Page 14 of Time of the Warlord (Stones of Scotland #5)

S adie had never felt so much like she’d betrayed someone she loved. But what could she have done but tell the truth? Ciaran would not believe any story she might invent - and the truth was already unbelievable enough.

“We need to get this news to the king,” Ciaran said, hustling Sadie straight out of the storeroom. The guardsmen rushed forwards, but Ciaran waved them off with one hand.

“I know what’s happened now,” he said. “This woman was not guilty, but she knows who was. We need to reach Dunadd as soon as possible.”

“You have to promise not to hurt her,” Sadie said urgently. “Whatever has happened to her, I know she would never hurt someone of her own free will. They must have forced her. We already know that they were prepared for me to drown.”

Ciaran nodded grimly.

“From everything you’ve said, I assume she is in danger,” he said. “And so are you. We have to find her before she gets hurt - or hurts anyone else.”

Sadie nodded. She could understand that Ciaran must put his king first. But this Comgall was no king of hers. Her loyalty would always lie with her sister, no matter what.

“Did you come by boat or horseback?” Ciaran asked the guardsmen.

“Horseback,” one man replied. “We were assigned to check the inland villages. Another team is traveling along the coast by boat.”

“We’ll need to take two of your horses, then,” Ciaran said. “More will be sent back for you, but it’s imperative that we reach Dunadd as soon as possible.”

The guardsmen did not look happy at that, but they agreed. Ciaran was clearly not a man to be argued with. More and more, Sadie saw that he was a powerful leader, used to having his orders obeyed without question. What had he been like as the king’s bodyguard? It was hard to imagine him fading into the background.

They were on the road in only a few minutes. Sadie’s dress was not made for riding, so Ciaran had found her a pair of men’s breeches to wear underneath her tucked-up skirt. They were far too large, and very baggy, but at least they gave her some modesty - and stopped the flat leather saddle from chafing too much.

“I should have asked if you could ride,” Ciaran said as they left the village. He was watching the road ahead, but his eyes kept slipping back to Sadie. She clung onto the reins with all her strength, clamping her thighs against the horse’s side to keep herself stable.

“I can ride,” she insisted. “Although it’s been a long time. It’s just that we have very different riding equipment in the future. These things called stirrups , for example. They make it much easier to balance.”

Ciaran seemed intrigued, so Sadie launched into an explanation of the ways riding equipment had changed over the centuries. She was no expert, but she knew enough to keep him interested as they rode. At least this conversation topic kept them away from any discussion of Norah.

They stopped riding when it began to grow dark.

“Are we going to find a place to stay for the night?” Sadie asked.

Ciaran shook his head.

“No point,” he said. “There’s no settlement near here and I don’t want to waste time getting off route. We’ll camp here instead.”

Camp? Sadie shivered a little at the thought. The autumn air was chill, and she didn’t much fancy spending a night outdoors. At least the storeroom had been dry, and warm enough. She was still damp from her dip in the sea.

“I found you some warm clothing to sleep in,” Ciaran said, apparently reading her mind. “Some for me, as well.”

“Thank you,” Sadie said, slightly surprised. When had he found time to do that?

They made camp a little way off the road, sheltered by some thorn trees. Ciaran pulled all kinds of supplies from his saddle bags, and built them a shelter in no time. Waxed canvas stretched above their heads, tied to the branches of the trees, and a bundle of dry wood gave them a brisk fire. Sadie stretched her hands out close to the flames, luxuriating in even this small spark of warmth.

“Here you go,” Ciaran said, thrusting a bundle of fabric at her. “I’ll give you a moment to get changed.”

He vanished behind the thorn bushes, and Sadie realized she was holding a dry dress. With a sigh of relief, she scrambled out of her wet clothing and laid it out on a nearby branch. Pulling on the fresh dress, scratchy though the wool was on her bare skin, came as an incredible relief.

“I’m done,” she called. For a moment, she heard only silence, and wondered if Ciaran had heard her. Then he reappeared, clad in the bold crimson of the guardsmen. Sadie blinked a little, surprised at how well the color suited him. Then she tore her eyes away, blushing slightly.

“We’ve enough supplies for a basic meal,” Ciaran said, busying himself by the fire. With any luck, it was too dark for him to see her blush.

“Good,” Sadie managed to say as she settled down on the opposite side of the fire. He seemed to be a competent field cook, and it wasn’t long before a bowl of steaming oatmeal sat on Sadie’s lap. She ate it hungrily - breakfast felt like far too long ago, given everything that had happened in the hours since. Finishing off the final mouthful, she gave a contented sigh and set the bowl down.

Ciaran grinned at her over the fire.

“Enjoy that?” he asked.

Sadie couldn’t help but return the unexpected smile.

“It was delicious,” she told him. “You’re a talented cook.”

To her surprise, he actually winked.

“I’m an even more talented thief,” he said. “Take a swig of this. Liberated it from another guardsman’s saddlebags.”

He passed Sadie some kind of skin bottle. She sniffed at it cautiously, then tilted it back and let a few drops tip into her mouth. Even that tiny taste left her throat burning.

“Is that whiskey?” she asked with a gasp.

Ciaran shrugged.

“Something like that. Homemade, probably. But it will keep the cold off well enough. Help yourself to some more.”

Sadie knew she shouldn’t. She knew that it was a terrible idea to drink spirits, all alone with this man, in the middle of nowhere. But really, what was the worst that could happen? So she smiled at him and took another sip before handing the skin over.

Ciaran came to sit beside her, so close that his leg brushed hers when he reached out to take the skin bottle. He took a healthy swig of his own and sighed as he gazed into the flames.

“Will we reach Dunadd tomorrow?” Sadie asked.

He shook his head.

“The day after, I’d say. Unless we find a boat to take us up the coast tomorrow morning. You might be stuck with me for a bit longer.”

Sadie surprised herself by laughing.

“I don’t mind too much,” she said.

He turned to look at her, his dark eyes reflecting the flicker of firelight.

“No?” he asked, a little huskily.

“No,” she said. “You rescued me from those guardsmen. And you believed me. I guess you’re not so bad after all.”

Ciaran smiled at her, the expression surprisingly bright and sweet. He reached out one hand, strong fingers stroking her cheek. Sadie tried to keep her breathing steady, tried to focus on his eyes. But she couldn’t help herself. Her gaze dropped down to his lips. And he sucked in a deep breath, then lunged in close and kissed her.