Hunted (The Scottish Falconers Book 2) (2 page)

For reasons she didn’t fully understand, Isobel urgently wanted to get back to the wounded Scottish man-at-arms. It wasn’t normal for her to feel the need to help a stranger so deeply, and she ended up accidentally raising her voice to her own Da.

“But Da, I told him we’d come back for him. He’s as helpless as a babe now.

Her father shook his head. “Ye ken we’re responsible for getting The Honours to a safe place. Mucking about with a member of the Scottish guard will no accomplish this. A wounded man will slow us down. We left your own brother behind for that very reason.”

Giving vent to her frustration, Isobel plucked the breast feathers off their intended dinner. “We left Rabbie with his wife in a very comfortable cottage. He wasna in danger of dying out in Dunnottar Woods.” Now she ripped the tail feathers off the deceased duck. “Da, the mon killed English soldiers, maybe even the ones that abused our Rabbie.”

Boyd Graham put a log on the cookfire and stared into the flames for several minutes before speaking again. “Ye make a good case, Isobel. You and yer mother were verra similar in that regard. I never could win an argument with Moira either.” He met her gaze. “Aye, we’ll retrieve the man … after we eat.”

Fin, who had been listening quietly to this exchange, spoke up then. “We’ll no be telling him what we carry. Agreed?”

“Aye,” Isobel agreed.

Going back to the place of the battle by torchlight was a big risk, but necessary in the dense forest.

Isobel led the way, carefully stepping over rocks, logs, and other obstacles in their path. Finally, they reached the small clearing. The stench of dead bodies filled the air. Fin held his tartan over his nose.

“Horrible. Where is the living man?”

The wounded man lay right where she had left him. Isobel held her torch high and saw that his eyes were closed and his skin was so pale, she wondered if he had passed on.

“Hello, Derek.” Isobel drove the end of her torch into the ground, shrugged off her bag, and knelt beside him. When he didn’t respond, she put a hand on his chest. He was still warm and breathing, so she shook him a bit. Finally, his eyes opened and his lips curled into a smile. The warming effect of that smile shook her to her core.

“Hello again, angel. It appears my manners have slipped. I didna ask yer name before.”

“I am Isobel Graham.” She waved a hand at her family. “This is my father, Boyd Graham, and my brother, Fin.”

He extended a hand up toward the men who both ignored the dried blood and shook Derek’s hand.

“Derek Sinclair, of the Skye Island Sinclairs and lately of the Dunnottar men-at-arms.”

“I’ve not seen ye about the castle,” Fin said after straightening up.

“I spent most of my time patrolling outside the walls.” He subsided to the ground again and closed his eyes. “Begging yer pardon. I’m a bit weary.”

Isobel pulled supplies out of her pack. “I’m going to get that arrow out of his leg first. Could one of ye break the arrowhead off the shaft?”

Derek’s eyes popped open again. “Have pity on a fellow Scots.”

Boyd laughed. “I’ll try.” He turned to his son. “Can ye start dragging the bodies somewhere for burial? We scairt away a wildcat, and I dinna want it to return. I’ll join ye shortly.” He turned his gaze back to Derek. “Mind yer manners with my daughter here, or ye’ll have more than a wildcat to worry about, lad.”

Isobel watched her father grasp the tip of the arrow in Derek’s leg and break it off cleanly with both hands. Then he helped strip off the wounded man’s breeches, nodded, and left to help Fin.

“How did ye get your boot off and leave the arrow here?” she asked, noticing that he wore a knee-high boot on his uninjured leg.

“I cut it off. My foot was swelling painfully.”

Isobel would have to take his word for it. In the darkness, there was no shredded boot in sight. She’d also have to hurry before the torch burned out.

“Ready?” But before he could answer, she seized the shaft and yanked the rest of the arrow out of his muscle. Derek gasped but didn’t scream. Isobel immediately pressed a wad of cloth against the bleeding wound.

“Och, ye are a tricky one.” He spoke between pants for breath.

Fin came up and dropped a few articles of clothing beside her. “For bandages,” he said then disappeared into the darkness.

Quickly, Isobel ripped the cloth into strips and bandaged his calf muscle firmly.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to wait until morning to sew up your hip wound. There is not enough light. But I’ve some soap and water to wash it for now.

