Page 16

KERR WAS SHOEING his horse when the lad ran into the barmkin.

“Captain!”

Glancing up from where he’d just hammered in the last nail on the gelding’s rear hind hoof, Kerr’s gaze alighted upon a youth’s red face. He was breathing hard, his face slick with sweat. “What is it?”

“The Black Wolves … me and my Da spotted them.”

Kerr’s pulse quickened as he lowered the horse’s leg and stepped away from the beast, straightening up. “Where?”

“West of the village … at the edge of the Red Deer Hills.”

“That close?”

“Aye, Captain. We saw them … a group of six, all on horseback.”

Kerr scowled. Of course, they were on horseback. Months earlier, the outlaws had been forced to flee on foot. However, over the winter, they’d stolen horses from those they attacked. It had made them harder to chase, although easier to track.

“Which way were they riding?”

“West … straight into the hills.”

Kerr’s stomach clenched, and he swallowed a curse. That would take them right by Kenna MacAlister’s cottage, for it lay amongst the green folds of the Red Deer Hills.

“This is our chance, Captain.” Ronan stepped up next to Kerr, his face taut. “We need to catch the bastards up … before they go into hiding again.”

Kerr nodded, swiveling, before he shouted up to the walls. “Evan, Athol, Rae, Lorcan … get down here.” He glanced over at Ronan still waiting beside him. “Fetch Tavish, Murtagh, and Coby. We ride out now.”

A short while later, the party of nine warriors clattered out of Dun Ugadale.

Kerr led them down the causeway before turning his gelding west. They rode briskly through the village and then pushed their horses into a gallop up the hillside, spitting up turf behind them.

Crouched forward over his horse’s withers, Kerr wished Lennox was with them this afternoon. Like him, his brother had become increasingly frustrated by their inability to catch The Black Wolves.

However, Lennox was currently overseeing the final work on his broch at Loch Lussa. He and Davina would be away for another fortnight, at least.

They’d face The Wolves today though—Kerr knew it in his bones.

Worry gnawed at him, all the same. Rose, Kenna, and Ailis lived in a remote area, something that made them vulnerable to brigands. The outlaws had already raped travelers, and Kerr’s blood ran cold at the thought of what they might do if they discovered Kenna’s cottage.

Rose.

Seeing her days earlier at the market had been a kick to the gut, yet he’d done his best to mask his visceral reaction to her. He’d spent the past months telling himself that he had to let his infatuation for Rose MacAlister go.

But the moment he’d spied her standing next to Kenna in the village square, the same want had twisted within him.

No, he hadn’t cured himself of this affliction.

Lord, Rose had been a feast for the eyes too. She’d clearly eaten better over the past weeks and had regained her curves. She also had a bloom to her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes that had been absent of late; life with her aunt appeared to suit her.

The warm afternoon air feathered Kerr’s face as he rode, his gaze scanning the gently unfolding landscape around them for any sign of the outlaws. Nothing.

They entered the Red Deer Hills, the first of which were strewn with tussock and ferns, their horses leaping over a meandering burn at the bottom. However, there still wasn’t any sign of The Black Wolves yet.

Fear now cramped Kerr’s guts. If the outlaws continued directly west, they’d find Kenna’s cottage. He let the courser have its head as it crested the top of the next hill. “Come on,” he shouted to his men.

The cottage lay ahead at the bottom of a valley, surrounded by a well-tended garden and a livestock enclosure. Smoke drifted lazily from the sod roof.

Kerr’s heart was in his throat as he closed the distance. But when he saw a woman standing in front of the cottage, scattering grain for fowl, his breathing caught, relief washing over him.

Rose was safe and well.

Seeing Kerr and his men approach, she halted her task, her body tensing.

Of course, they rode fast. She would be alarmed.

Drawing up Prionnsa, Kerr dispensed with greetings and got straight to the point. “Outlaws are said to have passed this way,” he announced. “Have ye seen them?”

Rose swallowed, her eyes snapping wide. She then shook her head.

“What is it, Captain?” Kenna emerged from the cottage, wiping her hands on her apron, Ailis following close behind.

“It’s not safe in these hills at present,” Kerr replied, his voice roughening. “The Black Wolves are here.”

All three of the women drew together at this news. Aye, despite their sheltered existence, they’d all heard of the bloodthirsty outlaws.

“There’s been no sign of them,” Kenna assured him.

Kerr nodded. “Go indoors and bolt the door,” he instructed. “Don’t open it until we come back and tell ye it’s safe.”

“Aye, Captain,” Kenna answered, gesturing to Rose and Ailis to follow her indoors.

However, as Rose turned to go, she glanced over her shoulder, her gaze meeting his. The moment froze, and just for an instant, Kerr could have imagined he saw a flash of concern there. But then she turned away, and he blinked.

