought little with them. One of the men happened to have a needle and thread while Verena’s undergarments were turned into bandages. The men fashioned a travois for the soldier while she cleaned the wound with some melted snow and stitched it shut. Luckily after a few grunts of pain, he passed out again.

"I thank you, milady," said the oldest of the group. Though his tone was respectful, there was coldness in his eyes that made her wary. He was big like Owen, with an apathetic manner as if he found little difference between saddling a horse and snapping a neck. In Verena’s line of work, she had learned how to spot a killer. This man was an interesting choice for Verena’s guard. "I am Robert, and this is William and Stuart."

"We may not be out of danger yet."

She ignored his outstretched hand. Her attention was not on the men and instead scanned the forest for movement. Although the battle sounded far away, she couldn’t be sure they escaped their attackers. They could be silently encircling their group while their attention was occupied with the injured Stuart.

How many men had Cairn brought into England? She expected him to return to Scotland and prepare for Gundy’s arrival. She never expected Cairn to bring the fight to the English. This guerrilla attack served to confuse and demoralize Gundy’s men and made Cairn’s next move unpredictable. He could have men hidden all over the woods picking off the English as fled.

She strained her ears for the army’s trumpet signaling it was safe to return. It seemed an eternity before it came, barely audible in the distance. A travois was attached to the back of her horse. Robert insisted she ride in the center of the group as they made their way back. She couldn’t tell if it was for her protection or to make it more difficult for her to run.

The lengthening shadows and eerie stillness reminded her of the Old Lord’s forest. She felt as if the Old Lord was watching from the canopy, ready to unleash his army of spirits on the woman who dared to betray his grandson. She frequently glanced about to make sure they were alone. She saw nothing, but the sensation of being watched wouldn’t abate. The noisy army ahead promised warm food and blankets, but it seemed impossibly far away. Darkness was quickly falling along with the temperature, and the travois forced them to move excruciatingly slow.

Ignoring Robert’s command to stay in the center of the group, she urged her mount to the front, careful not to jostle the injured Stuart any more than necessary.

"Should we stop for the night?"

There was no road through the forest and when darkness fell, it would be impossible to find an easy path for the travois.

"Nay.
I feel these trees have eyes. Let us push on. Stuart will have to endure."

With one last censorious glance at her, he increased the pace. She glanced back at Stuart and found he had regained consciousness, but was gritting his teeth in pain, determined not to be more of a burden on their small band.

"We should rejoin the others soon."

Stuart nodded, but he knew they were far from safety.

"Verena," called a familiar voice from the trees. Her horse sidestepped warily as Owen and Jon emerged from a thicket of dead grass beside them. "I am glad you are safe."

Verena ignored Owen’s concern. He didn’t seem particularly interested in her welfare as he ran from the arrows.

"I am unharmed," she replied curtly. Not waiting for his help, she swung herself from the saddle. Her guard cautiously drew their swords at the unfamiliar men. She hastily made introductions before blood was accidentally shed. "Are you returning to camp?"

"Nay," Jon pulled out a chunk of bread and handed it to Verena. Though her stomach growled in protest, she offered it to the injured Stuart first. The blood had begun to seep through his bandages and he was deathly pale. Seeing the soldier’s condition, Jon took out a small bag of medical supplies and helped her change his bandages. "Lord Gundy sent us to track the Scots. We were getting close, but then we lost the trail."

"I would expect no less of the Old Lord’s grandson," broke in Robert. He was still eyeing the newcomers with distrust, particularly Owen. They were like two wolves sensing a new threat to their pack.

"Be careful," warned Jon with his voice in a barely audible whisper. They crouched over Stuart, repairing the stitches that tore as Verena’s horse unwittingly jostled him. "Gundy does not fully trust you after Scotland. He sent these men to watch over you and kill you should you try to run."

"I suspected as much, but how do you know?"

"Mary."

Mary told him this? Why would the assassin try to warn her? Verena wished she knew what motivated the strange woman.

"Where is she?"

"Helping Hadran deal with the nobles.
She seems to have a lot of experience with that."

"I remember how Ivone was in Scotland. How bad is she now?" Verena could well imagine the chaos that ensued with so many egotistical nobles vying for command. If Cairn’s intent was to create chaos, it looked like he succeeded admirably.

"Terrible," Jon confirmed. "I am in no hurry to return. The nobles are united in purpose, but they all have different ideas for the roles of their men. Ivone is worse now, if you can believe it. Now that she has attached herself to Gundy, she demands royal treatment and wants to be included in every decision. Before we left, Ivone threw a tantrum because her new chef couldn’t find herring for a pie! It will be a miracle if they don’t murder each other within a fortnight."

"Poor Hadran."

"Thank goodness for him! He suggested we help comb the forest with our superior tracking skills and get as far from the chaos as possible."

"Our superior tracking skills will be in question if we have naught to show for hours of searching." Owen had come up behind the pair and caught the end of their conversation. He roughly boxed Jon’s ears, hastening him to his feet.
"Away with you, lad."

She watched them disappear with a feeling of dread. She didn’t want to return to camp. Soon Gundy would remember her and demand another sinister act from her. She shuddered imagining what that would be. Perhaps he would give her to one of his neighbors. The prospect was not appealing.