Read Online Sound of the Heart by Genevieve Graham - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Genevieve Graham
Ads: Link
annoyance, but seemed unwilling to go chasing through the storm for anyone. The escapees stayed flat behind the tall grass, waiting.
Finally, just when Dougal feared he might get sucked into the mud if he didn’t move, the soldiers turned back toward the yard, passing one by one through the hole. The last two glanced behind them, scanning the open field, but their eyes passed safely over the hidden Scots. Dougal blew out his breath and lowered his brow to the ground with relief.
“Where do we go now?” Aidan’s voice was hushed, unsure.
Dougal took a moment before lifting his head again so he could look at the boy. When he did, he was struck by the fragility of the young, pale face. His blond hair was plastered onto his skin, muddy and wet, until it was close to Dougal’s own black shade. Mud smeared his face but his lips were chalky white, hinting at blue. Any sparks were gone from Aidan’s sad blue eyes. Dougal felt an impulse to grab the boy by his upper arms and shake him, shake the sense into him.
We’re free, lad! We survived!
but instead he looked away. He was free, too, but by watching the boy, Dougal was drawn into the bone-deep misery threatening to suck the life from Aidan. Joseph was gone. John was gone. Andrew was gone.
But this was no time for grieving. Nor was it time to celebrate. It was time to concentrate on survival. Dougal shuffled up onto his elbows but kept low, wary of soldiers returning. He huffed out his breath and ran his hand over his face, wiping rain from his line of vision so he could survey the ground surrounding them. It was flat and marshy, providing little more than the occasional shrub or clump of grass as a hiding place. Beyond that, Dougal could see a flooded ditch, possibly a hundred feet across. It looked manmade, like a moat. Grass grew on the opposite side and a dark line of trees beckoned from beyond.
“Can ye swim?”
Aidan shook his head, his mouth pulled down at the corners.
“Well, I can,” Dougal said. In fact, Dougal swam like a fish, as had his brothers. He loved the water. What he needed now was a way to get Aidan across with him. There would be little risk of being seen in the water even if a soldier deigned to come that far. The rain would dimple the surface until it was impossible to see much of anything. “Have ye a good grip?”
Aidan stared, mute, then slowly nodded.
“Good. Now . . .” Dougal glanced around, scouting the best route to the water. He pointed to a shrub, then more grass. “Ye must be quick, aye? First to there, then there. We’ll get to the water bit by bit.”
“We’ll . . . swim?” Aidan asked, eyes wide. “But I’ll drown.”
“No, ye’ll never. Ye’ll hold me, is what ye’ll do. Now go to that bush there. Now! Run!”
Aidan scampered across the marsh like the rabbit he so resembled. He crouched by the shrub, making himself almost invisible among the branches. Dougal skidded to a stop beside him a moment later, and through a zigzag journey between spots, they eventually ended up at the edge of the ditch. They lay flat again, looking down into the moat.
The water roared under the deluge, sparkling silver and black with the dancing rain. Dougal assessed the distance, factoring in his own dwindled strength and Aidan’s added weight. It would be damn cold, too. But the challenge sparked something within him.
“Stay here,” he said.
Aidan seemed more than happy to oblige. He stayed on the ground, watching with increasing panic as Dougal slipped over the edge and splashed quietly into the ditch. Curious about the depth, Dougal let himself sink then pushed up like a frog when his feet touched the murk at the bottom. Ten, maybe twelve feet, he estimated. Not too deep, but deep enough. His head broke the surface and he shook the hair out of his eyes. Aidan’s white face stared down at him, mouth agape.
“Brr!” Dougal exclaimed. He grabbed a stray root to anchor himself in place, then grinned up at Aidan. “It
Finally, just when Dougal feared he might get sucked into the mud if he didn’t move, the soldiers turned back toward the yard, passing one by one through the hole. The last two glanced behind them, scanning the open field, but their eyes passed safely over the hidden Scots. Dougal blew out his breath and lowered his brow to the ground with relief.
“Where do we go now?” Aidan’s voice was hushed, unsure.
Dougal took a moment before lifting his head again so he could look at the boy. When he did, he was struck by the fragility of the young, pale face. His blond hair was plastered onto his skin, muddy and wet, until it was close to Dougal’s own black shade. Mud smeared his face but his lips were chalky white, hinting at blue. Any sparks were gone from Aidan’s sad blue eyes. Dougal felt an impulse to grab the boy by his upper arms and shake him, shake the sense into him.
We’re free, lad! We survived!
but instead he looked away. He was free, too, but by watching the boy, Dougal was drawn into the bone-deep misery threatening to suck the life from Aidan. Joseph was gone. John was gone. Andrew was gone.
But this was no time for grieving. Nor was it time to celebrate. It was time to concentrate on survival. Dougal shuffled up onto his elbows but kept low, wary of soldiers returning. He huffed out his breath and ran his hand over his face, wiping rain from his line of vision so he could survey the ground surrounding them. It was flat and marshy, providing little more than the occasional shrub or clump of grass as a hiding place. Beyond that, Dougal could see a flooded ditch, possibly a hundred feet across. It looked manmade, like a moat. Grass grew on the opposite side and a dark line of trees beckoned from beyond.
“Can ye swim?”
Aidan shook his head, his mouth pulled down at the corners.
“Well, I can,” Dougal said. In fact, Dougal swam like a fish, as had his brothers. He loved the water. What he needed now was a way to get Aidan across with him. There would be little risk of being seen in the water even if a soldier deigned to come that far. The rain would dimple the surface until it was impossible to see much of anything. “Have ye a good grip?”
Aidan stared, mute, then slowly nodded.
“Good. Now . . .” Dougal glanced around, scouting the best route to the water. He pointed to a shrub, then more grass. “Ye must be quick, aye? First to there, then there. We’ll get to the water bit by bit.”
“We’ll . . . swim?” Aidan asked, eyes wide. “But I’ll drown.”
“No, ye’ll never. Ye’ll hold me, is what ye’ll do. Now go to that bush there. Now! Run!”
Aidan scampered across the marsh like the rabbit he so resembled. He crouched by the shrub, making himself almost invisible among the branches. Dougal skidded to a stop beside him a moment later, and through a zigzag journey between spots, they eventually ended up at the edge of the ditch. They lay flat again, looking down into the moat.
The water roared under the deluge, sparkling silver and black with the dancing rain. Dougal assessed the distance, factoring in his own dwindled strength and Aidan’s added weight. It would be damn cold, too. But the challenge sparked something within him.
“Stay here,” he said.
Aidan seemed more than happy to oblige. He stayed on the ground, watching with increasing panic as Dougal slipped over the edge and splashed quietly into the ditch. Curious about the depth, Dougal let himself sink then pushed up like a frog when his feet touched the murk at the bottom. Ten, maybe twelve feet, he estimated. Not too deep, but deep enough. His head broke the surface and he shook the hair out of his eyes. Aidan’s white face stared down at him, mouth agape.
“Brr!” Dougal exclaimed. He grabbed a stray root to anchor himself in place, then grinned up at Aidan. “It
Similar Books
