Page 50 of Sutherland's Secret
Brice left her side and strode over to Colin. While they conversed, Brice kept glancing over as if checking that she was still there. Did he know?
No. He couldn’t possibly know.
Eleanor looked toward the water and found the ship awaiting them just off the shore. It was a big, hulking thing with three masts.
She slid off the horse and stood at the edge of the water, looking at the ship that would take her away from Scotland and England. Away from everything.
Then she thought of Blackwood. He was out there somewhere, looking for her. Searching. Determined to find her.
That ship was her only escape from death, and she would take it because she didn’t want to die.
As she watched, a smaller boat pulled away from the ship, with two men rowing it toward them. Behind her, she could hear Brice directing the fugitives—though it seemed wrong to call them fugitives. They weren’t on the run because they’d done something wrong. They were on the run because they’d fought for what was right, and now they were being hunted.
Just like she was being hunted.
She turned toward the group that had moved closer to the waves kissing the sand, and she moved closer to them. She shot a nervous glance at Brice, but he was deeply involved in gathering the lingering fugitives together.
Nervously she looked toward the tall ship and saw that the rowboat was pulling closer. Two of Brice’s men waded out into the water to pull the small boat in. Brice and Colin directed the people into the boat. Brice’s men moved fast and sure, as if they’d done this many times before.
There was a palpable feeling of relief and sadness among these people. Only Brice and Colin spoke, and then only when absolutely necessary.
Two men stood with their backs to them, searching the line of trees, their hands on the butts of their pistols.
Within minutes the people were all on the boat, and the oarsmen took up his oars. The two men who’d pulled the boat on shore got in position to push it back out.
It was time.
Chapter 20
“Uh, Brice,” Colin said as he looked over Brice’s shoulder.
Brice spun around and found Eleanor with one leg over the edge of the rowboat, preparing to pull the other one in.
Anger propelled him forward. Before she could get her other leg in, he wrapped his good arm around her waist and plucked her out. “What in the hell do ye think ye’re doing?”
She gasped and looked up at him. “I have to go.”
Her words were like a punch to the stomach. He had to struggle to pull in another breath. She was running away from him, sneaking out right under his nose. He raised a brow. “And where do ye think ye’re going?”
She blinked, then looked at the ship sitting offshore. “I—”
“My lord,” the oarsman said.
He nodded to the man and dragged Eleanor away from the boat. She struggled in his grasp, tugging at the arm that was wrapped around her waist. “Let go of me,” she said. “I have to go with them.”
“No, ye don’t,” he said between clenched teeth. He was damned if he was going to let her board that boat. Hell, she had no idea where the boat was even going.
“I do. Please, Brice, please let me go,” she begged, her voice desperate. Christ, was she that determined to get away from him?
He ignored her pleas and dragged her away from the water and toward the horses. The other men had already melted into the trees. He practically tossed her on the horse and quickly mounted behind her. He couldn’t hold her, because he had to hold the reins with his good hand. Luckily she slumped against him, her body shaking.
Once they were in the safety of the trees, he turned Galad around and watched the rowboat reach the ship. With a nod to the other men, he rode away. Another successful mission, except this time he didn’t feel the satisfaction that he normally felt when a ship disembarked. He was so furious that he was seeing red.
“You should have let me go,” she whispered.
“What is so horrible that ye have to run from me?” He hadn’t meant to ask the question and cursed himself for revealing his hurt to her.
“Oh, Brice.” She sighed. “It’s not you at all.”
