And just look where trusting another person had gotten him. Lost, that’s where. Lost and penniless and without any means to accomplish his goals.
Mathew clutched his Dream Guardian to his chest and scanned the campsite once more in the vain hope that Dobbie might have left behind some small belonging.
Nothing.
Dobbie had disappeared sometime in the night, taking everything with him. Everything but the plaid upon which Mathew slept and the sword he clutched in his arms.
At least he still had his Dream Guardian.
What would he do now? Whatcouldhe do?
His dreams of wealth were dashed. Without the scrolls to sell to the MacLeod laird, there was nothing to be gained by continuing his journey to Dunvegan.
He had no horse, no food, no money.
“But all is not lost,” he announced defiantly to the forest, a small spark of optimism undaunted.
He still had a head on his shoulders, unlike his brother, Hugo. He still had his wits about him. And he still had this wonderful sword that kept his nightmares at bay and made him all but invincible.
He didn’t for one moment doubt its supreme power. It had taken that great warrior to his knees with only the lightest touch.
A wave of guilt swept over him and he struggled to push it away. He had never intended to hurt anyone. It wasn’t his fault the big man had gotten too close to him. And once the damage had been done, there was nothing to be gained in staying by the warrior’s side. Had the big man survived the wound, there was still the other attacker. Running away had been his only real option. Even Dobbie had agreed upon that.
Not that Dobbie Caskie was any measure of right and wrong. Dobbie, after all, had robbed him blind, disappearing with what few possessions he had left.
“All is not lost,” Mathew repeated stubbornly.
He would no longer have the advantage of wealth he’d counted on, but that was no reason to abandon the rest of his plans.
He could still locate the Tinklers and reunite with his cousin, Eleyne. They could return to their home, where, if necessary, he would challenge his uncle for what was rightfully his. With his Dream Guardian at his side, he had no doubt that he would win any challenge, even one against a man as ruthless and powerful as his uncle.
After a stop at the water’s edge to wash the sleep from his face, Mathew wrapped his cloak tightly around him and headed out to find the trail he and Dobbie had abandoned after they’d been attacked.
Find the trail and double back north. That was his best bet now. Somewhere along the way, along one of the well-traveled roads, he hoped to cross paths with the Tinklers and Eleyne.
Twenty-four
BRIDGET GALLOPED AHEADof Hall, her bow raised, her long hair flying in the wind.
He drew his horse to a halt to watch. She cut across the flat stretch of open land, building speed as she went. Riding like the wildling she was, she controlled her mount without use of her hands. Like a natural-born warrior, she let loose her arrow and lifted her arms high in the air in an instinctively joyous celebration, as if she knew her shot would meet its mark even before it left her string.
It had.
Tonight they would feast on fresh rabbit.
She slid down from her mount and ran to retrieve her catch. Uninhibited, wild, untamed—the descriptions pounded at Hall’s thoughts, each of them more fitting for the woman he watched than the one before.
If he were to design his perfect woman, everything about Bridget was what he would wish for in a life partner.
Too bad his life was destined to be spent alone.
“You see?” she asked as she rode up next to him, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of her catch. “I told you we’d have better than dry bread and oats for our meal this night. Our deal stands. I caught it; you clean it and cook it.”
On second thought, perhaps she wasn’t perfect. But damn close.
He accepted the carcass without comment and draped it over the back of his saddle. A deal was a deal.
“Impressive marksmanship,” he said, acknowledging her extraordinary abilities.