Page 10 of Heart of the Highlands: The Rose (Protectors of the Crown #6)

The day had stretched on, the hours blending in a dull haze as Abby patiently awaited the conclusion of Ian and Leland's meeting with the esteemed Highland lairds. The air was thick with anticipation, yet her surroundings offered little to occupy her restless mind. Alys had made her intentions clear; she was not to venture beyond the castle’s grounds unattended. However, with a glimmer of understanding in his eyes, Leland granted her an unexpected sense of liberty. If she remained within the sprawling confines of Dingwall Castle, she found herself free to roam and explore at her leisure. Emboldened by this newfound freedom, Abby eagerly seized the opportunity.

She had just stepped out into the courtyard when she spotted a group of lads around her own age, clustered near a stone wall, laughing and pointing at something in the distance. Their attention seemed focused on a makeshift target; a few old barrels lined up against a fence with a strip of cloth hanging loosely in the wind as a target.

One of the lads, a tall, gangly boy with wild red hair, spotted Abby from across the square and nudged his friend.

“Oi, look at her. Ye think she could e’en hit a barn wit’ that bow of hers?”

The others burst into laughter, their attention now on the bow strapped to her back. Her bow was always her constant companion, and she was all too eager to accept the challenge.

She approached them, a mischievous grin playing on her lips.

“Is there something ye’d like to say?” she asked, leaving no hint of hesitation.

One of them, the tallest of the group, stepped forward.

“Ah, just wondering if ye can do better than our Robbie here.”

He gave a nod toward a lad at the front of the group, who was holding a bow in his hands, looking as proud as a rooster.

“Go on, lass. Give it a go if ye think yer up to it,” Robbie said as he stepped back.

Abby raised an eyebrow, the playful spark in her eyes giving away her intent.

“I have a mind to try.”

The lads exchanged looks and made way for her to shoot. She stepped forward, adjusting her quiver and drawing her bow with practiced ease. The air was still as she notched an arrow, her movements fluid and graceful. She aimed without even thinking, and with a sharp twang of the bowstring, the arrow flew, striking the center of the clot target, dead center.

The lads stared wide-eyed. There was a moment of stunned silence before Robbie cleared his throat, trying to mask the surprise in his voice. “Well, ye got lucky wit’ that one.”

Abby tilted her head, a sly smile on her lips. “Luck? Nay, lad, that is called skill.”

“Alright then, let’s see ye do it again. Hit the center twice, and we’ll call it a fair shot.”

Abby drew her bow again, her stance perfect, and she released the second arrow in one smooth motion. Once again, it struck the target square in the middle.

“Blimey!” Robbie muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Alright, Robbie, yer turn,” one of the boys shouted.

Abby stepped aside for Robbie to stand in her place.

Robbie held his arrow back for a long moment as he judged his target before releasing it. The arrow curved in the air as if it were caught by the wind and hit the tree behind the barrels. The lads burst into laughter again. “You’ve been bested by a lass,” they teased.

Unhappy being beaten by a lass, Robbie marched away. The others followed closely behind him.

Abby wasn’t quite ready to return to the castle. It was still early, and the talks with the council could go on for hours, leaving her with nothing to do but sit and wait. The castle ground outside the walls of Dingwall looked inviting. With the air thick with the talk of war and alliances, Abby made her way into the woods alone. It wasn’t the first time she’d gone without an escort, though it was something Alys had cautioned against numerous times. She had spent her youth roaming the depths of the woods around Sinclair Hall, gaining confidence in navigating them that no escort could replace. The forest felt safer to her than the stone walls of the keep. And so, before anyone could stop her, she slipped away.

As she ventured deeper into the forest, the sights and smells calmed her restless mind. The ground was still soft from the recent rains, and the air was sharp and crisp.

As she walked further into the forest, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that she wasn’t as alone as she thought. The wind shifted.

The birds had quieted, leaving an eerie silence broken only by the rustling of leaves and boots scuffing against the ground. She twirled around. The heavy exhales of breath carried on the wind, and she sensed shadows weaving through the trees. Her heart quickened, and her breaths became loud like galloping horses. And then…nothing.

The vision was gone. It was her first vision in weeks, but it was soon an unexpected reality.

Before her, caught in a grim struggle, was a man bound tightly with coarse, fraying ropes. His clothes were disheveled and stained, and his expression betrayed fear and defiance as he faced three imposing captors. The men loomed over him like dark shadows, their voices low and menacing, punctuated by the rustling of their heavy boots against the underbrush. The dappled sunlight that filtered through the branches above cast fleeting shapes, creating an almost surreal atmosphere that amplified the tension in the air.

Instinctively, Abby dropped to her knees behind a large boulder, its cold, damp surface grounding her as her heart raced in her chest. She held her breath, her pulse pounding in her ears as she peered through the thick foliage. The once-soothing sounds of the forest faded into a backdrop to this unfolding chaos, and her mind raced with thoughts of how she might intervene without being discovered. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, a mix of fear and determination igniting within her as she contemplated her next move.

