Nik pulled his horse into the small clearing, Rurik riding briskly past him. The guard’s sharp eyes took in every detail. “Hello!” he called, swinging down from his horse.
Nik did the same, stopping by the pot heating over the fire. “It looks as if we’ve arrived in time for dinner, nyet?”
Rurik sniffed and then frowned. “That does not smell promising.”
“It’ll be warm. That’s the most important thing.” He looked about curiously. The area was fairly level, which was unusual in this terrain, and protected on one end by a huge boulder, which would keep the wind at bay. A fire had been made, the pot hanging over it and bubbling cozily. Four thick pallets were spread out around the fire. “This is a good camp.”
Rurik nodded.
Nik scanned the woods curiously. “You may come out now,” he called. “We have come to join you.”
“You, sir, were nae invited,” came a testy feminine voice.
Trying not to grin, he looked up where the voice had come from, high upon the boulder. “Lady Ailsa, is that you?”
“You know it is.” She called out in a louder voice, “’Tis safe! Just two lost fools. No one of importance.” She muttered something else, but it wasn’t audible. Still, it made Nik grin. He’d wished to see the surprise on her face, but for now he’d be satisfied with the irritation in her voice.
A smallish slender man with light brown hair stood up from behind a log, a gleaming pistol in his hand.
Nik almost reached for his own weapon, but Rurik stepped forward. “Mr. Mackenzie. How nice to see you again.”
Ah, the cousin. Nik was glad Rurik and Apraksin had mentioned the man.
“Mr. Rurik, isn’t it?” The man left the woods and joined them in the clearing. “Bloody hell, we thought brigands were after us. Someone could have shot you!”
Now that he was closer, Nik could see a faint resemblance between the man and Lady Ailsa.
“I am glad you did not shoot us,” Rurik replied. “Or I would have been forced to kill you back.”
From up above, Lady Ailsa said clearly, “Pah! Men!”
Nik grinned. “What?” he called. “You would not have shot a brigand?”
Stony silence met his query.
“Good evening.”
Nik looked down to find Ailsa’s cousin at his elbow.
“You must be the prince; you could be no one else.” The younger man inclined his head in a formal greeting. “I’m Gregor Mackenzie, Lady Ailsa’s cousin.”
Before Nik could respond, Rurik’s gaze locked on the woods behind them. “Two more come.”
And so they did, from different directions and looking as opposite as two men could. One was dark and lean, a cunning intelligence in his face, while the other was huge and red-haired, almost lumbering in his gait and expression.
“Good evening,” Nik greeted them. “I see you’ve already started supper.”
Neither man smiled.
After a stiff moment, Rurik inclined his head. “I must refill our flasks. We just passed a stream, so I can do it there.” He hesitated and then said politely to the others, “Do you need yours refilled, too?”
The two men merely glared at Rurik.
Once more, Mackenzie stepped into the breach. “I’m sure we do. I’ll fetch our empty flasks and we can go together.”
“Nyet. There is no need; I will take them all.”
Mackenzie started to argue, but Rurik raised a brow in his direction.
The younger man flushed. “Fine. I’ll gather the flasks for you.”
Nik went to stand before the huge boulder. It towered over them all, casting a long shadow. “You may as well come down, krasavitsa. I know you’re there.”
“My name is not Kra— Whatever that was.”
“Fine. Lady Ailsa, then. Come. Join us.”
There was a long silence.
“The stew will be ready soon, I think.”
No answer came, and Mackenzie cleared his throat loudly and called to his cousin, “You might as well join us.”
Nik heard a sigh, followed by a scuffling sound. He waited and was rewarded when, some long moments later, Ailsa appeared around the edge of the boulder.
His brows rose and he found himself without words. Lady Ailsa with her snapping gray eyes and bold nose in her fitted riding habit, her hat jauntily perched on her dark blond hair was one thing. But Lady Ailsa clad in breeches that hugged her rounded hips, a long fur-lined cloak swinging from her shoulders, her blond hair tied in a thick braid that hung over one shoulder, her mouth pressed in an unwelcoming line so that she looked like a Viking maid from days of old—this Lady Ailsa stole his breath as if he’d been punched in the stomach.
