The two men standing just outside stepped back, startled. He likely would have been wise to cut them down before they recovered. Instead he put his arm around Peter, as if protecting the old woman the footman was pretending to be. “Step careful, màthair,” he said, not quite able to bring himself to apologize to the two men. “What are they yelling aboot?” Mary asked, in a fine imitation of his own brogue. “I dunnae ken, bràthair,” he answered truthfully. If the Campbells were certain they’d found their quarry, stealth from them would have seemed the better choice. He eyed one of the men as his troop maneuvered around them. “What’s amiss, then?” The man frowned, actually taking another step back. “I…” He sent a glance at his companion. “John?” With a disgusted snort Peter urged them forward, and the clearly baffled men let them pass. Surprised they’d made it even that far, Arran kept the three of them at a slightly accelerated walk toward the waiting wagon.
