Page 16 of The Outlaw's Bride
Adaira loosed a long breath. “As ye saw … I didn’t do it alone.” She hesitated, wondering whether to confide in him. What did it matter? They were far from Dunvegan now. He could know the truth. “The man who helped me is named Taran. He’s wed to my sister, Rhona. They planned my escape.”
Lachlann’s dark-auburn eyebrows raised. “That’s quite a risk they took.”
“I know … my father can never learn of it.”
Lachlann rolled away from her, stretching out onto his back and cupping his hands behind his head. “Well … no one will hear a word of it from me, Aingeal.”
Chapter Seven
Decisions
THEY REACHED THE coast and the village of Kiltaraglen in the middle of the night.
Moonlight frosted the outlines of great mountains and lit their way. Adaira’s belly growled as she walked, so loudly that Lachlann eventually turned to her.
“Here.” He dug the last bun out of the satchel and held it to her. “Eat this.”
Adaira stopped, her gaze dropping to the bun. “Don’t ye want it?”
“Aye, but if yer belly growls any louder, it’ll alert half the village to our presence.”
Adaira favored him with a soft snort. Her stomach wasn’t that loud. Even so, she took the bun, sighing with pleasure as her teeth sank into it. Her appetite had returned with a vengeance now. Maybe it was because she’d managed to rest. She hadn’t thought she’d sleep during the day, squeezed into that crevice with Lachlann—but she had. She’d fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep, and had only awoken after dark when he’d gently shaken her.
They’d left the creek behind shortly after starting this stretch of the journey, traveling across bare hills. The open landscape made Adaira nervous. Her ears kept straining for the thunder of hoofbeats in the distance. Her father would no doubt send men in this direction, for Kiltaraglen was the nearest port to Dunvegan.
They would need to leave first thing in the morning to stay ahead of him.
Boots crunching on the gravel-strewn road, they crested the brow of a hill, woodland rising up either side. Below them stretched the tiny port of Kiltaraglen.
The village, a collection of thatched roofs lining the edge of the water, slumbered. It was a still, mild night. The water glistened, reflecting the glow of the moon. If Adaira hadn't been so nervous, she’d have found the sight a lovely one.
She’d been to Kiltaraglen once years earlier, for there had been a special market here, and her father had allowed her, Rhona, and Caitrin to visit it. She remembered the village with fondness: the tightly-packed white-washed homes and the long waterfront, where a collection of rickety wooden boats bobbed in the tide.
Adaira swallowed her last mouthful of bun. “There’s an inn on the waterfront,” she said. “Hopefully it’s not too late, and they’ll open their doors to us.”
Lachlann didn't respond immediately. Instead, his gaze remained on the village below them. He studied it intently. “I don’t think it's wise to linger here,” he said finally. “We should move on … tonight.”
Adaira tensed. “But surely it’s safe to stay here till dawn?”
Lachlann shook his head. “It isn't. The fewer folk who see us the better. Yer father’s men will likely arrive here tomorrow, and the inn will be the first place they'll look. The innkeeper will tell them that a couple matching our description lodged there, and then it won't take much digging for them to discover we left by water.” Lachlann cast her a fierce, determined look. “It's best we leave no sign of our passing. We should go now.”
Adaira drew a shaky breath. This wasn’t the news she wanted. Despite that the bun had taken the edge off her hunger, she longed for a decent meal and a bed for the night. She also longed to bathe. At Dunvegan she’d have added a few drops of lavender oil to the water, for the scent calmed her. She ached for a short reprieve, before they set out on the next leg of their journey. Yet she had to admit, his words made sense. She would have to wait till the mainland for a decent meal and a soft mattress.
“But how can we find a boatman to give us passage?” she asked. “No one will be awake at this hour.”
A pause followed. Lachlann slowed his pace before drawing to a halt and turning to face her. “We don’t have time for that … we’ll have to steal a boat.”
Adaira stifled a gasp. “But we're not thieves.”
Lachlann’s mouth curved into a slow smile, and despite her shock at his pronouncement, Adaira’s belly fluttered. Lachlann Fraser’s smile was as alluring as it was dangerous. Like the touch of his hand when he’d helped her out of the tunnel, it turned her mind to porridge.
“Now isn’t the time for scruples, Aingeal,” he replied softly. “Just how desperate are ye to escape Aonghus Budge?”
I can't believe I agreed to this.
Adaira padded along behind Lachlann as they made their way down to the waterfront, hugging the shadows as they went. It seemed an unnecessary precaution, for there appeared to be no one about, but Adaira was glad her protector was being careful. Someone might be lurking nearby. Perhaps the dock was watched at night—or maybe her father’s men were here already, looking for her.
Adaira swallowed hard—she hoped not.
