Or mayhap, the Frenchwoman was Anora's kin, as she had said—she only wished to take Anora home—and they had no plan to kill Matthew or harm the lass.
But Niall had to know that for certain. He watched the two remaining knights leave and follow the rest of them and was relieved the men had no intention of killing the butcher's son. Before Niall had a chance to dash back to Gunnolf and the horses, Matthew circled around and spied him crouched in the trees.
Surprised to see Matthew's actions, Niall straightened. What was the man doing? Had he intended to follow Anora and her escort after all? One man alone?
Foolhardy notion if that's what Matthew had in mind.
Niall was about to signal him not to say a word, afraid he would speak and give them both away, but Matthew seemed to understand Niall was on his side and rode up to Niall and whispered, "Are you a friend to Anora or foe?"
Well, mayhap he wasn't all that certain.
"My friend and I were taking her to my cousin's castle in the Highlands for safekeeping," Niall said, his hope that placing his trust in Anora's friend was not a mistake.
They needed to even up the odds, though Niall wasn't certain Matthew could fight well against the knights, given that he was only a butcher's son. Niall suspected now that Matthew had not just chanced to come upon Anora in the woods, but had followed these gray-cloaked Frenchmen and woman, in an attempt to locate Anora. But what had he intended to do beyond that?
"Where is this friend of yours?" Matthew asked.
"That way." Niall motioned in the direction of the rocky brae.
"Get on, and I will take you there." Matthew held out his arm.
Before Niall could take his arm, he stalked over to where the puppy sat, her big brown eyes watching him, and then he scooped her up and slid her into his tunic, his belt around his shirt helping to make the perfect pouch for her. She settled against his chest, warm and furry and content—which he was grateful for. He could just imagine the pup clawing to get out, and he didn't want to leave her behind.
When Matthew saw that Niall intended to take the dog with him, his eyes rounded a bit, but he didn’t say a word. Wisely.
He helped Niall to mount behind him, and then Niall directed him to the rock face where they had slept during the night.
"Tell me the truth about what is taking place," Matthew said, his voice dark with antagonism as he kicked his horse to a gallop.
So the man had some spine. Niall hadn't thought so when Matthew had been with Anora, mayhap trying to appear more of a gentle soul.
Niall gave him an abbreviated telling of the tale—about the trouble he and Gunnolf had run into with Cian's men and now these cloaked Frenchmen and the woman.
Matthew shook his head. "Her byre was torched, the thatched roof of her cottage and everything inside burned."
"Bloody hell," Niall said, his gut churning with fury. "Dinna tell the lass that when we free her." He never wanted Anora to learn of it.
"She had no intention of returning?" Matthew asked, sounding disappointed.
"Nay. My cousin is laird and had word from her uncle that she would be in danger. He and the French count of Carcassonne had fought alongside each other during the Crusades. I dinna know beyond that what is to become of her. Because of whatever danger she is in, she canna return to her cottage."
"What happened to her sheep?"
"She gifted them to another sheepherder."
"What about Charlie?"
"He is with my friend, Gunnolf."
"The dog will be a problem if we are to use stealth," Matthew warned. "And the pup?"
Niall shook his head. "Charlie has been fine thus far."
"And the whelp you now carry?" Matthew again brought up.
Niall said nothing. Time would only tell, but he couldn't leave the pup by itself in the woods.
Gunnolf unsheathed his sword as soon as he saw Matthew riding toward him, Niall sitting behind him.
"Where is the lass?" Gunnolf called out, troubled.
"The Frenchmen who were asking in the village concerning her whereabouts have taken her," Niall said, dismounting from Matthew's horse. "And this is her good friend, Matthew, the butcher's son of Banbh."
Charlie immediately began to jump all over Niall, not only in greeting, but wanting to see the puppy in his tunic, sniffing, trying to greet her as well. The puppy was a little shy with him, though she and Charlie touched noses, and then he licked hers.
"I am going to marry Anora," Matthew said, very seriously, as if he wanted to get that issue straight between them.
Gunnolf stared at the puppy's head poking out from Niall's shirt. Thankfully, but a small smile curving Gunnolf's mouth, he didn't react.
Niall didn't comment about Matthew's claim that he was marrying Anora. The lass would not marry the likes of the butcher's son. Not with the way she abhorred his mother and she saw Matthew only as a friend. And besides, Niall didn't believe it would be safe for her to live near Banbh any further. Too, he assumed her uncle would object.
"Matthew learned of the men asking about Anora and followed them to us," Niall told Gunnolf, as they quickly readied their horses.
"Actually," Matthew said, "I spoke with a man who rented land some distance from Anora's and hoped mayhap I would learn if she had gone that way. The French party arrived and asked if he had seen her. I was inside the cottage and heard everything. They did not pay me any mind, thinking I was the farmer's son and left. I was ready to fight them if they had thought to kill the farmer."
Niall hoped the man could fight. At least he was armed.
"Can you fight well?" Gunnolf asked, handing Charlie up to Matthew, voicing the very concern Niall had.
