ride on. Whenever you feel lucky, you just lift your head and see if I’m still around."
None of the men seemed in a hurry to take Aaron’s offer.
"Jericho, I’ve heard tale about a little dirk you keep behind your buckle," Aaron said. "Maybe you do and maybe you don’t. Now, I’d hate to kill an unarmed man, but not as bad as I’d hate to take a knife in the back by a dirty cutthroat who rapes women and cheats his own men."
Jericho’s hand stopped moving.
Aaron walked through the tavern, picking up weapons and tucking what he could into his belt and boot tops. Then he left the tavern behind, intending to find the little gal who General Bertram wanted with a vengeance. He was becoming more curious about Lainie MacPherson than he wanted to admit.
When several minutes had passed, one of the men eased his face off the floor and looked around.
"He’s gone," said the man.
"Check the trail," said Jericho.
"Check it yourself."
By the time one of Jericho’s men got up the nerve to check outside the tavern, Aaron was a long ways down the trail, riding at a dead run as he hightailed it after a lass called Lainie MacPherson.
Chapter Two
Gypsy’s hooves thundered beneath her. Wind whistled around her ears, and the cold of the night seeped into her bones, chilling her through. Tremors of fear swept down her spine and settled in the pit of her stomach.
“What on earth have I done now?” Lainie muttered to herself, bending closer to her mare’s neck, hoping the biting chill wouldn’t be quite so bad.
Several miles passed. Lainie was sure she’d left the handsome, dark haired stranger as well as Jericho behind. She looked for the fork in the road, the one that would take her home to MacPherson lands, but she must have misjudged the distance because she couldn't find the fork. Lainie pulled Gypsy back to a slower pace.
All Lainie saw in front of her were dense trees reaching to a velvet black sky. A soft mist began to fall and Lainie cursed the weather, not because of the mist but because of the tracks she would leave for anyone with an inclination to follow her. She sent Gypsy into the trees hoping the leaves and needles would be a guard against her tracks, but she knew anyone experienced in tracking could pick up her trail with little effort.
The path wound side by side with a river. If she didn’t know the precise place to cross, only luck would give away the narrow footbridge that stretched across a deep ravine. She knew this area well, and so she made straight for the bridge.
No one lived in this wilderness. There were no small cottages, no tiny settlements, no nearby castles or churches to take refuge from the inclement weather. All Lainie could hear above the sound of Gypsy’s labored breathing was the finely tuned whistling of the wind through the treetops. A slender moon shrouded by the mist hung in the sky casting little light on the trail she skirted.
Lainie still hoped for a good hard rain to hide her tracks, but she didn’t know if she was going to be lucky. Rain, mist, dense fog, all came and went in the highlands. However, she wasn’t in the highlands yet.
"Sorry, Gypsy girl, I know you're tired but we can’t stop here."
She moved through the dense foliage. Then easing a little toward the trail, she watched the road behind her, hoping she wouldn’t see anyone.
No one was about.
No sound of hooves or men could be heard.
She traveled north. That much she was sure of, but she was also sure she should have passed the fork in the road. She wanted to see MacPherson land once more. She wanted to feel safe and protected.
She had promised herself this was the last thievery she would do for the cause. The English seemed to be closing in around her. This had been too close. The unease prickled down her spine.
Anxiously, she turned and looked over her shoulder at the back trail. Behind her the path
None of the men seemed in a hurry to take Aaron’s offer.
"Jericho, I’ve heard tale about a little dirk you keep behind your buckle," Aaron said. "Maybe you do and maybe you don’t. Now, I’d hate to kill an unarmed man, but not as bad as I’d hate to take a knife in the back by a dirty cutthroat who rapes women and cheats his own men."
Jericho’s hand stopped moving.
Aaron walked through the tavern, picking up weapons and tucking what he could into his belt and boot tops. Then he left the tavern behind, intending to find the little gal who General Bertram wanted with a vengeance. He was becoming more curious about Lainie MacPherson than he wanted to admit.
When several minutes had passed, one of the men eased his face off the floor and looked around.
"He’s gone," said the man.
"Check the trail," said Jericho.
"Check it yourself."
By the time one of Jericho’s men got up the nerve to check outside the tavern, Aaron was a long ways down the trail, riding at a dead run as he hightailed it after a lass called Lainie MacPherson.
Chapter Two
Gypsy’s hooves thundered beneath her. Wind whistled around her ears, and the cold of the night seeped into her bones, chilling her through. Tremors of fear swept down her spine and settled in the pit of her stomach.
“What on earth have I done now?” Lainie muttered to herself, bending closer to her mare’s neck, hoping the biting chill wouldn’t be quite so bad.
Several miles passed. Lainie was sure she’d left the handsome, dark haired stranger as well as Jericho behind. She looked for the fork in the road, the one that would take her home to MacPherson lands, but she must have misjudged the distance because she couldn't find the fork. Lainie pulled Gypsy back to a slower pace.
All Lainie saw in front of her were dense trees reaching to a velvet black sky. A soft mist began to fall and Lainie cursed the weather, not because of the mist but because of the tracks she would leave for anyone with an inclination to follow her. She sent Gypsy into the trees hoping the leaves and needles would be a guard against her tracks, but she knew anyone experienced in tracking could pick up her trail with little effort.
The path wound side by side with a river. If she didn’t know the precise place to cross, only luck would give away the narrow footbridge that stretched across a deep ravine. She knew this area well, and so she made straight for the bridge.
No one lived in this wilderness. There were no small cottages, no tiny settlements, no nearby castles or churches to take refuge from the inclement weather. All Lainie could hear above the sound of Gypsy’s labored breathing was the finely tuned whistling of the wind through the treetops. A slender moon shrouded by the mist hung in the sky casting little light on the trail she skirted.
Lainie still hoped for a good hard rain to hide her tracks, but she didn’t know if she was going to be lucky. Rain, mist, dense fog, all came and went in the highlands. However, she wasn’t in the highlands yet.
"Sorry, Gypsy girl, I know you're tired but we can’t stop here."
She moved through the dense foliage. Then easing a little toward the trail, she watched the road behind her, hoping she wouldn’t see anyone.
No one was about.
No sound of hooves or men could be heard.
She traveled north. That much she was sure of, but she was also sure she should have passed the fork in the road. She wanted to see MacPherson land once more. She wanted to feel safe and protected.
She had promised herself this was the last thievery she would do for the cause. The English seemed to be closing in around her. This had been too close. The unease prickled down her spine.
Anxiously, she turned and looked over her shoulder at the back trail. Behind her the path
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