The strength of his own reaction left him speechless, even as she strode past him, slanting him a boldly disapproving glare in a way no woman had ever done. She walked to the fire while he tried hard not to stare, her curves so boldly expressed that his mouth went dry.
She stooped beside the fire and held her hands toward the flames, her cloak pooling about her feet. “Why are you here?”
There was nothing welcoming in that cold, clipped tone.
Mackenzie slanted Nik a sympathetic look. “If you’ll pardon me, I’ll finish with the horses. I was bedding them down for the night when you arrived.” He inclined his head and then walked to where the horses were tethered a short distance away, D’yoval and Rurik’s mount now with them.
Nik walked to where Ailsa stooped before the fire. He stood on the other side so he could clearly see her expressions, and nodded to the pistol tucked in her belt. “Expecting trouble?”
“These woods are known for harboring violent brigands. You’re fortunate nae one shot you. Especially since you were following us.”
“We are joining you, since our end location is the same.”
“You dinnae know where we’re going,” she scoffed.
“We go to meet a man called Greer who is camped at the mouth of the Corrieshalloch Gorge. He has been following the abductors and their captives and will know the strength of this band of ruffians.”
Her amusement fled and she scrambled to her feet, her brows knit. “How do you know that?”
“The same way I also know you’re planning to meet the villains who abducted my grandmother and pay that damned ransom.”
“I daresay you know where I am to deliver the payment, too,” she said in a grim tone.
“Kylestrome. An inn.” He smiled. “And now you will demand to know how I came upon such a treasure trove of information. I’m more than happy to tell you all, but even you must agree that such stories are best told around a shared fire.”
Ailsa had to swallow a very real desire to snap an ungrateful “nae.” She supposed it had been naïve of her to think no one had seen them leave. That was a bitter pill to swallow, for it meant she wasn’t as good at scheming as she’d thought. But the discovery that the prince and Rurik knew her entire plan was not acceptable. Has someone betrayed us?
Blast the man, she’d have to let him stay if she wanted her questions answered. “Fine. You may share the camp with us. For at least one night.”
Stewart, who was once again tending the stew, sent her a glum look, which she studiously ignored, though it gave her a moment’s hesitation. Should she allow the prince and his man to join them? If she did not, they would go out on their own, and might even reach Greer first. No, it was best to keep these two close by, so she knew what they were doing.
Nik came to the fire and took a seat.
She watched him covertly. His black hair was longer than was fashionable and curled about his collar and face, giving him a rakish look that was augmented by his lack of a shave this morning. Indeed, his face—so clean-shaven just yesterday—was now shadowed with stubble that accentuated the line of his jaw.
Still, dressed in a commoner’s clothes, a determined set to his jaw, he didn’t look like the frivolous, flirtatious prince he was reputed to be. Ah, but he is indeed that flirtatious pri
nce, but—I think—only when it suits him. She had witnessed his transformation once already, and had experienced his seductive powers only the night before. It was easy to see why society had such a wrong impression of the man.
Stewart tapped the iron spoon on the side of the pot and said in a stiff voice, “I do nae know if we’ll have enough stew for the two of you.”
Nik didn’t look the least put out by this. “I don’t suppose you’d like some fresh meat for your stew?”
The redheaded Scot brightened, his scowl disappearing like the mist before sunshine. “What do you have?”
“Rurik!” Nik called to his man, who’d just returned with the filled flasks. “Bring the rabbits we caught.”
Ailsa frowned. “When did you have time to catch rabbits?”
“We stopped this afternoon. We were coming too close to your party.”
As if we were creeping along! Her irritation grew.
Rurik brought an oilskin-wrapped bundle to the fire.
Stewart opened it with a pleased look. “I’ll roast these a bit and then shred the meat into the stew.” His gaze flickered to Nik. “It should be enough for all of us, then.”
