Page 78 of Sutherland's Secret
Anger burned inside her for these people. An anger she wasn’t certain she could control when she reached London. But to speak out in their favor would be tantamount to treason.
The group split into two. Half the men veered north to pick up a group of refugees, while the other half went south toward Campbell land with Brice and Colin. They were picking Morna and her little family up from Cait’s tonight, and Eleanor was excited to see the baby.
Eleanor was reliving the night of the babe’s birth when Brice’s fist came up suddenly. The line of four riders, including her, came to an immediate halt. The men around her drew their weapons. Eleanor’s dagger was in her hand before she even thought twice. She wasn’t too worried. They’d come across English soldiers before without being detected.
This time when they rode into the trees, she found herself with Brice. Colin and the other man were hidden on the opposite side of the road. Silently she and Brice slid off their mounts and crouched behind a line of bushes.
Eleanor watched the soldiers with detachment as she thought about the small family waiting for them. They would be delayed but not overly much. Eleanor shrank into the bushes when the soldiers passed. They were so close that she could easily reach out and touch the horse’s foreleg. And then she looked up and gasped. It was a nearly silent gasp, but Brice tensed beside her.
The leader of the small group of men was Blackwood. Seeing him sent goose bumps up and down her arms and a shiver through her body. He was sitting straight and tall, looking ahead in that haughty way he had. Eleanor’s breath was stuck in her lungs. She dared not move, but all she wanted to do was flee like a frightened rabbit.
Brice pressed his thigh against hers, the only movement he would attempt, but she understood his silent message. He was here with her and would protect her.
Blackwood passed and she watched, unable to take her gaze from him. His shoulders were rigid under his red coat. His black boots were gleaming even in the dark, and his hat stood tall and straight on his brown hair.
Her gaze swept through the other men, wondering if any of them were the guards who had watched over her. But Blackwood wouldn’t be in the presence of a mere private or sergeant. He thought himself too good for that.
Her gaze stopped on the man in the middle of the group, and she pressed a fist into her mouth to keep from crying out. It couldn’t be…She leaned forward to get a better look. Brice grabbed her shoulder and shot her a warning look.
She centered all of her attention on the man in the middle. He was the only one not dressed as a soldier. From where she was crouched, all she could tell was that he was garbed in breeches and tall brown boots and a greatcoat that covered the rest of his clothing. He wore a tricorn. She knew that hat and she knew those boots, but most of all she knew that horse he was riding because it was his favorite.
Thomas.
Chapter 31
“Eleanor?” Brice asked as soon as he was certain the English were out of earshot.
Eleanor was pale, her eyes wide, and her body rigid. He didn’t blame her for her reaction; he was proud that she hadn’t revealed their presence when she’d seen Blackwood.
He gathered her in his arms and held her tight. Every thought he had of keeping her with him vanished when he saw that bastard. He couldn’t keep Eleanor here while that man was alive. He’d wanted to stand up and yank him off his horse and beat him until he screamed for mercy. But he’d held himself still and let them pass and seethed at his helplessness.
It was a moment before he realized Eleanor was struggling to get out of his hold. She was trying to speak, but he had her face pressed against his chest. He pulled away. She was nearly frantic.
“Eleanor, he’s gone now.”
“No. You don’t understand. That was my brother.”
Brice frowned. “Yer brother? With Blackwood?”
“Yes! The man…the one who wasn’t a soldier. That’s my brother, Thomas. Why is he with Blackwood? Why is hehere?”
Brice looked in the direction that the English had disappeared. They were heading toward Campbell land. Had her brother come to Scotland to find her? Were they hoping Campbell would help them?
“We need to get him,” she was saying. “We need to get my brother.”
“I can’t just take him from the English. Do ye think they’ll let me ride up to ask him politely to come with me?”
“Why is he with Blackwood?” she asked, desperation in her voice.
“I do no’ know.” But this boded ill for Eleanor. If Blackwood found her—and it appeared he was increasing his search for her—Brice had no idea what would happen. And he had no idea what Blackwood had told Eleanor’s brother. She was right. They had to get her brother away from Blackwood. But how, without getting arrested?
“Come,” he said.
They mounted their horses. His men met him in the middle of the road.
“We’re going to follow the soldiers,” he told them.
The men exchanged glances of disbelief.
