Highland Thirst (25 page)

Grabbing
a saddle, Lucy greeted the animal with soft whispers and soothing words as she
prepared the mount. Once finished saddling the mare, she led her quickly to the
stable doors.

Pausing
in the shadows just inside the open doors, Lucy peered over the bailey, alarmed
to see that it was quickly becoming crowded with people filing out of the keep.
The meal was most definitely over.

Urgency
creeping along her back, she tightened her hold on her mare’s reins and led her
quickly out of the stables and around the side at a quick march. Tearlach
stumbled away from the back of the barracks as she approached and between them
they managed to get him on the horse’s back. Once he was seated, Lucy pretty
much climbed up the man’s leg to get on the mare as well. Settling before him
on the horse, she caught the reins in hand and turned her toward the gates.

“Hold
on,” Lucy whispered to Tearlach, and then set her heels to the horse’s sides to
get her moving. Trinket, picking up on her urgency, burst into an immediate
gallop that Lucy was hard pressed to slow. She herself wanted to charge out of
there as if the devil were snapping at the horse’s rear too, but feared it
would draw unwanted attention. A fast walk would be less noticeable, she hoped,
and forced the animal to slow to that.

The
next few moments were the most tense and nerve-racking of Lucy’s life. Were her
hands not busy holding the reins, she would have been hard pressed not to chew
her nails to the quick, which would have been a waste as it turned out, since
they managed to ride to and out through the gates of Carbonnel without either
being stopped or even really noted as far as she could tell. At least, if their
passing was noted, it was assumed there was nothing odd about it. She supposed
the fact that they were wearing soldiers’ clothes and colors aided in
convincing those at the gate and on the wall that they were about a duty for
their lord.

Lucy
wasn’t the only one relieved when they were outside of Carbonnel’s walls. The
moment they’d ridden into the trees and were out of sight of the men on the
wall, Tearlach sagged against her back with a long sigh that whistled past her
ear. It seemed clear that he’d exerted a lot of strength to sit upright and
suffer their passage through Carbonnel’s bailey, and in fact used up a good
portion of what strength he had. Now, he grew heavier by the moment until Lucy
began to realize that they wouldn’t be able to ride far. He needed to rest and
regain his strength.

“I’ll
not be able to stay in the saddle long,” Tearlach breathed apologetically by
her ear.

Lucy
refrained from stating that her thoughts had been running along the same lines,
and instead began to wrack her mind, trying to think of somewhere safe for them
to take shelter.

“Diya
ken o’ any caves around here where we can shelter? We’ll need to be out o’ the
sun come morn.”

Lucy
didn’t ask why they’d need to be out of the sun. One of the rumors about his
people was that they couldn’t stand sunlight and she supposed it must be true.
The mention of caves sparked a memory for her.

“Aye,
there is,” she admitted with a frown. “I know of one just on the edge of our
property, but ‘tis a good two hours’ ride away. Can you last that long?”

“Aye,”
he murmured and she felt him straighten slightly behind her with determination.

Lucy
let a little sigh of relief slip from her lips. His weight against her hadn’t
been a bother, in fact, it had helped to keep her warm. The night was cool and
growing cooler by the minute. His straightening, however, told her he still had
some reserves of strength and they might make it to the cave ere he collapsed
completely and that was a relief. If he collapsed and tumbled off the horse ere
they reached the cave, she didn’t think she could get him back on the mare on
her own.

As
it turned out, Lucy had underestimated the distance. Or perhaps—as was more
likely—they weren’t traveling as quickly as she’d hoped, the weight of two
people on the mare slowing the pace. Whatever the case it was closer to three
hours before Lucy recognized that they’d crossed from Carbonnel land to
Blytheswood. It took another few moments more for her to find the clearing near
the cave she was searching for. The cave didn’t open onto the clearing itself,
but rested a good half mile farther on along a path that was barely discernible
in daylight. Fortunately, it was a clear night and the moon offered some aid,
otherwise, she never would have found the cave.