“Good.” Nik’s gaze returned to Ailsa and rested on her lips.
He was thinking of their kiss. She knew it as sure as she was breathing. She silently thanked the fates he’d chosen to sit opposite her and not beside her, where their elbows or knees might have touched. It was taking all her concentration to think calmly. If he actually touched her . . . She shivered, flooded with memories she’d tried all day to forget.
“Are you cold, Lady Ailsa?”
The words purred over her, as if lapping the heat of her memories. She tugged her cloak closer. “’Tis winter,” she said flatly.
“So it is.” Nik removed his gloves and held his hands toward the fire, his gaze moving back to her. “Your companions know this forest well. There were times we had to work to see the trail at all.”
“They do. They are woodsmen, both.” She gestured to the lean, hard-eyed man with dark hair and a suspicious air who was still holding his rifle. “This is Hammish MacKean. He’ll be the master game warden once Greer steps aside.”
The prince inclined his head. “MacKean.”
MacKean nodded back, his expression cautious.
“And this,” Ailsa continued, gesturing to the heavy redhead now skewering the rabbits, “is Ian Stewart. We’re lucky to have him; I have it on guid authority he can cook better than Mrs. Attnee’s cousin, who is the head cook at Castle Leod.”
The shaggy redheaded giant placed one end of the spit holding the rabbits in the pot hook and the other between two rocks on the other side of the fire. That done, he gave Nik a small nod.
Nik returned the greeting. “A pleasure, Mr. Stewart.” He gestured to where Rurik was hanging the flasks from a tree branch so they would not leak during the night. “I believe you’ve all met Rurik.”
“And you?” Stewart asked.
Nik hesitated and then said, “I am Romanovin.”
“Humph. A prince is what Mr. Mackenzie called you.” Stewart sent Nik a hard look from under his bushy brows. “We heard him say so as we joined you.”
“And so I am . . . when I’m in court, surrounded by fools and idiots.” Nik leaned against a tree and stretched his legs before him, looking comfortable there on the ground, by the fire. A faint smile touched his lips, one both personal and disarming. “But here, under the trees and the night sky, where nothing but honest men can find their way? Then, I am Romanovin.”
Stewart and MacKean exchanged glances.
“It would be safer for us all if no one knew a prince was among us,” Rurik added without looking up from where he was unpacking his and Nik’s bedrolls.
Ailsa couldn’t argue with that.
“That’s true,” Stewart said grudgingly.
MacKean shrugged. “Romanovin it is.”
Ailsa waited for Nik to say more, but he merely smiled and then held his hands to the flames and soaked in the warmth.
She smoothed her hands over her knees, trying not to give in to a twinge of jealousy. She’d worked hard to gain the trust of her men, and even now could sometimes feel the waver of their belief in her. To see them accept the prince and agree to call him by his last name seemed . . . unfair, somehow. Would they have agreed to call her something so informal? She didn’t think so.
But did she wish them to? Did such familiarity mean anything? Could it denote a lack of respect? It doesn’t matter. I should just focus on the tasks at hand; my actions will speak for me. She looked at Stewart and MacKean. “Who has first watch?”
“I do.” MacKean gathered his furs and a flask of water. “I’ll take the spot you found on the boulder, my lady. ’Tis a guid vantage point, nae?”
“You can see all the way down the trail, almost to the stream. But the rock is nae comfortable, and it holds the cold, so you’re smart to take that fur.”
“Aye, although the cold will keep me awake. Stewart, bring me some stew when ’tis done.” MacKean disappeared around the boulder, and was soon heard from no more.
“We’ll need more firewood.” Rurik arose from where he’d placed the bedrolls and moved quietly into the dark woods.
Nik looked around the camp. “This is a good spot for our camp.”
She raised her brows at the approving note in his voice, disliking the small flare of satisfaction his words gave her. “When we hunt larger game, there are times we must spend the night in the woods. The gamekeepers, I, and my father have added much venison to our winter stores.” She hesitated, but then added, “Castle Leod might nae be wealthy, but she’s self-sufficient. The lands are large, but much of it is like this—beautiful, but unfarmable. We rely on the game to help us through the winters.”
