Bride of the Solway

by Joanna Maitland

  'Oh, God! Cassie! He'll come for her!'

  'That's what I was trying to tell you, sir. Elliott will be recovered enough now. He was only half-drowned, more's the pity. He'll be here any day. We need to protect Miss Cassie—'

  Ross barely heard the last part of Fraser's impassioned speech. He was already throwing open the door and dashing down the corridor to the staircase.

  Cassie! Where was she? He had last seen her going out into the knot garden. She would be safe enough there, surely? Even Elliott would not dare to attack her so near the house. But it was at least an hour, maybe two, since she had gone out. She might be anywhere by now.

  He took the stairs three at a time and almost collided with the butler in the hall. 'Tell your master Elliott is still alive!' he shouted, pushing the man out of the way and racing for the garden door. A quick glance round told him that Cassie was no longer in the knot garden. He ran through it and out into the wood beyond. If Elliott had found her here...

  It did not bear thinking about.

  'Cassie!' he yelled at the top of his voice. 'Cassie! Where are you? Cassie!' There was no response.

  Ross saw that Sir Angus was scuttling along the path towards him. The butler and a number of male servants were following.

  Ross ignored Sir Angus's questions and simply took charge of the men. 'Spread out through the woods and search for Miss Elliott. She may be anywhere. It is imperative that we find her.' He told the men off in various directions. 'If you see any signs of intruders, come back at once and report to me.'

  'Captain Graham! Sir!' Sir Angus was now insisting on being heard. 'What on earth is going on? My man gave me some incredible story about Elliott. Did he not drown after all?'

  Ross shook his head impatiently. He needed to join the search. He needed to find Cassie. 'According to my man, Fraser, Elliott did not drown. He was rescued at the last moment. It will have been an ordeal, of course, and it must have taken him time to recover. But he has had two days now. I fear.. .I fear very much that he has taken Cassie.'

  Sir Angus swayed on his feet. 'Oh, no. Not again,' he muttered weakly.

  'I beg your pardon, sir?'

  'Don't you see? Cassie's father took Elizabeth from my brother. Both of them died. Now James Elliott has taken Cassie from you.' He shook his head hopelessly.

  'Don't give up so easily, sir. If he has her—and I cannot leave until I know for sure—I promise you that I will get her back.' With that, he started off down the path in to the wood. The remainder of Ross's vow was unspoken, but recognised by both.

  I will get her back. Or die in the attempt.

  'We could do with Captain Rosevale's cool head for this. And Sergeant Ramsey, too. With four of us, we'd be sure of success.'

  'We'll just have to do the best we can, Fraser. We have two men, two horses, and four pistols. That should suffice. After all, we are soldiers, and they are only hirelings.'

  Fraser looked sideways at his master and clamped his mouth tight shut.

  'Now, do you have everything we need?'

  'Aye, sir.'

  'Good. Then let us be off. Sir Angus says we should catch the last of the ebb tide if we take the road to Bowness at the gallop. We may catch them on this side, if luck is with us. Our horses are fresh. Theirs cannot be, surely?'

  'No, sir.' Fraser swung himself up into the saddle and was soon trotting off down the drive.

  Ross ran a gloved hand down Hera's glossy neck. 'You've been much maligned of late, my beauty,' he murmured, 'I promise to make it up to you. But, for now, I need you to fly like the wind. Don't let me down, Hera.'

  The mare whinnied, as if she understood, and danced around impa­tiently. It seemed that she could not wait to be off.

  Ross mounted swiftly and gathered the reins. 'One beautiful lady af­ter another,' he said aloud. It was almost a challenge to any fates who might be listening. 'And I swear that both shall recover their rightful place.'

  Cassie bit and kicked and scratched and clawed. It was no use. James was so much bigger and stronger that he overcame her in the end. With help from the ever-present Tarn. And from James's riding cloak which imprisoned her limbs and muffled her cries.

  The two men hauled her through the woods to where they had left their horses. One of them was Lucifer! Cassie could hardly believe it.

  'Get her mounted, Tarn. But make sure you gag her. I'll no' have her shrieking like a wild thing.'

