by Bree Wolf
He did not though.
Still, at the very least, her words seemed to surprise him for he stared at her with a rather bewildered look on his face. Unfortunately, his confusion only lasted for a moment, and he continued to hold tightly to her horse’s reins.
What now?
Wracking her mind, Claudia considered kicking the man in his leering face. Would that make him release the reins? Or only serve to anger him? Or perhaps she ought to use the riding crop in her hand? Or kick him first and then strike him?
Before Claudia could make up her mind, the sound of hoof beats on cobble stone reached her ears, and she noticed her attacker’s attention drift from her and to someone behind her left shoulder.
“May I assist ye?”
The man’s voice sent a strange shiver down Claudia’s spine, and she turned in her saddle, squinting her eyes to see in the dim light.
Separating from the shadows around him, the man urged his large mount forward, and for a rather unsettling moment, he appeared like a phantom, not quite there, solid or corporeal.
Claudia blinked as her gaze swept over him, taking note of his fine clothing and noble steed, relieved to conclude that he had to be a gentleman of high social rank and, therefore−hopefully−a man of respectability and honour. Someone who would feel compelled to assist her in her current predicament.
His black mount stood on tall legs, making the stranger appear even taller. He sat upon his horse with ease, his broad shoulders drawn back, and his chin slightly raised as he glared down at the men before her.
In the dark of night, his hair seemed almost pitch black, and his narrowed green eyes held a threat that would have sent her cowering into a corner if it had been directed at her. Fortunately, it was not, and she could see the effect of it upon the men’s faces.
The drunk holding her reins took a sudden step back, his gaze drifting from the stranger’s face and lower.
Frowning, Claudia allowed her gaze to follow, down the man’s strong arm to his hand which was resting leisurely on his thigh. Just below, she spotted the hilt of a dagger protruding from his knee-high boot.
Claudia swallowed. She could only hope that he truly was a gentleman.
The men crowded around her seemed to have drawn a similar conclusion for the triumph that had been on their faces only moments ago had turned into wariness. They took another step back, their gazes a little sharper as though fear had sobered them.
“We were only jestin’,” said the drunk who held her reins. His hands opened and he dropped the leather straps, then he lifted his palms in surrender and tipped his absent hat in imitation of a farewell gesture. In the next moment, the group quickly dispersed, soon swallowed up by the night as though they had never been there.
“Are ye all right, Lass?” the stranger asked, urging his horse alongside hers.
Once more, the sound of his voice sent a shiver down Claudia’s back, and her mind felt suddenly crowded as though filled with thoughts she could not quite grasp. His dark green eyes held hers in such a familiar way that Claudia experienced a rare moment of speechlessness.
All she could do was stare.
Moments ticked by, and his gaze softened, bringing with it a gentle smile that warmed her heart.
Your son! Her mind suddenly screamed, ripping through the fog and bringing Claudia’s attention back to the here and now.
Clearing her throat, she smiled at the stranger. “I thank you for your assistance,” she said kindly, picking up the reins. “If you hadn’t come, it might have proven difficult for me to rid myself of these men. Thank you.” She gave him a nod in acknowledgement of the service he had done her and then urged her mare onward. “I bid you a good night.”
A frown descended upon the man’s face, and although he barely moved, his steed reacted to his silent intentions and stepped forward, effectively blocking her way. Bewilderment hung on his face, and a hint of anger shone in his green eyes. “Do ye truly intend to pretend that we dunno know each other?”
Taken aback, Claudia blinked, her gaze once again shifting over the man’s face.
Indeed, he was ruggedly handsome with his almost black hair and piercing green eyes. Despite his fine clothing, he looked more like a warrior about to ride into battle than a man asking a lady to dance. His instincts appeared sharp, and his attention was fully focused on her. Indeed, he was a man who would draw all eyes to him.
And yet, her mind drew a blank. Try as she might, she could not place him. However, it had been a long time since Claudia had last taken note of any man around her. Had she not spent the past months locked away from any opportunity to mingle with society? The only time she had set foot outside and−
The ball!
A smile drew up the corners of her lips, and she sighed. “Yes, now I do remember,” Claudia said laughing. “I apologise for not recognising you sooner. We met at…the ball a few days back.” For the life of her, Claudia could not remember whose ball it had been, but then again, she had barely paid any attention that night. “I’m sorry. I did not catch your name.”
For a moment, the man stared at her as though her words had stunned him beyond comprehension. His lips thinned, and the anger in his eyes seemed to blaze from a spark into a raging flame. Still, he remained calm, inclining his head to her. “Garrett MacDrummond,” he said, his voice even, and yet, highly unsettling, “of Clan MacDrummond in the Scottish Highlands.”
Swallowing, Claudia returned his icy greeting, not certain what to make of him. “Pleased to meet you,” she said, her voice strong, unwilling to allow him to intimidate her. “I’m Claudia Davenport, sister to Lord Ashwood.”
At her words, his lips thinned even more as though she had displeased him simply by stating her name.
“I bid you a good night, Mr. MacDrummond,” Claudia said, lifting her chin as she looked at him rather haughtily. Who on earth was he to treat her thus?
