Labor of Love Page 8

  On the verge of interrupting her and asking what she knew, Grant stopped. He whispered, “Lass, ye need to be quiet.”

  Stopping, she turned and looked at him, her hands rested on her hips. “Why do I need to be quiet? How will I ever figure out what Lorcan wants and why he allowed ye to have me, if I don’t talk it out with a bit of pacin’? Admittedly, the barn works better for concentratin’ but I can make this work.”

  “Lass, I told ye to be quiet.”

  “What are ye whisperin’ for?”

  Grant grasped her from behind and covered her mouth with his hand. She bit him, but he didn’t let go. She kicked his shins, but he didn’t let go. He was tiring of her fit. Quietly, he muttered, “We are not alone.”

  At these words, she went slack in his arms, and he almost dropped her. “Listen to me, go to ye pallet, and lay down flat. Do ye understand?”

  She nodded and moved toward her bedding. As he grabbed his sword and held it forward, he watched the young lass try to lay down flat. At first she stretched out on her front side, but that didn’t last. Then she flopped over onto her backside, but her abdomen protruded into the air. She looked at him with fear.

  How was he going to hide her?

  ****

  How did he expect her to lay flat? Sorcha twisted and turned, trying to do as he commanded, but it was of no use. She couldn’t lie on her stomach, or she would crush the babe. She couldn’t lie on her back, or the babe would be exposed.

  Rolling onto her knees, she began the slow process of getting up. When she reached a standing position, she was rewarded with one of Samuel’s brother’s most fierce frowns. Calling him “Samuel’s brother” in her head was taking entirely too much time. She really needed to formally introduce herself and have him do the same.

  Honestly, she hadn’t meant to forget the danger they were in. Once she thought about knowing his name that was all she could think of. She was headed toward him with a scowl of her own, wondering how such an irritating specimen could be related to Samuel, when he up and disappeared. One minute he was in her line of sight, and the next moment he was gone.

  Aye it was dark, but she could still see. How had he done that? Where had he disappeared to? She spun on her heel, doing a full circle of their camp. Before finishing her rounds, she was hoisted onto her tiptoes by a hairy arm lying across her neck.

  The desire to scream was stifled by lack of air. As the world spun around and around, little bursts of light appeared behind her eyes, then she was released. She slumped to her knees, and reached for her bruised neck. Why had the pain stopped?

  Before the thought completely went through her mind, she heard the crunch of bones. She flipped around on her knees and saw Grant. His arm was bent at the elbow and wrapped tightly around the stranger’s neck. He dropped the man to the ground; his head lay at an awkward angle. Offering his hand, he drew her to a standing position.

  “Are ye all right?” he whispered.

  She nodded. He led her to a tree with a small hollowed area. Silently, and with hand motions, he indicated she should hide inside. He wouldn’t catch her arguing this time. She slid into the hole and turned around.

  She didn’t understand what Grant had in mind, maybe he didn’t know either. As she glanced around the open area, she saw another stranger entering the camp. Again Grant was nowhere to be seen. As the intruder approached her hiding place, Sorcha clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering and giving away her position.

  The intruder edged closer and closer. She felt something on her skin.

  She looked and saw a snake crawling up the front of her ragged gown. Shock held her tongue.

  Where was Grant? Surely he hadn’t saved her from burning only to let her die from the bite of a snake, or let some stranger hack her to bits.

  As she kept watching for signs of life, a flash of light split her vision followed by a thud. Did she dare risk moving to get rid of the snake? The answer was taken from her when a hand appeared in the hole, grasped the animal, and flung it in a wide arc.

  “Are ye all right, lass?”

  How did he expect her to answer? She was trembling from head to toe, desperately needing to sit down and thought she might need a stiff drink. Perhaps then she would be all right.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The lass was frightened, but he had no time to comfort her. When Grant saw the snake, he almost jumped too early. There were no poisonous snakes in Ireland, but could one ever be sure?