  Tarn produced a cleanish handkerchief to tie round Cassie's mouth. But he did not gag her at once. Nor did he tie her hands. Did that mean she might have a chance to escape?

  'Your hands will be left free so you can control your horse, Cassie. The gag you may remove when we are well away from this damned es­tate. I'll tell you when. It will be well before we are likely to meet any­one who might remark on the state of you. Your reputation shall be preserved, even here in England.'

  Cassie's eyes widened. Perhaps—?

  'Be warned, my girl. If you try any tricks, you'll be bound hand and foot and thrown over my saddle bow. And I will shoot that vicious horse of yours.' A slow smile spread across his dark face. 'Yes, I would enjoy doing that.'

  That smile sent a shiver through Cassie's heart. Given the slightest excuse, James would murder her beloved horse. She knew it was no idle threat. 'I will accompany you back to Langrigg,' she said quietly.

  'Do I have your word on that?' he retorted with a sneer.

  'I am surprised that you would take the word of a woman, James.'

  'Ordinarily, I would not. But I do know you, Cassie. Do I have your word?'

  'Yes.' What choice did she have? 'That being so, will you not dispense with the gag also?'

  'You will promise not to cry out?'

  'I will not make any attempt to escape and I will not seek help from anyone on the way back to Langrigg. You have my word.' She would keep it, too. As far as Langrigg. But she had made no promises about what would happen after that. If she could find a way to escape—with Lucifer—she surely would.

  'Very well. Put away the gag, Tarn. Give Miss Cassie her whip and help her to mount.'

  They seemed to have thought of almost everything. With a whip, Cassie should be able to ride. She could manage without boots or gloves. She struggled to gain the saddle, but failed. The black dress was not fit for riding in. The skirt was not wide enough. That was one thing that James had overlooked.

  'Damn women and their fancy clothing,' he spat. 'Don't know why you're wearing that hideous black affair, in any case. You used to have better taste.' He took a dirk from his boot and reached across to grab Cassie by the arm. Then he slit the skirt down the back. 'That will do. You'll be able to put your knee round the pommel now. But keep that cloak round you. You need to look decent if we should meet anyone.'

  Cassie swung the cloak round her shoulders and allowed Tarn to throw her up on to Lucifer's back. She settled herself as best she could, using the cloak to cover the petticoats that foamed out through her ruined skirts. With the strange summer weather, she was going to be very hot indeed under that stifling and rather smelly cloak. She resolved to ignore it. And to ignore her brother. She would think of something beautiful instead. She would think about that stately beech tree.

  No! She would think about Ross.

  * * *

  'There they are!' Ross gestured with his riding whip. A small group of figures was just visible, far out across the firth. They were only a little way from the Scottish shore.

  Ross set his heels to Hera's flanks and started out across the sand, pay­ing precious little attention to the pools and eddies.

  'Take care, sir!' Fraser yelled. He had quickly fallen behind, for his horse was no match for Hera. 'Remember the quicksands!'

  The panic in Fraser's voice was just enough to register in Ross's brain and bring him back to a sense of where he was. He steered round a par­ticularly dubious area of sand. James Elliott had lost his fine grey in the quicksands. And Ross would be no good at all to Cassie if he did likewise.r />
  He leaned low over Hera's neck, trying to get as close as possible to the water so that he could better gauge the firmness of the sand ahead of him. He even slackened her pace. But only slightly.

  Was he gaining on them? He thought perhaps he was. 'Good girl. We will catch them. We will.'

  By the time he reached the Scottish shore, Elliott had disappeared and Fraser was lagging even further behind. Ross had a moment of doubt. Should he go on, alone, one man against two, and both of them armed? Or should he wait for Fraser, losing valuable time? The thought of Cassie in her brother's clutches decided him. Nothing was more important than her rescue. He spurred Hera on.