“Her ladyship is a crack shot,” Stewart added.
She grinned. “I’m guid with a knife, too, and it seems as if you need those carrots chopped.”
“So I do, my lady.” Stewart handed her the small bundle of carrots. “Smaller pieces cook faster.” He stood. “I’m going to see where Rurik is with that firewood. The fire will be oot if he dinnae hurry.” The Scotsman left, lumbering off into the woods.
To Ailsa’s chagrin, the prince came to sit at her side.
She scooted away, giving him more than enough room.
Nik raised his brows. “I will not touch you. Not unless you wish me to.”
She shot him a side-glance that was as cool as it was unwelcoming. “Then you will nae touch me.”
Nik noted the firm set of her defiant chin. She’d been direct and unhesitating, and he recognized the challenge that lurked in her words whether she knew it or not. Until these last few days, he hadn’t realized how much he liked challenges, or how rarely he received them. He spread his hands as if in surrender. “As you wish.”
She didn’t look completely convinced, but she didn’t order him to move, either. She busied herself cutting the carrots, sparing him not another glance.
He was beginning to realize that Lady Ailsa was a complex woman indeed. Her bold kiss had given him the impression that passion simmered just under her cool, collected surface, and he wished to know more about that side of her.
He noted how the cold had pinkened her cheeks and nose. “Earlier, you said you wished to know how I knew your ultimate destination. As you’ve shared your fire, I suppose I should at least answer your question.”
She’d finished with the carrots and tossed them into the stew before she shifted so that she could see his face. “Have you been following us since we left?”
“Aye. We saw you, or rather, heard you.”
“Gregor’s horse.” At Nik’s nod, she said, “Something startled it as we were departing.” She added in a more sour tone, “So that’s when you discovered we were leaving.”
“We were already loaded and ready to go. Had you left five minutes later, you would have been following us.”
Her brows knit. “Who tol
d you where Greer was located? I cannae imagine my men doing such a— Ah! The note he sent.” She pinned him with a furious gaze. “One of your men searched my study!”
“That they did.”
“Dammit! That’s— How could you?”
He spread his hands wide. “You were not forthcoming; you left us no choice.”
Her lips thinned, yet even then, they were plumper than most women’s. She really did have the most beautiful mouth.
“I should have locked Greer’s missive and the ransom note away.” She shot him a scorching look. “Sadly, I dinnae realize there were weasels in my own hoose.”
“Weasels?”
“Little rodents that steal things.”
“We didn’t steal anything. We just looked. Although I’ll admit it was rude of us to look.”
“I would call it more than rude.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps so, da. But it is also rude to sneak off when you’ve promised to meet with a guest.”
“Nae a guest; a groom.”
“Is that how you treat servants?” He tsked. “However you wish to see it, I had no choice but to find out the truth on my own.”
“I agree that my lack of openness would be an issue if I dinnae think you’d arrived with the intent of searching the castle and property, and had probably already done so when I spoke to you by the stables.”
“We had not yet done so, but it’s true the plan was already in motion. Normally, I would not sanction such an overstepping of hospitality, but this is a crucial matter.”
“You think I dinnae realize there are lives dependent oopon this?”
Her expression, diamond hard and unwavering, made him pause.
The words came from both her heart and her head. The weight of leadership is heavy on this one. It was a surprising realization, for he’d thought her natural in assuming her position. He narrowed his gaze. “How old are you?”
She blinked. “What?”
“How old are you?” he repeated.
“What has that to do with anything?”
He raised his brows and waited.
“I’m twenty-three,” she said stiffly. After a moment, she added, “Almost.”
And there it was. He’d assumed she was at least in her late twenties and had years of experience behind her, but now he understood why she was so prickly about her authority. Good God, what is her father thinking, to leave his estate in such tender hands?