  As it were he held his position and waited to attack the assailant. Before long he was rewarded as the stranger walked into his line of vision heading straight for the girl.

  Two of the men were taken out effortlessly. But how many more were there? Grant’s hide and ambush plan would only work as long as the camp was found one man at a time. And as long as he got to them before they could make any noises and alert their partners.

  Right then it was impossible to sneak out of the camp without being spotted. He placed a finger over her lips in a shushing motion. She nodded in understanding. The bodies pulled out of the open, and underneath the foliage, Grant returned to his hiding spot.

  ****

  “I tell ye Pa, they came this way.”

  “Of course they did, ye fool. This is the only road to Dublin. Why would they go any other way?”

  Nigel was quickly tiring of the father/son bickering. It was a struggle to recall why he had brought the two of them along in the first place. He looked around at his men. “We will camp here for the night and continue the search in the morning.”

  Lorcan stammered and spurted. “W — what? But they could get away!”

  “Lorcan, where are the scouts?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Exactly. They have yet to return, correct? Therefore, we can conclude that perhaps the Cameron man took care of them. Would you like to be next?”

  Without giving a verbal answer, they dismounted and unpacked their gear.

  A shelter was erected under a crop of overhanging tree limbs. Nigel went inside, disrobed, and lay down for the night. Rest was elusive and unbidden thoughts assailed him. Although, he had indicated to Lorcan he would pursue Sorcha, he felt he could excuse his way out of it. At least until he had spoken with his wife. She was adamant Sorcha’s child would be hers. He had tried to convince her they could find another, one not conceived by shady means, but she refused. Her heart set on this one child.

  Nigel was an intellectual, not a warrior. But his wife’s happiness meant more to him than anything. He was willing to risk his life, break the law, or do whatever it took to please her. Even though he was willing to risk his life for her, didn’t mean he couldn’t use his brain to find a better way to accomplish his goal. That was why Lorcan and Festus were along. Why risk his worthy life, when he could risk theirs instead?

  ****

  Grant hid nearby as the magistrate and his men made camp. Relief flooded him to hear they would wait until morning to continue their pursuit. When sufficient time passed, he snuck over to the horses, took their reins, and headed farther into the wood. Dublin couldn’t be the only coastal town.

  The horses were secured to a tree near a stream. That way they could quench their thirst and be ready for travel upon his return. Concentrating on every footfall, Grant headed back to the girl. She had left her hiding spot and was staring at one of the men he had eradicated.

  To keep her from bolting, he walked toward her slowly. Stiff as a statue, Sorcha continued to meditate on the scene.

  Grant moved in close and put his lips to her ear. “Pack yer things, and walk toward the stream.”

  Sorcha didn’t flinch, nor did she question him. She grabbed her cover and small pallet, and headed toward the direction of the water. Once she ambled away, Grant packed his meager belongings.

  He felt pulled in two directions. Just a few steps away was the man who watched his brother die and had done nothing to stop it. In a mere second, he could avenge his brother. But he had given his word
. The magistrate had broken the bargain of safe passage for himself and the lass, but did that give him the right to betray his own word? Maybe a warning would be enough.

  Closer to the camp he inched seeing the large shelter under the trees. Skirting the edges, he reached the area behind the tent expecting guards but finding none. Up and under the back flap Grant slipped in.

  There he lay. Nigel Duffy was uncovered but robed in a long flowing linen gown. The bag over his shoulder rattled as Grant retrieved the items from inside and…

  Chapter Nineteen

  What was taking him so long? Sorcha wore a rut into the ground from pacing. Maybe she should leave without him and let him catch up. It would serve him right for making her worry.

  The foliage rattled and shifted as Grant burst through. In one swift movement he mounted his horse. Her brows rose and her mouth formed an o.