No, his mind was playing tricks on him.

“It’s been a long while … they should have returned by now.”

Across the fire, Kenna nodded. She sat huddled together with Ailis. Both women’s expressions were pinched. And like Rose, they kept glancing at the bolted door as the hours wore on.

Where are they?

Of course, even locked inside the cottage, the three women were vulnerable.

If the outlaws found them here, they could set fire to the dwelling to force them out or burn them alive.

Rose didn’t feel safe here, although her thoughts kept shifting away from her own situation to the fate of Kerr Mackay and his men.

Something has happened to them.

The conviction had taken root in her mind, and as the afternoon crawled into evening, and evening into night, she became increasingly certain the Dun Ugadale Guard had fallen foul of The Black Wolves.

When she’d gone into Ceann Locha a week earlier, to pick up supplies, she’d heard fishwives gossiping on the dock about the brigands. Douglases run off their lands by the king and filled with bitterness and rage, they were dangerous men.

Once night had fallen, Rose opened the window and let Hazel out. She’d then bolted the shutters tight and returned to the fireside to wait.

But no one came.

Eventually, Kenna and Ailis went to bed, retreating behind the hanging to the pile of sheepskins they shared. Rose stayed by the hearth as she always did, wrapping herself in blankets.

But she couldn’t sleep.

The sense of ‘wrongness’ within her merely increased as the night wore on.

Whatever she might think of him, she knew Captain Mackay was a man of his word. If he said he’d be back, he would. The fact that he hadn’t returned made her breathing grow shallow, foreboding prickling her skin.

Not long before dawn, a scratching noise outside the window roused Rose from where she’d just drifted off into a fitful doze. Rising from the ground, she padded over to the window and unlatched it, letting Hazel in.

“Did ye see anything out there?” she asked the owl. She knew it was foolish to talk to Hazel as if she were a person. Nonetheless, there were times when she felt that the owl could understand her.

Hazel’s dark-gold gaze met hers. The owl then inclined its head and let out a sharp whistle. It was different from the soft coos and hoots she usually made indoors.

The sound was a warning.

Rose’s pulse started to race.

Glancing around the shadowed interior of the cottage, lit by the dying embers of the fire, she made a decision.

If the others awoke, they’d never let her go outside. But instinct drove her now.

She had to go. She had to find The Guard.

“Lead me to them,” she whispered to Hazel.

The eagle owl gave a soft coo.

She let Hazel fly out the window before closing the shutters again.

She then helped herself to the sharpest of Ailis’s boning knives.

It wasn’t much of a weapon, but she’d feel better carrying it.

Her father had shown her many a time how to defend herself using a knife if necessary.

She then grabbed her woolen shawl, wrapping it around her shoulders, pulled on her worn leather boots, and crept to the door.

Sliding the wooden bar free without making a noise was a difficult task indeed. Sweat beaded on her skin, and Rose kept stealing nervous glances over her shoulder as she inched it free.

No one appeared to be stirring behind the hanging.

After a short while, she managed to open the door wide enough to squeeze out. Walking out into the early morning dew, Rose hesitated. She’d have preferred to lock the door behind her, yet there was no way to do so, and she really had to go.

Stopping a moment to put on her boots, she drew in a few steadying breaths of the crisp early dawn air. The sun was on the verge of peeking above the hills to the east. The valley lay in shadow, although the sky was beginning to lighten.

She looked around before spying Hazel perched upon a stunted apple tree behind the cottage, as if waiting for her.

Rose hurried toward the tree, and Hazel took off, flying up and over the hill, heading northwest.

Breaking into a jog, Rose followed.

The valley after theirs was wilder and narrower, covered in a carpet of soft green ferns, clumps of brambles, and a scattering of pines.

Hazel disappeared then, yet Rose kept walking.

She blindly stumbled on through the press of trees.

She guessed she was traveling north now, following the valley as it narrowed, and the press of pines grew thicker.

Ahead, bracken crackled underfoot, causing Rose to skid to a halt.

Heart pounding, she reached for her boning knife.

However, an instant later, two red deer burst into view. The deer, young hinds, watched her with wide eyes before bounding away into the trees.

Rose watched them go, heart thumping.

Goose , she chided herself. Stop jumping at shadows.

“Hazel!” she called out then, hoping to hear the owl’s hoots echoing through the pines, guiding her in the right direction. However, no such call was forthcoming; it appeared Hazel had deserted her.

Sighing, Rose walked on. She was starting to feel a bit foolish, expecting the owl to lead her. Nonetheless, she’d come this far—she couldn’t turn back now.

She’d gone another dozen furlongs when the trees drew back, and the valley opened out into another carpet of bright green ferns.

Rose stopped abruptly. Yet this time, it wasn’t deer that startled her—but the sight of bloodied, leather-clad bodies strewn across the valley floor.