Page 111 of The Scot’s Secret

She tried to think of something to say, hoping for some time for the merchants to arm themselves. Even an old man and a boy would know enough to carry weapons. She peered around her captive to see the old man did indeed hold a knife in his hands.

But it would provide very scant protection against these men unless they truly believed her a threat.

She’d been in difficult situations before, but this was one of the trickiest. Not even a full day had passed, and her life was already on the line.

* * *

Alex and Geoffrey were forced to slow down without much moonlight to guide them. They rode side by side, their horses kicking up pebbles and dust. At least it had not rained in a few days, making the road easily passable.

Unable to calm himself, Alex found himself thinking of all the horrific things that could befall Clara on her journey.

“Tell me about your brothers,” he said to Geoffrey, hoping the conversation would help distract him.

“You’ve met Bryce, of course,” Geoffrey said. “He’s always been the quiet one.”

“Quiet,” Alex chuckled. “I suppose that’s one way to describe him.”

In truth, Bryce glared more than he spoke. His silence was unnerving at times, and Alex still wondered how Catrina could have fallen in love with such a man. She was his opposite in so many ways, and yet there was no denying they were happy together.

“And Neill. . .” He was quiet for a moment. Alex allowed him time to think. “He takes after his eldest brother in his good looks and charm.”

Alex laughed aloud then. “I doubt that.”

Geoffrey ignored him.

“But he’s as headstrong as Emma. He oft acts before he thinks.”

Alex thought it was a good description of Geoffrey’s sister as he knew her.

“But I see Bryce in him too. Though I believe he uses silence more to his advantage than anything else. With us, he’s never too shy to give an opinion.”

“That sounds like Catrina,” Alex said.

“A fine woman,” Geoffrey complimented his sister. “Bryce could not have found a better one.”

“She is very much like the mother I knew from my childhood.”

Geoffrey didn’t answer, and Alex could have kicked himself. No matter how friendly they became, the subject of Geoffrey’s parents would never be a comfortable one for them, and he did not wish his. . . friend any discomfort.

“As is Emma,” Geoffrey finally said. “That my mother was killed attempting to attack one of your men was not a surprise to me.”

There was no malice or condemnation in his voice. Alex didn’t know how he managed such a thing.

“I feel sorry for the man who attempts to tame that hellion,” Geoffrey said. “I love my sister dearly, but she’s never once listened to anyone. Perhaps with the exception of our father. But I’m not the only one who couldn’t control her. My mother and my aunt and uncle had no better luck.”

Alex thought again of Catrina. Of Clara and Sara and all the other strong women he knew. “Maybe you should all stop trying.”

“Ha!” Geoffrey slowed his horse. “What of when she sneaks off in the dead of the night to ‘watch the waves ebb and flow,’ giving the entire household a scare? I could tell you stories that would make your protective instincts flare.”

Those same instincts made him aware that they weren’t alone. Geoffrey had slowed for a reason, and he could hear that reason just up ahead. Not voices, yet—these were more like whispers in the wind. He moved his hand to the hilt of his sword and waited, as did his brother-in-law.

They didn’t have to wait long for the threat to reveal itself.

27

There were as many different kinds of reivers as there were men. Some were of noble birth, even lawmen, who thought of reiving akin to a sport. Others, like the ones they met on the way to Kenshire, were more ruthless and mercenary than the most disillusioned of men. Most fell somewhere in between, reiving as a means for survival.

The reivers slowed, finally having spotted Alex and Geoffrey. Waiting for their approach, Alex flexed his hand—ready to determine if words would be enough to see him and Geoffrey on their way. He had no desire for bloodshed, but neither did he appreciate this delay. Clara was out there, alone and afraid, and he needed to find her.