Free Hunted (The Scottish Falconers Book 2) by Diane Wylie Page B

hate. But he, Derek Sinclair, one-quarter Scottish and raised in Scotland, had done none of these things. True, he had killed a few Dunnottar men-at-arms during their battle in the forest, but he had done it on orders from his commander.
    Derek sighed and pulled his hands up to brush an insect off his cheek. The ropes were very loose; either Boyd had done a bad job, or he intended to allow Derek to escape, if he wanted.
    Did he want to leave? If he left, he’d likely never see Isobel Graham again, and the idea of such a thing made his heart ache with sadness.
    Well, no sense being uncomfortable all night; it was enough to deal with a throbbing hip and ripped up back. Derek slipped his hands and feet out of their bonds and settled his abused body on the hard ground to sleep.
    During the long night, he had thought hard on it and decided to stay and face Isobel and her family. He would let the Grahams decide his fate after he explained himself … if they allowed him to do so.
    The pre-dawn sky had gradually changed from midnight black to a definite gray when Derek opened his eyes for the twentieth time. Birds tittered and tweeted in the newly leafed tree branches overhead.
    He wondered if the birds would sing as joyously if the falcons were roosting nearby.
    Sleep was no longer an option. Yawning, Derek rolled over and met the red-rimmed, blue-eyed gaze of Isobel Graham.
    He reached for her, but she flinched and stepped backward, away from his yearning touch.
    “Oh, Belle.” So nothing had changed overnight. She still hated him. Derek’s heart seemed to slow with this sad realization.
    “So, you stayed. Why didna ye just leave? It would have made things easier.”
    “Easier for whom? For me? No, I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t explain my actions so you might understand.”
    She stared down at him, her long hair falling like a curtain and shadows moving in her eyes. “No, easier for me. The sooner I forget that ye ever existed, the better it will be for me.”
    “I will never forget ye, Isobel Graham.” He put a hand over his heart. “You will live here forever.”
    Her eyes widened and she let out a wounded sound, turned, and fled into the trees.
    “What did ye say to my sister, ye English bastard?”
    Derek jumped to his feet as the furious Scotsman rushed forward with fists raised. So this would be how he met his end … at the hands of a berserk brother.
    More than ready to settle things, Derek stepped forward but kept his arms at his sides. “Go ahead, beat me senseless for telling the lass that I love her.”
    Fin stopped in his tracks, his mouth hanging open. All around the campsite, Grahams were on the move. Rabbie and Boyd came up behind Fin, whether to help in beating Derek or to rescue him, he wasn’t sure.
    Catriona rushed over to embrace and comfort little William, who had begun to cry.
    “Not so fast, lad, I’ll be wanting to hear the man’s story first. Mind, I may allow ye to have at him after.” Boyd strode around his son and took Derek by the arm to escort him to the blackened remains of the fire from the night before.
    “Boys, help Catriona with the cooking. No one can think straight on an empty stomach.” Boyd turned to Derek and pointed to a log. “Sit. Explain so we can all hear.”
    Then Boyd, apparently realizing Isobel should be here to listen to Derek’s story first hand, waved a hand at his family.
    “On second thought, Rabbie and Fin can make the morning meal. Catriona, sweetling, will ye see if ye can convince Isobel to come back? That’s a good lass.”
    A large grin spread across Catriona’s pretty face at the chagrin exhibited by the Graham sons after being told to do a woman’s job. “I’ll see to it, Da.”
    The corners of Boyd Graham’s mouth lifted, and the hard planes of the Grand Falconer’s face softened as he whispered, “She called me ‘Da’.”
    * * *
    Isobel knelt beside a tiny brook. Cupping her hand, she scooped up some cool, clear mountain