Free The Highlander's Folly (The Novels of Loch Moigh Book 3) by Barbara Longley

that?”
    “I am a seasoned warrior and have developed instincts about such things.” Partly true. “Look to your mount’s ears, lass, and to Doireann’s. Their senses are far more acute than ours.” Indeed, Doireann’s ears pricked forward, flattened back and pricked forward again as if seeking the source of danger he surely felt. Meghan’s gelding did the same, lifting his front hooves in mincing steps. Murray and Tieren soon joined them.
    “I dinna like what I’m sensing ahead,” Hunter said, giving the two knights a meaningful look. “We’ve only the three of us for defense. If we enter the forest, we are sure to meet with trouble, and ’tis certain we are far outnumbered.”
    “We’ve John and George to defend the wagon,” Murray whispered. “And our pages have weapons as well.”
    “I can fight,” Meghan said, looking to each of them in turn.
    She’d tucked her sodden hair beneath her equally sodden cap. She shivered under her cloak, and her cheeks and the tip of her nose were ruddy from the cold. Yet not once had she complained or shirked her share of the duties when they camped. His admiration for her grew with each passing day. “Nay, lass. I willna allow you to do so.”
    “But you saw,” she hissed between her teeth, her eyes flashing indignation. “You know I can handle a sword as well as you can.”
    He wiped the rain from his face and clenched his jaw. “Do you recall when you found your weapon upon the ground?”
    “Of course I do.”
    “When you swung it about above your head, think you I did no’ notice the bluntness of the edges? ’Tis for naught but show. It matters no’ how well you wield the thing. You could no’ slice an apple with that blade, much less separate a man’s head from his shoulders.”
    All of the color leached from her face. “Oh. Right.” She chewed her lower lip for a second. “You have spares on the wagon, don’t you? I could—”
    “Aye, there are spares upon the wagon, but the lads will need them, and our other weapons outweigh you by two or three stones at least,” Tieren told her, his tone filled with feigned regret. “You could no’ heft a war club adequately, my lady.”
    “I’m good with daggers, and throwing them would keep me a distance away from our enemies,” she argued. “I can help. I want to help. Don’t you carry a whetstone or two? I could sharpen my sword right now.”
    “And if our enemies carry crossbows? Would ye have us sit like fat geese in the middle of this quagmire of a road whilst ye make ready yer sword for battle, lass?” Murray huffed, shaking his head. “ ’Twill no’ be long afore the outlaws sense our presence just as we’ve discovered theirs.”
    Hunter couldn’t help but be impressed by her courage, and by the fact that she viewed their enemies as hers as well. Any other lass would have gladly scampered off to some safe hiding place until he and his knights had vanquished the threat. “Have you ever killed a man, Meghan?”
    “No.” She glared at him. “Of course not.”
    “As I thought.” He blew out a breath before turning to her. “If it pleases you, I would rather today no’ be the day you make your first kill. ’Tis a messy business.” He searched the outer edge of the forest. A barely discernible path ran along to their left. Clearly theirs would not be the first group of travelers to circumvent the brigands hiding in the thick trees.
    “As quietly as we can, let us move the wagon off the road and into the brush. We’ll unload everything to carry ourselves from here on in. See yon path along the edge of the forest?” He pointed to the trail. “That is our way.”
    “Aye,” Tieren agreed. “The extra palfreys we can use as decoys. Let us divide the contents of our casks between the bedrolls, sporrans and satchels. We’ll place the empties upon the palfreys’ backs along with some of our gear. We can cover their loads with the tarp, which we can cut into three pieces easily