She pulled the hood of her cloak close about her face. Then she crept across the dewy grass toward the palisade gate, keeping a watchful eye on the parapets.
At Rivenloch, there were always half a dozen guards patrolling the castle walls. But it appeared Creagor couldn’t spare the men.
She’d taken careful inventory when she’d first been brought through the great hall. If the men gathered there were any indication, their numbers were few.
Not that they were any less of a threat.
They were a burly bunch of Highlanders, broad of back and wide of chest. Two of them—the laird and his golden-haired companion, the handsome one Feiyan had almost killed with her throwing star—towered above the rest.
No sooner did she begin to muse about the invaders than she realized she’d been spotted. Perhaps ten yards before her, standing atop the palisade gate, was one of the pair of lofty Highlanders himself. The man with the golden hair. His arms were crossed over his massive chest as he frowned down at her.
“Who goes there?” he demanded.
She froze, keeping her face concealed in the hood. Under normal circumstances, Hallie had an answer for everything. But for an instant she couldn’t think.
It certainly wasn’t because of the way the moonlight was shining on his fair hair. Or the impressive breadth of his shoulders. Or the ringing command of his voice.
He’d only startled her, standing there like the all-powerful Heimdall, guarding the gates of Asgard. That was all.
Colban hoped the beautiful runaway couldn’t tell he’d been dozing a moment ago. Between the fog of sleep and his surprise at seeing the hooded but unmistakable Valkyrie stealing toward him in the starlight, he was having trouble gathering his thoughts.
Torn between his duty to protect the clan and his fascination with the warrior lass, he blurted out, “Halt!”
She glanced around her, probably wondering who he was addressing. “I have halted.”
So she had. He cursed under his breath. For the love of Brighid, why couldn’t he think straight?
In his embarrassment, he growled, “I asked ye, ‘Who goes there’?”
He expected her to confess. Once confronted, she had two choices. She could throw back her hood and boldly claim her identity. Or she could lower her head and surrender with a sigh of defeat.
She did neither.
Instead, she scoffed at him. “For shite’s sake, don’t get your braies in a twist. I’m just the new servant, going to gather mushrooms in the wood.”
He frowned. Did she not realize he recognized her? Did she think she was fooling him?
The new servant, indeed.
“Mushrooms?” He arched a dubious brow, wondering how far she was willing to carry this farce. “Indeed? In the middle o’ the night?”
“Of course in the middle of the night,” she reasoned. “The best mushrooms are gathered by the light of a full moon.” She shook her head. “Did you not know that?”
Colban had never heard such a thing. Was it even true?
“Mushrooms,” he repeated.
“If you must know, they’re for an elixir to calm the babe,” she smoothly confided. “No one can sleep with that racket.”
That he could almost believe.
“So if you’ll stand aside…” she said.
Almost believe.
But now that he was fully alert, he remembered his duties.
With finality, he said, “No one is to go past these gates.”
She was silent for a moment. Then she shrugged. “Fine. ’Tis your head.” She turned to go back to the keep.
“Wait,” he said, startled that she’d surrendered so quickly. “What do ye mean?”
“I mean, the laird will be mightily vexed if I don’t return with his mushrooms,” she warned. “And I’d hate to be in your boots when he has to come slogging out here in the middle of the night, clenching his fists and cursing your name because he can’t sleep.”
Unfortunately, that sounded exactly like Morgan. The babe had been a source of anguish and frustration for him for weeks.
But Colban wasn’t a fool. And neither was Morgan. He would never let a captive wander out the palisade gates, much less send a maidservant into the woods on a midnight errand.
The lass shuddered once from the cold. “I told him I’d return in a trice with the mushrooms. But if you won’t let me pass, well, I won’t stand out here, shivering.” She moved to go.
“Wait.”
She paused.
Colban knew the Valkyrie would never surrender so easily. If she didn’t manage to slip out the palisade gates, sooner or later she’d look for another means of escape.
If he let her go now, he could track her, learn what she intended. That could be more valuable than confronting her with her lies.
He pretended to reconsider. “How long will ye be?”
“Not long.”
“And ye swear ye’ll come back straightaway?”
“What else would I be doing in the woods on a night like this?” She shivered again.
It didn’t escape his notice that she hadn’t answered his question directly. But he couldn’t argue with her. It sounded like a plausible excuse. After all, what reasonable lass would venture alone into the woods on a frosty night unless someone had commanded her to do so?
“Very well,” he said, climbing down to unlatch the gate. “I’ll come with ye.”
“Nay!” she blurted, then softened her answer with a laugh. “Don’t be daft. I’ll be fine. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be guarding the gates against folk going in?”
He hesitated. She was a clever lass. But he was clever as well.
He rubbed thoughtfully at his chin. Then, wondering if he was doing the right thing, he opened the gate for her.
As she swept past him with her face concealed, he inhaled, stealing a breath of her essence. Wafting off of the fearless maid was the scent of wool and spice and intrigue.
“Do not tarry,” he told her, watching her go and carefully noting the spot where she entered the wood.
Chapter 4
Hallie held her breath as she strode purposefully toward the trees. She could feel the Highlander’s eyes on her the entire way.
Not that that was unexpected. Men were ridiculously easy to distract. Even in battle, when it came to throwing off an opponent, sometimes a cool smile and a toss of her pale tresses worked as well as a shield.
Still, she felt sorry for the guard. He seemed like a good man. Honorable. Loyal. Well-intentioned.
It wasn’t his fault that he was too simpleminded to see through her ruse. To notice how she’d evaded his questions. To wonder why she’d never exactly identified herself.
She didn’t expect him to follow her. She didn’t even worry that he’d notice when she was gone for more than a “trice.” Indeed, the poor man looked bone-weary. She half-expected him to drift off to sleep before she reached the forest.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t be punished too severely in the morn when the laird discovered he’d allowed their prisoner to stroll out the palisade gates.
Meanwhile, she’d hasten to Rivenloch. Knowing Rauve, he’d be awake, worried about her. They needed to assemble a contingent of knights and return.