Highland Knight

by Hannah Howell

  Avery thought it a little odd that a man who wished to use her for ransom would risk so much to save her from another man who wished to ransom her, but she decided not to point that out. Cameron was not acting out of greed. Nor would he ever hurt her—not purposely or physically. Cameron might break her heart, she mused, but Sir Charles DeVeau could easily destroy her very soul.

  "We are even now,” Cameron murmured.

  "Even?” she asked.

  "Aye. Ye saved our lives and we just saved yours. The debt is cleared. Now everything is back to the way it was."

  Avery decided she was simply too tired to hit him.

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  Chapter Twelve

  As they approached the river they needed to cross, Avery began to feel uneasy. She looked all around but could see no sign of danger. None of the men acted as if they had seen anything, either. Yet the sense of something wrong did not fade.

  "Something troubling ye, Avery?"

  Avery glanced back at her cousin, who sat behind her. She had been surprised when Cameron had set them both on the same horse, but had quickly noticed how his men had nearly encircled her and Gillyanne as they rode. It was not a guard set out to stop her and Gillyanne from trying to escape, but one to protect them from the DeVeaux, so she found it easy to tolerate. It was certainly the most efficient way to keep her and Gillyanne safe. Cameron had quickly guessed that Gillyanne could well be in as much danger as she was, for Sir Charles knew that her young cousin was with her.

  "The river seems a wee bit full and fast,” Avery replied, studying the rapidly flowing water as they drew nearer to its banks.

  "Aye, but ‘tis still crossable, I think."

  "Most like, if only at this fording point. I just feel, weel, nervous.” She looked around again, still seeing no threat.

  "The DeVeaux are still far behind us. And, unless they ken a faster way to reach the port, they will stay far behind."

  "Ye are probably right. ‘Tis but the fleeing from them for three long days that has wearied me, made me prone to seeing shadows where there are none. And we do approach Scotland much faster than we might have if the DeVeaux werenae chasing us. Scotland, then Cairnmoor, and then the results of this huge gamble I have taken."

  "Ah, aye. Ye are losing time in which ye could make yourself important to that dark laird. I dinnae think ye are unimportant. He rescued ye from Sir Charles and now works verra hard to keep ye safe."

  "He needs me—us—to get Payton to many his sister."

  "Aye, but I think ‘tis far more than that which drives him."

  Avery sighed. “So do I, at times. Yet it isnae what ye and I think which matters, but what Cameron believes."

  Gillyanne nodded against Avery's back. “Men think differently than women do, ‘tis certain. Weel, that doesnae mean that he willnae come to his senses, at least ere it is too late to mend things. Sometimes a mon has to think he has lost something ere he realizes just how much he values it."

  "I fear that if Cameron senses that he values me in any way, he will push me e'en further away from him. I begin to think I have chosen a mon who guards his heart as fiercely as he now guards us."

  "No one can completely guard his heart."

  "Weel, no sense in worrying about it all now.” Avery frowned as they all gathered at the river's edge and prepared to cross it. “A bridge would have been nice."

  "The river truly bothers ye, doesnae it."

  "I dinnae ken if ‘tis the river or the crossing of it, but I cannae shake free of this deepening unease I feel.” Avery frowned as she watched Donald scramble onto the back of the cart holding some of their belongings. She turned to Cameron, who had just reined in at her side. “Mayhap young Donald should ride across on a horse."

  "The lad will be fine, Avery,” Cameron assured her, somewhat touched that she should show such concern over the safety of his squire. “There is a lot he can hang onto in the cart."

  "Aye, that is true enough,” she agreed, yet she found herself tensing as the cart entered the water with Wee Rob struggling to control the nervous horse.

  Avery turned to speak to Cameron again only to discover him gone. She silently cursed, then looked back at the river. She had just begun to convince herself she was being foolish and had nudged her mount forward to join the others crossing the river, when she looked at the baggage cart one more time. Her heart leaped into her throat as she watched the cart suddenly tip precariously to one side. Avery suspected the back right wheel had sunk into a hole. The jolt was hard enough to send a screaming Donald into the river, where the swift current was dragging him rapidly downstream.

