Would that give the rest of the criminals a reason to act? Every scenario played out in her head, and the one that seemed best was the one in which they packed up and left now, no matter that it was the middle of the night, no matter her exhaustion. There were several hours until dawn and anything could happen during that time. An urgent need to escape filled her. If she’d been alone, she’d already have left. This was the problem with a larger group, having to harangue them all.
She stared at Brogan, feeling the itch to take flight warring with the desire to stay right where she was. It was this self-preservation that had gotten her as far as she’d come, wasn’t it? But the thought of leaving alone, abandoning them all, started a crater in her chest, forcing her feet to remain still.
“Aye, sir,” the innkeeper finally said, reaching into the front of his apron and producing several coins.
He passed them to Brogan, who did not bother to count them but instead tucked them into his boot without taking his eyes off the man as he did it.
Brogan flicked his gaze for a fraction of a second to his men. “Stay here with the rest of them while we prepare our departure.” Then he returned his harsh regard to the felons on the floor. “If one of ye moves, I’ll shoot ye,” Brogan warned.
He glanced at her and she nodded, and each of the men with them did in turn.
“I’ll stand watch,” Dugall volunteered.
“I’ll get us some provisions.” Fiona didn’t wait to see what the rest of the men volunteered to do. She backed toward the kitchen of the tavern, followed by the innkeeper’s wife who silently helped her to gather a grain sack full of bread, cheese, and cold chicken, and a fresh jug of ale.
When she came back toward the front of the tavern and headed upstairs to gather her things, she met Brogan at the base.
“I’m sorry we have to leave so quickly,” he said. “I know I promised ye another night’s good rest. I hate that I’ll be dragging ye back out into the rain again.”
“I’m no’ broken, nor am I weak. A little robbery or a wee bit of rain is no’ going to put me down. My clothes are dry now, and might stay that way for a time beneath a blanket. And as for sleep, I got plenty of it the night before.”
A prickle of trepidation nudged at the back of her neck. Fiona spun around toward the dining hall, searching out what she felt was missing. And then it struck her. “Where is Milla?”
Concern grew thick in her chest. She’d not seen her hound since this ordeal started.
“Where is Milla?” she asked again, her voice higher pitched with worry.
Everyone ceased their movements, staring at Fiona with questions in their eyes, all except the thieves who kept their gazes on the floor.
Milla had already been through so much with her run-in with Boyd. The hound did not deserve any more torment.
Something had happened to her—on purpose—Fiona was certain.
“What have ye bastards done with our hound?” Brogan growled, stomping into the dining area with murderous rage creasing his features.
But Fiona couldn’t waste time waiting for the thieves to find it in their hearts to answer. She had to go now.
“I’ll search the stables,” Sorley said.
“I’ll search the fields, in case she chased after us,” volunteered Fin, with Keith going with him.
“I’ll go out to the barn,” Brogan said. “Dugall, keep watch with James and Charles.”
Fiona ran up the stairs as the rest of them took off in various directions looking for Milla. Upstairs in her rented chamber, there was nothing save the rumpled bed and empty wine flagon and cups. No sign of Milla. Worry flooded her veins, making her palms sweat. They wouldn’t have hurt the dog, would they? What if Milla had come across them when they were stealing the horses? What if she’d started to bark and they’d silenced her?
From outside came several shouts. Fiona ran to the window, but it was too dark to see anything other than her shadowy reflection in the candlelight. With a whirl on her heels, she ran toward the stairs, leaping down in bounds and crashing into Brogan at the base. He caught her, pulling her up against him, eyes locked on hers. The warmth and solidness of his body lent her some strength she seemed to be missing.
Together, they ran outside toward the yelling. Around the back of the tavern, Fin was kicking at a shed door that had been locked tight with an iron bolt. Fiona nearly collapsed in relief at the sound of growling and barking coming from within.
“Milla!” she cried, and the barking grew louder.
Fin’s kicking was deafening but did little to persuade the door lock to crack or the doors to open.
“Stand aside,” Brogan said. He lifted an ax he’d found around the side of the shed and brought the blade down in a powerful arc onto the bolt, causing sparks to fly. But the lock did not break open. He swung his arms up, preparing to swing again. Metal crashed against metal in a deafening ping, and this time among the sparks the lock gave way, crashing to the ground.
Fin shoved the door open, and Milla practically flew through the gap, crashing into Fiona as she knelt onto the ground. She wrapped her arms around the hound, allowing herself to fall backward. Milla whimpered and licked Fiona’s face in a fury of panicked kisses.
“Ye’re safe now,” Fiona cooed, stroking the hound and hugging her close. “No one is going to hurt ye.”
“That’s a good lass,” Brogan said, patting the hound on the head, which earned him a hearty lick and a few loving nips from Milla.
Before now, Fiona had not realized how much she’d fallen in love with the dog.
“We would no’ let those vile heathens take ye from us,” Fiona said against Milla’s head. “Ye are far too precious.” She hugged the wiggling dog to her and then promised to never let her go again.
“’Tis time for us to go,” Brogan said.
Aye, Fiona agreed with a nod, not bothering to add what they were all thinking, which was before something else terrible happens. As much as the perpetrators professed their innocence, there was no telling if they had spies sent out to the surrounding area, alerting dragoons of Brogan’s group’s presence, or alerting other outlaws on the perimeter.
With Milla draped over Fiona’s lap, they mounted the horses and headed out in the dark at a gallop. Fiona was glad to leave the tavern behind for the nightmare it had become, but not for the intimacy that she’d shared with Brogan. For a few blissful hours, she’d been in another world. But that heavenly place, shattered by thieves and outlaws, only reminded her what a stark and dangerous world Scotland had become.
It was also a startling reminder not to get too comfortable. That dalliances and, dare she say it, romance were not for her. Fiona had a place in Scotland in the prince’s entourage, in the way in which the world should be, and none of it had to do with lying in bed with Brogan.