Page 47 of A Highlander's Vow

He hurried from the keep and took the reins from the lad. He swung his leg over Apex’s back and settled into the saddle, determination in his heart.

*

Megan had beenhours on the horse, and was weary. Thankfully they hadn’t tied her hands because it would have made it difficult to ride. However, the entire day she’d been surrounded by warriors, so there was no escaping.

While they rode, she thought about appearing before the king, which was apparently Anthony’s idea. She didn’t think she would be looking appropriate to stand before the king. The dress she wore whenthey took her was not only wrinkled, but the apron covering it that she aways wore when she helped Emma had spots of blood from the warrior they were trying to keep settled so Emma could examine his legs. She’d felt a snag in her dress when they pulled her through the cement hole, so most likely her dress had been torn. And her hair had fallen out of the topknot she’d put it in earlier in the day. That might be Sinclair’s plan: to bring her before the king looking dirty and disheveled to show him how she was not being provided for.

She was relieved to see that they had stopped for the night. They didn’t seem at all concerned about Gregory coming after her, which she knew in her heart he would.

She looked around their settlement. Behind her was a cluster of trees. In a short time, she would have to relieve herself. Since no one came to help her off the horse, she sat there and watched Anthony and The Gunn argue. She looked around the group, who appeared to ignore her and, growing bored, helped herself off the horse.

She took a seat on a tree stump and viewed the activity. Gunn and Anthony were enjoying their usual whisky while the men traveling with them set up the camp. If she waited long enough, mayhap the two men would be unable to chase her, or even realized she had run.

Her shoulders slumped. She would be putting herself in quite a bit of danger if she tried to escape. She had no horse and wasn’t even sure where she would go or even in which direction.

Stories of brigands attacking women and using them made her decision. She would not try to escape, but mayhap the best thing would be to try her best to slow them down, giving Gregory time to find them.

She shook her skirts off and headed toward a cluster of bushes just as she heard a shout from Anthony. “Where do ye think ye are going, lass?”

Megan turned and placed her hands on her hips and huffed. “I need a place to take care of my needs.”

The Gunn waved at one of the warriors who stood and walked toward Megan. “I will take ye, lass.”

As they walked away, she heard Anthony say, “Ye will need to keep that one in place, ye ken. A fist once in a while would be good.”

Her stomach cramped at his words. If Gregory didn’t make it in time for her to be swept away by The Gunn—or if he didn’t come after her at all—her life would become hell. But then she reassured herself that Gregory loved her, even though he’d never said it. He would not let her go and she had faith in him that he was right now heading to Edinburgh to stop the nonsense.

The farther into the woods they walked, the more the sounds of running water brought a smile to her face. She really needed to clean up. Once she did what she needed to do, she walked toward the young man. “I need to find that creek or stream I can hear.”

He looked surprised. “I doona ken, my lady. The Sinclair only said to bring ye to the bushes to…” His words drifted off as his face grew in color. “I’m no’ sure.”

Megan sighed. “I doubt verra much if that source of water is large enough for me to swim away if that is yer concern.”

The lad nodded. “Aye. I’m no’ sure where it is, but I think we can find it.”

They walked for a short time, following the sound of the water splashing. Eventually they found a nice-sized creek. Megan knelt on the edge of the water and scooped as large an amount as she could into her hands.

She smiled as she bathed her face with the fresh, cool water. She washed her hands and arms, and then did the best she could with the smears of blood on her apron.

Once they returned to the group, Sinclair waved her over. “Doona be so sad, lass. Ye will be marrying a wealthy mon.” He grinned at The Gunn. “Especially since he gets yer dowry.”

Her breath caught. “What dowry?”

Sinclair waved his hand at her. “The one yer da paid to Robert when ye married.”

The Gunn grinned and nudged Sinclair in the ribs. “And which he ne’er saw.”

She was stunned at his words. Even though she assumed there had been a dowry as there always was, since Robert never mentioned it, she thought that like most wives she had no say in how it was used and or spent. But now, according to The Gunn, Robert never got the dowry when they married.

She narrowed her eyes. “If there is such a dowry, it must go to Gregory Mackenzie.My husband.”

Sinclair swayed on the rock where he sat. “Nay. Ye canno’ be married to Gregory Mackenzie because I dinna approve it.”

“I dinna need yer approval since ye are no relation to me.”

He attempted to slam his hand down on the rock, but missed and would have tumbled to the ground if The Gunn didn’t grab his arm and pull him back up.

Once he straightened up, he said, “Aye. I am yer laird. I decide who ye shall marry.”