"As well as any Highlander," Matthew said, sounding a bit miffed that they would question him. Niall doubted the butcher's son had fought in many battles—if any. Living in the village would not have given Matthew many opportunities, Niall didn't believe.
Matthew frowned at Charlie sitting on his lap, looking up at him with his big brown eyes, his tail brushing his leg. "Cannot he run alongside the horses?" Matthew asked, as Charlie licked him on the mouth. He jerked his head aside before the dog did it again, then wiped his lips with the back of his tunic sleeve.
"He might warn Anora and the Frenchmen we are on our way," Niall said, mounting his horse, the puppy again curling up inside his tunic as if she was getting ready to sleep.
They headed in the direction of the woods where Anora had been taken. He and Gunnolf had to have their hands free to fight if necessary so Matthew's taking care of Charlie for the moment suited their purpose. Though Niall wasn't sure what to do about the pup if he got into a skirmish.
"She was trying to tell me something, but she did not make any sense," Matthew said. "Did you catch our conversation?"
"They are forcibly escorting her to a coastal town, taking her by ship somewhere, I gathered," Niall said, not intending to allow them such.
"And the pitchfork?"
"She wished she had a weapon, as if to say she wasna going of her own freewill," Niall said, not about to mention to Matthew how she'd poked him with it.
"Laird Callahan is not marrying anyone that I know of. Did you understand that?"
"Lady Hayley." Niall mulled it over. "Doesna that mean 'of the hay meadow' in English? Anora, of the hay meadow."
"But she has no intention of marrying Laird Callahan," Matthew said, sounding as though he objected greatly to the notion.
If the laird had wanted to wed her, why wouldn't he have kept her safe at his castle? Because he was interested in another lass? Mayhap he didn't believe the count would want his niece married to the Lowland Scot.
"What is the plan?" Gunnolf asked, quiet up until now.
"We will have to attack when they least expect it," Niall said, "as we are only…" He nearly said two in force, then remembered Matthew, though he didn't believe he'd help. "Three against five armed knights."
"And if they wish no harm to come to the lass? That
they truly are her kin and wish to move her to some other location where she will be safe among her own people?" Gunnolf asked.
That was the part that worried Niall the most. Not knowing whether to kill the men when he knew that they would fight Niall and Gunnolf. Or let the Frenchmen live and risk their own lives and Anora's.
***
Anora hated that her escort was taking her farther away from Gunnolf and Niall and farther from the McEwan's castle where they might seek refuge. She suspected Niall and his friend would realize she was in trouble as long as it had taken her, and she had not returned. All she could do for now was attempt to learn who these people truly were and if they wished to keep her safe, or not.
“You say, my lady, that you are my sister. Are you younger or older than me?” Anora asked.
The baroness smiled. “What do you think, my dear?”
A question for a question? That didn't bode well.
“You appear to be older, but I had no sisters when I left France. I thought mayhap you meant that you were a half-sister...”
“I am older than you. Father had sent me away to marry.”
“How old were you?”
“Two and ten. You were younger when they arranged your betrothal.”
"And the man I was to wed?" Anora frowned.
“When we thought you were dead, he married another woman, but died several years ago."
“But Father was with me on board the ship, aye?”
“Father sur un voyage to obtenir articles from Italie when the Anglais boarded her. We did not know you survived the onslaught. Only recently had we learned you were living with the sheepherder near Banbh. Who knows what the capitaine had on his mind when he brought you to Anglais shores then took you north to live with the sheepherder.”
“And yet some of our family moved here?”
“Some did. We found plus d’advantages dans habiter dans Devon.”
Her blood chilled with worry, Anora didn't believe her. What if she was put on a ship and taken somewhere else—and not to join family?
Anora nodded, amicably, as if she agreed with them, planning to escape them the first chance she had. She turned her attention to one of the knights who watched her. The one who looked hauntingly familiar. “What is your name, Sir Knight?”
“Pierre, my lady.”
Her heartbeat quickened. “Pierre?”
The knight nodded, then looked away.
Anora stared at his features—he had been a tall boy when she had known him, but he was a man now, though his eyes—they still looked at her in the same way—as if he cared for her.
“Not the Pierre I knew when I was a little girl?” The knight said nothing in response. Anora studied him further, then said, “Not Pierre Frederic Fainot, son of Jean Pierre Fainot and Catherine Julie Roux?”
The knight glanced at the baroness, who motioned at him to move along. As the knight kicked his horse, Anora said, “Wait!” He stopped and waited for Anora to catch up. “Do you remember me, Sir Pierre?”
“Oui.”
“Were you the one who placed a water snake in the ladies’ bath then, causing several to run from the room off the kitchen in only their towels?” She studied the man’s face as a faint glimmer of a smile appeared. “And the one who set the live crab on Lady Olivia’s plate when everyone else’s was perfectly steamed. I had never seen the lady move so fast from the table in my life. We did not even need the jester to entertain us that day, as most of us laughed through the rest of the meal.”
The knight’s smile broadened.
