Emily had been about to answer, but her father had laughed merrily at her dark look and shook his head.
“Think on it my dear, think on it well, for it is my will to see you matched to a man who can provide for you, and he is willing. I will not rush you, and he does not wish to marry while he is in command of this mission, but I desire that this should be.”
He rode off to exchange loud hunting stories with the men at the front of the party. The men’s talk boasted of violent dogs tearing apart terrified deer, and they shouted and laughed, trying to make each tale bloodier and more unpleasant than the last. She found herself dropping back a little, brooding on the thought of unavoidable marriage to the hated Clairmont.
The men were passing a skin of wine between them and paying scant attention to her when there was a crashing in the woods off to their left, and three deer burst from the trees and galloped away down the path. Their eyes rolled in terror, and the dogs exploded into a run after them. With a cry, the men spurred their horses and gave chase, one of them blowing a horn wildly. Her palfrey gave a little step or two, asking for her head, but Emily kept a firm hold of the reins, speaking softly, so the horse maintained a steady pace. Emily had no wish to gallop and see the dogs attack the deer. She would ride on alone and enjoy the time to herself.
In the absence of the shouting men and barking dogs, the woods took on a different character for Emily. Birds which had previously flown away at the approach of the noisy party now returned to the trees and flitted through them, singing. Emily’s thoughts drifted, and the warm air, the song of the birds and the comfortable clop of her horse’s slow pace lulled her.
* * *
She woke with a jolt. Had she fallen asleep? She must have done. Her neck ached, and her back was cramped. Her horse had stopped and was browsing at a tuft of grass. Emily glanced around, and her heart thrilled with fear. The dimming light of the woods was enough to show that hours had passed since she had dropped off. And where was the road? There was no sign of it. Her horse had wandered off into the woods in search of food. She was completely alone.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” she muttered to herself. “What am I to do?”
Then it happened. Her horse reared up her head in sudden fright, and as she clutched for the reins, Emily realised that someone else was already holding them. A hand gripped her horse’s reins, and a figure was standing beside her. She was caught. There was only one person who it could be. She braced herself to face the cruel and glittering eyes of Clairmont.
Chapter Five
“Be easy lass,” a rich and soothing voice spoke behind her. In her mind, the expectation was so strong that she already saw Clairmont when she had turned in her saddle. But it was not he. By her stood a man, well-built, broad-shouldered and with eyes dark as polished jet. He was younger than Clairmont by a long way, closer in age to her though still at least five years older she guessed.
She looked him over. He was clean-shaven, and his jaw was strong and broad. His hair was brown as chestnuts and was tied back behind his head with a leather thong. He wore a simple garment of rough linen, clean, though much the worse for wear. It was cut off at the sleeves, and his bare arms and his face were tanned. She could see the defined muscles of his brown arms as he held her horse’s bridle in one hand and stroked its nose with the other. Around his shoulder was wrapped the long, thick woolen wrap the Scots called the plaid; a sheen of sweat swathed his forehead.
He returned her frank gaze before smiling, opening his mouth wide before lifting a finger to mime, pushing it closed again. She was confused for a moment, then realised that her own mouth was hanging wide open. She snapped it shut, and he smiled. Suddenly they both laughed, and the tension left her, replaced by a thrill of quite a different feeling. She was not sure she had a name for it.
Dismounting, she smiled up at him. He was a little taller than she was.
“Weel, lassie, ye are a long way frae hame.”
“Yes, I suppose I am.”
As soon as she spoke, his face clouded over. “Ye are English?”
“Yes, my father is in charge of the garrison at the castle.” His kind face turned immediately stony.
Realisation suddenly dawned,, and she gasped, suddenly backing up towards the side of her horse. She remembered the dark-eyed man who had glared at them from the hillside by the road to Inveraray.
“You’re him!” You’re the man from the attack on the road!” She clutched for the reins and made as if to leap back onto her horse, but he held up a hand. Something about his open, kindly face made her slow her actions.
“Be easy, lass, be easy. Ye are frightening the poor horse. I wallnae dae ye harm. Hey, hey,” he spoke soothingly to the horse, and she nuzzled at him, moving away from Emily toward him.
“Calm yerse. Its nae good riding aff inae the night in a fright like this, you’ll dae yerrsel or yer fine beast a mischief. Here” He pulled out a slim little book, very battered and worn.
“This is a wee print o’ the New Testament. I will hold it in my hand like this, and upon it, I swear, here and now, as God is my witness, that I shall dae ye nae harm nor tell ye any lie, nor dae tae ye anything which ye dinnae wish done, so help me. Does that reassure ye any lass?”
She was shocked but deeply moved by how honestly he had spoken. No man could speak so and not mean it. She breathed again.
“But you are him, aren’t you?” He looked uncomfortable.
“I can hardly tell ye a lie now can I, after having sworn on the testament no tae do so... yes, I am he. My name is Murdo MacPherson, and I recognise you, too. Aye, I know you. I saw you coming into Inveraray with your father and his men.”
