Lion's Legacy. Suzanne Barclay

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СКАЧАТЬ to wipe out a few plants than your clan.”

      “I forbid it,” Laurel cried.

      “You haven’t any say in the matter.” His jaw worked as though he meant to chew the trees down with his teeth.

      Laurel gripped the reins so tightly her hands went numb. “We shall see about that. When Grandda and Aunt Nesta hear—”

      “Your grandsire will agree with me.” Obviously he cared no more for her aunt’s opinion than he did for hers.

      “Touch one tree and I’ll...I’ll—”

      “You will follow my orders.”

      “Or you’ll whip me?” Laurel asked, knowing he’d never dare.

      His eyes narrowed to glittering slits. “Have a care how far you push me, lady.” With that, he jammed down the visor of his helmet, effectively ending the argument, and barked orders to her clansmen. Twenty were to remain at the mouth of the tunnel while Rhys climbed the rocks and Kieran rode upstream.

      “Will ye take the lady with ye?” Rhys asked.

      “She waits here where ’tis safe.” He cast her a knowing glance. “Duncan would fret did harm befall his granddaughter.”

      Clever man, Laurel thought as she watched Kieran descend the cliff path and ford the river. He’d known exactly how to gain her compliance. Clearly there was more to him than fierceness and brawn. She studied the width of his shoulders, the proud carriage of his head, a pang of longing coiled tight in her chest. He was truly a magnificent man. If only...

      Nay. There was no use wishing for what could never be. Even were it not for the vague warning of her visions, Kieran wasn’t for her. He was too cold, too ruthless. If she ever wed again—and she must if she hoped to have bairns—’twould be to a warm, passionate man such as her father and grandfather. Not one who harshly ordered her woods razed.

      Laurel’s uneasiness returned as she scanned the trees and bracken. The forest wasn’t as thick as the one covering the Lowthers, still a few men might hide there if they managed to cross the plain unseen. Her grandsire had stripped the near bank of the river bare for just that reason, but spared the far one because her aunt had argued in favor of saving the plant life.

      Even as she stared at the woods, an image flashed into her mind. Two men. Dressed in black. Kneeling in the trees to her left. Watching. Spying. The hair at her nape rose.

      Laurel shifted in the saddle. “Geordie, I saw...” The words died aborning even as the trooper looked at her. No one would believe her. “I’m going down to the riverbank,” she murmured.

      The young trooper’s lips pursed in the midst of his auburn beard. “Sir Kieran said ye were to stay here.”

      “No man has the ordering of me. ’Twill only take a moment, and I’ll be back ere he returns.” With a toss of her head, Laurel set her mare down the steep grade. Geordie didn’t try to stop her. He was half in love with her and had been deferring to her from the time they’d played together as bairns.

      Laurel held her breath as her mare forded the river, expecting at any moment for the spies to leap out and grab her. Fool. Likely there weren’t any spies. But the feeling was so strong that she played out the drama, heading to the right when she’d gained the far bank, as though she followed Kieran’s trail. Once in the woods, she doubled back to the left, dismounted and tied the horse’s reins to a stout oak branch.

      Unslinging the bow from her shoulder, she set off toward the grove she’d marked from the top of the ridge. ’Twas cool and dark under the trees, the spongy moss muffling her steps as she slowly walked along the river. Overhead, the leaves fluttered in the breeze that carried the rich smell of damp earth and herbs. Lacy ferns nodded to the same beat, heads bobbing over the rushing water. The familiar sounds and scents soothed her raw nerves.

      The thought of chopping down the forest hurt, even though she knew Kieran was right; it did pose a danger. Rude and arrogant he might be, but the man clearly knew his trade.

      A crackle in the brush up ahead stopped Laurel cold. Praying her dark clothes blended into the shadows, she held her breath.

      “Where did MacLellan get those mercenaries?” a man snarled.

      Laurel choked, then clapped her hand over her mouth.

      “How am I to know?” The second voice was low and raspy as a rusty hinge.

      “Bloody hell. They outnumber us now. We’ll have to lie low and send for the rest of my army,” the first man muttered.

      “Fool,” the gravel voice said. “If we strike whilst the mercenaries are away from the valley, we’ll stand a better chance of overpowering the men they’ve left behind.”

      Sweet Mary! ’Twas the reivers! Laurel trembled, struggling to hear over the frantic beat of her own heart.

      “We’ll work our way downstream till we’re out of sight of the guards at the tunnel, cross the plain, fetch back the rest of the men and attack,” said the rougher of the two.

      “They are my men, and I say we wait.” It seemed the smooth-talking man was the one in charge here.

      What to do? Should she stay here until they left, or work her way back to her horse and ride to warn the men on the cliffs? Leave! her better sense urged. She took a cautious step back; a twig snapped beneath her boot.

      “What was that?” This came from the gravel voice.

      “Likely an animal. We’ve a good view of the river from here, no one could have sneaked up on us.”

      “But there’s thick woods twixt here and the crossing, and we haven’t been watching careful since the mercenaries rode out.”

      Laurel froze, heart pounding so hard she feared the spies would hear it. She couldn’t see them for the gloom and intervening foliage. With any luck, they couldn’t see her. But to move was to risk detection. Mind racing with equal parts fear and determination, she sifted through her options.

      “I’m going to take a look around,” the gravel voice said.

      That decided things. Laurel began backing up. Her stomach rolled as she saw a figure rise in the shadows only twenty feet away. ’Twas now or never. She lurched around and took off running through the trees.

      “As ye see, the river cuts so close to the mountains that there isn’t any bank to speak of on the far side.” Ellis gestured toward sheer cliffs that seemed to sprout out of the water.

      Kieran nodded, impressed by the natural barrier. “Is it like this the rest of the way around these mountains?”

      “Aye. On the valley side the slopes are gentle enough to graze our beasts on, but the outside is steep and unforgiving. Every now and then a sheep wanders up to the top, loses its footing and tumbles down the other side. Breaks its neck, that.”

      “Hmm. So, clearly if an attack comes, it must be mounted against the tunnel entrance.”

      “Aye. But we’ve beaten them back twice. Mayhap they’ll grow tired СКАЧАТЬ