7
Rob weaved through the camp, both exhaustion and anger tugging at his eyes, contradicting one another in a battle for his attention.
How easy would his life be without Kenna Gordon? This trek through the Highlands would be so simple. He would have relished in the evening’s enjoyment, and probably would still be out there looking for tracks and trails that would lead him to the bastard archer. He would use every one of his wits and his experience as a hunter to corner him in some hole with no escape. What fun that could have been.
Instead, he had been out in the forest with his mind already back in his tent, wondering if this was all a ploy and if the real danger had circled back to the camp they had all so readily abandoned, to Kenna and the others who sat defenselessly. Murtagh shouting his name at the top of his bloody lungs had almost been a relief, a welcomed excuse to retreat back and see. Then the reality of that had set in, and his heart hadn’t slowed since.
The Queen wasn’t going to let them get past this so easily. No, he expected this wasn’t the last time he would find Kenna at her mercy, screaming in agony as her guards pressed her for information about the Gordons.
“She should have stayed in the tent,” he muttered to himself. “None of this would have happened if she had stayed in the damn tent.”
But ye wouldn’t have kissed her if she stayed in the tent, Rob thought, causing a fresh wave of anger to wash through him, the taste of bad memories overpowering the sweetness of her lips.
It wasn’t how he had planned it, but then nothing had gone to plan as of late. Was it exhaustion or something else that had made him lose control? Was it exhaustion or something else that had kept her from pulling away?
With Murtagh nowhere to be found, and Rob expecting that he had been conscripted into a renewed search in the forest, Rob circled the camp in search of healing ointments or bandages or whatever else he could find. Some came easily, such as bandages and ointments to ease the pain of a bruise, but no one seemed to have packed anything to help with a burn. Well, the Queen probably had, but that was not likely to be a fruitful request.
Rob had just finished checking with the Munros when a wheezy voice called for him from behind. The Earl of Sutherland was running slowly toward him, panting and gasping when he finally came close.
“I’ve been following ye fer some time. Ye walk so quickly, lad.”
The fool of a man was dressed for battle, with heavy armor strapped to his chest, a necklace of emeralds and rubies embedded into the steel. People in the camp, who must not have known him better, were giving him wary looks, nervous about the implications of wearing armor after such a terrifying night.
“Apologies. I’m in a wee bit of a hurry,” Rob replied, doing is best to mask his irritation.
“Aye, I am sure ye are. But I may have the solution.” Sutherland pulled a small jar from his sporran. “My wife never fails to pack an entire pharmacy whenever I am to travel. Comes in more useful than I’d care to admit to her. This should soothe yer wife’s burns.”
Rob stared at him, a bit dazed.
“‘Tis what ye are looking fer, is it not? I heard a rumor.”
“Aye, thank ye kindly. This was the one thing I was yet to track down,” Rob said with a grateful nod as he accepted the small clay jar.
“Other than that archer. Ah, too soon? Apologies. I am happy to help ye with this matter, at least. Allow me to walk with ye fer a time?”
“At yer leisure. Is there something ye wish to discuss with me?”
“Ah, a bit of an unpleasant subject, I am afraid. I have some concerns, which I hope to air.”
Then air themand let me be, Rob thought.
“Though the subject is sore, I am sure that with careful words and considerations, I may be able to propose the situation to ye without much trouble.”
“Then propose it, Laird Sutherland,” Rob said, stopping their slow march to face the man, relying unfairly on his superior build as a show for intimidation. “Forgive me, but it has been a long night, and I haven’t the energy to gather meaning that is being so carefully hidden by political phrasing. I promise ye’ll not offend.”
Sutherland glowered a bit before taking Rob’s arm and leading him forward. “I wish to speak about yer wife. Though it pains me to influence a marriage so young and so vibrant, I am afraid that I must ask ye to proceed with caution when it comes to what ye allow her to ken. I am not sure she can be trusted.”
“An interesting position considering ye seemed to speak in her favor before Queen Mary.”
“Being innocent of a singular crime does not make one a saint. I do not believe the Queen’s theory that yer wife somehow signaled the attack with a fire, particularly after hearing yer own testimony on her behalf, but our conflict with the Earl of Huntly is far from complete, and certain things have led me to believe that Kenna’s loyalty may still reside alongside her clan of birth.”
“Certain things? Such as?”
“After the fall of Inverness Castle, I took it upon myself to negotiate a solution that would resolve the issue quickly, allowing Queen Mary to more immediately move on to more pressing issues. ‘Twas I who convinced the Queen to propose a marriage between one of the Gordon lasses and a man of her choosing. After she agreed, I brought the proposition to the brothers and convinced them in turn. Do ye ken how readily they agreed to give away their sister? It was marvelous; the entire negotiation took scarcely an hour.”
“Yer point?”
“My point is that ‘tis quite suspicious, no? Two brothers, so loyal to the Earl of Huntly, practically throwing their sister into the center of the very army that rises against him?”