Her father was a seasoned warrior and a worthy adversary to the Bruce, and now, shamefully, a desperate noble who conspired with France’s king.
They rounded another copse of trees, and she searched the breaks in the woods and dense brush for any sign of men hidden in wait.
Naught.
Guilt festered that her presence brought complications to King Robert as he battled to reunite a torn kingdom. Damn her father, a man who hadna recognized her throughout her life, now acknowledged he had a daughter, however illegitimate. And for what, to trade her like cattle for his own gain.
“Halt!” Thomas called.
She reined her mount beside him. “What is it?”
A grimace furrowed his brow as he scoured the thick line of pine, elm, and ash ahead. “Something feels wrong.”
A tremor rippled through her as she scanned the forest, and then the cliffs slashed by sunlight in the distance. “I see naught.”
“Nor I. Still, we will ride south. By dusk we should come across a burn, which we will follow until we lose daylight. We will continue riding south for several hours, then we will head seaward. If anyone is trying to track us, we should lose them.”
She nodded, impressed by his knowledge of the Highlands. “Earlier I caught a touch of a French accent in your voice. Did you grow up here?”
Caution darkened his gaze. “I have traveled the land on occasion.”
Far more than a few infrequent trips. Few understood the dangerous cut of the mountains well enough to make such succinct plans without the aid of a map.
A gust swept through the forest thick with the scent of winter. Branches shook and clumps of snow tumbled to the ground. Another burst of wind howled through the trees.
Thomas glanced skyward, frowned. “A storm is moving in.”
Angry clouds churned overhead, and she tugged her cape close. The last thing they needed was to become stranded in a blizzard. “We have ridden less than a day. Mayhap ’tis best if we turn back.”
“Nay. After we left, the king and his forces departed. With the enemy nearby, ’tis too dangerous to retrace our steps. Come.” He kicked his destrier into an easy canter.
After one last glance behind her, with a resigned sigh, Alesone followed.
Against the whip of wind, bare branches rattled overhead as she crested the next knoll.
Suddenly, an arrow whipped past.
Thomas glanced over his shoulder, cursed. “Ride hard!”
Panic swept her as she caught sight of several men charging in her direction. Alesone leaned low and urged her horse into a gallop.
Another arrow hissed by.
Her horse stumbled. “Thomas!”
The fierce knight glanced over. With a curse he hauled her before him as her mount started to fall. “Hang on!” He dug his heels into his steed. Muscles bunched as his destrier jumped a fallen tree, landed with a smooth glide and raced through the forest.
Shouts of their attackers filled the air.
She glanced back, gasped. “There are at least fifteen men!”
Thomas shifted in the saddle. “Blast it!”
Alesone turned, caught the streak of pain on his face before he turned back. “Are you hurt?”
“Hold tight!” Thomas whirled his steed, raced toward a thick stand of fir. Brush slapped their bodies as they pushed through the thick-bristled limbs. Moments later the dense fir gave way.
“Bedamned!” Thomas cursed.
“What is—” Paces ahead the ground fell away. “There’s a cliff!”
“Aye.” His arm tightened around her. “Hold on!”
Muscles bunched beneath her.
A scream tore from her mouth as his steed jumped.
Air, cold and laced with snow, assaulted her as his warhorse half-slid, half-stumbled down the steep incline. By sheer miracle they reached the bottom without his mount collapsing against the slick surface.
Hooves scraped against ice and rocks as the horse steadied himself. “Good lad.” Thomas reined him toward the stand of trees, and then urged him into a gallop.
Miles flew by, the fearlessness of the knight’s every decision leaving Alesone stunned. Regardless the danger, the impossibility of the landscape they faced, he never hesitated; choosing numerous paths she never would have considered.
At the top of the next knoll, he drew his mount to a halt, his breathing hard. “’Tis growing too dark to keep up this pace.”
Relief swept her. For a crazy moment, she’d believed he would continue riding hard throughout the night. “With the waning light ’twill be difficult for them to track us.”
“Aye, and with luck, the continuing snowfall will cover our tracks.” He paused. “How do you fare?”
Exhausted and her body aching, she was ready to collapse. “I am fine.”
He grunted. “Cold and tired, nay doubt.”
She turned, caught the paleness of his face, the fatigue he tried to hide. “As are you.”
“We must keep moving,” he said.
“Once they canna find our tracks, they should turn back.”
“During normal circumstance, aye, but as you are essential to your father’s plans, his knights willna stop.”
She swallowed hard. The truth. “How much longer will we travel before we rest?”
“There is a monastery a half day’s ride from here. We should arrive shortly after nightfall. If anyone is about, the darkness will shield our arrival.”
“A monastery? You said we were riding south a few hours before turning toward the sea.”
“I have”—he muttered a soft curse, shifted—“decided otherwise.”
Surprised by the strain in voice, she glanced back.
His face taut, Sir Thomas kicked his mount into a gallop, forcing her to turn around and hang on. “I thought we were taking it easy.”
“We are.”
Too tired to argue, Alesone sagged against his muscled chest and let the miles rush past.
Hours later, with the moon edging into the cloud-muted sky, ahead of them lay a large copse of rocks smeared with the fall of snow.
Thomas guided his horse to the center, then drew to a halt.
Another burst of icy wind tore at her cape, slapping loose strands of hair against her face. She shivered against the chill. “Why are you stopping? With the moon bright, ’tis too easy to see us here.”
“’Tis. Nor will we remain.” With stiff movements, he dismounted. “I will be but a moment, dinna move.” Wisps of moonlight slipped through the breaks in the clouds, illuminating the falling snow with an eerie shimmer.
Unease wove through her as Thomas collected and stacked twigs and brush. A fire, was he insane? “We canna.”
He shot her a cool look, and then withdrew his dagger and flint. After several strikes, smoke, then flames, crept through the tangle of wood. Moments later, sparks swirled into the sky.
After tossing several larger limbs on top, his movements stiff, the knight returned.
Confused, Alesone frowned. “I thought we were nae