Chapter 5

I zzy’s arm was beginning to ache. She had been walking with her phone held above her head in the hopes of getting a signal. So far, she’d had no luck.

Aargh! Why was everything conspiring against her today? Had she done something to annoy the universe and this was her punishment?

To make matters worse, a light rain had begun to fall. It was that annoying sort of misty rain that clung to her hair and clothes, making her feel damp and irritable. When was she going to reach the road? She’d been walking for miles!

“And you can stop looking so pleased with yourself,” she said to Snaffles who was ambling along by her side with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth in a grin. “This is all your fault. If you hadn’t chased that cat, none of this would have happened!”

Snaffles merely grinned at her. Izzy harrumphed and carried on walking. This couldn’t be right. She’d been making her way steadily along the track—which was far more overgrown than she remembered from this morning—and should have hit the road a long time ago. There were no turnings or junctions on the track so there was no way she could have taken a wrong turn and gotten lost. It just didn’t make any sense!

Her thoughts turned to Magnus and a horrible guilty feeling stole through her. Now that she’d had a little time to think, she realized she might have jumped to conclusions a little. If he had been part of a plot to steal her car, he would hardly have escorted her back to the scene of the crime, would he?

But she hadn’t thought of that at the time. She’d just panicked and said the first thing that came into her head, irrational though it had been. She’d sent him packing and now she was alone, damp, and thoroughly miserable.

She studied her surroundings, trying to spot any familiar landmarks or signs of civilization, but all she saw was more of the same—dense heather, stunted trees, and a dreary sky that seemed to press upon her like a heavy blanket.

She wished she had a map or anything that could help her locate some semblance of a route out of this wilderness. She’d boasted to Magnus that she knew this area and couldn’t get lost, but she’d left her map in the car and the GPS on her phone was no good if she couldn’t get a signal. Oh, wasn’t she just the intrepid explorer? Take away her modern conveniences and what did you get? A city girl out of her depth and on the verge of panic, that’s what!

Snaffles stopped suddenly, his body tensing, staring ahead.

“Snaffles? What is it, boy?” The dog didn’t move, didn’t wag his tail—only the slight widening of his nostrils betrayed that he was tracking a scent in the air.

Izzy went still, trying to listen for anything unusual, but all she could hear was the rhythm of her heartbeat pounding in her ears and the eerie silence of the surrounding moorland. It was probably just a rabbit, she told herself. But the tenseness of Snaffles’ posture suggested otherwise.

“What?” she asked the dog. “What is it? ”

Then she heard it: the tramp of footsteps coming up the brow of a hill on her right.

People! At last!

Maybe they would have a phone signal. At the very least, they could tell her where she was and how to get to the road. She took a step in that direction but froze when Snaffles let out a long, low growl, deep in his throat.

She looked at him in surprise. “What’s wrong, boy?”

Snaffles’ chest rumbled with another growl. Izzy hesitated. It was unlike Snaffles to behave like this. Had he sensed something about the approaching people? What if it was the thieves who’d taken her car?

She looked around, spotted a copse of stunted alder nearby and, grabbing Snaffles’ collar, pulled him into it. She crouched behind the low branches as three people crested the hill. They were all male, in a range of ages, the youngest little more than a gangly youth, the oldest probably in his fifties. They each wore a long tartan wrap similar to what Magnus had been wearing, although these were different colors. Something about them made the back of Izzy’s neck tingle with unease although she couldn’t put a finger on why that was.

Then a female voice suddenly spoke. “Will ye three slow down?” A woman with long blonde hair tied into a plait appeared over the brow of the hill behind them. She glared down at the three men with her arms crossed under her ample bosom. “This isnae a race ye know? My feet are killing me! ”

The older man laughed. “ Yer feet are hurting ye? Ye should try having my bunions, Elsie, lass. Then ye’d know what aching feet really were!”

Elsie groaned dramatically, rolling her eyes as she descended to join her companions. “Aye, I’m sure yer bunions are a real tragedy, Fergus,” she replied, her voice thick with sarcasm. “Not helped by that paunch ye force them to carry around!”

