Highland Heather - Highland Heather Part 10
Library

Highland Heather Part 10

"We must leave before the sun grows any higher in the sky."

He paused and listened. There was no sound from within.

He pounded a fist on the door.

"My lady. We must leave."

Once again there was only silence.

He frowned. What trickery Was afoot?

"Old woman," he shouted.

"Are you inside?"

He placed his ear to the door and listened. No sound issued from within.

"Alden." Alarmed, Morgan ran to the top of the stairs and shouted for his second in command.

"Bring your strongest men. And a log with which to batter down this door."

Hamish and old Duncan watched with sudden interest as several of the English soldiers hurried inside. The rest of Morgan's men grew tense.

They listened to the sounds of pounding as the log was thrust again and again until the massive" door gave way.

Morgan strode through the open doorway and stared at the old woman who huddled against the far wall.

"Where is your mistress?"

The old woman trembled.

He strode across the room until he towered over her. His voice was low with rage.

"You will answer me. At once."

In a quavering voice Mora croaked, "She has gone to the Highlands, where she will be safe."

"The Highlands. How did she escape this room?"

The old woman pointed to the balcony. Astonished, Morgan stalked to the railing and stared down.

"How can this be? There is no rope."

"My girls never needed a rope," the old woman said with a surge of pride.

"From the time they were wee lasses, they were able to climb the castle walls by placing their feet and hands into the notches made by missing stones."

Morgan swore savagely, then turned to his second in command.

"Alden, choose five of your fastest horses and riders. They will accompany me to the Highlands. You will lead the rest of the men back to England."

In a low tone, so the other soldiers couldn't hear, Alden whispered, "You dare not follow the woman to the Highlands, Morgan. You've heard the rumors. An English soldier would never survive those savages."

Morgan's mouth was set in a hard, tight line. The tone of his voice left no doubt of his intentions.

"I go to the Highlands. Or to hell and beyond. It matters not to me.

But this I know. I shall return to England. And when I do, the woman will be with me."

Chapter Five

Within the hour, Morgan and his five men pushed their mounts forward into the cold waters of the River Tweed. They climbed up the far embankment, then began the slow ascent into the rugged hills.

A thick wall of forest closed around them. Somewhere nearby they could hear water rushing, but they could not see it. As they continued to climb, the sun was blotted out by the tall spires of ancient timbers.

They beheld a strange new world of soft glens and gentle fells. Craggy mountain peaks glinted high above them, some of them wreathed in clouds.

They spoke in whispers, as if they were in some ancient, hallowed cathedral. Their ears became attuned to the sounds of nature around them, and they became enraptured by the chorus of birds and insects.

To a man like Morgan Grey, born and bred in the cultured life at the English court, this primitive forest presented a new challenge. He had fought many enemies on their own soil. But he had heard that the Highlanders fought like no other soldiers ever encountered. They were rbugh giants, exposed to a way of life so harsh, so rugged, they could overcome their opponents by sheer size and determination alone.

He cautioned himself to savor the beauty of his surroundings without relaxing his guard. He had but one goal here.

Find Brenna MacAlpin and carry her off to England, he hoped before he encountered a band of Highland clansmen.

When at last he found the pair of small footprints in the soil, he gave a tight-lipped smile. The footprints belonged to Brenna and her sister. Of that he had no doubt. The prints were no bigger than his hand. And he had spent an inordinate amount of time staring at the lady's ankle and foot.

"They are headed that way. Toward that distant peak." He climbed into the saddle and urged his mount into a trot.

Night fell early in the Highlands. It was soon too dark to follow the tracks. Besides, Morgan's men were feeling tense and edgy. Even their beasts were skittish.

"We will rest the night here," he commanded in low tones.

As he pulled his cloak about him for warmth, he found himself wondering about the women who ran from him. Had she thought to bring warm clothes? Did she and her sister have enough to eat?

One of the soldiers brought him a tankard of ale. He drank gratefully, then cursed the way his mind was working. Damn the woman. By now they could have been halfway home. Let her starve. Let her freeze. But let her remain alive, he prayed. At least until he caught up with her.

So that he could have the satisfaction of wringing her lovely neck.

Brenna drew her sister into her arms and wrapped her warm traveling cloak around them. As they snuggled deep into the hay she offered a prayer of thanks for the Highlander who had piled the dried grasses in his field for the livestock. The hay, mixed with heather, made a cozy bed.

"Do you think the English dared to follow us?" Megan whispered.

"Aye." In her mind's eye, Brenna saw the fierce face of the English savage.

"Even the Highlands would not stop that man once his decision has been made."

"Then we should not stop to rest." Megan sat up.

"We should keep running until we reach the safety of Brice Campbell's keep."