“Then it was you?”
“Aye, lass, that was me.”
“Murdo MacPherson,” she breathed his name, remembering what Alice had said. “You’re their leader, the rebels in the hills?”
“Aye,” he nodded reluctantly, “the clansmen at my back do call me their leader.”
There was a pause.
“You shot at us.”
He laughed, a little embarrassed.
“Aye, I did. But, eh, I didnae intend tae! I was getting up tae leave, and my gun went aff accidently. I fired wild intae the air and fell over on my backside wi’ the force of it! But ye shot at me, and ye meant it.”
“Not I!” She clearly remembered the soldiers in their formation, blasting their rifles up the hilltop. “But yes, I suppose my party did. You were not hurt?”
“Hurt? No, I got well awa’ frae them. And ye got tae yer castle safely also, so a’ is weel and nae hard feelings. Now, miss, what are we tae dae? For ye wish tae get back tae the castle and yer faither nae doubt, and I wish tae see ye safely back tae the road, but ye’ll admit that it would be a rare foolish thing for me tae dae seeing as how I am placed. But perhaps we’ll walk up tae yon high crest there and take a peep oot ower the loch, and ye’ll see the castle and where the road is tae, and that’ll help ye.”
Together they walked through the darkening woods toward a clearing.
“And will ye tell me yer name, lass?” he asked as they approached the viewpoint.
“I am Miss Emily Nasmith, Mr. MacPherson.”
He gave a hearty laugh.
“Weel Miss Emily Nasmith, I dinnae tak’ weel tae being called ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. MacPherson’ or the like, and I dinnae dae weel at remembering tae use such forms mysel’ either so wi’ yer leave I will just call ye Emily, and ye shall call me Murdo and that will be simple. Efter a’ if ye were ever tae find yerself among my clansmen tae insist on calling me ‘Mr. MacPherson’ would only cause confusion; every man in the company save one or two would answer tae that name!”
When they reached the outcrop, they found a little flight of steps cut into the rock. Murdo tethered her horse to a tree and went up ahead. She followed him and found herself staring at the rippling muscles of his shoulders, which she could clearly see, despite the fading light and his linen shirt. She came out onto the viewpoint and
gasped in wonder and fright.
Below them, the whole glen was laid out like a picture on a table. Far, below the castle squatted over the little town. The moon was rising over the far hills and glinting in the black water of the loch. Emily had come much further than she thought.
“The castle is miles away!” she exclaimed. Even as they stood, a biting little wind flung a few drops of cold rain into their faces. Heavy clouds were blowing in from the west, and the last rays of the sun illuminated thick rain clouds.
“It’s going tae be a filthy night,” he pointed to the clouds, and suddenly she was afraid.
“Oh, Mr. MacPh... ah, Murdo,” she corrected herself at his look. “I do not think I can ride back home to the castle in the dark and the rain, even if I could find the road again. I am hardly dressed for it, and the wind is so cold.”
They climbed from the rock and back to the shelter of the trees. It was getting very dark. He looked doubtful and took a breath as if to speak before raising his hand to chew at his thumbnail thoughtfully.
“Miss, I hae promised tae dae right by ye, and I agree that it would be foolhardy tae ride aff intae the night wi’ a storm approaching. If I show ye a place tae shelter for the night will ye dae right by me, ta, for ye could betray me easily, when ye get back tae your castle tomorrow? Will ye promise tae keep faith wi’ me as I have promised tae ye?”
She looked in his eyes. “I promise.” The words felt like the turning of a key in a door. Her gaze held his for a long moment.
“Weel then, Emily, follow me. I will show ye where we can go.”
Half an hour’s walk from the viewpoint, they came to the base of a steep cliff. He led her along the bottom until they reached a narrow part where the ground fell steeply away below the sheer cliff wall.
“Gie me the horse’s reins and then follow me.”
“Follow you? But there is nothing there but a drop!”
“So it looks frae here, but that it the beauty o’ it. Trust me!”
Stepping cautiously onto the narrow shelf she found to her amazement that a neat little flat space opened out, sheltered on both sides by the walls of the cliff. Here there was thick grass and a little shelter for the horse and at the back of the grassy space there yawned the entrance to a cave.
“This is a very secret spot and my faither who is my Clan Chief would likely hae my hide for showing it tae ye, but it’s a very good place for shelter and for keeping dry oot o’ the rain. Come, let me show ye!”
Emily followed him into the cave. Her horse was already grazing contentedly. Inside it was spacious and dry, and there was a stack of dry firewood laid ready for the traveler and a dugout stone-lined fire-pit. He was quickly on his knees, striking sparks from a flint.
“We always make sure tae keep this place in readiness,” a spark caught in his tinder and he began to nurse the flame with little shavings of wood. “After we leave tomorrow, I will make sure tae refill the stash wi’ wood for whoever kens the secret and may come here efter us.”