Fergus chuckled heartily, the sound echoing over the open moorland as he patted his ample belly.

Izzy relaxed. They were obviously just a group of hikers and despite Snaffles’ behavior, the fact that a woman was with the group put her at ease. Surely these people would help her? Surely one of them would have a phone she could borrow?

She was just about to stand up and announce herself when a big, calloused hand went around her mouth, yanking her back down into the undergrowth. She went rigid with fright.

Then a familiar voice spoke by her ear. “Hush, lass. It’s me. Quietly now. The wind is blowing in their direction and if we aren’t careful, they’ll hear us.” His voice was so soft it barely carried, his breath tickling her neck, but she recognized it as Magnus’s deep drawl. “I’m going to take my hand away now. All right?”

She nodded. As he removed his hand, she spun to face him. He held a finger to his lips, motioning for her to keep quiet. His eyes were alert, fixed on the group of men and the woman who were now making their way down the hill.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered .

“Looking for ye. And it seems I found ye only just in time. It would be most unwise to reveal yerself to those people, lass.”

“Why? Who are they?” She remembered the way Snaffles had growled as they approached.

“Folks that ye dinna want to be running into.”

More cryptic answers. She shook her head, surprised by how pleased she was to see Magnus. She hadn’t heard him approach and Snaffles had not warned her. For such a big man, he moved remarkably quietly.

She watched as he stared out at the retreating group, eyes narrowed like a hound that had scented its prey. Like she had been with Irene MacAskill earlier, she was struck by how well Magnus fitted this landscape. There was something unconstrained about him. Something wild. Free.

“I was just going to ask if they know the way to the road,” Izzy said. “Where’s the harm in that? They seem friendly enough.”

“Just because a snake doesnae hiss doesnae mean it willnae bite,” warned Magnus grimly. “Listen to me, Isabelle.” His grip tightened on her arm, his voice low and hard. “Appearances aren’t what they seem, especially out here. I dinna know how life is in yer English manor, but in this place ye need to be careful who ye trust.”

Eh? What was he going on about? He said ‘out here’ as though they were in some lawless wilderness. Yes, this area was a little remote, but it was hardly the Wild West, was it? And what did he mean by ‘English manor’ ?

She opened her mouth to speak but he pressed a finger to his lips again and shook his head. The group of people had made it to the bottom of the hill and begun walking.

Magnus rose. “Come. We must follow them.”

“What? But you’ve just said we should avoid them!” Izzy retorted. “Which is it, Magnus? I’m not going anywhere until you explain what’s going on!”

His eyes narrowed. “Are ye always this difficult?”

“Only when people make absolutely no sense!”

“Who do ye think they are?” he asked. “What kind of people would be out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“All kinds. Hikers. Campers. People walking their dogs like I was.” She crossed her arms. “And besides, you’re out here, aren’t you?”

He began to speak but Snaffles suddenly growled, his hackles rising. Magnus froze, head cocked as he listened. Then Izzy heard it too: a steady thundering noise. It took her a moment to realize it was hoofbeats.

“Get down!” Magnus yanked her down amongst the undergrowth, taking a firm hold of Snaffles’ collar at the same time.

“Hey! What do you think you’re—”

“Hush, lass! Listen.”

The sounds grew louder—the hoofbeats thundering like an approaching storm—and a group of riders appeared in the distance, their silhouettes dark against the evening sky. They cantered closer and Izzy saw that they were dressed in mismatched, outlandish garb, some clad in hunting leathers while others wore crimson velvet cloaks, all accented by an array of trinkets that glinted in the lowering sun .

The woman and the three men turned at the sound of hooves and stopped to wait for the riders.

The woman planted her hands on her hips. “And about bloody time!” she shouted.

The lead rider was a barrel-chested man with flaming red hair that cascaded down his back in one long braid. He rode up to the waiting group, pulled up his horse and jumped down, then scooped the woman into his arms and kissed her soundly.

