in her arms,” she blurted out. “She comforted her, shed not a tear, but spoke gently to her, letting her know we would be fine and that she would find peace in God’s home. But it was peace our mother found in Aliss’s arms. I stood behind her crying, not being able to control my tears. Aliss eased her suffering with her gentle voice and loving embrace, that is why she is an exceptional healer for she heals with her heart and soul.”
“I have known no healer that heals as successfully as she does.”
“She is an angel,” Fiona said with a smile. “Our mother always called her, her little angel.”
“What did your mother call you?”
Fiona laughed. “Bullheaded, mulish, pigheaded, willful, and some I dare not repeat. My willful nature surfaced early, and my mother could not quite understand a daughter who preferred stringing a bow to sewing a stitch. My father, however, encouraged my interests. What of your mother and father?” she asked.
“My father taught me what it took to be a chieftain. My mother . . .” He paused in an attempt to find the right words. “I know she loved me; she hugged me often enough, but I always felt she was unhappy, though she saw to her duties and was respected by the clan.”
A rider approached, interrupting their conversation.
“The trail rears off around the next bend and it appears they picked up pace.”
“Follow and report to me what you find,” Tarr said.
“They pick up pace in an attempt to get to Raynor’s land and safety,” Fiona said.
“With his land bordering mine, there are a number of places where he can cross onto his land.”
“And be close to his keep?”
“No, it is a good day’s ride.”
“Then longer on foot,” she said. “You look troubled. What concerns you?”
He shook his head. “I have known no one who can sense my thoughts as you do.”
“I see it on your face and in your movements. Now tell me.”
He could see the same in her. It was odd how much alike they were and comforting to share that kindred spirit with her. He had never known that closeness with anyone and it puzzled him.
“Tell me,” she said again.
“Raynor rears off sooner than I had expected. His keep is farther north—”
“His men could be waiting for him,” Fiona said, her glance quickly darting to her surroundings.
“How would they know of his approach?”
She settled into a brief moment of silence before finding an answer. “His men could have been scouting the area since his capture.”
“Waiting to see if he escaped.”
“But why take Aliss, and how did he know it was Aliss he took?” Tarr asked.
“Raynor could tell us apart,” she admitted.
“How?” Tarr shook his head at the heavens. “I do not believe he could tell you apart and I could not.”
“Raynor claimed it was easy.”
“When I get my hands on him he will tell me this secret.”
A scout’s approach silenced them.
The scout was quick to inform Tarr. “Horses, they were met with horses.”
They camped for the night with no fire’s light to chase the chill and to alert no one to their presence.
Fiona sat braced against a large boulder, a blanket wrapped around her. She had worn her shirt, blouse, and a wool jacket of her father’s, which she had kept for use when riding. Still she felt the chill of the cold ground creep through her clothes and send her shivering.
She watched the activity of the camp, the men moving more quietly than she ever expected from ones so large. The horses even seemed to know silence was expected of them. Guards were being posted and men settling in for the night with orders that they ride again at first light.
Tarr approached after talking with a few men, she watched him walk, his strides long and confident. He wore his plaid with a white shirt beneath. A night wind stirred his auburn hair so that it spread like the wings of a raven, and his handsome features appealed even more for his look was intense, with a spark of fire to it. A fur was draped over his arm and she silently sighed with the thought of its warmth, though shivered at the thought of him sharing it with her.
He settled down beside her, tossing the fur over them and tucking it around her before taking her into his arms for her to rest comfortably against him.
She did not object; she welcomed his warmth and the fur, and she smiled at the stir