  No one leaped in after the boy, which told Avery that there were no swimmers among the MacAlpins. A few men tried to ride through the water to reach the boy, but the depth of the river beyond the fording place made the horses useless. Two men nearly joined the flailing boy before they could get their mounts back on a surer footing. Avery cursed again and nudged her mount into the water.

  "Grab the reins,” Avery ordered Gillyanne as she yanked off her boots and tossed aside her heavy cloak.

  Cameron was quickly making his way toward her. Avery knew he was going to try to stop her, just as she knew she was probably the only one who could save poor Donald. Moving so that she sat sideways in the saddle, Avery hastily pulled her skirts up between her legs and secured them at her waist. Cameron was just reaching out for her when she leaped into the cold water and began to swim toward Donald.

  "Colin, get everyone across,” bellowed Cameron as he urged his horse back onto the bank. “Leargan, with me. That fool lass is going to get herself killed,” he muttered as he rode along the bank, keeping Avery and Donald in sight.

  "Avery can swim verra weel,” cried Gillyanne as she, too, followed Cameron.

  Cursing when he saw the girl close behind him instead of crossing the river with the others as she should, Cameron yelled back, “Aye, I can see that. But, how weel can she swim trying to hold onto a terrified boy who is bigger than she is?” Cameron was not really pleased with the fact that Gillyanne had no answer for him.

  It was not easy, but Avery ignored the biting cold of the water even though it felt as if it were seeping into the very marrow of her bones. Her clothes were heavy enough to sap her strength faster than was probably safe. Avery kept her gaze fixed firmly upon Donald as she swam. He was just ahead of her, flailing wildly, yet that seemed to be helping him to keep his head above the water most of the time and to slow his rapid progress down the river. When his gaze met hers, Avery knew he saw her and recognized her, yet his expression was still one of intense fear. Avery cautiously approached the boy, knowing how easy it would be for such a terrified person to become a serious threat to the very one trying to save him.

  "Donald,” she called to him, staying just out of reach until she was certain he would let her help him.

  "Avery, I dinnae want to drown,” he gasped; then he coughed violently as water splashed into his mouth.

  "Ye willnae drown if ye do everything I tell ye to. Can ye do that, Donald?"

  "Aye."

  "Easy now, I am swimming closer and ye dinnae want to hit me by mistake, do ye?"

  "Nay. ‘Tis cold, Avery."

  "Oh, aye. ‘Tis that, right enough."

  She swam up behind him and quickly put her arm under his and around his chest. “Lie back, Donald. Calm, now.” She was a little surprised at how quickly he obeyed, seemingly putting his complete trust in her. “Gently kick your legs. That is the way. A wee bit more gently. Aye, aye.” She caught sight of a knot of branches caught against some rocks in the heart of the river. “Now, ye will feel my body coming up beneath yours. Very slowly, keep kicking those legs.” Despite how well he was taking her commands, she knew she could not go very far while holding him since she was doing most of the swimming for both of them. “We are going to swim o'er to those branches right o'er there."

  "Shouldnae we go to the bank?” he asked.

  "Thes
e are closer and we can hold onto them until someone can get a rope out to us. Ye are a wee bit bigger than me, Donald, and though I can keep us above the water, I cannae drag ye too far."

  "I can see the laird,” he stuttered.

  "Good. He will soon toss us a rope."

  Once they reached the small dam of wood, Avery made sure Donald was holding onto it tightly before she let him go. Wondering if her teeth were chattering as loudly as his were, she then clung to the wood herself and looked toward the bank. To her great relief she saw Cameron, Leargan, and Gillyanne there. Cameron held a stout rope in his hands.

  "I will grab the rope when ‘tis thrown to us,” Avery told Donald. “Dinnae ye let go of this wood, e'en if it starts to shake free and float away. Dinnae fear. We will chase ye down and a stout piece of wood will keep ye afloat until we do."

  "But ye may need my help to tie the rope round yourself,” Donald protested.

  "Ye will go first. Nay, dinnae argue,” she said when he began to stutter out a nay. “I can swim, Donald. Ye cannae. So ye will be pulled to safety first."

  It took two tries before Avery caught the rope Cameron threw out to her. The rock he had tied to the end to weight it caught her hard against the shoulder. It would undoubtedly leave a colorful bruise, although she suspected she already had far too many for one more to be noticed.