“And the lad who kissed the wrong maid at a festivity that had been given in honor of the king’s birthday celebration? I will never forget the look on his face when the other girl pulled off her mask and wished for the page to give her another kiss. When he saw me watching him, his face turned absolutely crimson.” Anora smiled as the knight chuckled. “You know, I had wished he had kissed me that day, but after his blunder, he was too afraid to try again.”
“He has grown up, my lady,” Pierre said, his voice so much deeper now.
“Aye, well, 'tis too late now," Anora said, thinking about the way Niall had kissed her and how she wished his arms were wrapped tight around her, while he was kissing her, and loving her. She would have to escape. She had to. "Do you live in England, now, too? I cannot imagine you would be anything other than a vassal lord to the King of the Franks.”
“I do not believe in many of his policies, my lady,” he said, very low, but the knight she rode with could hear his words also.
Hope sprang anew that he might aid her flight.
Anora glanced over her shoulder to see the baroness following close behind as she strained to hear their conversation. “Tell me about King Philip then, Pierre.”
“He is married to a...,” he hesitated to say as he considered his words carefully, “a countess who will never gain the people’s love for her.”
"Where are you really taking me?" she asked, hoping Pierre would still care enough about her to tell her the truth. He glanced back at the baroness and she knew then he would not.
***
"Did you no' go to Coventry as you said you would?" Niall asked Matthew, as they searched for the French party's trail. "It seems to me you wouldna have had time to go there and turn around and look for Anora."
"I did not trust you had Anora's best interests in mind," Matthew said honestly. "I knew you were not her cousin, distant or otherwise. So tell me the truth. Where did they come from and who are you to Anora?" Matthew asked, his voice hard.
Niall knew he couldn't hide the truth any longer, not if Matthew had become an ally. "One of Cian's clansmen managed to get the best of me."
Matthew glanced at Niall, looking puzzled.
"I… suffered a sword wound." There, Niall said it. He wouldn't have mentioned it, if he hadn't felt he needed to explain why he had taken refuge in Anora's cottage.
Matthew's jaw dropped as his gaze shifted to look Niall over. "God's truth?"
"Aye."
Matthew remained quiet for a while, then said, "I believed you thought you were too good to aid Anora in her chores. That was why you wore John's tunic. Yours must have been ruined. And… Anora was washing it. Not because it was torn by a branch and only soiled, but a sword had sliced through it… and it was bloodied."
"Aye."
Matthew let out his breath. "Why did you not say so?"
Niall cast him a look that asked if he was touched in the head.
"Aye, you did not trust me. You thought I might even be a friend of this Highlander named Cian?" Matthew shook his head.
"You have the right of it. What would you have done in my place?" Niall asked.
"I suspect the same." Matthew looked back at the forest. "We are headed away from where you wished to take Anora, are we not?"
"Aye, that we are," Niall said. "We must go northwest again as soon as we can."
But when a drenching downpour again soaked them, they had to seek cover and once the rains let up, they could not discover any sign of the French parties' trail.
Niall was beside himself, looking for any clues for where they had gone before it was too late.
Chapter 14
Anora had every intention of slipping away from the woman who claimed to be her sister and her knight escort as soon as she was able.
But all she could think about was Niall, Gunnolf, and Charlie. And the puppy. She didn't know how well they could track the Frenchmen and woman, but she wanted to leave them clues that she had passed this way, if she could.
The rains had finally ceased. She was wet and cold, the day gray and stormy still. If she could scratch something in the wet earth… but could Niall or Gunnolf read? What if it rained again and washed her message away? She would make the attempt, no matter what.
Three of the men had started a fire from kindling they'd stored in waterproof packs on one of the horses. Some of the men had hunted birds and were roasting them over the fire. She shivered, g
lanced around, and saw Pierre watching her. She stiffened a little.
The baroness was still in the tent sleeping, Anora suspected.
If Anora could mayhap stack a few rocks and point them in the direction they were headed, or she could just set them in a particular pattern that would indicate someone had arranged them that way—that it was not a random occurrence, maybe Niall or Gunnolf would come this way and notice.
Then again, Charlie could find her with his keen sense of smell, even if she just touched a few of the rocks.
She frowned at Pierre. He smiled at her, looking his usual charming self, except he was much older than he'd been.
She looked for a special stone, then picked it up, and rubbed her hand softly over the moss.
"Put it down, my lady," Pierre said quietly, his tone a command.
"It feels so soft," she said, irritated with his highhanded manner. He had no right to tell her what to do, but she didn't have a whole lot of choice. "Have you ever felt moss under the palm of your hand?"
She hoped she left enough of her scent on the rock for Charlie to recognize it… if he came this way.
"Non. Put it down."
Did he think she intended to use it as a weapon? With two men still nearby, tending the fire?
"Come closer to the fire so you can warm yourself and dry your clothes a little," Pierre said.
She set the rock carefully down so that he didn't believe she intended to use it as a weapon. She could hear the river flowing just beyond the stand of trees, and she desperately wanted to make her escape that way. Not that she wanted to get any wetter or colder. But she was certain the further south they took her, the less of a chance she had of freeing herself.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked again.
He glanced at the other men. She sighed. If they could be alone, maybe he would tell her. But it wasn't going to happen soon enough for her.