“It is. He’s a Scot.”
Owen gritted his teeth. “One of the Bruce’s men was caught in Caerlaverock. Muireach knows him and must confirm his identity.”
The guard grunted. “Wait there.”
The guard moved from the window, and Owen saw two shadows on the wall. The man was probably talking it through with another guard.
Owen rubbed the back of his neck. The skin around his eyes tightened as he peered into the darkness trying to see what was going on upstairs. His gut stiff, he exchanged a glance with Amber, who sat like a log and held the reins like they were her last hope.
The shadows in the window disappeared, and after a while, two guards came out of the tower. One of them looked at Owen. Now that the soldier was closer, he could probably see Owen’s injured eye and the bruise. Amber turned her face a little to the side and bowed her head. Sweat tickled down Owen’s back.
“Got in a fight, I see?” the guard said.
Owen chuckled. “Some people cannot keep their mouths shut when they’ve had a few mugs of ale.”
The guard nodded, looked at Amber, and frowned. “I don’t recognize you. William, is it? Are you new?”
“New, yes,” she said, doing her best to make her voice sound hoarse and English. “Friend, we must away.”
“All right, all right.”
The guard finally stepped back, and the two of them proceeded to the gates, lifted three heavy bars, and pulled the gates open.
Owen inhaled deeply and then let out a long breath. There it was, freedom, right in the darkness between those giant, impenetrable doors.
He urged his horse forward gently. He’d send it into a gallop if he could, be he’d promised Amber they’d go slowly. He heard the other horses moving behind him, and his heart thumped in his chest as he listened for any signs of pursuit.
The forest was getting closer. The moon came out from behind the clouds, and he saw the woods before him like a black, frozen sea. Not long now. He looked back. Even in the darkness, he could see Amber’s wide eye and her erect posture. Her horse snorted and shook its head. Amber was making it nervous.
“Just a little longer, lass,” Owen said.
“Stop them!” someone cried from the castle. There was the rumble of horse hooves and Owen saw the dark shadows of three…four…five riders galloping down the slope from the gates.
His skin chilled. “Quick!” he yelled. “Forward!”
Muireach’s horse darted forward.
“How?” Amber cried. “How do I make it gallop?”
Damn, she really didn’t know how to ride a horse. “Spur it on with your heels in its sides!”
The riders were approaching, but he couldn’t leave her alone.
“Come, Amber! Do it.”
She dug her heels into the horse’s sides and it neighed, reared, and dashed forward. Owen followed.
They approached the woods, but the riders were right behind them. Amber rode first, her horse flying now. She didn’t have any control over it. Please dinna throw Amber off.
He spurred his horse on, allowing it to gallop faster. But the guards were already catching up. Muireach slowed his horse down and came level with Owen.
“I’ll hinder them. Ye and Amber go on.”
“What? Nae!”
“Aye. ’Tis how I fight for Scotland’s freedom. The Bruce must ken about the ambush at the Pass of Brander. ’Tis how he can get rid of the MacDougalls and win this war.”
“Nae, Muireach! We can all escape, the three of us.”
“Goodbye, Owen Cambel. For Scotland!” He unsheathed his sword, turned his horse, and galloped back towards the riders.
“Stop!” Owen called.
Owen was torn between needing to save Amber and wanting to get Muireach back. But the older man was already too far away. If Owen turned back now, he’d lose sight of Amber, and who knew where her horse would take her, or if it would throw her off its back.
“Damn it, Muireach!” Owen cursed under his breath as his throat tightened painfully and nausea rose in his stomach.
The man had made his choice. And he was right. Owen needed to get the information about the Pass of Brander to the Bruce. It wasn’t about his freedom anymore. It was about Scotland’s.
He glanced back for the last time. Muireach had stopped three of them. One already lay on the ground, and two were fighting him. Two more riders still chasing after Owen and Amber. But they’d slowed down when Muireach attacked and were far behind now. Owen and Amber had a good chance of losing them.
He needed to catch up with Amber, so he spurred the horse on, leaning close to its mane in an attempt to fuse with its sleek body and dissolve in the wind.
Chapter 13
Black trees flashed against the dark-gray night, branches hitting her face, grazing her skin, and tearing her clothes.
Amber prayed. Please, don’t let me die. Please, let all this be a dream…
The last time Amber had prayed like this was when she’d found Bryan in a pool of blood in his barracks in Afghanistan.
That night, she’d prayed for it all to be a nightmare. That life wouldn’t fade from his eyes as she held him. That the bullet wound was just a prank—something he’d decided in his drunken brain would be hilarious.
He whimpered as she held him. “Shh,” she said, stroking the side of his head. His blue eyes were wide and held hers. “I’ll call the medics, you just hold on, okay, Bryan?” She took her phone out, but he grasped her hand with his bloody fingers.
“Listen to me, babe… Major Jackson did this.”
Amber frowned and shook her head. She’d always known there was something strange about Major Jackson. The aura of all-consuming power around him, gossip on the base that he held poker nights and always won. Pretty much the whole base owed him money. When they were still in a relationship, Bryan had started weekly outings with Jackson to a teahouse in Kabul called Aman Safar. That was also around the time he became more and more irritable and started being rougher and rougher with her.
Yes, she knew Jackson was a bad man to mess with, but shooting an officer? And yet she could picture it. Jackson, all tall, square-jawed, with shoulders as broad as a tank, with a gun pointing at Bryan.
“Why?” she said through a clenched throat.
“He smuggles Afghani drugs into the US. I helped him because I owed him a lot of money. He owned me. But I just couldn’t live with it any longer. Just imagining how many Americans became drug addicts because of me… The guilt was eating me alive. I said I’d report him if he didn’t stop. I have proof… Aman Safar…” He swallowed hard. He was so pale. “He’ll be back soon. Run and hide, Amber. Run and hide…”
And then he stilled, and his body went slack against her. His eyes glazed over, and she knew he was gone. Run and hide, were his last words.
And that was what she’d done. Instead of standing up and fighting him. Instead of making sure the drug-smuggling bastard was behind bars.
The thunder of hooves rumbling next to her dragged her out of her memories.
“Dinna fash, lass,” Owen called, and relief flooded her in a warm wave. “Just hold on a wee bit longer. They think we’re going north to Inverlochy. We’ll go east to lose them. It’ll all be over soon enough.”