Highlander's Promise by Donna Fletcher Read Free Book Online

heartless, having heard horrific tales about his exploits before she met him and got to know what a truly honorable man he was.
    They could not get away from the walled town quickly enough for Dawn and once again she wished they could travel faster than a snail’s pace, though she understood why Old Mary had maintained a slower pace than usual. And when the road emptied of travelers, Old Mary’s words confirmed her suspicions.
    “Where does Sloan camp?”
    Cree explained in whispers and Old Mary followed his directions, after stopping and retrieving the sack that she and Dawn had hidden before they entered the Village of Loudon.
    Old Mary directed the cart off the well-worn path, maneuvering it through the woods, hitting bumps and ruts and jostling its occupants so much that Dawn worried Cree would tumble out.
    It was not long before several of Cree’s warriors suddenly appeared. When they saw that it was Old Mary and Dawn, they turned speechless and, shaking their heads, led them to the camp.
    “What are you two doing here?” Sloan snapped sharply as the cart rolled to a stop.
    Cree rose up out of the cart, sending the offending rags flying off him. He vaulted over the side with ease to land on his feet and was met with shocked silence.
    Dawn smiled, for to her he looked as he did the first day she had laid eyes on him, only his wrists were not tethered with a rope. The muscles in his chest and arms gleamed with a fine sweat, defining their strength. His long brown hair was shot through with gold and the brilliant color of the sun, a distant contrast to his dark eyes that smoldered with anger.
    “We have no time to waste,” Cree said, looking to Sloan as he stepped around the cart to lift his wife off and stand her next to him. “Minnoch will find out soon enough that I have escaped and he will send warriors to search for me, and I want us well on our way home before he does.”
    Sloan shouted orders and the warriors got busy breaking camp. Cree hurried into a black shirt, one of his warriors handed him. He slipped on leather straps, crisscrossing them across his chest and shoulders and when they were in place, Cree slid his sword into the sheath on his back. A dagger was placed in his boot and another dagger went in the sheath attached to the strap that sat snug around his waist.
    Sloan nodded to Dawn, anger in his voice when he asked, “Her neck bleeds. Who did that to her?”
    “I did,” Old Mary said as a warrior helped her off the cart. She took a clean stripe of cloth from the pouch at her waist and approached Dawn with it to gently wrap it around her neck and absorb the blood that trickled from a small section of the wound. She looked to Cree as she finished. “Elsa must see to this as soon as we arrive home and I will speak with you about it whenever you wish.”
    “The time will come for us to talk,” Cree said, “but now you will ride with one of the warriors and it will not be an easy journey.”
    Old Mary smiled. “Life is not an easy journey. We do what we must to survive it.” She turned and gave Dawn a hug.
    A tear trickled from Dawn’s eye as she gestured to Old Mary, letting her know that she was forever grateful, for without her help she would have never been able to rescue Cree. They hugged again and Old Mary walked off with one of Cree’s warriors.
    “We ride through with brief rests for the horses and food,” Cree ordered.
    “We have done this many times before, but the women have not,” Sloan said.
    “They have no choice.” Cree turned to his wife and she gestured before he could say a word. He looked to Sloan with a smile. “She says make sure you do not slow her done.”
    Sloan grinned and nodded to Dawn. “I will do my best, my lady.”
    Cree’s stallion was brought to him and the horse snorted and stomped the ground as eager as Cree to be on his way. A warrior handed him a cloak and he draped it around Dawn and settled his hands at her waist and, with one swift lift,