THE WARLORD Read Free

walked cautiously toward his hiding spot. They halted less than ten paces away.
    "This could be a trap, Uncle Ian."
    The soft, feminine voice belonged to the butterball. Her words pleased Kenric considerably. It was a good sign that their prey shared their concern. The woman drew her hood back to look around the tiny clearing, attempting to peer into the dark forest as she whispered her plea.
    "I say we escape by ourselves while we can. I'll guard your back well enough should we meet with any thieves. 'Tis obvious he is not coming. Let us be gone from here."
    The woman gasped at the same instant her uncle swung around with his sword drawn.
    "Put your sword on the ground, Laird Duncan. Slowly," Kenric ordered.
    Ian Duncan didn't move. The moon provided enough light for Kenric to make out the Scottish laird's shape, but his expression remained obscured by the night's shadows.
    "Do as I say," Kenric warned, nudging the woman's bulk with the tip of his sword. "Else she'll take my blade between her ribs."
    Ian lowered the weapon to the ground, then pulled his niece to his side, away from the warrior's sword. He looked at Kenric, but nodded toward Fitz Alan. "You were to come alone."
    "My man is loyal," he replied with a shrug. "Get the horses, Fitz Alan."
    "Lady Remmington will ride with me," Ian said, maintaining a protective hold on the girl. "I left my horse less than a mile from here."
    "We have your horse." Kenric picked up Ian's sword then sheathed his own, queerly disappointed that the lady was falling into his hands so easily. He hadn't the slightest desire to get a closer look at his prize. No matter how comely the face, it couldn't possibly make up for the package it came with. She was undoubtedly as homely as his horse or she would have shown herself by now. "The arrangements have been made at Kelso Abbey."
    "You are prepared to see this through, to do what is asked of you?" Ian asked. He waited several long, silent moments for an answer.
    "Aye." Kenric's reply was firm. "You can stay at Kelso Abbey until the search parties are recalled or make for your fortress immediately after—"
    "I ride for Scotland tonight," Ian interrupted.
    "Why are we going to Kelso Abbey?" Lady Remmington asked, her whisper nearly muffled by the cloak's heavy hood.
    "Hush, Tess," Ian scolded. "Here are the horses. Be a good girl and everything will be fine. Quickly now, we must hurry."
    "Yes, Uncle," Tess replied obediently.
    Fitz Alan returned with the horses and the two warriors mounted. Ian placed the bulky girl on his horse then swung into the saddle behind her. The animals moved almost silently through the forest, their hooves wrapped with rags to muffle the noise. This late at night they wouldn't have to worry about patrols from Langston Keep, but the woods were home to outcasts; thieves and murderers who controlled the king's highways by preying on unprotected travelers. Kenric knew they could handle that threat, but he didn't have time to deal with such a distraction. The night was half spent already and every hour counted.
     
    Tess Remmington gave little thought to thieves. Her worry centered on the pack of soldiers that could thunder out of the fortress at any moment. Her stepfather was going to be furious when he discovered her escape. Just the thought of Dunmore MacLeith made Tess's blood run cold. In outward appearance there was nothing to dislike about the Scot. Tall and fit, he had two wings of gray at the temples of his dark hair that gave him an air of distinction. But Tess, more than any other, knew a heart capable of coldblooded murder lay beneath the deceptive facade. The beast had married her mother a mere week after her father's suspicious death. Even then the odd set of circumstances that put Dunmore MacLeith inside the fortress had seemed a little too convenient. A month later her mother had also been laid to rest in Remmington's cemetery after a "fall" from the tower steps. Everyone knew the baroness planned to