Page 12 of Time of the Warlord (Stones of Scotland #5)

S adie didn’t know what hurt the most - the sting of Ciaran’s rejection, or the tiny stones that had built up in her shoes. No, perhaps it was the bite of her parched throat.

She had laid in on a bit thick, she had to admit. She might have even fluttered her eyelashes at Ciaran. Too far. But hadn’t he felt the heat in their kiss? This wasn’t all an act. Now, though, he seemed to think she was some evil temptress. The blasted man hadn’t spoken a single word to her since they left the beach, although he cast her sidelong glares every few moments.

“How long until we find shelter?” she called to him. Once again, he completely ignored her, acting as if he couldn’t hear. The man was acting like a spoiled child.

“You have to speak to me at some point,” she called, unable to resist a taunting lilt to her words.

He whirled around to glare at her, mouth open as if to speak, but he caught himself at the last second and turned back around again. Sadie sighed. Wonderful. Days of silent walking lay ahead, with some kind of chaos at the other end.

What had that man meant ? Had Norah really ended up in Dunadd, then found herself in some kind of trouble? Just thinking about it filled Sadie with hope - but also with fear. She wanted to find her sister, of course - more than anything. But, after so long believing Norah to be dead, this all seemed too unlikely. And if Norah was in trouble, Sadie most certainly didn’t want to blunder in and make it worse.

She shivered, freezing cold in her sea-soaked clothes. Had that man wanted her off the boat? Or had he wanted her dead? If she made it to Dunadd, he might try a more drastic way of getting rid of her.

“Ciaran, I need to stop,” she called out as a wave of shivers wracked her body.

He ignored her, trudging onwards.

Sadie gritted her teeth and marched after him, trying to lengthen her strides enough that she could catch up. But her legs felt like jelly after the exertion and panic of the swim.

“Ciaran, please,” she called again, her voice starting to wobble. “I’m cold, and tired, and I need to stop.”

At last, that seemed to get his attention. He turned to look at her, irritation clearly written across his face.

“Well, you should have thought of that before you jumped into the sea,” he snapped.

“I didn’t jump,” Sadie insisted, on the edge of screaming in frustration.

“Then you’re an idiot for standing so close to the railing,” he snapped. But something of her fear and exhaustion must have shown on her face, because his expression softened a little.

“We can stop soon,” he said. “I know you’re wet and tired. But we need to find shelter, or we’ll both just get colder. It won’t be long until we can stop, I promise.”

Sadie reluctantly nodded and he turned to walk on. His reasoning made sense, but that didn’t stop her from pulling a face at the back of his head.

He was right. In only a few moments, Sadie spotted a narrow plume of smoke rising above the trees. Smoke meant habitation, and that meant shelter.

“There’s a village this way,” Ciaran explained, actually deigning to turn and talk to her. “It’s not a big place, but there will be food and shelter for us. Just a few minutes more and we’ll be there.”

Sadie nodded and stumbled after him. Her throat was too dry now to do much talking, and she thought longingly of a nice hot drink to warm her all the way through.

Like Ciaran had said, the village was small. As they emerged through the trees, Sadie saw a cluster of buildings, each set some distance from each other and marked off with rough-and-ready fences. A few animals grazed in small fields between the houses, and narrow columns of smoke curled up from holes in the cottage roofs. The general air was one of peace and serenity. Sadie felt some of the tension ebb from her body.

“We’ll try the village elder’s house,” Ciaran said. “Someone there will point us in the direction of the best place to stay.”

Sadie nodded, too tired to argue or complain. At least Ciaran seemed to know what he was doing.

And then he paused, looking at the road ahead of them, where a cluster of men in scarlet tunics had just spilled out of a door onto the street.

“Royal guardsmen,” he said, sounding confused. “Strange to see them this far south. But a welcome sight indeed! Perhaps they will escort us to Dunadd.”

He bounded forwards, shouting out a greeting. The men in crimson turned to look at them. Sadie followed along behind Ciaran, feeling very awkward.

“That’s her!” one of the men shouted.

Sadie paused in the middle of the street and looked around in confusion. Who were they talking about? She didn’t see anyone.

The guardsmen came rushing down the street, almost pushing Ciaran out of the way. They seized Sadie, pulling her hands behind her back before she knew what was going on.

“Ciaran!” she screamed as rough hands bound her wrists.

He was there in a moment, shoving two men aside until he stood in front of her.

“What’s going on?” he demanded.

“Apologies my lord, but we did not see you there,” one of the guards said, inclining his head politely to Ciaran. “We have been chasing this woman all the way from Dunadd. I am only glad we caught her before she did you any harm.”

Sadie felt like she might faint. That man had warned her.

“Did me any harm?” Ciaran asked, confusion all over his face. “Chasing her? What are you talking about?”

The guard stood up a little straighter.

“This woman is wanted in Dunadd,” he said. “She tried to kill the king.”