Bride of the Solway

by Joanna Maitland

  Fraser smiled tightly at Cassie and called up to the captain on the box, 'Sir, there are three horsemen a fair way behind us. Can't see exactly who they are for the dust, but they're certainly in a hurry.'

  'How long have we got, Fraser?' The captain was still keeping the carriage moving at a good pace. He had to shout to make himself heard over the noise of the wheels, but his voice was strong and steady. It gave Cassie a little confidence. If anyone could save her, it would be Captain Graham.

  'They're a long way behind us, and they're not gaining much on us at the moment, sir, but your horses are tiring. I'd say we've twenty min­utes, thirty at most. Why don't you and the lady take the two riding horses? You'd make better speed.'

  'Aye, but he'd catch us in the end. I have a better plan. We'll need to get to the other side of Annan. Then I'll tell you what to do. Join us there.' With that, he whipped up the horses to even greater speed than before.

  Cassie was thrown back into her seat. The carriage left Fraser behind and thundered on down the road to Annan. Whatever the captain's plan, it was probably her last chance of freedom.

  Cassie expected Morag to be prostrate before they had gone another mile, but she had reckoned without the maid's doughty character. And her very real fear of James Elliott. Within the space of two minutes, Morag was cursing the name of James Elliott; in five, she was urging the captain to drive even faster. All sign of physical weakness seemed to have disappeared. The danger seemed to have concentrated her mind most wonderfully on the need to escape at all costs.

  The carriage clattered through Annan, almost colliding more than once with the normal business traffic of the town. Cassie found herself blush­ing at some of the foul language that followed these near-accidents, but Morag paid no heed. 'Dinna fash yersel', Miss Cassie. The captain'll not let ye come to harm.'

  For a woman who had been almost fainting away less than ten minutes before, Morag was transformed. If their situation had not been so des­perate, Cassie might have laughed. She would certainly have teased her maid unmercifully. But there was no time for games. Soon, Captain Graham would have reached his rendezvous point. His plan—whatever it was—would have to be put into effect.

  It proved to be remarkably simple. And more dangerous than Cassie could have imagined.

  'Now, Fraser. Tie your horse on to the back of the carriage, alongside Hera. Take my pistols up on the box with you and drive like the wind for Gretna and the border.'

  'Right y'are, Captain. Am I to shoot them if they try to stop me?'

  Cassie gasped.

  'No, Fraser. I don't want you hanged for murder. Fire over their heads if it will help you to escape. But only as a last resort. Your object is to make them think that Miss Elliott is still in the carriage. Keep them away from the windows for as long as you can. And you, Morag, try to block anyone from seeing in. Do your best to make that blasted hamper look like your mistress huddled in a corner. The longer you can fool them, the better our chances will be here.'

  'What do you mean to do?'

  'The tide is in our favour, ma'am. So you and I are going to cross the Solway. Now.'

  'On foot? But surely it would be better to take the horses? We could—' 'No, Miss Elliott.'

  The captain was on the verge of losing his patience, Cassie realised. But so was she. It was madness to pass up the faster option of riding across. Could he not see that?

  'Your brother will already have seen one horse tied on behind the car­riage and another following,' he explained crisply. 'If those horses dis­appear, he will know at once that you are no longer in the carriage. And it will not take him long to guess where we have gone. We need him to believe we are both still in the carriage, taking the dry route to England. We have to cross on foot.'

  He was right. Cassie saw that immediately. She nodded and reached for the hamper.

  'Bring a warm cloak, if you have it. Leave everything else.'

  'But, sir, Miss Cassie canna—'

  'Wheesht, Morag!' Cassie grabbed her long grey cloak from the maid's shaking fingers and stepped down from the carriage. 'Bless you, my dear friend. Try to keep ahead of them for as long as you can. Take care of her, Fraser. Bring her safely to me in England.'

  'You can count on me, ma'am.' Fraser finished tying his horse on be­hind and scrambled up on to the box. 'Morag—'

  'Miss Elliott! Come away! Now! We must let them go before your brother sees that the carriage has stopped.'