With
Tearlach barely conscious and his full weight bearing down on her back, Lucy
didn’t stop, but urged the horse directly through the narrow opening of the
cave. She grimaced as her legs scraped against either side of the entrance,
just grateful that the horse had managed to fit through with them on. Tearlach
was a large man and she didn’t think she could have managed to drag him in on
her own.

Trinket
stopped and refused to walk farther once they were several feet inside the
cave. Lucy didn’t blame her. Without the moonlight to give it relief, the cave
was pitch black after the first couple of feet. Lucy herself wasn’t too happy
to be in such stygian darkness, but there wasn’t much choice. Aside from the
fact that Tearlach needed to be out of sunlight come dawn, the dark cave would
hide them from their pursuers...and there would definitely be pursuers. The
moment their absence was noted, every last one of Carbonnel’s men would be on
the hunt for them, she was sure. Wymon couldn’t risk her reaching anyone and
telling them what had really happened at the inn, that he had murdered her
brother...and lied when saying Tearlach had killed him and absconded with her.
He would then be wanted for John’s murder. It made it doubly unfortunate that
Tearlach was so weak at the moment. She really would have rather ridden on to
Blytheswood and spread the true tale of the happenings at the inn, but that
wasn’t possible now.

Lucy
supposed she could leave Tearlach there and ride on by herself, but didn’t want
to abandon him alone and defenseless in the cave. He would be lost if Wymon’s
men found him, unable to defend himself. No, they would have to stay in the
cave a day or so and let him regain his strength and then continue on to
Blytheswood.

“Tearlach?”
she whispered, releasing the reins and reaching back to touch him.

“Hmm?”

He
stirred weakly against her and she let out a little breath of relief, and then
said, “We are here. Can you dismount?”

His
answer was to slide right off the mount and crash to the cave floor with a
thud.

Four

A
gasp of alarm slipping from her lips, Lucy hurried to dismount, nearly tripping
over Tearlach where he lay. Kneeling at his side, she felt for his face, noting
that his eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply. For a moment she feared
he’d hit his head in the fall and knocked himself out, but a blind examination
of his head revealed no wetness that might be blood. He was simply unconscious.

Sitting
back on her heels, Lucy glanced around with a sigh. All she could see at first
was the part of the cave close to the narrow entrance, but as her eyes adjusted
she began to make out a little more. It was a cave—that was all—empty except
for a few boulders and now herself, her mount, and Tearlach. There was nothing
she could see to build a fire with or anything to add to their comfort and she
was too tired at the moment to make the effort to go out and search out
anything useful.

It
had been a long few days for her, with first the stressful visit to Carbonnel,
then her brother’s murder, followed by her being kidnapped and chained to a
wall for days on end. The last had been physically wearing, she’d struggled and
strained against her bindings as she listened to Tearlach being tortured in the
next room...and then there had been the stress of their escape. Added to that,
she hadn’t eaten in all that time except to pick at the meal that had been
served her at the inn. Despite that, Lucy wasn’t hungry. She was too exhausted
for hunger.

Blowing
out a breath, she pushed herself to her feet and quickly unsaddled Trinket. The
chore seemed to take the last of her reserves of energy and she was definitely
dragging by the time she dropped the saddle to the ground. Deciding there was
nothing else urgent enough to keep her from resting as well, Lucy moved
carefully back to Tearlach, and lay down beside him. Her head barely hit the
ground before she dropped off to sleep and into the nightmares waiting there.

Lucy
was awakened by the sound of voices. For a moment, she was blissfully confused,
unsure where she was or anything else, but as sleep slipped away memory
reclaimed her. It had been a long night. Nightmares of her brother’s murder had
pounced the moment she lost consciousness and disturbed her rest twice. The
first time, she’d woken up screaming his name. Her shriek was enough to wake
Tearlach as well, at least enough that he’d murmured soothingly in Gaelic,
thrown his arm around her, and drawn her against his side, holding her there as
they both drifted back to sleep. The second time she’d woken up weeping and
Tearlach had pressed her face to his chest and rubbed her back soothingly as
they both drifted back to sleep again.

