The Ghost Greyson, Maeve (reading an ebook .txt) 📖

compassion echoed in his tone. She feared she would lose control and confess all her troubles if she witnessed the same in his gaze. Her worries were hers to bear. Alone. She had nurtured them all these years, adding new ones with each passing day. She needed to keep them close until she could bury them away. They made her who she was.

“Brenna—talk to me,” he whispered. “Let me help ye.”

“I cannot.” She patted his chest with both hands and forced a smile. “Dinna fret. I will be fine.” Risking a glance upward, she swallowed hard, fighting to maintain control. “I am always fine.” She patted his chest again. “Ye have already helped me more than ye know. All I ask for is yer patience, aye?”

He gathered her close and held her. “Ye have it and more,” he whispered. He kissed the top of her head and tightened his embrace. “Ye are a wonder to me, ye ken?”

“How is that?”

He tilted her face upward. “As soon as I set eyes on ye, I knew in my heart ye had to be mine.” His head lowered, he paused and whispered, “May I?”

“Aye,” she breathed, hungry for the taste of him.

As soon as his warm mouth settled on hers, he stiffened, then jerked around, pushing her behind him.

“What is it?” She darted a glance around but saw nothing.

“Someone approaches.” He drew his sword. “Listen.”

Soft as a whisper, farther down the trail behind them, the unmistakable sound of hoofbeats.

“Are we not safe here? Is this not MacCoinnich land?” She drew out her throwing stones and dagger. “What about the boys?” A distant flash of red through the trees shot fear through her. “British,” she whispered. “God help us.” She’d had dealings with soldiers who had strayed as far north as Wickhaven, and the encounters had not been good.

“To the horse with ye,” he ordered without turning around. “Ride like Hell’s biting at yer heels, and dinna look back, aye? Get yerself and the boys to the keep. Warn Alexander.”

“But—”

He whirled around and hoisted her up into the saddle. Without another word, he smacked the beast’s rump hard and roared, “Hie wi’ ye, now! Hie!”

Her weapons clutched in one hand and the horn of the saddle in the other, Brenna held on for dear life. The war horse might be enormous, but it moved with amazing speed. As the reins whipped through the air, she grabbed at them, finally catching them without losing her seat. She spotted Evander up ahead in the glen and leaned forward, praying Magnus’s horse was the faster of the two. Thankfully, her prayers were answered. She cried out for the lad to stop as she came up beside him. “Evander!”

She slipped her throwing stones inside her belt but kept her dagger ready. “Get Keigan to the keep! Fast as ye can!” She turned her horse back in the direction she had just come. No time could be wasted by her going to the keep with them. “British coming. I dinna ken how many, but I’m going back to fight with Magnus. Have the chieftain send help quick as ye can.”

Evander opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off. “No arguing! Get moving! Now!”

When the boy had done as she ordered, she spurred her mount into a fierce gallop. She would ride back part of the way, then dismount and creep up on them on foot. Who knew what cowardly evil the redcoats might attempt on a lone Scot they came upon in the woods? It hadn’t sounded like many approaching, and the flash of the uniform had been brief. She would do her best to maim however many there were, hopefully holding them off ’til Magnus could get to their horse and escape with her.

“Stay here and no snorting or stomping,” she whispered to the mount as she led it into a thicket and secured the reins. Slipping a stone out of her belt and keeping her dagger ready, she crept forward with painstaking care through the treacherous leaf mold that risked giving her away with every crunching footstep.

Deep voices rumbled up ahead. Two men. Magnus and another. She tilted her head to better hear, then frowned. Their conversation was too low to make out the words, but it seemed unnaturally calm considering one was a Scot and the other a damned Sassenach. Was Magnus that artful in cloaking his feelings while speaking to the enemy?

She eased closer, then halted. Was that laughter? Sounds of genuine camaraderie? Silent as a beast of the woods, she shifted a branch and peeped between the leaves.

Magnus and the bloody redcoat stood side by side. All smiles. Heads nodding. Chatting like a couple of old women gossiping over their washing. Perplexed, Brenna watched them a bit longer to make certain her eyes didn’t deceive her. The longer she stood there, the more irritated she became. That fool Sassenach had interrupted what had promised to be a very fine kiss. Damn him to Hell!

She couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Are ye siding with the English now?” she accused as she shoved free of her hiding place.

Both men started and jerked around to face her, looking as guilty as if she had just caught them with another man’s wife.

Magnus recovered quicker than the vile soldier. “I sent ye to the keep!”

“I came back to rescue yer sorry arse from the bloody redcoats!” With an angry jab, she sheathed her dagger and stones into her belt.

The ‘bloody redcoat’ found that uproariously funny, laughing out loud as he smacked Magnus on the shoulder. “Introduce me to your fine lady, my friend, so I might beg her forgiveness for causing such a stir.”

Magnus reached for her and cocked a brow, his eyes daring her not to take his hand.

Ignoring him, she marched closer with both arms folded tightly across her chest. He had better learn she would never heel like a dog. Such would not be their relationship.

The redcoat turned aside and failed at hiding his amusement