“There ye are, Elsie my love!” he boomed. “Ye are a sight for sore eyes!”

Elsie wrapped her arms around the redhead’s neck and kissed him so thoroughly that Izzy felt a blush creep across her cheeks. She glanced at Magnus and found him tense as a bowstring beside her.

Snaffles whined, and she gently stroked his head to calm him. The red-headed man released Elsie and turned to address his group, his voice as loud and jovial as his appearance. “Lads and lasses, today has been a grand day! Today we are rich!”

He pulled a bag from his saddle and tossed it into the air. The bag arced upwards and jingled when he caught it again, as though it was filled with coins.

“Make camp! Tonight we feast!”

A cheer went up among his companions and the enlarged group fell into what was obviously a well-rehearsed routine. Bags were unloaded from saddles, tents started going up, food was unpacked and a campfire started. Someone led the horses away and turned them out to graze .

Izzy watched all this curiously. Who were these people? Wild campers? If so, why was Magnus so wary of them?

“Magnus, who are—”

“We need to get away from here.”

“But—”

“Right now.”

She began to speak but the look on his face stopped her. He looked more than wary. He looked worried. Very worried.

She swallowed her protest. “Um. All right.”

Magnus extended his hand, and Izzy took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet and guide her out of the copse of alders. He led her through the whispering undergrowth, away from the hillside and the boisterous laughter that drifted on the wind. Snaffles, as if sensing their disquiet, kept close to Izzy’s side, making not a sound.

Once clear of the alder thicket they walked quickly, Magnus glancing over his shoulder every so often. Then he froze suddenly. A silhouette moved amongst the heather ahead. Snaffles whiffled softly. Izzy’s heartbeat ramped up a notch until the silhouette stamped and let out a soft nicker. It was not a person but one of the group’s horses, put out to graze for the night.

“At last a bit of luck,” Magnus muttered.

He walked cautiously towards the horse and Izzy saw that it had been hobbled to stop it wandering too far. It was a sturdy-looking gray mare and Magnus approached her slowly, extending a hand and murmuring soothingly. The gray mare blew out a soft breath and lowered her head to sniff Magnus’s outstretched hand. Izzy grabbed hold of Snaffles’ collar. She really didn’t need another Baxter situation.

“Good girl,” Magnus muttered to the horse gently, stroking her neck before he untied her hobble. “Ye’re a beauty, aren’t ye?” He patted her side fondly and the mare nuzzled into his hand, as if in agreement.

Magnus beckoned Izzy over. “Come on,” he called softly. “Ye will travel more quickly now.”

Izzy approached cautiously, keeping hold of Snaffles.

“Get on,” Magnus ordered, his voice low but commanding.

She stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Get on,” he repeated. He gestured to the mare. “Ye are leaving. Take the horse and go home.”

“You want me to...to steal a horse?” Izzy spluttered incredulously, looking between Magnus and the calm gray mare. “Are you crazy?”

“Lass, yer own horses and carriage are gone—stolen by those people over there for all I know. How else do ye expect to get home this night?”

She blinked at him vacantly. She heard the words clear as day but she didn’t seem able to work out what they meant.

His brow furrowed. “What are ye waiting for, woman? Mount the horse and go!”

“But...but what about you?”

“I have business to attend to.”

Izzy glanced at the group of people in the distance. They were far enough away now that she couldn’t make them out clearly but she could see their campfire and hear their laughter and chatter .

She took a deep breath. “Magnus, this is insane. I don’t need a horse to get home, I need a cab! I’m going over there and asking to borrow a phone!”

She took a step but Magnus grabbed her arm and yanked her back. Snaffles whined.

“Now who is insane?” he hissed. “Go over there and ye will be a prisoner before ye can blink! They might keep ye alive to ransom ye but that is the best ye could hope for! Do as I say! Ride, woman! Mount up and get away from here as fast as ye can. I will ensure they dinna follow ye. Go home, Isabelle, and forget ye saw any of this.”

