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

enough.”
    “ ’ Tis a sound plan, Tieren,” Hunter said. “We must each carry our own weapons. Meghan will take the food, waterskins and blankets.”
    She shot him a disgruntled look. He shook his head. “Dinna argue, lass. I’m doing my best to protect you.”
    “I don’t need your—”
    “ ’Twould be prudent to have her sword sharpened by a blacksmith in Aberdeenshire,” Tieren interjected. “Whether or no’ she ever joins us in battle, I would feel better knowing she could defend herself if need be.”
    Meghan flashed Tieren a grateful smile. “Thank you. I agree. Let’s have my sword sharpened.” Then she turned a glare his way. “In the meantime, give me a bunch of daggers just in case.”
    “I’ll see it done, my lady,” Tieren said. “We’ve several to hand.”
    Hunter bit his tongue. Tieren received beatific smiles and gratitude, while she gave him naught but defiance and cheek. Did the woman not recognize that he was her champion? Did she not understand and appreciate his attempts to keep her safe? Ah, but hadn’t he also been the fool to take her away from all she held dear? He stifled the groan rising in his throat and turned to oversee the wagon being moved off the road.
    Together they made quick work of redistributing their goods. “We’ll use signing until we can see the gates of Aberdeenshire.” Hunter accompanied his words with the signs.
    Meghan’s expression suffused with frustration. “Even though I recognize ASL, I don’t know how to sign.”
    “Just stay where we put you, and follow along as quietly as you are able,” he whispered close to her ear. “Mayhap I can begin to teach you once we’re safe.”
    “Or I can,” Tieren said, inserting himself between the two of them.
    Hunter reached out with his senses to get a read on him, but Tieren had long ago learned how to mask his true feelings. All he could glean was a distracting jumble. Was Tieren serious about claiming Meghan? “Aye, or you can.” Hunter let the matter go and took up the lead, well aware that Meghan’s gaze once again followed him. Mayhap he was as much a puzzle to her as she was to him.
    He signaled for the group to follow as quietly as possible, and they started out for the path leading around the outskirts of the forest. They’d tied bits of canvas over their horses’ hooves to muffle the sound, and they rode with only rope halters lest the jingle of bits and curb straps alert any to their whereabouts.
    Like wraiths they crept along at a snail’s pace through most of the afternoon. By his reckoning, they had little more than a league to go before clearing the wood and gaining sight of Aberdeenshire’s gates. Though the prickling dread still rode him hard, a fervent hope ignited that they’d managed to outwit the fiends lying in wait.
    He led them around the next bend, and the fine hairs on his forearms and at the back of his neck stood on end mere seconds before he spied six rough-looking villains, two on horseback, all blocking their way. They held broadswords and axes. Their malice slammed into him like a war club. “Shite.”
    Tieren, Murray, George and John rode ahead to join him. He flashed them an incredulous look. “If you are all with me, who watches our rear?”
    “Meghan, Allain, Tristan and Harold.” Murray spared him a glance.
    “Shite.”
    “You’ve already said that,” Murray remarked while drawing his sword.
    “Aye, well it bears repeating.” He looked to Tieren. “Go back and guard her.”
    “ ’Twould be an honor.” Tieren bowed his head briefly and turned his warhorse on its hind legs. He cantered back and dismounted, positioning himself at the end of the line facing the way they had just come with his sword drawn. Hunter issued orders to the lads to herd the horses into a tight knot and hobble them so they couldn’t bolt.
    Once he was assured Meghan, the palfreys and the lads were protected, Hunter turned back to face the brigands before them. “May God