  Grant sighed and dismounted. Within two strides he stood beside her. Hands wrapped around her expanding waistline, he picked her up and sat her astride her own mount. Seconds later he remounted and off they went.

  They traveled in silence for the rest of the night. The road was left far behind. Just like her, he must have overheard Lorcan saying the road was the only way to Dublin. Anybody with ears could have heard that fool spouting off.

  Even though Sorcha knew which way Nigel and Lorcan were headed, it wouldn’t help her. She had never been that far to the East. Therefore, she didn’t know if it was the only way to travel or not. All she could hope was Grant knew where they were headed.

  When the sun rose above the hills, and she heard no signs of pursuit, she began to talk. “What is yer name?”

  Startled by her voice, Grant almost dislodged from his horse. It took a while, before he composed himself enough to answer. “Grant Cameron.”

  “My name is Sorcha.” She paused. “Are ye truly Samuel’s brother?”

  “Aye.”

  “I think it should be safe to talk, don’t ye? I mean, I am pretty sure they are no longer on our tails. That doesn’t mean they can’t catch up to us again, it is just they aren’t nearby yet.” Taking a quick breath, she continued, “Do ye know why they let ye have me?”

  “Aye.”

  “Well…” she said, waiting.

  Grant squirmed, but he didn’t answer. The man was going to have to realize she was not a patient person. “Well, don’t ye think I deserve to know why they gave me to ye?”

  “Aye.”

  “Then tell me all ready!” she said, throwing her hands up in the air as a sign of exasperation.

  “Verra well, if it will shut ye up, I will tell ye. They gave ye as a replacement for Samuel.”

  Sorcha could have commented on his shut up phrase, but she was to thrown by the rest of his words. “Replacement?”

  “Aye, since ye carry his,” he gulped, “babe. They offered ye two, if I promised not to seek revenge.”

  Sorcha refrained from informing him about the true parentage of her child. Was that the only reason he had saved her? She should have known it couldn’t possibly be for any other reason. Would anyone ever care for her again? Had Samuel been her only chance to have a husband?

  ****

  The tears glistened on her cheeks with the dawn. Perhaps she was emotional over losing her family?

  “Ye don’t have to worry.” He waited for her to respond but she said nothing. “The Camerons take care of their own. Ye and the babe will never want.”

  Grant’s father might or might not be happy when he brought home the illegitimate child of his brother, but with his brother’s death there was nothing left to be done. A show of gratitude from Sorcha for his sacrifice was expected, but instead she stopped her horse, slid off, and ran in the opposite direction. Frustrated, he dismounted quickly and took off after her.

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. “Where are ye going?”

  The tears were now a steady flow. “I have to get away.”

  Grant pointed his finger and shook it. “They are still out there.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Grant shook her. “Listen to me woman. I don’t know what Samuel saw in ye, I don’t know why he bedded ye before marriage, and I don’t care. Ye are carrying my brother’s babe, and I am going to protect ye whether ye like it or not.”

  Sorcha collapsed to the ground in a prayer position. What kind of woman sleeps with a minister and is still bold enough to pray? While her mouth moved with the silent words, Grant kicked the dirt. Finished, she stood with her back erect and headed to the grazing horses.

  Once astride, Sorcha casually turned to look at him. “Well, aren’t ye coming?”

  Chapter Twenty

  The morning air in the tent was cool. Wind whistled outside, tree limbs rubbed the fabric causing an alarming sound. Heaving a heavy sigh, Nigel remembered where he was. Not at home snuggled under a warm down comforter beside his voluptuous wife, instead he was on an errand. The task at hand served several purposes. One, to gain support from the commoners and two, make his wife happy.

  Realization of his current whereabouts wasn’t putting him at ease. Something felt different. Nigel struggled to rise, but was unable. Assistance was yelled for, and he was surprised to see Lorcan enter.

  “My, my, my,” came Lorcan’s shocked voice.

  Nigel frowned. “Don’t just stand there. Tell me why I can’t move?”

