Page 95 of My Warrior
“He’s wounded, m’lady, somethin’ fierce.” The maid worked her fingers together. “He’s been askin’ for ye, but he’s too far gone to move.”
Cambria’s eyes flattened. Her heart thudded woodenly against her chest.
“I can take ye to him,” the maid offered. Then she glanced suspiciously around the chamber. “If ye think yer nursemaid’ll let ye go.”
There was no question. Cambriahadto go to him. No matter what the risk, she had to go to him. Malcolm and Katie would never allow it, she knew, nor would any of the clan, not in her condition. But she had to see her husband. She’d saved him from the ravages of fever once before, saved his life. Perhaps she could do it again.
With quivering hands, she gathered linen for bandages, a dagger, and what healing herbs she kept on her table. Then she donned beggar’s rags. If fortune favored her, no one would give a second glance to the plump, shambling peasant making her way through the front gate.
With the maidservant in tow, she managed to clear Blackhaugh’s wall unnoticed. But padding along the stretch of the main road, intent upon her grave mission, she let her guard slip.
The attack took her completely by surprise. The maidservant grabbed her roughly and shoved her into the thicket before she could resist or draw her dagger. And just as a chunk of rock slammed against Cambria’s temple, sending her to a land of no thoughts, she remembered who the woman was. Owen’s whore.
Linet rubbed the small of her back with one hand and her gritty, sleep-starved eyes with the other. Never had she felt so helpless, so useless.
Cambria had vanished. No one could find her. They’d searched for two days and nights now. They’d tried the hounds. They’d tried hunting parties. They’d even ventured into the camps of long-time clan foes to ask if the laird of Gavin had been seen.
A tear slipped from Linet’s eye. Damn that foolhardy Cambria! If this was all some adventure she’d embarked upon to assuage her boredom… But even as she thought the words, she knew they weren’t true. Alone, Cambria might have indulged in such mischief, but she carried a babe now, the future laird of Gavin. She wouldn’t dream of putting that life at risk. So where was she?
Linet stared out the solar window into the black, clear sky embroidered with a thousand stars, and the great expanse of the heavens made her shiver. Cambria could be anywhere in the vast world, anywhere at all. It would take a miracle to find her. It would take the eyes of the falcon and the instincts of…
A Wolf. The hair prickled at the back of her neck. It wasn’t the first time she’d thought of Duncan. A dozen times she’d considered sending someone to him. Surely he’d know what to do. He’d be easy to locate. He was no doubt fighting in the front lines of the war near Edinburgh. But she couldn’t send someone into that peril—to bear the brunt of both the battle and Holden’s fury when he learned his wife was missing.
She sighed resignedly. Holden must be told. Maybe there was nothing he could do. Maybe it was too late to save Cambria. But Holden would never forgive Linet if she didn’t give him the chance to try.
She swallowed hard. She’d go herself. It couldn’t be far. She’d be safe enough. Surely no one, Scots or English, would attack a pregnant woman. She’d find Duncan. And, God willing, he’d find Cambria.
“Missing!”
Duncan scowled, recovered at last from the shock of discovering his newly pregnant wife in the war camp with nothing but a scrawny squire for escort.
Holden focused on Linet’s face as intently as a falcon on prey, making the poor lady cringe. “What do you mean, ‘missing’?”
Linet shook her grief-weary head. “She’s nowhere to be found, Holden.”
Holden’s anger turned instantly to breathless fear. He searched Linet’s eyes. “You’re serious.”
Linet’s face dissolved into a mask of such hopelessness that he didn’t need an answer.
Holden’s heart tumbled inside his chest. He suddenly couldn’t draw breath. “What… How…”
“No one knows,” Linet said, her voice breaking. “We’ve looked everywhere. Malcolm’s beside himself. I thought if I came…”
Holden had to master his heart before panic claimed him. There was still hope. There was always hope.
“How long have you been traveling?”
“Two days,” the squire reported.
Holden bit back a curse. Duncan voiced one.
“And how long has she been missing?” Holden asked.
“Five days, all told,” Linet choked out.
Holden nodded, controlling keen despair only by clenching his jaw and looking past Linet’s crumbling countenance. Five days. Bloody hell. Much could happen in five days.
He swallowed down the terror that rose up to claim him, blew out a thin breath, and steeled his shoulders. “I’ll leave at once.”