This time she waited for Derek to respond.

“Aye, go ahead, and thank ye.”

She had him lie on his good side while she peeled off the cloth she had used earlier. By the warm glow of the dim torch, she could see that the long cut across his hip had stopped bleeding for the most part. Luckily for Derek, only skin and muscles had been cut. No bone was visible.

“Brace yourself, Derek.”

His entire leg had been bared, so she poured water over the wound from her pouch. He gasped softly once more. Then she gently cleaned the blood from the area around the nasty cut. Cleaning his gloriously muscled thigh and buttocks with a cloth was almost a guilty pleasure. He also had dried blood on his groin area where his male parts resided. She stopped.

“Go ahead, Isobel. I’m not too modest after all of this.” Apparently, he had sensed her hesitation.

“Aye.” She swallowed hard and began to gingerly wipe the area.

“Stop! I’ll do that.”

Isobel glanced up into the grim face of her Da. She had no choice but to hand over the cloth and water.

“I have to wait for daylight to sew up the wound, Da.”

He waved a hand at her. “Go get some food for the man now. Be off with ye.”

* * *

Derek closed his eyes once more. He was sorry to have lost the ministrations of the pretty redhead. The patriarch of the Graham family did not have the same gentle touch. Either accidentally or deliberately, Boyd caused searing pain at the site of his injury.

“Ye’d best not be getting any ideas about my daughter or I’ll finish what the English started.”

“No, sir. I donna. I won’t.” He winced as the wound was jostled.

Boyd stood staring down at him, silent for a moment. Then he glanced around the clearing.

“Belle, come here, lass.”

Derek’s angel came back bearing a chunk of bread and some meat, which she handed to him. “Aye, Da?”

“We’ll get more torches over here and ye can sew him up now.”

“But—”

“Do it now. We canna wait until morning. If more English are nearby, he must be able to walk.” Boyd nudged him with the toe of his boot. “Ye can walk, Sinclair?”

“If it’s life or death, I’ll surely try.” Derek said the words, but really had no confidence in his ability.

“Good.”

Isobel gave him a stick, which he put between his teeth. Her brother and father pinned his whole body to the ground. Sweat popped out of every pore on his body with the first plunge of her needle into his flesh. The world tilted and spun, so he squeezed his eyelids shut.

Her touch was gentle, and she murmured encouraging words in Gaelic as she sewed up the long hip wound.

After what seemed like forever, she tied off the last stitch. With her family’s help, he was bandaged tightly with the cloth and tartan.

Once she had finished, Derek waited a bit for his stomach to settle down before he ate the bread and duck meat. Nothing had ever tasted so good after days with no food. He nearly inhaled the water she offered him from her pouch.

“Easy, Derek. Ye don’t want it to come back up again.”

He handed back the pouch and lay down again. Isobel walked out of sight, but came back shortly with a blanket. She spread it over him and gazed down with an odd expression visible on her lovely face in the dim light. Warmth spread through him for the first time in a long time and he had no more thought for anything.

* * *

Early morning light woke her as it filtered down between the few remaining leaves on the trees. Winter was having its last fun with them as snowflakes quietly, but persistently drifted down from the gray sky.

Isobel stayed wrapped up in her blankets for a few precious minutes, watching tiny white snowflakes fall on the face of Derek Sinclair as he slept. Pain didn’t pinch his features, and she realized he was very attractive. Something about him had captured her imagination. She couldn’t tear her eyes away.

“Belle.”

She jerked upright. “What, Fin?”

Her brother, bundled up in his heavy coat and hat, stood in front of her with a falcon on his glove. “Da and I are going hunting. He says you need to get that man walking or we’ll be leaving him behind when we set out.”

Isobel’s heart sank. Derek Sinclair would not be able to walk in the next few hours. He needed a week or more to heal.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and watched Fin and Da, each bearing a falcon and a quiver of arrows, slip silently into the dense trees.

The bodies were all gone and the snow fell thickly, covering the blood-stained earth and torn up ground. Soon you would never know that a battle had happened here.

A fire still burned where they had all camped near the injured man.

Isobel shook off the snow and donned her own coat. A coat that Fin had pulled off one of the dead Scotsmen lay draped over Derek Sinclair.