  Cassie stepped back and raised a hand in farewell. Neither Morag nor Fraser had time to respond. The decoy carriage, drawn by its tiring horses, was already flying away on the road to Gretna.

  They had to make the most of what cover there was, so it took them longer than Ross had calculated to reach old Shona's cottage. He would have been prepared to try the crossing without a guide, but Cassie Elliott was adamant. Shona could show them the quickest way. And steer them round the quicksands.

  The gaunt old woman would not be rushed. She came slowly out of the cottage and looked across the firth, screwing up her eyes to judge the sands and the tide. Then she took the clay pipe from her mouth and waved it in the direction of the firth. 'Canna do it, Miss Cassie. 'Tis too late. There isna time to tak ye across and be back again afore the tide.'

  'Shona, please! If I am found here—'

  'Perhaps this will change your mind, old woman?' In desperation, Ross thrust a handful of guineas at her.

  She ignored him and stared up at the sky. 'Rain,' she said. 'Aye. It'll be pouring down soon.'

  'Shona, please, could you not take us just part of the way?'

  The old woman didn't seem to be listening. She nodded to herself and disappeared through the doorway.

  Ross allowed himself one curse of frustration. Then he seized Miss Elliott by the elbow and started to pull her towards the firth. 'We'd best get started on our own.'

  'No' that way!' Shona had emerged from her cottage. She was carrying three stout sticks. 'Tak these.' She pushed sticks into their hands and ges­tured with her own. 'Come wi' me. And mak sure ye keep up.'

  Suddenly the decrepit old woman had become strong and wiry, pacing out across the sand, only occasionally stopping to probe the edge of a pool. Miss Elliott followed immediately behind, though not treading ex­actly in Shona's footsteps, for that was dangerous—each step would sink a little more into the sand. Ross brought up the rear, watching carefully for any sign that the sand might be particularly treacherous. Now and then he would look up at the sky and at the coast of England, on the other side of the firth. It seemed close enough. But after fifteen minutes of trudging across, his legs were beginning to tire with the effort of fight­ing against the sucking sand. And the coast seemed no nearer.

  Shona strode on, never once looking behind her to see if they were following. As the water got deeper, she adopted an odd high-stepping gait that seem to make light work of the difficulties. But she kept looking up at the sky, which was growing ever darker, and down towards the sea from where the tide would soon come.

  Miss Elliott said nothing. She simply plodded on behind Shona, copying her strange walk as best she could. She had sensibly kept her cloak high about her shoulders but she was now soaking wet up to her knees.

  If only there were some way Ross could help her. But what could he do? If he offered to carry her, she would laugh in his face, with that deep-seated courage of hers shining in her eyes. Or else she would re­mind him that, with so much extra weight, he was bound to sink them both into the sand. She was an extraordinary woman. A diamond. She would not be cowed by this, or by anything. Had he really thought, for even a moment, that Cassie Elliott might be using him for her own ends? He should have known better. His disillusion over Julie should not have been allowed to colour his judgement of Cassie. For there was no comparison. None at all.

  'Shona was right. It's starting to rain. Never mind. At least it's not a thunderstorm this time.' Cassie smiled over her shoulder at Ross. It was a smile of encouragement. And secret understan
ding.

  Ross smiled back at the shared joke and trudged on, increasingly amazed by her hidden strength. He was beginning to feel that he did not know even a fraction of what Cassie Elliott was capable of.

  Shona stopped suddenly, though she kept shifting from foot to foot, constantly feeling for firmer ground. 'I canna tak ye any further, else I'll no' get back.' She pointed with her stick at a large rock and a small hill behind. She explained that they must keep the two in line until the rock completely hid the hill. Then they must change course and head for the white rock, further to their right, away from Bowness. Once they reached that, they would be out of danger. And on English soil.

  'Thank you, Shona,' Cassie said, breathing heavily from her exertions.

  'Git on wi' ye, lassie. Ye've no' got long afore the tide. Remember, it comes up faster than a horse can gallop.'