Pulling on her reins, she made to guide her horse past him when he once more blocked her movement. “I will see ye home,” he objected, his eyes rather hard on hers. “’Tis not wise for a woman to travel alone at this time of night.”
Claudia gritted her teeth, anger rising to warm her chilled bones. “Thank you for your kind offer,” she snapped, the tone in her voice far from polite, “but I’m afraid I must decline for I am not heading home. Good night.”
He lifted a hand to stop her. “Then I shall see ye to wherever it is ye wish to go.”
Huffing under her breath, Claudia glared at him through narrowed eyes. “Once again, I must decline. I−”
“And I must insist,” he interrupted her, the ghost of a smile dancing over his face as though he was enjoying their argument.
Shaking her head, Claudia stared at him. “Not to insult you, Mr. MacDrummond, but it is none of your business where I’m headed.” He opened his mouth to object, and Claudia quickly added, “I ask you kindly to let me pass.”
He grinned. “I’m afraid I cannot.”
“But I insist!”
Still grinning, he lifted his brows. “I canna in good conscience leave ye out here on yer own, Lass.” Then the grin vanished; the look on his face sobered. “Ye saw what almost happened.” He shook his head, his green eyes all but drilling into hers. “Nay, I canna leave ye.”
Inhaling a deep breath, Claudia pondered what to do as it seemed clear that Mr. MacDrummond could no sooner be moved than a mountain could. Either she allowed him to escort her home and risk being discovered by her family or she allowed him to escort her to the inn and hope that he might get discouraged once he saw that they were headed out of London. In fact, …
Shrugging, Claudia gathered up the reins. “Fine, if ye insist,” she said, mocking his Scottish lilt. “However, I am headed out of London and have no intention of returning any time soon.” Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, she took note of the tension that gripped his jaw and silently congratulated herself. “And so, I ask you, do you truly wish to follow me across England? Or wo
uld you rather go home and forget you ever met me?” Turning to look at him, she smiled, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “I promise I shall not breathe a word of our encounter. Your honour would not suffer.”
For a moment, he held her gaze, his own all but expressionless. Then, however, he leaned forward, bringing his face closer to hers. “Ye canna dissuade me, Lass,” he said, his voice almost a growl speaking to the anger that boiled under his calm exterior. “Ye might as well accept that.”
Gritting her teeth, Claudia cursed.
The right corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly as though in amusement. “Where are ye headed? Ye might as well tell me, for I’ll see once we get there.”
Claudia sighed, then kicked her mare’s flanks and set off. “To an inn north of London,” she said, resigning herself to her fate. “The Prancing Pony.”
Catching up with her, Mr. MacDrummond then slowed his horse so that they were riding side by side. “May I ask what leads ye there?” His voice had tensed once more.
Claudia scoffed, keeping her eyes straight ahead. “You may ask as I may choose not to answer.”
If she was not thoroughly mistaken, the man had the nerve to roll his eyes at her. However, as she refused to look at him, she could not be certain. In any case, without another word, Mr. MacDrummond stayed by her side, his eyes watchful and his senses alert. Unlike her, he often let his gaze sweep over their surroundings, his ears attuned to the smallest sounds, which became apparent when he suddenly gripped her reins, pulling her horse to a stop.
“What the blazes−!” Claudia began, ready to hurl a string of curses at his head when she took note of the small pack of dogs that suddenly dashed across the lonely street.
The breath caught in her throat, and her hands tightened on the reins as her horse neighed in alarm.
Still holding on to her reins, Mr. MacDrummond brushed a gentle hand over her mare’s neck, whispering soft words of comfort in his Gaelic tongue. When her mare had calmed sufficiently, he looked up, his green eyes meeting hers. “Are ye all right, Lass?”
Claudia swallowed. “I’m fine,” she replied curtly, hating him for proving her wrong. “Thank you.” Glancing down the side street to ensure that no more wild animals would come dashing out of it, Claudia then directed her mare onward, unwilling to meet the man’s eyes. Would they be full of triumph? At least, he refrained from saying I told you so.
Oddly enough, a moment earlier, she had wondered if it would be safe for her to allow him to escort her. After all, she had met him only once and could not say who he truly was or what character he possessed. Still, even before he had gripped her reins, Claudia had dismissed her concern. She could not say why, but for some odd reason, she felt safe with him.
He riled her, certainly, but she did not doubt that he would do everything within his power to ensure her safety.
Shaking her head, Claudia swallowed, wondering where on earth that certainty had come from.
Chapter Ten – The Prancing Pony
Once they left London behind, darkness engulfed them. Only the moon overhead shone bright and clear illuminating their path. The road was deserted, and Garrett wondered if it was merely luck that they were able to see their feet in front of them or if she had intentionally chosen a night with an almost-full moon.
Glancing at his wife, Garrett doubted it very much. There was a strange air of urgency, of desperation about her as though her mind was clinging to one thing alone, unable to focus on anything beyond that, ignoring all else. What on earth was she doing riding to an inn in the middle of the night? And on her own?
That question as well as many others circled around in Garrett’s head as he rode beside his wife. Anger still burnt in his veins that she would pretend not to know him, and yet, his heart told him that she was not pretending. Was this possible? How could she not remember him?