Da had boiled some tea, so she filled a tin cup for her and one for Derek. The duck meat was gone, but they still had some of the biscuits her sister-in-law Catriona had made for them.

“Time to wake, Derek.”

Isobel held the items in one hand as she bent over and shook his shoulder gently.

“Where am I?” His voice sounded different from last night, but he saw her, cleared his throat and spoke again. “Guid morning, Isobel. How long has it been snowing?”

“’Twas snowing when I awoke a bit ago. Here, I’ve got tea and a biscuit for ye.”

He sat up slowly and leaned a bit toward his uninjured side before accepting his breakfast. “Thank you.”

“Da says you have to be able to walk if you’re to come with us.”

The biscuit disappeared in no time, then he sipped the tea a little slower. Isobel watched some color come back into his cheeks above the short beard.

“Aye, I had not thought past getting patched up, to be truthful. Where are ye headed?”

She hesitated before answering. Lying didn’t come natural to her as it did for her brothers, but she had to do it. “To Crathes Castle; we’re taking trained falcons there to sell.” This was the tale Da and Fin had discussed with her and, at least in part, it was true.

Derek gulped down the last of his tea, handed her the cup, and rolled over to his hands and knees. He groaned softly.

“Does it hurt?” Isobel put the cup aside and stood ready to help.

“Aye.” He raised his eyes to hers, pain and good humor both reflected on his handsome face. “But at least they inflicted damage to the same side of my body.”

This was true, the deep slash and the arrow wound were both on his left side.

“Wait. Sit down again so you can put your boot on.”

She had to search for his boot and found it covered with snow. After a bit of a struggle, they got the boot on his injured leg. Isobel helped him get to his feet by standing in front of him and holding both of his hands.

Derek slowly straightened up. By the time he was fully upright, she had to tilt her head back to see his face. Derek Sinclair met the definition of tall, dark, and handsome.

He stood with feet planted wide, breathing heavily, and putting some of his weight onto her supporting hands.

“Good, you’re standing. Can you walk?”

Derek’s dark brows drew together as he met her gaze. “I dinna think I can go far. Your family hasna got a horse?”

Isobel shook her head. “The English attacked our home in Dunnottar. We’ve not returned to get a horse.”

He swung his uninjured right foot forward, putting his weight on the left side. His fingers gripped hers tightly as he took a halting step.

“Ye did it, Derek!”

But he did not seem to be in a celebratory mood. “I am verra sorry, but I willna be able to walk. Perhaps if I rest a few days here, I can walk back to Dunnottar.”

“There’s nothing left at Dunnottar,” a familiar male voice stated.

“Rabbie!” Isobel dropped Derek’s hands and raced away, leaving him to stagger and nearly fall.

Derek barely avoided falling on his bad hip by grabbing onto a nearby tree. He eased himself to a sitting position on the ground, keeping his weight on his right side. Once he accomplished this, he was able to watch the procession arrive through the thickening snowflakes.

Isobel’s red-haired brother and father, each bearing falcons, led the way. Behind them came a donkey and cart with a dark-haired man and woman walking alongside. His angel ran up to the man and jumped into his waiting arms.

Who is he?
Some kind of unpleasant emotion stirred in his heart as he watched. It felt like jealousy. But how could that be? He barely knew the woman.

Isobel Graham was beautiful with her pale skin and red-gold hair hanging down her back in a long braid. She had wonderful azure blue eyes that expressed her moods clearly…at least to him. And those freckles … those freckles were adorable.

When she finished greeting the man, she wrapped her arms around the pretty, black-haired woman too. They obviously knew each other.

Completing the touching familial scene, a small boy with tousled brown hair and freckles popped up from between the bundles in the back of the cart.

Derek could hear Isobel’s cry of delight as she spied the lad. Everything seemed to please her, including the falcon sitting on a wooden cross bar mounted on the cart. Hell’s bell’s, she even hugged the scruffy donkey.

Originally, Derek had thought to try and make it to the English-held Dunnottar castle, but it seemed something had changed. The idea no longer held appeal.

“Excuse me, sir. But what news have ye of Dunnottar?”

They all turned toward Derek, seemingly surprised at his presence.

Isobel took the two adult newcomers by their hands and led them to where Derek sat. The brother and father, each holding a bunch of dead rabbits, went about their business of taking care of the falcons.

