It’ll take us a bloody week if you walk.”
She gaped at his vulgar tongue. “But the mule’s stamina will last longer.”
He rolled his eyes. “You are riding, and I’ll entertain no argument on the matter.”
Before she had a chance to object, he grabbed her waist and hoisted her in front of Coira. Then he slapped her thigh, the rogue. “You will last far longer up there.”
Sir James looked none too happy as he marched over and climbed aboard his enormous palfry—a horse far more capable of carrying two than the priory’s mule. “We ride.”
As Ailish slapped the reins, Coira whispered in her ear, “He’s rather arrogant, is he not, you being the daughter of an earl and all?”
Letting the mule fall back a few paces, Ailish cupped her hand to her mouth and kept her voice low. “He thinks me a nun.”
Coira shifted in the saddle. “And I’m a cabbage. Good heavens, he admitted to seeing you at the coronation. And you were quite a vision, I’ll say.”
“Would you leave it be? Clearly, he has no idea why I wasn’t wearing a habit last eve. We are traveling as nuns for our own safety. The fewer people who ken our identities, the better.”
“Och, have it your way, m’lady. But I reckon the only person you’re fooling is yourself.”
Sir James turned and beckoned with a wave of his gauntleted hand. “Keep pace, Sisters.”
***
The sun had traversed below the western horizon when James steered his mount toward a copse of trees. “We’ll rest the horses and make camp ahead,” he said, though he could hardly call the old mule a horse. First of all, it truly was no horse, and secondly, Sister Ailish had been right about walking. They might have made better time if the animal had been carrying only one of them.
Regardless, there was no chance in hell he’d ever allow a woman to bloody walk. If need be, he would be the one to take to his boots, but if James had his druthers, they’d all be riding at a fast trot, not ambling along like an old crofter taking a wagonload of hay to market.
“Do you ken where we are?” asked Sister Ailish.
“Three miles from Dunblane near enough.” He glanced over his shoulder seeing they’d fallen back once again. Bloody hell, he could crawl to Lincluden faster than the mule. “Come. There’s good cover ahead and we’ve enough daylight to set up a shelter and have a wee bite to eat.”
“Oh, thank heavens, I’m half-starved,” said Sister Coira, who was as round as a heifer’s rear end. If anyone looked famished, it was the younger nun.
Nuns? I’ll burn in hell afore I believe the sable-haired lass has taken her vows. First of all, she had to be a maid, else she would have had her head covered last eve—especially when attending the coronation of a king. Besides, if she were merely a nun, the king wouldn’t have mentioned her importance. Neither would he have taken such an interest in personally seeing to her protection.
Whatever the reason for her disguise, James wished she’d be forthright with him. He’d been appointed by the King of Scotland to see to her care and either Robert the Bruce wanted James out of his craw, or that lass was no nun. And by the sizable amount of coin the steward had given him to raise an army this morn, he reckoned it was the latter. James’ orders were to deliver the woman to the priory and then set to recruiting men and forming an army to operate out of Selkirk Forest—Wallace’s old den. Aye, the legend hadn’t set up camp in the caves for his health. It was a brilliantly secluded location from which to orchestrate raids on the English.
Only a handful of Scots knew how to negotiate the thick wood—men James needed to find and recruit to the Bruce’s cause. Such a task would take coin for certain.
After he led the women to the clearing, they dismounted and Sister Ailish released the girth strap on the mule’s saddle.
James stilled her hand. “What are you doing?”
“Removing his saddle, of course.”
“Nay, this is a time of war. Loosen the girth a wee bit, but the nag’s saddle stays in place. I’m certain I don’t need to say the further south we go, the more likely we’ll encounter English spies.” He set to hobbling both animals. “I’ve a chicken from the abbey’s kitchens. We’ll need firewood but cannot risk smoke afore dark. Can one of