  "While I tie this rope round your chest, I want ye to take deep breaths, then let them out slowly,” she advised Donald as she began to secure the rope around him, praying her cold fingers could make the knots tight enough to hold firm. “Now when I cry ‘ready,’ ye take as deep a breath as ye can and hold it tight. ‘Twill be a rough ride to the shore, but a quick one, and holding that breath will help ye. Understand?"

  "Aye, m'lady,” he whispered.

  "And try to flop onto your back when ye feel the first tug upon the rope. ‘Twill make the ride easier for you if ye can. Ready!"

  Avery was pleased to hear Donald take a huge breath even as he was yanked away from the branches. The youth's ride to the bank was indeed impressively fast and, she was certain, a little terrifying. She flexed her fingers, concerned over how stiff with cold they had become, and waited for the next toss of the rope. When her rapidly numbing fingers refused to grasp the rope tight enough to keep hold of it, Avery felt her concern swiftly turn to fear.

  "She cannae hold the rope,” Gillyanne said, yanking off her boots.

  "This next time—” began Cameron, his eyes widening slightly when Gillyanne began to take off her gown.

  "Her hands will be e'en colder by then, e'en more clumsy."

  "Lass, ye cannae mean to go in after her."

  "'Tis exactly what I mean to do,” Gillyanne snapped as she finished stripping to her chemise. “Is there enough of that rope to tie it round me yet leave a length free that I may use it to tie Avery to me?"

  "I cannae let ye do this."

  "Ye have to. Neither of ye can swim, and if Avery's hands are too cold now to hold the rope, in a verra short time they will be too cold to hold firm to that branch she is clinging to."

  Muttering curses over his lack of choices or the time to come up with another plan, Cameron tied the rope around Gillyanne's tiny waist, leaving her what he felt was plenty of rope for her to lash Avery to her. “If I e'en think ye might be in danger, I will yank ye back in."

  "Fair enough,” Gillyanne said, and she dove gracefully into the water.

  "Jesu,” muttered Leargan as he wrapped a blanket around a violently shivering Donald. “I guess we can add swimming to the lengthy list of odd skills those Murray lasses have.” He shook his head as he watched Gillyanne race toward Avery, cutting through the rough waters with clean, strong strokes. “Mayhap one or two of us should try to learn."

  Cameron just nodded, his gaze fixed upon Avery and his hands tight upon the rope. He understood what had made Avery go after Donald, was pleased that the youth had not drowned, and could even deeply respect the bravery displayed by both of the Murray lasses. However, if Avery survived this, Cameron decided that he would throttle her.

  "Gilly?” Avery whispered as her cousin swam up beside her. “Ye shouldnae be taking such risks."

  Securing the rope around Avery's waist, Gillyanne just shook her head. “Neither should you."

  "The water proved colder than I thought it would be."

  "'Tis probably being fed by melting snows, ye great fool. Ready?” Gillyanne asked after rechecking the knot she had just made.

  "Aye."

  Avery had barely enough time to take a deep breath before Gillyanne signaled Cameron. The next she knew, she was on her back in Gillyanne's thin arms and both of them were being pulled toward the bank at an alarming speed. When they hit the bank, she released with a grunt the breath she had been holding.

  Nothing was said as she and Gillyanne were yanked from the water and wrapped up in blankets. Despite the cold and utter exhaustion afflicting her, Avery could feel the anger in Cameron as he held her in his arms while they rode to join the others. He ought to be thanking her for saving Donald's life, she thought crossly; then she decided she was more concerned with getting warm and dry than with understanding his moodiness. If he was going to yell at her, he could wait until she had rested a little.

  She was more asleep than awake when she was handed over into Anne's care. Anne and the other women worked fast to get her and Gillyanne dry and dressed in warm clothes. A still silent Cameron set her in his baggage cart next to Gillyanne and covered them both with one of his heavy furs. Avery could hear Donald talking and decided the youth would be fine, that he was obviously a lot stronger than he looked.

  "I dinnae need to rest,” protested Gillyanne as Cameron tucked her in.

  "Ye are there to help your fool cousin get warm again,” Cameron snapped.

  Avery managed to open her eyes enough to see Gillyanne make a face at the departing Cameron's back and she almost smiled. “I do feel a wee bit cold, Gillyanne."