Thinking
about it now, Lucy suspected he hadn’t really been awake either time he’d
offered her comfort. His words had been a sleepy slur rather than his usual
strong voice, but she didn’t mind. In fact, she rather hoped he hadn’t been
awake and wouldn’t recall either incident. She didn’t want him to think her
weak.

A
burst of laughter made her stiffen and blink her eyes back open. The sound
seemed to come from right outside the cave entrance and she held her breath and
stared at the spot where weak light crept into the cave, expecting men to come
walking in any moment. When several moments passed without that happening, she
began to breathe again and then wrinkled her nose in distaste at the scent she
sniffed in. Dear God, something reeked!

Tearlach.
She was sleeping curled in his arms, her head on his chest, and it was he who
stunk. Or his clothes to be more exact, she thought and lifted her arm to give
herself a sniff. Aye, their clothes.

Grimacing,
she eased out of his embrace and sat up. There was little she could do about
the clothes for now. They had nothing else to wear and it wasn’t like she could
find the river and wash them with Carbonnel’s men riding about looking for
them.

Reminded
of the men outside the cave, Lucy got carefully to her feet and moved to the
entrance as quietly as she could lest a skittering rock draw attention to their
hiding place and their presence in it.

Reaching
the cave’s mouth, she eased up to peer cautiously out, relieved when there was
no one about. She was just about to turn back to the interior of the cave when
another laugh made her pause. After a hesitation, she eased farther out and
peered to the left to see three men on horseback heading away from the cave.
They’d obviously ridden right by without even noticing the entrance. She wasn’t
surprised, the opening was slanted, narrow, and partially obscured by foliage.
If you didn’t know it was there, it was easy to overlook.

“Aye,
his expression when he walked into the dungeon and found it empty was funny,”
one of the men conceded on a sigh as the laughter died. “But his anger was less
amusing when it followed.”

There
were subdued murmurs of agreement from the other two men and then one said, “Heads
will roll if we don’t find the pair and quickly.”

This
seemed to make them all solemn and the first speaker said, “‘Tis late and a
long ride back to the castle. Mayhap we’d do better to camp out here tonight
and continue the search first thing in the morning.”

The
alacrity with which the other two men agreed suggested to Lucy that none of
them were eager to return to Carbonnel and risk being one of those whose heads
would roll. She watched them ride out of sight and then glanced to the sky,
surprised to see that it was indeed growing late. The sun was low in the sky
and would soon be gone. She and Tearlach had slept through the second half of
last night and then through the day as well. She supposed she shouldn’t be
surprised, they’d had little enough sleep in the dungeon these last days,
staying up most of the time talking as they had. And they’d been through a lot.
The sleep had probably done them good. Besides, they couldn’t travel in
daylight, so it had saved them sitting in the cave twiddling their fingers
until they could leave again.

A
soft rustle drew her gaze back to Tearlach as he stirred in his sleep. She
waited to see if he would wake up, but he didn’t, simply shifted in his sleep,
his hand moving restlessly about as if in search of her.

Lucy
smiled at the thought and almost moved back to rejoin him, but decided against
it. She was wide awake now and wouldn’t go back to sleep. She was also tense
now that she knew Wymon’s men were out searching for them. They would have to
be very careful when they left.

If
they left, she thought with a frown as she recalled how weak Tearlach had been
the night before. The whipping and whatever other tortures Wymon had used on
him had taken a heavy toll. She suspected any normal man would have died in the
dungeon that day, but Tearlach wasn’t normal. He’d rallied a bit after taking
blood from her, but it hadn’t seen him far. It was obvious he needed more...and
more than he was willing to take from her.