Page 26 of The Guardian's Bride
“We will chance it. Come on.”
He offered a supporting hand as she stepped over a fallen sapling. As she waded through ferns into the forest, her skirtsswung in such a fetching way that he had to look away. Watching for pursuers was a better use of his attention.
Chapter Eight
Aedan MacDuff!Walkingbeside him, Rowena felt stunned to have encountered him just when she needed help most. That blessing of luck was the work of angels, she had always been told. Whatever brought them together, she was glad to see him healed and strong. But she wondered what crime had put him in Yester’s makeshift dungeon.
And she was pleased that he remembered the betrothal; it had meant something to him. The strongest bond, though, had formed at Holyoak, when she had cared for him—and began to care about him. The feeling went deep.
And she had to warn him about Edward’s threats against his son and his castle, but this moment was not the time. MacDuff wanted to get them away from Yester and any pursuers. But it was good and gratifying to know that long ago, her father and great-grandfather had approved the lad—not the man—as her husband. She did not truly know him, but had begun to trust him. And her best choice was to go with him.
They walked through the shadowy woodland fast and silent, and came to a burn burbling over rocks. Kneeling, they scooped water into cupped hands, drinking deeply. Then they followed a rough path to emerge onto a green moorland under a wide sky where a pale moon floated in a lavender sky. In that eerie half-light, she saw an earthen road, the clustered rooftops of a village, and a river’s silvery ribbon.
“The River Tyne,” MacDuff said. “It will take us east. Wait,” he said, moving her behind him. “Riders.”
A group of horsemen came along the road a fair distance from where they stood. Aedan MacDuff guided her toward the shelter of a hawthorn tree, twisted and flowering. There, Rowena peered through the white-flowered branches. “English soldiers?”
“Aye, likely heading back to Yester Tower.”
She waited with him in the shadow of the blossoming hawthorn. When the riders were out of sight, she looked up.
“Are they looking for us?”
“We surely gave them reason.”
“Why were they holding you there, sir?”
“Treason and such. Others would call it loyalty.” He glanced around as he spoke. “They may search for us together or separately, going to your castle, mine too. Edward is relentless and expects the same from his men.”
She needed to tell MacDuff of the royal orders she had overheard. Her nature was to be careful and think before leaping; but if the need was urgent, as with healing duties, she acted quickly. Soon she would tell him what she knew, but MacDuff’s urgency hinted he already suspected.
“Wherever they go,” he continued, “they will ask about a woman who goes about healing people.”
She bristled. “I am not a mystic. I do not go about just—healing people.”
“Well, clearly not the king,” he drawled.
“He was improved when I left him, I swear it.”
“I believe you, I do. But why were you at Lanercost? Are you an English sympathizer? Should I worry?” He gave her a wry smile.
“I am not for the English. I am accused of treason too. What was your treason?”
“Various. And treason is attached to the name.”
“Because the MacDuffs—”
His hand clapped over her mouth. “Do not say it.”
“Mmph,” she said. He lowered his hand. “I just wondered if you are kin to the earl of Fife and the captured countess—”
His big fingers covered her mouth again, firm yet gentle. He let go. “Just keep the name to yourself.”
“I only wondered why you are hurrying to Fife.”
“A man wants to go home, aye. Do they know your name, your home, your kin?”
“They do,” she realized with dismay. “My brother was with me at Lanercost. He serves as deputy sheriff in Selkirk, but that is no guarantee of protection.”