The air was thick with a foggy mist as Abby's boots crunched against the cold, damp earth. Her breath came faster, her pulse loud in her ears, but she kept moving forward, pushing through the undergrowth. The trail was treacherous, winding through thick forests and dangerous terrain. She had no time to hesitate. The path narrowed, and she neared the camp.

She could see two men holding their hostage and another keeping watch. She crouched low to the ground, moving silently, certain they would see her if she came into view, and she wasn’t sure she could outrun them. She needed to find a way to him without being seen. Neither one of them could afford to get caught. Her heart thundered in her chest as she waited and observed. The two men ran rope around a large oak to keep their prisoner hostage. They had gagged his mouth with a sort of cloth of some type. Abby couldn’t tell. His back was to her, and she couldn’t see his face. His broad shoulders were slumped, and his hands were bound. Blood seeped down his arm from a gash on his shoulder, and his clothes were torn and stained with what appeared to be dirt and blood.

As she crept forward, the weight of her foot broke a small, dry branch.

“What was that?” one of the captors said as he quickly stood. Abby dropped to the ground, her body as close to the earth as possible.

“I dinna hear anything,” the other said. “Come mon, there’s no one out here. Let’s get some rest. It’s too foggy to keep traveling in these conditions. We will leave by the first light. Our Laird is expecting us and we dinna want to disappoint him or lose out on our reward.”

Two of the three men had gone to lay near the firepit to keep warm as the other went into his tent. The prisoner was left alone, but her presence had been known to him. He craned his neck to look over his shoulder. She couldn’t take on three of them with her bow.

When she knew enough time had passed and one of the guards began to snore, she crept closer until she was behind the oak. Gently, she placed her hand on his. “Dinna move. I am here to rescue ye,” she whispered as she took the small knife from her pocket. Leland had gifted her the small dagger on her last birthday. It had become a handy and now life-saving tool.

“Yer a woman!” he said with surprise in his voice.

“Shh. They will hear ye,” she warned.

“Ye shouldn’t have come. ‘Tis too dangerous.”

“Bloody hell! Would ye stop talking and let me save ye?” she argued as she struggled to cut the ropes free.

The man flinched when she nicked his wrists with the blade.

“Sorry,” she winced, cutting away at the rope. It was a moonless night, and as dark as a cave, she couldn’t see anything. Only by touch could she feel the ropes giving away. Once free, the man slowly crawled out of the ropes and ducked behind the tree trunk.

“Follow me. I will get ye out of here,” she insisted as the man crept into the woods behind her.

“Wait! We should take the horses,” he suggested.

“That would only wake them.”

“But a hell of a lot harder for them to chase us on foot.”

“Trust me, we dinna have time,” she said with urgency in her voice as one of the guards began to stir in his sleep.

Aiden looked into the woman’s pleading eyes, and something inside him told him to trust her. Her hair was pulled back in a braided bun, and loose tendrils curled around her heart-shaped face. Her dress was simply fashioned, curving along her thin waistline and hugging her hips better than any fancy dress he had seen the ladies wear at court. With her small nose, freckled cheeks, and thick brows, even roses could not compare to her beauty.

He wiped his hand down his face. He could feel the heated blood in his veins and struggled to conceal his anger at what had happened. Though her intentions were honorable, they were the foolish thoughts of an inexperienced woman. She knew nothing about war or battle. And by coming here, she inadvertently put them both in great danger.

They retreated deeper into the woods, the dense foliage only offering them the slightest protection from the eyes of the men who would soon wake and begin to hunt them down. The scent of pine and damp earth clung to the air.

Aiden leaned heavily against a thick oak; his breath ragged from the escape. His hands and wrists, still raw from where they had been bound, trembled slightly, though he tried to hide it.

“I dinna know how long we’ll have. I knew ye are tired, but we must keep going,” she said, her voice calm and steady.

Aiden’s gaze drifted over to her, noting how her eyes, a piercing green, never wavered from the trees around them. His mind, which should have been focused on their escape, was drawn to her. She had saved him—a woman. A stranger to him, yet without hesitation, had cut through the ropes and freed him from the men who meant to kill him. His eyes were drawn to her, captivated by how she navigated the underbrush—swift and assured as if she possessed an innate understanding of this wild, untamed land. The air was thick with unspoken tension, their silence amplifying the urgency of their situation.

Was she some sort of angel? His mind wandered.

“Ye dinna understand how dangerous it is for ye to be out here.”

“I certainly could no’ have left ye tied to that tree. Alone. Besides, ye dinna look like ye had things under control.”

He couldn’t argue with that, not with the raw truth of her words. Had she not come, he very much could have been killed. He owed her his life. A vow he would not take lightly.

Footsteps crackled through the underbrush, and Aiden’s eyes narrowed, his body tensing. He stood straighter, instinctively positioning himself in front of her. Though his legs still felt weak, he’d not let anything happen to her. He’d give his last breath as she was so willing to give hers.

“They must have realized ye are gone by now,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his ear as she passed him, moving toward the trees further into the shadows.

Aiden’s heart raced at the proximity of her, but he nodded, willing to do whatever it took to survive. He was no stranger to running or fighting if he had to. His time spent in the Royal Army taught him a great deal, but never had a woman been involved. Her safety now was his number one priority.