Highland Thirst by Lynsay Sands, Hannah Howell Page B

his leman once they reached
Cambrun, she had the feeling she would allow him to take her right to his bed
the minute they stepped inside the gates of his home.
    “Rabbit’s
ready!” bellowed Colin.
    Heming
laughed softly and pulled away from her. “I think Colin needs a few lessons on
how to slink away from one’s enemy.” He took Brona by the hand and led her back
to their camp.
    “Do
ye think Hervey is anywhere near us?” Brona asked, unable to fully smother a
stab of fear. The more she thought about how Hervey would react to what she had
done, the more she was terrified of being caught by him.
    “I
have seen no sign of him, but I fear that doesnae necessarily mean he isnae
near. We travel at night and he and his men wouldnae do that, so I feel we are
safe. I will feel e’en better when we reach Cambrun on the morrow.”
    She
took a deep breath to calm herself and push aside her fear. “He went in the
opposite direction, so it isnae as if he will pass by us as he rides back to
Rosscurrach.”
    Heming
was tempted to let her think that, to comfort herself with that thought, but he
had always felt that, when it came to danger, it was always best to know the
full truth no matter how bad it was. “He may nay have gone all the way to
Carbonnel and he may have stayed a verra short time. We are walking and he is
on horseback. I dinnae think he can be close by but I willnae lessen my guard.”
    “Nay,
that is probably wise. Nay verra comforting, but verra wise.”
    Reaching
the camp, Brona sat down and accepted a hearty serving of rabbit. Colin was
very good at cooking game and she knew she would enjoy every bite. He also
tended to give her very large servings and she had the feeling he felt she
needed to put some more meat on her bones. The faint hint of amusement she saw
glittering in Heming’s golden eyes told her he thought the same and she gave
him a brief scowl before starting to eat. She knew she needed the sustenance
for the journey still ahead of them.
    It
was several hours and several miles later that Heming suddenly grabbed her by
the arm and halted her. He hissed an order to stop at their three companions,
who hastily obeyed him. Brona had noticed how quickly her men had accepted
Heming as their leader and she had the sinking feeling that whatever had caused
Heming to stop and silence them would show her exactly why her men felt Heming
was a leader.
    She
tried to listen as he did, but could hear nothing. The growing blackness of his
scowl told her that he could, however. When he suddenly shoved her into a thick
stand of shrubbery, she yelped softly as the thorns cut through her clothing
and stabbed her skin.
    “Stay
there, Brona,” ordered Heming. “If aught happens to us try to get away and
continue on to Cambrun but remember to stay hidden as much as possible.”
    Struggling
to free her clothes of the brambles as silently as she could, Brona whispered, “Is
it Hervey?”
    “Aye,”
he whispered back as he silently drew his sword, the other men doing the same. “He
must have run a few horses to death.”
    “He
heads toward Cambrun hoping to find ye,” said Peter in an equally soft voice.
    “I
believe so and he must be feeling verra desperate to come so close to a place
he feels houses demons.” Heming cursed under his breath as he thought of how
close he had gotten to the safety of his home, but not close enough. He looked
toward the place he had sent Brona to hide and inwardly grimaced when he saw
that there were a lot of bramble bushes in the thicket. “Dinnae move from
there, love, unless ye have no other choice.”
    “I
willnae.”
    The
very last thing Brona wished to happen to her was to be caught in Hervey’s
hands. Right beside her cousin would be Angus, who was anxious to get his hands
on her, too. An icy shiver went down her spine and she prayed it was not an
omen of some kind. Not only was she terrified of being caught but she was sick
at the thought of watching Heming, Fergus, Colin,