  Ross didn't waste any more time. He simply pressed a handful of guineas into the old woman's free hand and muttered his thanks as he started forward again. He was glad to see that Cassie was already moving. As a native of this place, she knew the dangers as well as anyone. Walking directly behind her, he could see that she was keeping the markers in line—and yet being careful where she trod. Where the direct line seemed to lead into deeper or faster-moving water, or to softer sand, she would move a little the other way. A moment later she would return to the line once more. She had learned Shona's secrets better than he would have thought possible.

  'Can you go any faster, ma'am? If this rain gets any heavier, it's going to be difficult for us to see the markers. And it's going to get dark early.'

  She nodded without turning and quickened her pace. She was now wet almost to her waist. As was Ross.

  They were totally alone in the treacherous Solway.

  Cassie could still see the rock and the hill. Just. Only another hundred yards or so and it would be time to turn. But the rain was getting worse, bouncing high off the pools. Not only was it getting dark early, but it was also getting misty. She forced her aching muscles to push on even luster.

  'What was that?'

  'I didn't hear anyth—' But then she did. It was the sound of voices, far across the firth. Men's voices.

  'If it's your brother, he'll have horses. He can't have seen us yet, but he'll be able to move faster than we can. We must run.'

  'But he's too late. The tide—' She stopped. Even through the mist she could tell that the voices were getting nearer.

  'Run, Cassie. It's not far now. We can make it if you run.'

  Cassie had already picked up her sodden skirts and was running to­wards the turning place. Once she tripped and fell her length, but she was back on her feet again before the captain could reach her. Terror drove her on, faster and faster.

  At the turning point, she paused for only a second, to fix the route. She was almost sobbing for breath but she dared not stop. James was be­hind her.

  It's not far. It's not far. We can make it. We can.

  The white rock grew larger. There was one last stretch to cross. The water looked very deep. Cassie forced herself on. Straight on to the white rock. No time to go round.

  She ploughed into the deep water. It pulled at her skirts though she tried to make her legs step high. She couldn't do it. She tried again. Her legs would not obey her. It was like wading through porridge.

  A strong arm caught her round the waist and half-lifted, half-pulled her through to the shore. 'We're here,' he said hoarsely, gasping for air. He pushed her against the white rock for support, but her legs crumpled under her. She collapsed on the sand in a dripping heap.

  He slid down beside her with a groan. 'A minute to rest, no more. We are not safe yet. We need to find cover.'

  The sounds of voices, and horses, seemed suddenly very near. James must be ignoring the advancing tide. If he'd found Shona, he would have learnt the truth. Nothing would stop him. Not while he lived.

  Cassie struggled to her feet. 'Which way, sir?

  He grinned at her and hauled himself up. His face was filthy. All she could see were bright blue eyes, and white teeth. He grabbed her hand. 'Inland. Come on.'

  'That clump of bushes. Try there.' Ross pushed her ahead of him through the low scrub. He looked over his shoulder. Nothing to be seen in the rain and the mist, but the voices were getting closer. Even though they were now a long way from the shore.

  She took a few steps and disappeared.

  'Wha—?'

  Her head reappeared instantly, on a level with the ground. She was grinning. Almost laughing. 'Quick. Get in. Hurry, it's perfect.'

  He slithered down beside her. The bushes concealed a large hollow, big enough to take them both. From above, there was nothing to see. Unless Elliott fell into the hole with them, he would never find it.

  'Your guardian angel has my thanks,' he breathed, reaching out to pull her damp cloak around her. Her bonnet was long gone. Soon she would be shivering with cold.

  'My guardian angel would be much less hard worked if I had a brother who was even half a man,' she cried angrily, venting her rage now there was a chance they might be safe. 'He's a disgrace to the human race. He—'

  Ross tried to hush her. He needed to listen for their pursuers. In fact, he thought he could hear something. Closer than before.

  'James Elliott should be dead and damned to all eternity,' she raged. 'He would be well served in hellfire. For he is the very devil—'

  'Miss Elliott. Hush! I think I hear horses!'

  She ignored him. 'And if he burns, it will—'

  He had two choices. Silence her by brute force, or... He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

  Cassie had never felt so angry before. She was cold and wet. Her teeth were chattering. She was in fear of her life. And it was all James Elliot doing. She wanted to curse him to the end of time. And she had the right. Captain Graham would not stop her.