  The Elliott party clattered through Annan at a fast trot. Cassie, in the middle of the trio, kept her head down, but she heard the comments as they passed. She knew she was blushing. The good burghers of Annan could see perfectly well who she was, and how improperly dressed. She had neither hat nor gloves. And why on earth would a lady be riding dressed in a black bombazine gown and a grey stuff cloak? The voices did not rise above low murmurs—the fierce frown on James's face was frightening enough to ensure that—but their unflattering nature was obvious enough. Miss Elliott had been discovered doing something dis­reputable. She was being escorted home in disgrace.

  Cassie chewed her lip and fumed. Damn her brother. Damn appear­ances. And damn Ross Graham for failing her when she needed him! If he had followed her into the woods, if he had ignored her pleas to be left alone, none of this would have happened. She would still have been at Whitemoss. And safe!

  The trio had just reached the first stones of the bridge when she heard a shout behind them. She was almost sure it was her name. She looked over her shoulder. Was that Ross? On his chestnut mare? Surely only Ross would call out her given name in that way?

  She pulled on Lucifer's reins, preparing to turn and race back to him. He was going to save her, after all.

  James, only a pace behind her, snarled, 'Your word, Cassie. Remem­ber? Your given word.' Then, as if to reinforce the message, he slashed his riding whip across Lucifer's flank.

  Lucifer bolted across the bridge.

  There was nothing Cassie could do. Even if she could have controlled her horse, she could not break her word, even to James. She had given herself into his power until they reached Langrigg. But she must try to catch one more glimpse of Ross. Ignoring the dangers of her horse's headlong flight, she turned in her saddle. She must try to show him, somehow, that she needed him. And that she loved him still, even though she must seem to him to be in league with her kidnappers.

  She gazed back at him, pleadingly. Please understand, Ross! Please! I love you! Come to me at Langrigg. I will find a way. At Langrigg, I will find a way.

  A cruel hand grabbed her arm. James was still alongside her. 'Have a care, Cassie, or that damned horse will have you off. Lucifer may kill you if he likes, but that blackguard behind shall not have you alive.'

  A laden cart lumbered out of an alley and started across the Annan bridge. Ross was not close enough to get ahead of it. He hauled on Hera's reins. She skittered to a halt, almost losing her footing on the damp cobbles.

  Damn, damn, damn! He could barely see them now. They were dis­appearing, at the gallop, in the direction of the Langrigg estate. Ross closed his eyes, remembering Cassie's last look.

  Why had she not stopped? Why had she not come to him? James Elliott could not have taken her by force in the middle of Annan High Street. She had had her chance of freedom. She had had the chance to come to him. And she had gone with her brother. Willingly.

  He slumped in his saddle. He could not believe it. She had said she loved him. How could she, and yet go with her brother? He felt as if some sharp-fanged monster was gnawing his gut. He had lost her. He had lost the woman he loved.

  He groaned aloud.

  When he opened his eyes, he saw that the people around had recoiled from him, as if he were carrying some terrible disease.

  And he was. For his disease was heartbreak.

  He had known he cared for Cassie. But he had not been prepared to admit that he loved her, not even to himself. For to love was to take risks. And Ross Graham had long since ceased to be brave enough to take risks with his heart.

  His heart had had other ideas. It was given—irrevocably—to Cassie Elliott. And the sight of her straight back, disappearing into the far dis­tance, was enough to place a vice around it and tighten the screw. His whole body ached with longing for her, even though she was lost to him. It was only now—and much too late—that he recognised just how much he loved her. Oh, Cassie! Darling Cassie!

  Yet that last strange look... What did it mean? She had galloped away with her brother, right enough, but that look... If she was glad to leave him, would she not have seemed triumphant? Proud? It had been so fleet­ing, so difficult to read. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to pic­ture her face.

  Not triumph. Nor anger. It was.. .oh, God, he could not tell. It could have been rejection. For she had cause. He, by his own neglect, had lost her. She needed him and he had failed her. He was cursed.

  In desperation, he tried to edge Hera forward across the bridge. He could not—would not—lose her like this. He had to tell her he loved her.

  Why was that confounded cart so slow? There was not room for even a single horse to pass it.

  'Sir!' Fraser gasped, catching up at last. 'Where is she? Could you not stop them?'

