Page 75 of Cottage in the Mist
“We had them outnumbered,” Iain said. “Their leader could see the way of it, and made the only call he could.”
“To run away?” Ranald asked. “That doesna seem like the Comyns to me.”
“I’ll grant you that,” Bram acknowledged. “Did you recognize the man on the horse? It canna have been Alec. The man had red hair. And Alec’s is black as pitch, or so I’ve been told.”
“Aye, I’ve seen him.” Iain nodded. “Black hair and green eyes. Definitely no’ the man on the horse. Or any other I saw, for that matter.”
They’d reached the clearing. Iain’s men were cleaning their wounds and gathering their belongings. Together Bram and Iain lowered Frazier down onto a large rock.
“But why would Alec Comyn have bothered to set a trap, for that is surely what this was, and then not have seen to the fighting himself? It certainly doesna track with what I’ve heard about the man.” Ranald knelt at Frazier’s feet and began inspecting the gash on his knee.
“Nor I.” Iain frowned. “None of this feels right. It’s as if we’re missing something.”
“I think it’s just as it appears,” Frazier argued. “Alec Comyn hasn’t the bollocks to take us on himself. He’d rather sacrifice his underlings.” He bit out an oath as Ranald cleaned his wound.
“You were right about the knee,” Ranald said, tying a bit of linen around Frazier’s leg. “’Tis no’ much more than a scratch.”
Frazier nodded and pushed to his feet. “What next?”
“We tend to my men’s wounds.” Iain’s gaze moved over the meadow. “Bury our own and then we ride out.”
“Now?” Frazier asked.
“Aye. There’s still about an hour of light. We’ll go back the way we came. I don’t know about you, but I dinna relish making camp here amidst the carnage.”
“And besides,” Ranald said, moving to have a look at the gash on Bram’s side, “staying here would be tantamount to waving a flag asking to be attacked. Between the landslide and the mountains, there’s only one way out. And I dinna want to make it any easier for the Comyns to take another swipe at us.”
“Aye, we’ll find a safer place to make camp,” Iain said. “And then tomorrow we’ll ride onTigh an Droma.”
Bram clenched a fist as Ranald poured whisky on his wound. “If Alec Comyn willna come to us, then we’ll just have to take the fight to him.”
“Holy Mary, mother o’ God,” a second dark-haired man swore, crossing himself. “She could be yer sister.”
“Aye, that she could.” The green-eyed man nodded, his gaze still locked on Lily’s. “I’ll thank you to drop the weapon, lass.”
“Only if you drop yours,” Lily said, lifting her chin and holding tight to the bow.
For a moment silence stretched through the clearing. Then the big man lowered his claymore. Slowly, Lily lowered the bow and dared to glance around. The rest of his men still held their weapons, as did Fergus, William and Jeff. All were staring at Lily and the green-eyed man. Their looks would be comical if the situation wasn’t quite so dire.
Lily swallowed the bitter taste of fear. “You’re Alec Comyn.”
For a second the man’s eyes widened in surprise, but just as quickly the expression was gone. “Aye. Have we met, then?”
“No.” Lily shook her head. “But I’ve heard of you.”
“And from the look on your face, I’d say ’twas nothing good.” His face twitched in a sort of half smile and then he shifted his attention shifted to Fergus. “I take it you’re the leader?” he asked, for the moment dismissing Lily. She fought a wave of resentment. It wasn’t as if she wanted his attention, after all.
The older man’s shoulders straightened, his gaze steady. “Fergus Mackintosh. I stand as captain to Iain Mackintosh of Duncreag.”
“And your companions—are they Mackintoshes, too?” Alec eyed William and Jeff.
“Aye, that they are.” Fergus’ nod was curt but respectful.
“And what are you doing on my land?”
“We’re standing escort for the lady.” Fergus’ heavy white brows drew together as he watched the younger man.
“I see.” Alec shifted his attention back to Lily, his green eyes sparkling with some unnamed emotion. “And who exactly are you that they would be escorting you across my land?” Everyone’s attention turned back to her, and she lifted her chin, her posture unconsciously regal.
