The Scot's Pursuit - Keira Montclair Page 0,42
I need to get her away before the others ruin her and make her mean, too.”
“We’ll try,” she promised. They’d decided they would go live on Grant land. Not even Branwen’s father would be bold enough to attempt to steal her away from Grant Castle, and Osbert Ware didn’t have the resources to come after them. Nor did he have the right to pursue Branwen, although he did not know that yet.
Lora shot two more arrows, then squealed. “Look! I hit one,” she said, running over to the tree she’d aimed at.
“You’re a quick learner. Good, because I may need you to help me if Alick isn’t able to come right away,” she said, silently praying he would.
She missed him already. “Come, we’ll hide our things, and we can head over to the castle, see if Jep saved us any more food. Mayhap he even saw Alick.”
The two traipsed back to the cave, refreshed themselves in the burn, then fed the horse oats before leaving for the castle.
It was a gray summer morning, but the air was a perfect temperature. Not too hot, and there was a slight breeze. They each picked some wildflowers along the way, doing their best to keep out of sight and off the regular path.
Before they knew it, they were standing outside Thane Castle.
Branwen gave Lora a swift hug and said, “You should stay back here. We cannot risk both of us getting caught. I’ll go to Jep and return as quickly as I can.” She handed her the small bouquet she’d gathered.
“Please come back,” the younger lass said, fiddling with the flowers. “What if you’re discovered? I don’t know if I could do this alone.”
Branwen hugged her again. “If anything happens to me, I’ll escape again. But don’t take any risks. If I’m not back in an hour, return to the cave. ’Tis where you’ll be safest. I’ll find a way back to you.”
“Even if they lock you up? What if they take you back to my sire’s hut?”
“Then I’ll run away from him, too. And remember, if I don’t return, Alick will be here eventually. You can tell him everything.”
“But I don’t know him,” Lora asked, her lower lip trembling.
“Handsome, dark red hair, muscular. He carries a huge sword. Much larger than the ones our guards carry. His horse is black with white on his face. He wears the red Grant plaid. Jep knows where you are, and he will send him to you. I have to do this or we’ll starve.”
Lora nodded. “I know. Godspeed.”
Branwen took off toward the keep, hiding from the men who would be at the gate. When she made it to the outside stables, she noticed Jep standing nearby, brushing a horse down, so she slipped to a closer hiding spot before whispering to him. “Jep.”
He turned in her direction, his eyes widening when he saw her, and brought his finger up to his mouth to hush her. The next signal he gave her was a flattened, vertical palm: wait. He left for a moment before returning with a small sack. After handing it to her, he left in a hurry.
That didn’t bode well, so she spun around and ran, her long legs rushing through the meadow toward the tree line that meant safety. She was nearly there when two mounted riders sounded an alarm and rode straight toward her.
Knowing she was about to get caught, she ran as hard as she could, hoping she could drop the sack close enough for Lora to find it. When they were nearly upon her, she threw it as far in front of her as possible, then ran in a different direction. The two horses gained on her, and one of the warriors scooped her up and tossed her across his horse.
He slowed and said to his companion, “’Tis Branwen. Lass, why did you run away? Your sire is not a happy man.”
She sat up and shoved against the man’s chest. “Why, Wiley? Because I’m already married. I married a man from Clan Grant before my sire attempted to wed me to an old fool who already has six bairns. How would you feel in my situation?”
Branwen knew many of the guards at the castle, and Wiley was one of the ones who had always been more sympathetic to her plight. “Ah, lass. I don’t blame you for the story. He did stick you with a bad one. But the man could die within the year and leave you a widow