When he had met her that night in Gretna Green, they had shared a few drinks. Still, he had not even woken with a headache the next morning. Could the alcohol truly have robbed her of her memory? Dimly, Garrett remembered that in his earlier years, he had woken now and then with a throbbing head and a rather hazy memory of the night before. Was she so unaccustomed to spirits that they had such a shattering effect on her?
Sighing, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, taking note of the way her hands were almost clenched around her reins. She sat straight, her shoulders back, and yet, every so often her eyelids drooped as though she was fighting to stay awake, determined to reach her destination. What did she hope to find at the Prancing Pony?
“Do ye do this a lot?” Garrett asked when her eyes closed and remained so, her head slowly sagging forward.
As though a jolt had gone through her, she snapped to attention, her lids blinking rapidly. “W-what?” she stammered, turning to look at him before she rubbed a hand over her face. “What did you say?”
Garrett grinned, unable to ignore the little dance his heart did every time he looked at her, every time she looked at him. “I asked if ye did this sorta thing a lot? Riding through the night on yer own?”
“I…” She cleared her throat. “I don’t.”
“Then why tonight?”
She sighed then, and for a moment, Garrett thought to see a tear glistening in the corner of her eye. Instantly, his heart tightened, and as his gaze swept over her, he cursed himself for not seeing the vulnerability that clung to her features.
Her strength had been nothing but smoke and vapours, a tool to keep him from standing in her way. Clearly, she was desperate to reach this inn, but why? What did she fear so?
“I need to find someone.”
Her voice had been so soft and faint that for a moment Garrett wondered if he had merely imagined it. Still, the effect it had upon his heart left him without doubt. “Who?” he asked, not certain if he wished to know.
Her jaw clenched, and she pressed her lips together.
Gritting his teeth, Garrett cursed inwardly. Why had he asked? Was she on her way to meet up with another man? Had she taken a lover since they had parted ways? Had he been so mistaken about her character? She had seemed so vivacious, like someone starved for adventure, and yet, she had been no fool. Her mind had been sharp and her thoughts provocative, challenging. Garrett had glimpsed an iron will, but also a kind heart, yearning for love. She had swept him off his feet, and the thought that she had so easily forgotten him−worse, replaced him−pained more than anything he had ever suffered.
An hour later, they finally reached the inn, a two-storey house of simple structure with a stable situated in the back. Faint lights shone through the shutters, and an old wooden sign swung in the wind.
As soon as the building came into view, Garrett noted a change in his wife. Her hands gripped the reins tighter, and her breathing increased as though she was about to face her greatest fear. If she indeed were to meet a lover here, would she be this nervous? This afraid?
The terror that gripped her shoulders and sent a tremble along her jaw stirred Garrett’s protective side. No matter what had happened, this was his wife, and he would not let anyone harm her.
With ease, she slid from her saddle and quickly tied her mare to a post out front. Then her feet carried her toward the door, her hands trembling before she balled them into fists.
Hurrying after her, Garrett grabbed her by the arm, pulling her back. “Talk to me, Lass. Ye look the fright. Who are ye meeting here?”
Her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths as she stared up at him, her jaw quivering and tears standing in her eyes. For a moment, she seemed ready to sink into his arms and allow him to hold her.
But she did not.
Swallowing, she took a step back, her hand brushing his away. “I’ll only be a moment,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her face white as a sheet. “Wait here.” And then she was gone.
Cursing under his breath, Garrett pulled open the door and stepped inside after her, finding her only two steps ahead of him as she stood
in the entry, her eyes taking in the scene.
Only a few men lingered in the taproom this time of night, receiving their drinks from a fatigued serving wench with dark circles under her eyes. The atmosphere was calm and pleasant as most guests kept to themselves, nursing their drinks near the open fire in the hearth. The flames sent a warm glow about the room, offsetting the mild stench of many travellers stepping across the threshold.
After his perusal of the room, Garrett directed his gaze back at his wife. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, watching as she inhaled a deep breath and then stepped up to the counter. Her hands were trembling, and he wondered if it might only have been fatigue that caused it. Still, the look of utter fear in her eyes had been burnt into his mind, and he knew he would never be able to forget it for as long as he lived. Why on earth was she here?
From a door in the back, the innkeeper emerged. A tall man, thin and lanky, he wiped his hands on his vest when he saw Claudia approaching the counter. A polite smile came to his face, and he offered her a greeting. Beyond that, Garrett could not guess what words were exchanged for their voices did not travel far enough to reach his ears. Still, he watched through squinted eyes as they spoke to one another. He took note of the faint look of surprise on the man’s face before he replied, and the blood nearly froze in his veins when he saw his wife’s reaction to the innkeeper’s answer.
Even from across the room, Garrett could see her drawing in a sharp breath, her right hand flying up to her chest as though in shock. Then a smile of utter relief lit up her face, chasing away all fatigue and giving her a gentle glow as though the light suddenly came from within her.
Garrett was thunderstruck, overwhelmed by how much she affected him. It had been months since he had last seen her, and yet, right then and there, it felt as though she had been with him every day of his life.