  Gillyanne turned onto her side, her back to Avery, and said, “Then curl your skinny self round me. ‘Twill help. That ill-tempered lout ye fancy is right about that. Ye dinnae feel verra cold,” she murmured as Avery held her close.

  "Inside I do. I think Anne rubbed the outside of me so hard, ‘tis a miracle I wasnae set alight."

  "She said she wanted to get your blood flowing again."

  "Oh. Weel, ‘tis flowing, but it, and my verra bones, feel chilled. Donald sounded recovered, though."

  "Aye. I think some people arenae as troubled by the cold as others. Or, he was thrashing about so furiously, he kept himself warm enough."

  Even though Avery was feeling a little warmer, she still felt completely exhausted and knew she would soon be asleep. “I wonder why Cameron is so angry."

  "Weel, if I try to think like ye do, then I would say ‘tis because his pawn nearly drowned herself. But I, being so much cleverer, think ‘tis because he nearly lost his lover, that he wasnae thinking of his sister at all at that moment. He is angry because ye took a grave risk and, mayhap, because he couldnae do anything to help Donald himself. Men dinnae like being helpless or having lasses rush to the rescue."

  "A lot of people cannae swim,” Avery murmured, too tired to take issue with Gillyanne's pert replies.

  Gillyanne nodded then yawned. “I think my wee swim did tire me some after all."

  "If that is a ploy to try to get me to rest, dinnae trouble yourself I am already more asleep than awake."

  A moment later, Gillyanne glanced over her shoulder and saw that Avery was fast asleep. She doubted her cousin had stayed awake for much longer than it had taken to finish her sentence. Just as she was about to turn away and indulge in a little nap herself, Cameron rode up, reached down, and lightly brushed his knuckles over Avery's cheek.

  When Cameron raised his gaze to meet Gillyanne's, he felt a little embarrassed to be caught doing something that could be seen more as a tender, caring gesture than one of idle concern. “She has lost that deathly ch
ill."

  "Aye, though she says the cold has set deep,” replied Gillyanne, turning slightly so that she was more comfortable while talking to him.

  "Who taught the two of ye to swim like that?"

  "The ones in our family who had already learned took turns teaching us. Our fithers kenned how and felt it was a good thing to learn. My mither kenned how, too. She saved my fither once.” Gillyanne looked down at Avery, then back at Cameron, and, thinking to save her cousin a lecture later, said, “Kenning she might be able to save Donald, she couldnae just set there and let the river take him."

  Cameron released a deep sigh and, with it, much of his lingering anger over the risks Avery had taken. “Nay, of course not. ‘Twould be beyond the will of a Murray lass to do anything else but hurl herself into a raging river to save the life of a lad she barely kens."

  "It wasnae raging. Just tumbling along a wee bit faster than it should."

  "Ye are an impertinent brat who wasnae dealt a stern hand often enough."

  "So I have been told. Aye, my own fither says it now and again, but he spoils me. He says ‘tis because I look a lot like my mither—and he spoils her, too."

  "And who does Avery look like? Her brother?"

  "Nay, her fither, my uncle Nigel. Payton looks a wee bit like both of his parents. Payton is ... weel, beautiful. A maid once told our cousin Elspeth that Payton is so bonny that he but needs to walk by and he rips a sigh of longing from the heart of every woman who espies him, young or old.” Gillyanne laughed softly at Cameron's look of disgust. “'Tis how most men react to that bit of nonsense. But he is bonny. The only other men I have e'er seen who might be said to be as bonny are my fither and my cousin Elspeth's husband, Cormac."

  Cameron was annoyed by his own curiosity, but he felt almost compelled to ask, “And just what makes him so verra bonny?"

  "Weel, he has lovely hair, the perfect blend of red and gold, thick and soft as silk. He has beautiful skin of a pale golden color, much akin to Avery's. He isnae as tall or as broad as ye are, but tall enough, lean, and verra graceful. His features are nearly perfect and he has beautiful eyes—a warm golden brown with shards of emerald green.” She shrugged. “He is my cousin. I can see the beauty, but nay as another woman might.” She quirked one brow. “Nay as your sister might—as a mon she would do most anything to have."