Highland Savage. Hannah HowellЧитать онлайн книгу.
even as he kicked the horse into a gallop.
Lucas wrapped his arms around the waist of his rescuer and hung on. His rescuer was astonishingly slender. He frowned for there was something tantalizingly familiar about the youth. Even the scent of the slim rider teased at his memories. It left him with a puzzle he hoped would soon be solved.
For one brief moment Lucas feared he had escaped one danger and blindly stumbled into another. He quickly shook aside his suspicions. If these people meant him any harm they only needed to have left him where he was. Why they had exerted themselves to rescue him he did not know, but he suspected that, too, would be made clear once they got to wherever they were headed. And, mayhap, he had just found some allies in his quest for revenge. He had not wanted his family entangled in his search for vengeance, but, since these people seemed to be the enemies of his enemies, he saw no reason not to either join with them or seek their aid.
Katerina tried to concentrate on riding safely through the trees in the fading light of day’s end. Fixing all of her attention on that chore was the only way she could control the maelstrom of emotions tearing through her. If she faltered in that rigid discipline she knew she would halt so that she could reassure herself that it was truly Lucas who was seated behind her, and that indulgence could put them all in danger. She had no doubt that Ranald and their men were already chasing them.
When she had seen Lucas standing there fighting for his life, she had nearly screamed out her joy. Fortunately good sense had prevailed. Ranald might now know that Lucas had survived, but the man still thought that she was dead. That deception was vital to any chance she had of winning this war with Agnes.
A strong thread of disbelief still twisted itself around her mind and heart. It was difficult to believe that Lucas had survived the vicious beating he had suffered and being thrown into the loch. She knew his leg had been broken, so how had he saved himself from drowning? Yet her eyes told her that it was indeed Lucas Murray she had just yanked out of Ranald’s deadly grasp. Everything from the sound of his voice to the feel of his body pressed close to hers as they rode told her that it was him.
One question kept pounding in her mind even as she and her men scattered, only William continuing to ride with her, giving their pursuers half a dozen trails to try and follow. Why had Lucas not tried to find her, to at least let her know that he was alive? From the brief look she had gotten of the man he had obviously needed a long time to heal, but that only explained why he had not returned to Dunlochan. It did not explain why he had left her to grieve for him as he must have known she would. The possible answers to that question, which slipped so insidiously into her mind, were chilling and she quickly shook them away. Lucas knew her, knew her very well. He could not possibly believe she had had anything to do with the attack upon him.
Seeing Old Ian up ahead, Katerina quickly reined to a halt and dismounted. She resisted the urge to help Lucas when she noticed the slight awkwardness in his dismount. Turning her whole attention to Old Ian, she handed him the reins to her horse, William swiftly doing the same.
“I heard the mon had returned,” said Old Ian after studying Lucas closely for a moment.
“Aye, and gave Ranald yet another chance to kill him,” said Katerina and then she grimaced. “’Tis why we had need of ye tonight. I hope we didnae pull ye away from your meal.”
“My woman will keep it warm for me. Get ye gone now ere those swine catch sight of ye.”
Seeing that William had already begun to brush away their trail with a leafy branch, Katerina nodded. “As soon as the pursuit has ended someone will come to fetch these beasties.”
“Nay trouble. I have feed enough. Godspeed.”
“And to ye, too.”
Even as Old Ian led the horses away William followed, brushing away the trail left behind them. Knowing he would catch up to her, Katerina silently waved to Lucas to follow her and began to jog toward the old kirk that had become one of her hiding places for far too long. Only once did she chance a look at Lucas to make certain he had no trouble in following her. There was an odd hitch to his gait but he moved quickly and showed no signs of pain. They would be able to savor their reunion later.
Lucas was impressed by the group’s actions. Multiple trails for an enemy to follow, people readied to hide the horses, trails brushed away, and utter silence for most of the time. He realized these people had been at their work—whatever that work was—for quite a long time. It was also obvious that they had the full support of most of the people of Dunlochan. Lucas had the feeling he had become involved in something far more than simple reiving, something that may have even been behind that attempt to kill him. If they were just reivers, he had to wonder why they stayed so close to the ones they raided and fought with. It was that alone that made him think it was all something far more complicated and more dangerous than simply raiding for food and coin.
His eyes widened as they approached a ruined stone kirk. Lucas glanced back at the man who trotted along behind them dragging a branch to disguise their trail. The man’s gaze was fixed upon the kirk whenever he was not glancing around, looking for any hint that their enemy had found them. It seemed they were indeed headed for that roofless stone building. He held silent, reminding himself that these people had snatched him from Ranald’s murderous grasp with an awe-inspiring skill, and had, thus far, revealed meticulous planning in their every move. Such people did not choose hiding places too obvious or too difficult to defend or escape from.
The moment they entered the kirk, his two cloaked companions stopped and Lucas joined them in taking a moment to catch his breath. His leg throbbed with pain but he forced himself to ignore it. Glancing around, Lucas realized the kirk was an ancient one and built to last for a very long time even without a roof. The stone walls had been decorated with a vast array of carvings that were obviously Christian yet carried a lingering flavor of paganism. Lucas watched as the larger of the two men moved to a shadowed corner and pressed his palm against the face of what looked to be one of the twelve apostles and pushed hard. A grating sound assaulted his ears and Lucas nearly gaped as the carving began to move, opening inward like a door. There was no room behind it, however, just what appeared to be a large black hole in the floor.
“Catacombs?” he asked softly as he edged closer.
“Aye,” the small reiver replied, almost grunting out the reply as he lit a torch. “A veritable maze of them.”
“Is this the only way in or out of them?” Lucas felt compelled to ask.
“Nay, there are two other routes.”
That was good news but did not fully soothe the unease Lucas felt. He hated small, enclosed spaces. He suspected he was about to discover that large enclosed spaces with no fast route of escape would disturb him almost as much. Stiffening his spine he followed his short savior into the dark, struggling to climb down a wooden ladder without displaying too much awkwardness. When the larger man shut the door and followed him, Lucas smothered the urge to run back up that ladder and out into the open air.
The torch the small raider carried did not do much to cut the oppressive dark that enfolded them all. Lucas breathed a silent prayer of gratitude when the larger man lit a second torch and handed it to his small companion. He inwardly cursed when he looked around to find himself in a large burial chamber. Although not a particularly superstitious man he hoped this was not where they were going to be staying. Despite his distaste for small dark places Lucas was almost relieved when yet another hidden door was revealed and they started down some steep, narrow stone steps.
At the bottom of the steps they traveled several yards along a narrow tunnel before coming to yet another chamber. Here were tables and benches, a central hearth, and bedding. Glancing up as his companions lit several wall torches, Lucas saw two holes in the solid rock ceiling that allowed smoke out and air in. Either these people had worked very hard to make themselves a comfortable lair or the ancient holy men who had once occupied the kirk had done so.
Lucas looked at his companions and immediately forgot about asking where the other ways out of this tomb were located. They had removed their cloaks and the cloth masking their faces. The smaller one