  Lorcan crossed his arms over his chest. “Well it appears ye have been staked.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Musta been where all the daggers went,” Lorcan mumbled.

  He explained as he removed the daggers. “It is quite simple. While ye slept someone snuck into yer tent and staked yer gown to the ground using yer own guard’s daggers.”

  “Impossible. Who could accomplish such a feat?”

  Lorcan leaned back on his haunches. “Obviously, not impossible. I’m thinking Grant Cameron had a hand in it.”

  Nigel looked at the ground, and studied the pile. “Why didn’t he just kill me?”

  Lorcan shrugged. “Probably wanted to see if a warning would do ye.”

  “Perhaps he is bound by religion not to kill?”

  “Nay, not so. We found the two scouts. One has a broken neck and the other one was slit from ear to ear. Nay, he has no issues with killin’.”

  Nigel trembled with fury. The man had dared to threaten his person! “Can we track him?”

  “Aye, we sure can. My boy may not be the smartest lad, but he can track any animal with feet.”

  “Perfect. Get the men ready. We leave immediately.”

  ****

  Sorcha’s horse trotted behind Grant’s. Fear gnawed at her gut. What was she going to do? He believed she had enticed Samuel away from his faith and into her arms. She should tell him the truth. These thoughts caused her to nibble her lip with worry. What if she told him the truth and he ordered her to go away? Survival without him was impossible. But could she live with herself if she let him think poorly of Samuel?

  “Grant, I need to tell ye something.”

  “Aye.”

  “Samuel isn’t—“ she began only to be interrupted. An arrow sailed past her face and embedded in a nearby tree. “Oh no, not again!”

  “Ride Sorcha!” yelled Grant.

  She whipped her horse and shot forward. Grant stopped and dropped to the ground. Surely he couldn’t expect to defeat them with his sword? From his distance his bow would work better, so why wasn’t he using it.

  The bouncing of the horse as she galloped farther from Grant had her gown flaring out to the side. Feathers tickled her leg. She understood. The bow and arrows were attached to her own mount! She had to help him.

  Horse angled toward a large tree, Sorcha stopped. Dismounting she grabbed the quiver and the bow. Hoisting them over her shoulder, she walked to the tree, lifted an arm, and pulled. It wasn’t easy, but she climbed several limbs, planted her bum on a steady one, and waited.

  ****

  Was he
crazy? Grant stood out in the open with nothing more than his sword at his disposal. When he perished there would be no one left to protect the lass or the babe. The first wave of men came over the small ridge notching a round of arrows. Behind the only shelter available he hid and hoped the men would come within range of his weapon before it was too late.

  The first man went to let his arrow fly, but instead he toppled forward. What happened? As more and more men fell, arrows sailed through the air above his head. Where were they coming from?

  The next shot was followed back to its origin, and Grant’s eyes bulged in surprise. What was she thinking? The quiver was on her back. The death toll at his feet rose and he realized she would soon be out of arrows. Grabbing a bow and arrow from one of the dead men at his feet, he helped her.

  How many men had the magistrate brought anyway?

  ****

  “Sir, we have to retreat. Someone is helping him and I have lost ten men already!”

  Nigel didn’t want to admit defeat. The dagger incident had embarrassed him, and he needed a victory to regain his honor. Instead of shouldering even part of the responsibility, he blamed everything on his men. “If you must. Retreat! How could I be graced with such incompetence in my ranks? Will I have to defeat the barbarian alone?”

  Lorcan snorted.

  “What was that?”

  “Oh, nuthin’. I think it is right amusing ye believe ye can beat the man alone.”

  Nigel ignored his comment. “Who could be helping him?”

  “Well, what weapons are being used?” asked Lorcan.

  Nigel bellowed to his head man. “What weapons are they using?”

  “It appears they have the high ground and are notching arrows. They are letting them loose before our men can completely ascend the hill.”