possible. The ride would be slower with Heather in tow, but the quicker they dropped her at Dunrobin, the quicker he could be about his way.
Daniel’s blood surged. God’s teeth, he loved a good adventure.
Chapter Three
M yra hid among the pine trees upon a rise and watched as Rose approached Dunrobin Castle across the flat valley below. The cold wind whipped inside her cloak, numbing her skin. Lord, please let her arrive safely . She repeated her prayer a hundred times or more until the gates opened and Rose disappeared within its depths. Her sister-by-marriage would be safe—and Myra wouldn’t have to worry about the Sutherlands insisting she remain with them.
Myra couldn’t allow for such. She had a promise to keep. A Scottish king to save. Even knowing Rose was safe didn’t cause her muscles to relax. If anything, she was even more on edge, for now she was all alone.
The loud grumbling of her stomach remind ed her of how little food she’d consumed over the past several days, and how unlikely it was she’d get more before reaching her destination. She had to keep reminding herself of her promise, or else she might run through the gates of Dunrobin and throw herself on the mercy of their cook. Instead she focused on her journey , ignoring her persistent stomach, and kept telling herself that once she was far enough away from Dunrobin, with no fear of the Sutherlands chasing her down, she would forage for mushrooms or nuts if she could find any. There wasn’t much else to be found. Winters in Scotland were harsh and what little could be foraged was most likely already gone.
Closing her eyes, she breathed in the crisp air. She was well and truly alone now. Her head felt heavy. Filled with the weight of the tears she’d left unshed, the strain of being chief to a clan she’d never expected to inherit. The death of Byron…
Her eyes stung, but she willed away the tears. She’d already been through so much, she refused to give in to her grief now. Pulling the Munro ring from within her gown where she’d tied it on a leather strip, she kissed the onyx and then tucked it away.
“Come now, Coney.”
Her horse, which she’d name d for his color so much like a pinecone, nickered and obliged her turning him around. His soft mane swayed in the gentle breeze, both of their breaths came out in puffs of steam. ’Twas cold. Frigid cold, and tonight she’d not have the warm body of Rose to sleep beside. Perhaps she’d sleep on the horse.
Getting Coney out of the stables, and the horse for Rose had been easier than she’d thought. No one, not even her own people , had been in the stables. The place looked deserted. If it weren’t for the occasional shout or scream, she wouldn’t have known they were in the thick of an attack. Even still, she knew how lucky she was to have gotten away. They’d climbed onto the horses, leaving at a fast pace, so scared, they didn’t dare look back. Only when they were miles away from Foulis did she turn back. Black smoke billowed, curling and mixing with the low-hanging clouds. Fire. The bastards had set her home on fire. She prayed that some of the villagers and the servants had escaped. The devastation Ross had wreaked on her clan was unthinkable. Boiling rage burned within her. She would have revenge. Ross would not get away with this. Not as long as she was alive!
At the pace they’d had to take with Rose’s condition , it’d been five days since they escaped. After their initial burst, t heir horses had to maintain a slow pace, and frequent stops for Rose’s bladder had been unavoidable. Myra was not capable of delivering a child in the wild, cold Highlands. She frequently checked to make sure Rose still held the bairn tight within her womb. At least now, she’d be able to let her horse fly.
Byron must have been looking down on them, protecting them along their journey , for they did not run into any trouble , though she’d had difficulty in hunting for them .