  Ross shook his head, still berating himself for his failure. He had lost her, perhaps for ever. He tried to master the searing pain that lanced through him. 'Elliott forced them through the town at the gallop,' he lied hoarsely. He would follow her. He had to know the truth. He had to—

  'I can't see any sign of them, sir.'

  That brought Ross back to earth. And to the need for plans before ac­tion. 'True,' he said harshly. 'By the time we get across this blasted bridge, Elliott will be well-nigh at Langrigg.' He made no attempt to hide his anger and exasperation. 'There is no point in galloping after them now. They are too well defended for a frontal attack. What we need now, Fraser, is guile.'

  Cassie dared one more glance over her shoulder, just as they turned into the Langrigg estate. There was no sign of anyone following now. He had given up.

  She wanted to scream with vexation.

  James caught Lucifer's rein to slow him to a walk. 'No need to rush now, m'dear,' he said silkily. 'You are home now. And safe in the bosom of your family. Where you will stay.'

  Cassie kept her eyes fixed on the road in front of her. She did not dare look at James. He might see, in her eyes, that she was still far from beaten.

  'Until your wedding day,' James continued, totally ignoring her mu­tinous silence.

  She stiffened.

  'That got your attention. I thought it might.'

  'I will not marry any man of your choosing, James Elliott.'

  He sat back in his saddle and laughed harshly till the sound echoed round the valley. 'D'ye hear that, Tarn? Your mistress thinks to defy me. A good joke, is it not?'

  Tam managed a strangled cackle. 'Aye, maister.'

  Cassie glowered at him. Tam would see out his days in a prison hulk if she had any say in the matter.

  James looked through her. 'When we reach the house, you will lock Miss Cassie in her bedchamber and bring the key to me, Tam. There will be no risk of your escaping, Cassie. And since your faithful Morag is long gone, I can at last depend on the loyalty of the servants. You will stay in your chamber until your wedding day.'

  'No! I will not be wed for you.'

  'As you wish. Then you will remain in your chamber. For good.' He stroked his whip down his horse's neck. 'Unfortunately, as none of the servants will have a key, it will not be possible for you to be fed. Such a pity.'

  Cassie felt her heart stop in her breast. He meant it. James truly would not care if she starved to death. She was not to be allowed to thwart his will. Whatever the price.

  For a long time, she said nothin
g. But, by the time the house came into view, her common sense had overcome her simmering fury. She might never have another chance of placating him. 'Do I take it,' she said hoarsely, 'that you have already chosen a husband for me?'

  'Oh, yes.'

  'May I ask who?'

  He turned to look her full in the face. 'How very polite you are, on a sudden, Cassie. To what do I owe this change of tone?'

  She swallowed. 'I do not relish the alternative you offer me.' Her voice was so low and flat that it was almost inaudible.

  He smiled, nodding. An acknowledgement, at last. By God, it has taken you long enough, lassie. By rights, I should keep you in suspense. But I am too kind-hearted for that. So I will tell you. Robert Munro, of Newton Douglas, is prepared to offer me five thousand pounds for you.'

  Cassie blinked in astonishment. Only days ago, James had been de­manding twenty thousand from Ross.

  'Not the best price, I admit, but he is an old man. I doubt he will live long. And since he has no children, you will soon be a very wealthy widow.'

  But, as a widow, she would be free!

  'Oh, no, Cassie.' He had caught the gleam in her eye. 'Don't think you can escape me, even once you are wed. Munro has agreed that I am to be your trustee. Once our husband is safely planted, I shall control every penny of the Munro estate. It will be quite like old times, will it not? In­deed, if I am any judge, I'd say that Munro would be lucky to have strength enough to last the wedding night.'

  'Morag! At last!'

  The abigail bustled into the coffee room of Annan's best inn. 'Och, sir! Miss Cassie! Where is she? She—'

  'Hush!' Ross put a finger to his lips and gave a tiny shake of his head. There were too many listening ears around them. He had made his de­cision. He needed Morag's help for his plans. 'Come outside, Morag. I need to talk to you. Fraser will take your things upstairs.' He took her by the elbow and hurried her out.