Teeth gritted, he studied Ella’s tracks deeper. She’d done well to disguise her passage where possible, doubling back in certain places and taking advantage of the streams to conceal her footprints wherever possible. Yet she couldn’t hide her final destination. Dunscaith Castle. Even when he’d lost her prints here and there, he’d soon found them again. “We need to catch up to her now.”
“Aye, she moves with a faster pace, her footprint slightly deeper.” Ivor fingered the mark then pushed to his feet.
Hell, when he found his wayward wife, he’d bind and gag her, bundle her up in his galley and take her directly back to Ardan House where he could lock her away in his bedchamber and ensure she never escaped him again. This mission of hers was perilous, even more so now since she’d set out on her own. One misstep could certainly see her toppling over the side of a ridge and plummeting to her death and that thought, he could barely endure.
Surveying the treacherous path ahead, he trekked on.
As the hours passed, he left the mountainous plateau behind and cut through a narrow gorge in the hills. There, he found the spot where she’d stopped to kneel at the edge of a river for a drink, her knee prints firm in the sandy soil. Although, she hadn’t crossed the fast-flowing waters here, her prints moving on alongside the bank. He scooped water and drank, his satchel strapped to his back, Ella’s too since he’d grabbed it before leaving the temporary camp he and his men had set up at the bay.
Back on the sodden trail, he picked up his pace, Ivor one step behind him.
Striding through the boggy grasses, he remained alert as he scanned their surroundings. Soon, he left the marshland behind and jogged through the forest and along a leaf strewn trail. He trotted past a massive pine tree with a trunk at least three times the size of any other and stopped.
Something about it intrigued him and he turned back. Roaming around it, he spied engraved letters scored into the bark and gently, he traced the etched markings. E & E.
On the ground, Ella’s booted marks showed she’d stopped here as well.
“Ella and Ethan,” he bit out to Ivor. The initials could easily stand for such. “We’re close, very close.”
Picking up his pace, he ran until he reached a divide in the path. A white arrow painted on the surface of a rock pointed straight ahead, likely to Kinloch harbor, although ’twas the path veering to the right that held her firm print. Her grandparents lived close to the harbor. She’d said they resided only a day’s ride from Dunscaith. That would make this spot as being about right.
He took the trail she had, the midday sunshine streaming through the canopy overhead and flecking golden rays over the path holding thick scrub either side and snaking tree roots. Birds twittered from high in their nests, their chirps echoing through the woods in a high-pitched chorus.
Onward, he stormed then halted as the forest suddenly gave way to a small clearing dotted with yellow flowers and thick clumps of grass. Smoke curled into the air from a cottage with a thatched rooftop while clothes fluttered on a rope hung between two elm trees.
Amongst those clothes a very familiar pair of navy breeches and a brown rawhide coat dried. Ella’s clothes. Relief swamped him, right along with a fierce bolt of need to find her and gather her close in his arms.
Sword unsheathed, he snuck across the meadow toward the front door and tested the handle. It turned with ease and the door creaked open. All remained eerily quiet inside. A fire blazed along one wall near a table with two chairs and a bench tucked underneath it. Ella’s riding boots sat propped in front of the hearth and as he crouched near the table, he picked up a strand of her brown hair. Aye, very close indeed.
In the kitchen tucked to one side of the main room, pots and utensils hung from hooks and a larder sat recessed into a darkened nook. He crept, across freshly scented rushes and past an open door leading to a bedchamber with a soft burgundy and blue patchwork quilt. No one remained within the room, the sunshine streaming through the window and dappling across the covers.
He continued on toward the chamber door at the far end of the passageway. It remained closed, but all his instincts blared that he’d find his chosen one within that room.
Over his shoulder, he gestured for Ivor to await him outside and to maintain a tight guard. No one would keep his wife from him a moment longer, not even Ella herself.
Chapter 9
The lightest creak of the floorboards outside her bedchamber door stirred Ella from her sleep. She stretched and opened her eyes. Grandma and Grandpa must have returned. Covers tossed back, she eased out of bed and straightened her forest-green skirts then popped her slippers on.
She made the door just as it swung open and Duncan filled the frame.
Goodness. Her jaw dropped and her mouth dried out. The renewed sight of him took her breath away, his tan leather vest studded with bits of steel stretching tight across his broad shoulders, his leather-covered legs braced wide apart. “W-what are you doing here?” He should never have been able to catch up to her this fast.