Seonaid forced herself to accept the situation. There was little else she could do. But it had been a long, tense ride, with her sitting as stiff and erect as a soldier the whole way in an effort to keep any part of her body from touching any part of Blake's. When midafternoon rolled around and Blake decided they should stop to let the mounts rest, she was most relieved. Helen was obviously not. The moment Lord Rolfe lifted her down off his mount, she rushed to Seonaid's side.
"Should we be stopping?" she asked, grabbing up her skirts to trail Seonaid down the sloping hill toward the trees.
Blake had decided to stop on a hilltop that allowed a clear view of the surrounding area. A watch would be set in place while everyone rested. No one would be able to approach without being spotted, at least while it was light. She suspected the moment darkness fell, Blake would have them back on their horses and riding again. At least she hoped he would. It was not much farther to Dunbar. They could be there by midmorning the next day if they left again as the sun set.
"The horses need rest," Seonaid said in answer to Helen's question as Aeldra caught up to them. "We'll no get far do the horses die under us."
"Oh, aye." Helen didn't sound pleased, but didn't argue the point either.
"We'd be at Dunbar by now had the men no insisted on our ridin' with them," Aeldra grumbled as they reached the trees.
"Aye," Seonaid agreed.
" 'Tis damned uncomfortable aridin' with that great lout Stupid George."
"Little George," Helen corrected.
The small Scot gave a sniff. "It should be Stupid George, if ye ask me."
Her words surprised a laugh out of Seonaid and she glanced at her cousin. "Givin' ye trouble, is he?"
"Aye. Ridin' with him is about as comfortable as ridin' on a great bouncin' stone."
Seonaid merely shook her head. She had noticed her cousin rode with Little George much as she rode with Blake, stiff and straight as a bow. Which made her wonder if her cousin found herself attracted to the large man in the same way she herself was attracted to Blake. But the image of the two together was so bizarre she shook her head. 'Twas like envisioning an Irish wolfhound and a Scottish terrier together.
"I find riding with Lord Rolfe most comfortable," Helen spoke up, drawing Seonaid and Aeldra's attention. "It feels safe and warm, and I find I doze off most of the time and sleep."
"That being the case, ye should be the one Sherwell posts as guard," Aeldra teased. "Yer probably the only one o' any o' us who's had any sleep in the last two days."
"That may be true," Helen said seriously. "Mayhap I should suggest it to Lord Rolfe."
Seonaid laughed at the suggestion as the women separated to find their own private spots to tend to personal needs, but the thought stayed with her as she tended to business. She had spotted Helen sleeping several times today and had no doubt the woman had rested through a good portion of the ride the night before. The small redhead had been curled up against Lord Rolfe like a cuddly ginger kitten, sound asleep and held in place by his surrounding arms. She probably was the only one of them in any shape to keep guard, or do anything else. Now, if Seonaid and Aeldra were to do the same when they rode out again that evening, when they arrived at Dunbar, they would be the only ones in any shape to do anything ... like ride straight out again while the men all rested and recovered from the journey. The very thought brought a small laugh from Seonaid.
"Somethin' amuse ye?" Aeldra asked curiously as the three women met up again where they had split. "I thought I heard ye cacklin' yer evil cackle a minute ago."
"Me evil cackle, eh?" Seonaid asked with amusement, then explained the thought that had amused her so.
"The women seem awfully cheerful," Blake said with some suspicion as he watched them make their way back up the hill. "What do you suppose they are up to now?"
"Probably nothing," Rolfe said, also watching them. "No doubt their good mood is because they are the only ones who have had any sleep."
Blake glanced at him with surprise. "Sister Helen slept on the ride?"
"Like a babe in its mother's arms. Did Seonaid not sleep?"
"Nay," Blake admitted, his eyes returning to the approaching women. Seonaid hadn't slept, she hadn't even relaxed; she'd been as stiff as a board in his arms the entire ride. Which had made it impossible for him to relax either. It had been a damned uncomfortable ride.
Turning away, he moved to find a spot to lay down and catch a nap. They wouldn't be stopping long. Four hours at most, and then they would have to be on their way again.
Seonaid blinked her eyes open and stared sleepily up at the handsome face bent over her own. A smile of welcome began to curve her lips; then her brain awakened as she realized who she was smiling at. She abruptly frowned and struggled to sit up as she recalled where she was. On horseback, very much in the lap of the Sherwell.
"Did you sleep well?"
Seonaid ignored the question as she forced herself upright in the saddle before him. She knew the man had been surprised when, on getting back on the horse, she had forced herself to relax and lean into him. Though she had intended to do so, she was still surprised that she had actually fallen asleep in his arms. But once she had forced her mind and body to relax, the lulling rhythm of the horse had sent her off to sleep.
"You seemed to sleep well. You were snoring," he informed her, adding helpfully, "and drooling."
Seonaid reached up, mortified to find that he was telling the truth--her cheek was damp. She wiped the drool away with irritation and sat a little stiffer before him as her gaze slid around the area they were riding through. They were ascending a hill, a very familiar-looking hill.
"We're home," she murmured with surprise as they crested the hill and Dunbar keep came into view. Seonaid felt happiness well up within her at the sight of the castle she'd grown up in. No matter why she left, or for how long, she always had this sensation on returning. Her father was here and her brother, Giorsal, and Aeldra's brother Allistair, and now her sister-in-law, Iliana, too. Her famil
y.
The pleased smile remained in place until they approached the bridge over the moat and she spotted the charred and blackened bodies and rubble on the ground in front of the wall. Seonaid stiffened before Blake, desperate to know what had happened. She relaxed a bit when she recognized the men standing guard on the wall, and only then did her attention turn to scanning the area to see the traces of battle.
Dunbar had been attacked. Lord Rolfe, the bishop, and Little George urged their horses closer to Blake's.
"What think you?" Lord Rolfe asked.
"Greenweld?" Blake suggested as they rode across the bridge and entered the bailey. "It looks like there was a siege."
Seonaid wasn't really listening to the men; she could see for herself what had taken place. A siege was right. Someone had attacked the castle, catapulting burning missiles over the walls. There was quite a bit of damage to various buildings within. There were no bodies laying inside the walls, but then, there wouldn't be. Those would have been seen to first.
The bodies outside the wall would be seen to last, if their own people didn't beg permission to return to tend to the matter themselves.
Seonaid controlled herself as long as she could, but Blake had slowed his mount even further as they had entered the bailey and was now moving at a snail's pace. Halfway across the bailey, she could stand it no longer and tossed one leg over the beast to propel herself off the mount.
Blake let loose a sound of surprise and brought the horse to a halt to prevent running her over, but he didn't try to stop her.
Landing on the hard-packed dirt of the bailey, Seonaid broke into a run, racing toward the keep. The door opened as she started up the stairs and she glanced up to see wee Willie, the stable master's son, step out. A smile broke out on the lad's face when he spotted her.
"Seonaid!" he cried in greeting, and she stumbled to a halt at the sight of the bandages on the boy's arm.
"Willie?" She paused to run a hand over his good arm, her gaze locked on the bandages on his other one. "Are ye all right, lad?"
"Aye." His smiled widened. "Just a bit o' a burn," he assured her. "Lady Iliana took care o' it."
"Is everyone--? Was anyone--?" She stumbled over her own words, finding it difficult to ask what she wanted to know. "Father?" she got out finally.