Page 54 of Fallen
After attending to the fire, Carr returned to the table and took a seat opposite Drew. He waited until she had helped herself to a bannock, before he did the same.
Being able to sit at the same table as the woman he longed for was both an unexpected pleasure and a torture—but he’d not deny her.
Spreading some butter upon his wedge of bannock, Carr glanced up, his gaze fixing upon her. This close, he saw her heart-shaped face was pale.
Carr went still. “Lady Drew,” he said softly. “Are ye well?”
She nodded, her mouth tightening in annoyance. “Of course … don’t fuss.”
Carr watched her, his gaze narrowing. Her sharp tongue didn’t bother him. However, her well-being did. Without asking permission, he rose from the table and crossed to her, placing his hand upon her forehead.
It was the first time he’d ever touched the woman he served.
The move was bold, and in other circumstances he wouldn’t have dared. But today was different.
“Broderick!” she gasped, twisting away from him. “What the devil are ye doing?”
Carr withdrew his hand, dread twisting under his ribcage. Her brow was burning hot, the skin clammy.
Their gazes fused then, and whatever admonishments she’d been about to utter died upon her lips when she saw the look on his face.
22
Face-to-Face
DUNCAN REINED IN his horse and watched the riders approach, before frowning. He’d sent scouts ahead, to keep an eye on the outlaws, but they’d returned sooner than he’d expected.
“They’re on the move,” Keith greeted him. The blond man’s face was flushed. He’d ridden hard to reach the clan-chief as quickly as possible. “The outlaws are traveling west … toward us.”
“How far away are they?” Duncan barked, trying to ignore the chills that wracked his body and the cough that tickled the back of his throat.
Curse them all, he felt terrible.
Keith MacKinnon’s gaze settled upon the clan-chief, and his pale blue eyes narrowed. Duncan could tell by the way his face tensed that he didn’t look good. However, the man was wise enough not to comment upon it.
“Around twenty furlongs distant.” Keith replied. “Our paths will cross before noon.”
This news made MacKinnon scowl. He hadn’t expected his bastard brother to ride out to meet him—at least not so soon. He’d wanted Craeg’s scouts to spot them and scurry back to their hiding place before chaos and panic ensued. Duncan clenched his jaw; it mattered not. The sooner they clashed the better.
“Did someone let them know we were coming?” One of Duncan’s men asked behind him, echoing the clan-chief’s own thoughts.
“Who cares,” Duncan growled. “The Bastard has saved us all a long ride.” His gaze swept right to left, taking in the wide valley they’d pulled up in. Behind him stretched woodland, whereas broom and gorse dotted the slopes of the valley below. “We make our stand here.”
They’d been marching for over an hour when the sky above cleared and the sun appeared. Warmth filtered over Coira, and she raised her face to it.
This was the first time in a decade that the sun had shone upon her naked head. She felt strange, lighter, walking without being shrouded by her veil. The sensation had been discomforting at first—she’d felt naked without her habit. It had been her shield for so long. When she’d warn it, men ceased to see her as a woman. But ever since she’d appeared before the outlaws in Fenella’s clothing, the world looked upon her differently.
“Can ye really use that quarter-staff?” Farlan’s question made Coira lower her face from the sun’s gentle caress and glance right. The outlaw walked beside her in the long column that snaked down the mountainside.
Coira’s mouth curved in her first real smile in days. “Do ye want a demonstration? I can knock ye flat on yer back, if ye would like.”
Farlan raised his hands, dark eyes glinting. “No need for that … save yer aggression for MacKinnon’s lot.”
Coira’s smile faded. “I intend to.”
“So … the rest of the nuns at Kilbride … are they like ye? Can they really fight?”
“Aye.”