“But what if—”

“There is no ‘what if’, Isabelle,” Magnus snapped. “Ye need to go. Now!”

He didn’t wait for another protest. He grabbed Izzy around the waist and hoisted her onto the mare’s back. Izzy yelped in surprise, instinctively gripping onto the horse’s mane.

“Ride,” he commanded. “And dinna stop until ye are out of the Dragon’s Back and safe at yer manor.”

“But I don’t know how to ride! And I don’t know my way home from here!”

“Ye’ve ridden before, surely?”

“On a pony at a fair, when I was eight!”

A shout suddenly rang through the night. “Hey! Who’s that by the horses?”

Torches flared in the distance as two men separated themselves from the rest of the group and started running towards Izzy and Magnus. Magnus cursed under his breath. Then in one swift motion, he swung up onto the horse behind her.

“Wrap yer hands in the mane and hold on,” he ordered, his voice gruff as he kicked the horse.

“But—”

The mare sprang into motion with such force that Izzy had to grip onto the horse’s mane tightly to keep from falling off. The world turned blurry as they sped through the darkening landscape, Snaffles loping easily alongside. The cold wind slapped at Izzy’s face, cutting through her clothes. The shouts grew fainter until they were swallowed up by the thump of the mare’s hooves and the breathless rhythm of her heart.

“Ye’re doing fine, lass,” Magnus’s voice spoke close by her ear. She felt his arm tighten around her waist, holding her steady.

Fine? Fine? She was most definitely not doing fine! She was terrified out of her wits!

“Stop!” she cried. “Stop this horse right now!”

Magnus looked over his shoulder, gazing back the way they’d come. He did not slow the horse.

“Did you hear me? Stop the horse! I want to get off!”

She began wriggling but Magnus’s arm around her only tightened.

“Keep still! Ye’ll unseat us both!”

“Then stop the bloody horse!” Her cry was shrill with panic and perhaps it was this that cut through to the madman seated behind her.

He said something to the horse and the beast slowed, first to a trot, then a walk, and finally came to a halt. Magnus glanced back again and seemed satisfied that they had lost any pursuit. It was dark enough now that they would be difficult to see against the browns of the moorland. Magnus swung down then patted the horse’s sweaty flanks.

“My apologies,” he said to the beast. “I know I’m too big for ye to carry but it was an emergency. Ye can rest now and eat grass.” He looked up at Izzy then held out his hand to help her dismount.

She ignored the offered hand, swung her leg over the horse’s back, and slid bonelessly to the ground where she lay with her limbs spread-eagled, staring up at the darkening sky and listening to the thundering of her heart.

Snaffles, thinking this was all some hilarious game, bounded over and started covering her face in doggy kisses.

“Ugh!” she shouted, sitting up and trying to push him away. “Get off! Dog slobber is the last thing I need!”

Snaffles rolled onto his back and Izzy absently rubbed his belly whilst trying to get a grip of herself.

“Lass,” Magnus began. “Isabelle—”

“Don’t!” she said, cutting him off. “Don’t say another word.” She wiped a shaky hand over her forehead. How had this day turned so insane? All she’d wanted to do was walk Snaffles and get some fresh air!

Magnus crouched in front of her, his sapphire eyes glinting in the gloom. “Are ye all right?”

“Am I all right?” she repeated. “No, actually. My car’s been stolen, I’ve just been party to a spot of horse-rustling, and I’m in the company of a lunatic!”

Magnus watched her as she ranted, his expression unchanging .

“Who are those people?” she continued, pointing her finger at him. “The ones you were looking for? Then why didn’t you want to talk to them? And why in God’s name did you steal one of their horses?”

“It’s...complicated lass. My apologies. I should have explained things to ye.”

She crossed her arms. “Go on then.”

“Go on what?”

“Explain things.”

He raked a hand through his hair and then blew out a long shuddering breath. “All right. What do ye wish to know?”

“Let’s see shall we?” She tapped her chin in thought. “How about everything ? Magnus, what the bloody hell is going on?”