  And then he did. By simply kissing her.

  The touch of his lips was hard at first, to silence her. She become rigid with shock. But then his lips gentled, began caressing her mouth. Suddenly, it was as if her chilled body had been sunk into a steaming hot bath. Every nerve, every bone, every inch of skin was burning. The

  danger that surrounded them melted away, and seemed to dissolve like Solway mist in the sunshine.

  Cassie had never been kissed before. If this was kissing, it was won­derful. Something to make a woman forget the whole world. He contin­ued to kiss and to tease. And, forgetting danger, forgetting propriety, Cassie returned his kiss with all the fervour she could muster.

  'Cassie.' It was somewhere between a whisper and a groan against her mouth.

  She could feel the heat of his fingers through her wet clothes. He pulled her even closer and she snuggled into him, willingly. He smelt of wet wool. And, somehow, of strong, protective male. This was a moment to—

  'Cassie, listen.' Now it was only a tiny whisper.

  Voices. And horses. Which direction? It was impossible to tell. The rain and the mist seemed to be doing strange things to the eerie sounds.

  'Stay quiet. We'll be safe here.' He pulled her even closer, wrapping part of his own greatcoat over her cloak. She rested her cheek against his damp coat. She was almost sure she could feel his heartbeat, strong and solid, while her own was racing.

  'We must gang back.'

  Cassie started at the sound of that voice, suddenly very near. It was Ned. One of James's henchmen.

  Ross stroked her hair gently. He didn't seem to have noticed how wet and tangled it was. His touch helped to calm her fears. Discovery was so very close.

  'Feart, are ye?' That was James's voice. Just at hand.

  Cassie tried to cower down into the hollow to make herself invisible. Ross held her up, taking the weight that her trembling legs could not carry. And then he kissed her again. Not to silence her. Not this time. This kiss was as gentle as thistledown blowing in the wind. For the length of his touch, her fears evaporated.

  'Go back if ye must.'
James again. 'I'll no' leave until I find her. I know she's here. She must be.'

  'But ye'll be too late to get across the firth, maister.'

  'There's time yet. I'll get across fine. But since you two are so hen-hearted, ye'd better start back.' 'We canna leave ye here alone.'

  'I'm not alone, Ned. I have two loaded pistols for company. I'll not leave till I have to. And there's time yet to find her.'

  Cassie's gasp of terror was muffled by Ross's damp coat. He put his lips to her hair. She could feel his warm breath, willing her to be strong.

  'We'll go then, maister. An' wait for ye at Annan side.'

  'Stop havering, man. Just get on with it.'

  James's men said nothing more. Cassie could hear the sound of their horses as they started back across the firth. Now she and Ross were alone, waiting.

  James was alone, too, searching. But he had pistols. With bullets enough for both Cassie and Ross.

  Ross cursed silently, pulling Cassie even closer into the shelter of his own body. Elliott had pistols. Ross had given both of his to Fraser. A soldier should have known better than to give up all his weapons. At the time, it had seemed the obvious course, for Fraser needed them to keep the pursuers at bay. Now that the pursuers were here, however...?

  There was no point in wasting time over might-have-beens. The dan­ger was here and now. His task was to protect Cassie. With his life, if need be. She was nestling in his arms like a wet and frightened kitten, seeking his warmth and comfort. Her every move showed how much she trusted him. That thought made him feel suddenly very proud. And very afraid.

  Ross absently stroked Cassie's tangled hair, trying to soothe her, to keep her calm and quiet. He had no real fears that she would give them away. She had too much courage for that. In a tiny, disconnected part of his mind, he understood that he was holding her close, and stroking her body, because he wanted to. Because he had been longing to do so. Be­cause he desired her.

  The muffled sound of a horse forced him to focus on the danger around them rather than the stuff of dreams. Ross strained to hear the tiniest sound. Had he imagined that faint jingle of harness? With the mist swirling around, it was impossible to be sure of anything. Except the slightly trembling body in his arms.