“Rabbie and Cat, this is Derek Sinclair, he was one of Dunnottar’s men-at-arms. He was hurt in a battle with the English. I found him here while I was out hunting. Da and Fin buried the other men who were killed in the fight.” She paused for a breath. “Derek, this is Rabbie Graham, my older brother, and his wife, Catriona.

“Are ye all from Dunnottar?”

“Aye, have ye never heard of the Graham falconers?” Rabbie exchanged glances with his wife. “I thought everyone in the castle knew about us.”

His young wife laughed. “Och, Rabbie, ye’ve quite a swelled head now, don’t ye?” Then she directed her green eyes toward Derek. “Nice to meet ye, Derek Sinclair. Ye can call me Cat like the others do.”

Just then, the child appeared and took hold of Catriona’s skirt. “Rabbie and I found someone too, Belle. This is young William Ogilvie, son of Governor Ogilvie. He was guarding what was left of Dunnottar.” She winked. “We’re taking him to find his mamm and da.” She put a hand on the boy’s shoulder protectively.

“Poor lad was left alone. Everyone at the castle was either killed or marched off. Nothing much is left at Dunnottar. Damn their English hides.” Rabbie Graham went red in the face as he spoke, and Derek’s guilt over his part in this attack on his grandmother’s people grew a bit more.

Isobel must have seen this on his face because she spoke up quickly in his defense. “Och, Derek, ‘twas not your fault the Dunnottar men were overpowered. I ken ye did your best. Ye’ve the wounds to prove it. Rabbie has suffered at the hands of the English as well.”

Suddenly, she stopped and gazed at her brother. “Why are ye here, Rabbie, instead of resting in Catriona’s nice, warm cottage?”

Even through the falling snow, Derek could see the tears gathering in Catriona’s eyes.

“T-they burned it down, the English did!”

Derek jerked with surprise, making pain shoot up from the arrow hole in his leg to the slice in his hip. “But why? I didna think the English soldiers were assaulting regular folk.”

A look passed between the couple that he could not decipher.

“Because they are evil!” she cried.

The little boy began to cry at this, his tears joining Catriona’s. Isobel wrapped her arms around them both.

“I think the man already kens this fact.” Rabbie put a hand on his wife’s shuddering shoulder. “Belle, the Graham home has been burned to the ground as well. None of us have a home anymore.”

* * *

Everyone heard this pronouncement, and the whole camp fell silent at Rabbie’s words. William sniffed. Fin and Da, who had been feeding the falcons, stopped in their tracks.

“Nothing is left?” Fin said in a choked voice.

“I found a few things.” Catriona reached into her coat pocket. She pulled out a small, carved wooden horse. “Rabbie said ye both would play with this.” Walking to her brother-in-law, she placed the toy carefully in his big hand.

Isobel had never seen her large, boisterous brother so quiet and subdued. Da looked as if someone had slapped him.

“Aye, that we did.” Fin finally responded. “Come here, William.”

The boy shuffled slowly toward Fin, who crouched down to his level.

“Here, this is for ye. My Grandda made it for us. I hope ye can take good care of this old beauty.”

William bobbed his head and Fin, with a wink for Rabbie, placed the little horse in his hands.

“Thank ye.” The boy’s whisper was almost lost in the swirling snowflakes.

“Belle, Cat also found something that belongs to you.” Rabbie nodded at his wife.

She reached into her pocket again, went to Isobel, took her hand, and dropped a gold heart-shaped locket and chain into it.

Tears blurred Isobel’s vision as she looked down at the locket and up to Cat’s sympathetic face. “’Twas Mamm’s, and she gave it to me when I came of age.” Her throat was so tight she could barely get the words out. “Thank ye, Cat. This means so much to me. The locket belonged to my Gram first. Did ye look inside?”

Using her thumbnail, Isobel opened the locket and held it so Catriona could see inside. “Isn’t she beautiful? Gram was so young then.”

Catriona held out her hand to shield the locket from the falling snow. “Why, Belle, you look like yer Gram!”

At this, Da and Fin crowded around to see.

“Aye,” Da agreed. “You are the spitting image of Moira’s mamm, except for your hair. Moira’s side had brown hair. Ye get the red from me, like it or no.”

