enough yesterday in that glade. She had wed him, had she not?
However, he wondered now if it might not have been better to have laid the matter bare between them at the outset, before the wedding. That way he would have known exactly what he faced, and so would she.
He misliked guessing what she thought of it. Not once had she indicated that she cared one way or the other. Had she decided to ignore his lack of hearing altogether, pretend it did not exist? That would certainly not last for long.
Some people roundly feared the affliction and considered him cursed. Because of that, he had grown used to concealing it from all but his friends and family. Once he had learned to speak, that had never proved difficult with chance met acquaintances. They simply never thought to suspect such a thing.
It was a rare enough condition, so he’d been told. When it did occur, most people so stricken were also mute. His ability to speak usually prevented any suspicion of deafness.
A few did know, of course, and he imagined he was the object of some discussion behind his back. But he had never even considered withholding the knowledge from his intended bride or her father.
He had made a point of ordering Thomas to tell the laird before the betrothal contracts were drawn up, assuming that the laird would tell the daughter the problems she might encounter if she accepted the marriage.
Rob knew his deafness would affect their life together more than any other thing. Mairi would not understand that yet, but the realization must come to her one day soon.
He wondered how she would react if some fool accused him of consorting with devils, bartering his sense of sound in exchange for dark, evil powers. That had happened twice before, once with his mother’s uncle and then later with Thomas and Jehannie’s grandfather, Sir Simon. Even many priests believed it so.
Rob did have powers, of course. He smiled to himself, recalling the looks of awe—and sometimes fright—when he dealt with animals. Wild or tame, they loved him. He could coax them to do nearly anything he wished. Only he knew the secret was in caring about them, in showing no fear and banishing their fear of him. They sensed his respect and it calmed them, made a wild beastie as tractable as the laziest hound.
As he mulled that over, Rob unsaddled the horses and brushed them down with tufts of grass, examining their legs for scratches and their hooves for stones. All three nuzzled him in turn, thanking him for the attention.
His familiars, some accused. Strange word, to have such sinister meaning and yet be so descriptive of how he actually felt about most animals. He liked them more than people at times, for they were also hampered when it came to communicating what they truly needed. He made the effort to understand them and they returned the courtesy. It was that simple.
Also, his ability to see at night astounded many who knew him. For Rob, it seemed as natural as seeing in the day. God had given him that ability, he was certain. It proved quite valuable at times, and would later this night when they must rise and travel again with only the meager light of the moon. A gift.
He could sometimes divine exactly what others were thinking. This, however, was no real gift at all. He merely watched people more closely than most bothered to do. Or perhaps sounds distracted them so that they could not.
Expressions, arms closed about the chest, fists clenched, trembles of fear or rage not quite masked by a pretense of calm, shifting eyes. Those gave true thoughts away.
He could spot a liar before he opened his mouth to speak. And a plotting mind stood no chance of concealing itself. There was an air of intensity, of reckoning, so apparent as to be written in ink across the forehead.
Rob straightened from his task and looked at Mairi. She now sat upon the blanket, her elbows resting on her drawn-up knees, one finger absently twirling a strand of hair that had escaped her shining braid at the temple. Such a pensive, faraway look she wore.
Child’s play to see inside that mind, Rob thought with a wry twist of his mouth. Mairi was forming a plan of some sort. She either thought to escape him and return to Craigmuir to avenge her sire, or she meant to cajole her new husband into promising he would do the deed for her.
Powerless at the moment, she obviously hadn’t quite decided as yet which she would do. And so, he must watch her and keep her from acting on the first option, should she choose that one.
Mayhaps soon he would tell her he had already elected to return and set matters to rights if Ranald did not come after them and seal his fate. Rob smiled. He was not above allowing her to ply her charms first to convince him that he should accede to her wishes. He might have a bit of the devil in him, after all, to consider such a thing.
Andy soon summoned them to partake of the bread, cheese and cold meats he had packed before they left Craigmuir. They sat near the weak blaze and passed a wineskin among them.
If Mairi minded the silent meal, she did not say so. Rob suspected her exhaustion prevented her caring one way or the other.
“Sleep now,” he told her when she had finished eating. Obediently, she gave them good-night and retired to her blanket. Rob wrapped himself in his cloak and sat against a nearby tree. Andy moved to the shadows beyond the fire to keep first watch, as was his duty.
Rob had not meant to sleep until he could claim a place close enough to Mairi that he might be awakened should she attempt to leave in the night. However, he awoke with a start several hours later when the pale moon had tracked high overhead.
A sense of impending threat made his skin tingle. He rose quickly and hurried toward the horses.
What is it? Andy signed as he approached from across the clearing, an arrow already nocked in his bow.
Danger, Rob indicated. Wait here. Keep close watch.
At Andy’s obedient nod, Rob quietly saddled his horse and led him into the trees. He mounted quickly and retraced their earlier path for nearly an hour. At intervals, he would stop, sniff the air in all directions for wood smoke. When he smelled it finally, he let the scent lead him where it would.
The enemy camp had bedded for the night. Rob counted four sleeping bodies, rolled in blankets around the glowing coals. Another man had been set to guard duty, but had fallen asleep.
Five corresponded with the number of mounts. Rob took the time to lead the horses well away from the camp and tether them near his own.
Could one of these men be the cousin, Ranald? Rob hoped so. Then it would end here.
Unthinkable to slay sleeping men, he decided. And there was the slight chance these were not sent by the new laird of Craigmuir.
“Ho, the camp!” he shouted. “MacBain is here!”
He laughed aloud at their sudden confusion. Two tangled so helplessly in their wraps, they could not gain their feet.
The wakened guard rushed him, sword drawn. Rob dispatched him cleanly and kicked him off the blade. The advantage of surprise worked quite well.
A second man managed a nearly lethal thrust before Rob cut him down. He handily caught the next one with the backswing of his blade. The fourth laggard, mouth open and eyes wide with sheer terror as he looked back, took to the woods on the opposite side of the clearing and disappeared.
Rob trapped the last of the clumsy group still fighting