He had laid his plaid out on the ground and gestured her to it as he added a little more wood.
“The floor o’ the cave is sand no’ stone, and so should be mair comfortable than hard rock. But my only sleeping gear is my plaid, and I will ask ye to tak’ and sleep on it the night. I will dae fine without it for one evening. I’ll build the fire up.”
She watched as he got a good blaze going. The fire lit up the planes of his face, and she could not help but admire his beauty. He was nothing like the savages her father and Clairmont had described. Indeed, this man looked as though he took a great deal more care in washing himself than any of the military men she had known, and what, if not personal cleanliness, was the mark of a truly civilised person?
He had a little food with him, and so did she. Together they made a satisfactory meal, although the combinations were a little odd. They drank water from a flask which he had brought, and she remembered that she had a skin of wine in her saddlebag, part of her provisions for the hunt.
After a time she began to yawn. He built the fire up, and she lay down beside it, wrapped in his plaid. He went off a little way to sit by the cave mouth. The rain was falling steadily.
She dreamed. In her dream, she was in the castle, but it was much bigger and darker than before and full of unexpected corners and passages which she did not know. Clairmont was there, and he wanted to force a kiss on her once again, and more besides. She could hear his voice echoing through the stone halls. She ran from him, but her legs would not move, and it was like running against a surging tide. Suddenly he was there, his hands on her, groping. She turned to him, and his mouth was open, but his teeth were sharp and huge as he lunged his gasping mouth toward her…
“Wake up, lassie, wake up! Emily!”
Murdo’s voice startled her from the nightmare. Without thinking, she reached out and flung her arms around him, clinging tightly and panting, her heart racing with fear. After a moment he returned her embrace, carefully encircling her with his strong arms. It took a little while, but her breathing eventually slowed. She pillowed her head against his broad chest.
“Ye cried oot and began tae thrash about in your sleep. I thought ye would not want tae continue tae sleep if yer dreams were so bad.”
He eased off his embrace a little, but she did not. She clung to him, the last threads of the nightmare slipping away. The fire crackled. He did not move. She breathed deeply the fresh, clean, outdoors scent of him. Her leg was thrown across his, and suddenly she realised how close he was. The scent of him surrounded her, and the feeling of warmth and safety transformed suddenly into something more urgent. It was not a feeling she had a name for, but somewhere deep inside her, she knew it. Suddenly her breath was no longer even, and her heart was racing again, but no longer with fear. She raised her head a little. His handsome face was looking down into hers with care and concern, and before she knew what had happened, she had parted her lips and raised her mouth to his.
It was her first kiss. The heat flowed through her as the warmth of his mouth joined hers; it was an incredible feeling, and she found herself following her instincts. She lay atop him, her hands exploring the firm contours of his shoulders, his chest, belly and then lower...
They both gasped and broke the kiss as she felt him move against her in response to her exploring touch. There was a pause in their sudden ardour, and they gazed into each other’s eyes. She was relieved to find that he looked as surprised as she felt. Then he smiled confidently and moved as if to grip her waist in his strong arms when suddenly they both froze.
Outside the cave, they had heard a noise. It was a very distinctive noise; hoof-beats.
Chapter Six
“They must have come looking for me,” she whispered, and he nodded tightly.
“Wait here,” but she ignored him and followed him out into the light rain. He glanced back at her once but said nothing. At the edge of the little meadow in front of the cave, they peered out together over the edge. Below them in the dark they saw ranks of men on horseback, carrying torches which flamed and spat in the light rain; their orange glow bright among the woods. There were hoof-beats and the jingle of harness.
“Nothing here!” cried an English voice.
“Move on then,” replied another.
“They will ne’er approach the cliff face,” Murdo whispered softly. “It is too weel hidden.”
“Good for I do not think I have any desire to be found.”
They watched for a little while longer. They saw the parties of men moving backwards and forward through the trees, calling back and forth to one another. Once, she could have sworn, she had recognised Clairmont’s voice. Another time she thought she recognised her father’s. After a time, the voices and the light of the torches moved away. She shivered.
“Ye’re cold, come on let’s go back tae the shelter.”
Once inside, he put more wood on the fire, and she moved closer to it, wrapped in his plaid. He sat down next to her, an
d she leaned into him. Placing his arms around her, they sat together staring into the flames.
“My father has made a match for me, you know,” she said after a while.
“I hate him. He’s much older than me and is cruel. He bears me no real affection. He is not a man I can bring myself to admire.”
He made a non-committal noise.
“Whit will ye dae?”
“Go back, I suppose. Oh Murdo, I do not know what has happened this night. I feel like I am in a dream. Indeed, I think I have dreamed of this before but... oh, I don’t know. All my life, I have been surrounded by men; strong, cruel men or weak, kind ones. Now to find that there are men both strong and kind…”
Fighting For A Highland Rose (Defenders 0f The Highlands Book 1) Page 4