Page 51 of Sutherland's Secret
He grunted as he expertly guided Galad through the forest. They had done this so many times that his mount could find the way home on his own. They were riding single file again, with Colin leading the way. Brice hadn’t planned to come with them tonight. His shoulder was on fire with pain, but he ignored it for the moment. Something in his gut had told him he needed to be on this run, and he’d followed that gut instinct despite Colin’s protests that he could do it without Brice.
Now he was glad he had come. He’d known something was wrong with Eleanor when she came to him after the dinner hour, but he had never guessed that she would be on this run.
“How did ye find out about tonight?” He had to know if there was a leak in the system, if one of his people had talked to her about it.
“I overheard you and Colin talking about it this afternoon.”
“And so ye decided to go along? Did ye even know where the ship was headed?”
She paused. “No.”
“Good God, lass. Were ye that desperate to get away that ye would go anywhere the ship sailed? Ye have no money, nothing but the clothes on yer back.” And what clothes they were. Breeches and a shirt that displayed all of her womanly attributes. He’d about fallen over when he saw her. He’d wanted to throw a blanket over her to keep her hidden from the eyes of his men.
“I’m not running from you, Brice.”
He didn’t answer, because it sure as hell felt like she was running away from him. But then he wanted to know: “Ye don’t trust me to protect ye?”
She sighed. “Of course I do.”
He whistled, causing Eleanor to jump. The man in front of him stopped so that Brice could catch up. “Tell Colin to keep going. We’ll be along shortly.” The man nodded. Brice turned the horse to the right, and Galad picked his way through the underbrush.
Eleanor stiffened. “What are we doing?”
“Going a different route.”
“I don’t think it’s wise to separate—”
“I do.”
She clutched his arm but thankfully didn’t say anything else. Brice led the horse to a small hut nestled in between the tall trees. It was partly hidden by underbrush that hadn’t been cut back in years. Brice deliberately kept it that way. It was the perfect spot.
He slid off the horse and helped Eleanor down, then tethered Galad to a nearby tree. “Come.” He didn’t wait to see if she followed as he walked toward the front door and opened it.
The outside of the hut didn’t match the inside. From the outside, it looked like it was falling down, abandoned long ago. The inside was dry, the floor solid. Wood was stacked beside a small fireplace. Blankets were folded on a small straw bed. There was no other furniture in the room but a small cupboard that housed oats. A stream gurgled nearby with fresh water for making oatcakes. They could be quite comfortable for days.
Eleanor stood at the threshold, peering in.
“Come inside,” he said as he set about building the fire. There were enough clouds in the sky to hide the smoke from the fire, and they were far enough off the main road that they wouldn’t be discovered by the English soldiers, who tended to stay on the well-traveled roads.
Eleanor took a few steps in and shut the door behind her. “Is this one of your safe houses?”
“Ye overheard way too much, lass.”
“I was eavesdropping.”
He shot her a glance over his shoulder. She caught it and shrugged.
When the fire was sufficiently blazing, he sat back on his heels. “Canada.”
“I beg your pardon?”
He looked over at her. “The ship was going to Canada. There are two of them. One arrives approximately every two weeks to pick up the fugitives and take them to Canada, where they will start a new life.”
She sat down on the straw mattress as if her legs couldn’t hold her up any longer. “Canada,” she whispered. “I’m not even certain I know where that is.”
“And yet ye were willing to go with them.”
Her gaze met his, her blue eyes reflecting the flames from the fire. “I have no choice.”
