Dangerous by Julia Hawthorne

were observing him to see what he was about.
    When a grubby urchin dropped from an overhanging branch, Micah pulled up, snorting while he stamped a massive foot in disapproval.
    A boy who could be no more than a handful of years looked up at Eric, cocking his head with a curious expression. “Hallo.”
    “Hallo to you,” Eric echoed the greeting. “Is there something you wanted?”
    “Have you anything to eat?”
    Eric shook his head, keeping quiet so he could count the pairs of advancing footsteps coming up behind him. Three distinct gaits he heard, but no doubt there were more. If any of them belonged to the man who’d escaped him yestreen, his journey might well have reached its end.
    “That’s too bad,” the boy said, rubbing his stomach. “I’m sore hungry.”
    The whine was a bit too polished to be genuine, and Eric forced a thin smile. “Perhaps one of the men behind me will feed you.”
    All went still. The only sound came from half-hearted raindrops pelting the few remaining leaves overhead. After several moments, someone broke the tense silence with a laugh.
    A man dressed all in gray rode up beside Eric, assessing him from the back of a dappled stallion. A sword with a finely tooled hilt hung at his side, and his unyielding posture marked him as a soldier accustomed to long hours in the saddle. Judging by the way the others deferred to him, he was their leader. Could he be the “Gray” Elisabeth had described? If so, what was he doing so near to Caileann?
    His silvery eyes lingered on Eric’s before he gave a slight nod. “We don’t often see men of such nerve hereabouts. What is your name, sir?”
    “Eric Jordan,” he answered, omitting the part of his name that would brand him as French. His accent he could do little about, but he hoped that keeping his answers brief would help disguise it.
    “And where are you bound this lovely day, Eric Jordan?”
    “Annandale,” he replied, praying it was on the path he’d chosen.
    “I see. What business have you there?”
    “I’m hoping to find work.”
    Gray eyed Micah dubiously. “Where does a journeyman come by such a fine mount?”
    “I won him,” Eric said evenly. He’d told the story many a time, and he endured further scrutiny without so much as a flinch.
    “Very well, then. Godspeed to you.”
    Eric nodded politely. “Many thanks.”
    Gray reined his horse aside, allowing Eric to pass. Instinct compelled him to hang back, pretending to pick his way down the rocky path. Once he’d passed out of sight, he tuned his sharp ears to the voices behind him.
    “What news have you from Caileann?” Gray asked.
    “They’re tending to their mourning, sir,” someone answered. “Guard’s doubled, and they’re turning away anyone not wearing Redmond plaid.”
    “As expected,” Gray said with a sigh. “Once they’ve lowered their defenses, our man will give the signal. Until then, we wait.”
    Eric had moved out of earshot, so he heard nothing more beyond an unintelligible babble of voices. He was tempted to double back to learn more but decided against it. Whatever the soldiers were planning was none of his concern. Surely, the Redmond would be safe enough within their well-defended walls.
    But what if there were a traitor inside those walls?
    With more Redmond than usual gathered at the castle, it was an ideal time to strike, and Gray had mentioned a man who would alert them when it was safe to attack. The rain dripping down Eric’s cheeks summoned the memory of Elisabeth weeping over her cousins. Their loss had struck her hard. How would she fare were she to lose more of her kin?
    Very firmly, he pushed aside emotion and focused on logic. Avoiding the web of Scottish politics was crucial to beginning life anew in this country. He was no longer a knight, but a laborer with a strong back and a willing demeanor. With any fortune at all, he’d die many years from now without anyone learning the truth about him.
    But even as he moved