Page 66 of Bride of the Beastly Laird

“Aye.” He nodded slowly. “If we’re fortunate, the storm made our trail difficult tae follow and we’ve widened the distance between Bairre and ourselves.”

At the mention of Bairre’s name a shiver rippled through Dahlia. “Bairre willnae be delayed fer long. He kens where yer maither is. We must make haste as I fear he will be hot on our heels, spurred on by his rage.”

He met Craig and Nicol outside at the water barrel, where they were washing their faces. They were both eager to be on their way. The morning was crisp and clear with a hint of frost in the air but the rain had gone, the storm had passed over.

Nicol entered the stable where Arran and Dahlia had spent the night and emerged leading the horses. “According tae Matheus, the bothy is nae far from here,” he said cheerfully. “Mayhap nay more than an hour’s ride.”

They made their way to Mistress Nell’s tiny cottage to thank her for the villagers’ hospitality and to leave them with enough coin to make their efforts worthwhile.

She plied them with buttery bannocks and goats’ cheese.

“Ye cannae go on yer journey with empty stomachs,” she told them sternly.

Once they’d broken their fast with her hearty offerings, they mounted the horses and, following Matheus’s directions, continued on their way. “The path splits in two nae far beyond the village. Take the right-hand path. It’s the steeper of the two and only used by the goatherds and their flocks but ye’ll find the track is clear and easy tae follow.”

Arran’s heart was beating fast as they went. In a short time, he would know if he and Dahlia had been correct in their thinking that the old bothy would be the place Emilia was being held.

The path continued upwards and it was slow going over the thickly-wooded and rocky terrain.

After what seemed like a long stint of plodding upwards, they reached what was surely the pinnacle of the mountain where the trees grew thinner and the track opened out to a wide clearing.

Beside him, Dahlia gasped. She was pointing into the distance, toward another steep slope, her cheeks red with excitement.

“That peak is in MacLeod land. Many a time as a wee lass, hunting with me braithers, I accompanied them along its slopes. Once we’ve descended from this side, we should be able tae wind our way around that peak.”

He looked into her sparkling eyes. “And once we are there, we’ll be safe from Bairre Mackinnon and his men fer ye’ll be under the protection of Laird Haldor MacLeod.”

She gave a delighted laugh and spurred her horse forward.

They followed the track winding down, moving much faster than they’d done and it was not long before they spotted smoke spiraling into the air.

The others joined Dahlia and Arran. “The bothy must be close by,” he said. “If me maither is being held captive there, nae doubt Bairre will have left the place well-guarded.” He nodded to Nicol and Craig. “Are ye ready fer a fight, lads?”

Both men nodded and Nicol unsheathed his long sword from his belt.

“From now on we should take care nae tae let the bridles ring and we should keep our voices tae a whisper.” He turned to Beattie and Dahlia. “Ye must keep back. If there’s violence, I want ye safely away.”

Pulling her dirk from her boot, Dahlia grinned. “Never fear. If there’s a fight spilling out of the bothy, I’ll be ready.”

They dismounted and walked the horses along the path until the acrid smell of the smoke coming from the rough chimney filled their nostrils.

Once they’d tethered their horses, with Dahlia and Beattie remaining to watch over them, the three men proceeded on foot, guided by the spiraling smoke.

At last, the old bothy came into view.

It was a makeshift building, yet it had obviously withstood many years of desperate storms and snowy winters. No doubt it had provided a steadfast shelter for generations of goatherds needing protection from sudden blizzards and storms like the one they’d endured last night. The question bedeviling Arran now was, had he found his mother’s whereabouts at last?

As Arran had expected, there was a guard standing at the door. He was a burly fellow but not standing straight and alert, he was rather slumped against the doorpost idly glancing around him. He dispatched Nicol and Craig to flank the man while he strolled across the clearing to distract him from the presence of the two men lying in wait.

The ploy worked to perfection. As Arran approached, the man focused his attention on the looming figure and even took several steps away from the door toward him. This made it a simple matter for Craig and Nicol to creep in from the side and deliver a resounding clout to the man’s head.

He went down like a sack of barley, with hardly a sound.

Nicol was holding him and Craig busy tying his hands and feet when a second guard who mayhap had heard something amiss, emerged blinking into the light.

Arran leaped forward, sword drawn and whacked the man over the head with the flat of the blade and he, too, sank senseless to the ground.

While Nicol secured the two men with rope, Arran crept into the bothy, closely followed by Craig.

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