Isobel turned her gaze to the top of her father’s head. “Aye, there is nae doubt about that, Da.” She chuckled and glanced around at her family. “God’s will has been done, and the Grahams are back together again.”

Some of the anxiety of her family members’ faces eased just a bit.

“That’s settled then. We will all go to Crathes Castle together. Perhaps we can sell a falcon or two to the Burnett of Leys. We’ll need funds to rebuild our home in Dunnottar when the English leave.” Da fixed them all with a look that sent them off to prepare for the trip.

Derek had been silent through much of their conversation and now sat hugging one bent leg and resting his chin on the knee. He appeared to be deep in thought.

Isobel approached her father. “What about Derek, Da? He canna walk verra far.”

Boyd rubbed his auburn beard thoughtfully. “’Twould be against our Christian ways to leave him to fend off the wild cats and wolves alone.” He swung away from her toward the donkey cart where Rabbie and Catriona were unloading pots to cook the rabbits from the morning hunting trip.

“Rabbie!”

“Aye, Da?” Her brother handed a pot to Catriona.

“See if ye can make room in your cart for Derek Sinclair. The man cannae be left behind. He’s a good, God-fearing, English-hating Scotsman like us.

* * *

Derek raised his head after hearing his name. Isobel glanced toward him with a huge, happy smile on her pretty face that sent warmth coursing through his cold body. Then she pulled the hood of her coat over her head against the heavily falling snow and went to help the others.

He sighed and rubbed his throbbing leg. Could he pretend to be Scottish forever? Actually, he was partly Scottish, but he was mostly English … their enemy.

Exhausted, he flopped backward, ignoring the snow under his head and closed his eyes. What else could he do but go with them? His whole unit had been wiped out. His commanding officers didn’t know he was alive. He didn’t even know where the English troops were right now because they were apparently not at Dunnottar castle.

“How do ye feel, Derek?” Her silky voice made his heart leap, and he opened his eyes. Isobel stood peering down at him, her face shadowed by her hood.

“A bit unwell still, but I’ll do.”

The corners of her mouth lifted, and her even white teeth showed as she grinned at him. “Good. Shall I give ye a hand up or do you need one of my brothers to help ye?”

“I’d prefer a hand up from you any day.”

He got his good leg in position and extended both hands to take hers. Once he was upright, she placed his arm around her shoulders and put her arm around his waist.

They made it to the donkey cart, where he sat down on the back edge.

“Will my weight be too much for such a small creature?”

The cart was already loaded with lumpy sacks of something and little William. Several T-shaped wooden structures lay inside as well. Derek had seen these used as perches for the falcons.

“Och, no.” Catriona, Isobel’s sister-in-law, was repacking the pots after cooking the rabbit meat. Turning to Derek, she smiled a bit sadly. “Roger, our donkey here, could pull me, my big father, and an entire load of bread and rolls without a problem. He can do it fine.”

She patted the donkey’s rump affectionately.

Her husband came up beside her and leaned down for a quick kiss. Derek watched her whole face light up at Rabbie’s appearance. That was love.

He glanced at Isobel as she went about helping clean up their campsite and slung a bag over her shoulder.

Does she love someone?
She wasn’t married, but she could be sweet on a man somewhere.

Just then, Isobel walked toward him. Although Derek tried mightily to keep his expression stoic, his mouth curled up involuntarily. Just seeing her made him happy.

“Ready?”

“Could I ask ye a favor first? I left my weapons over there—a sword and a knife. Would you fetch them for me?

As she turned to get the weapons, her pack banged against her side.

“Would ye like me to hold your pack or put it in the cart, Isobel?”

“No!” Her face turned pink for a second. “I mean, no thank ye, kind sir.”

“Want some?”

Derek turned to see little William holding out a piece of meat.

“No, Willie, you go ahead and eat it. Would it be okay if I ride with you?”

William gobbled the morsel and licked his fingers one at a time. “Aye, I’ll show ye how to make a bed.”

As Derek divided his attention between the boy and Isobel, he mused over her reluctance to part with the sack. Then he noticed that Boyd and Fin Graham carried the same type of sack.

She came back and handed over the weapons.

There was no time for further thought. The cart started forward with a jerk and Derek nearly fell out, which sent a jolt of agony through his body. This was going to be a long and grueling trip.