“Oh, Mother,” she said, and placed the food on the floor of the carriage before climbing inside to embrace her.
Lady Dawaerton grabbed tightly onto Emma. Her body wracked with sobs. “All is lost, darling girl, all is lost. We had such hopes, your father and I. Such hopes for you, and now he is gone.”
Emma knew losing her father would be a great shock, and her mother had always sought solace in having her family around her. Emma clearly remembered the day they lost their grandmother. Lady Katharine held Emma and Thomas both, and they had cried for hours. In the weeks after the funeral, she would spend whole afternoons with the siblings recalling stories of their grandmother, and what it was like to grow up with the woman as her mother.
The same was true when they lost anyone of consequence, but Emma doubted that Thomas would lose his pride and cry openly.
Maybe it was different when it was a beloved husband who left too soon. But based on her mother’s sobs now, it must be devastating. She briefly wondered what she would have done if she had married William and tragedy had struck. Would she want comfort or solitude?
She would mind Thomas’ advice and let her mother be, but only for so long. She feared her mother was still yet unaware that Father had been murdered. Now was not the time to discuss it. It was not good to stay held up in one’s grief for too long, and once her mother was in a better place, and the villain found out, Emma was sure Thomas would broach the sensitive subject with their mother. For now, Emma only wanted to offer her despondent mother comfort.
“Mother, all is not lost. You will see, we will be able to go on without Father, as hard as it may seem now.” She ran her hands up and down her mother’s back as she eased her back into her seat in the carriage.
“If only…” her mother said. Slowly Emma used her handkerchief to wipe the remaining tears away.
“Shh, rest now, Mother. All will be well.” It was hard for Emma to believe her own words, but she couldn’t bear it if her mother took ill, as well. The journey was a difficult one, and Lady Dawaerton needed her strength to bring her husband’s body home.
* * *
William did not know what Marston was intending, but in the two days since they had left the MacNair residence, he seemed hell-bent on making the journey as inconvenient and uncomfortable for Emma as possible.
“Why do ye think he is making the journey so rough on the lass?”
William and Goraidh had followed the Englishmen at a safe enough distance so as to not be detected, but still able to see everything that was going on.
“I was wonderin’ the same thing. It seems out of place for a man of his station,” Goraidh replied, keeping his voice low in the waning light.
The new Earl kept his sister astride a much too small horse for her; would barely stop enough to allow her to relieve herself, or rest. The worst of all, when they set up camp, he forced her to sleep out of doors like a soldier or farm hand.
Something was amiss, but William could not figure out the man’s motivation or plan. It defied logic. The only explanation would be that the new Earl was taking his responsibilities to the letter by keeping his sister close. After all, Marston suspected that William and his clan were behind the death of the old Earl. He would want Emma constantly under his own protection.
Ah, lass, if only I could get close enough to hold ye, he thought as he watched an exhausted Emma doze and nearly fall from her saddle—and not for the first time.
At least they would be back at Dawaerton Manor in less than a day. Then she would be able to rest in her own bed. For her sake, he hoped it was stuffed with only the finest feathers and topped with the most luxurious furs.
He knew if he were close enough to see her face she would have the darkest circles under her deep eyes. The Lady’s father had just died, rather gruesomely, and instead of giving her a soft seat in a carriage, her brother had forced her to ride on horseback. William could not help but think Marston was punishing her for something.
He had left Finley in charge of questioning each and every member of the clan in his stead. And so far, there appeared to have been no further attacks on Emma or her family. Finally, they stopped for the night, and once again Marston had his sister sleep further away from the camp, outside on the rough ground.
William had enough of this treatment.
They waited for the camp to quiet and everyone to settle into slumber before circling the horses. Tying their beasts to a tree and seeing to the animals' needs as quickly as possible, William left Goraidh to keep watch. William then steadily made his way back to where Emma slept.
There was a spinney close by, and he could easily conceal himself out of view, yet be close enough to reach out for Emma should a need arise. He would spend his night watching over her, only allowing himself to sleep when he knew she was safe
Sometime in the early morning hours, William was awoken by the snap of a twig. His eyes flew open at the unnatural sound, and he saw daybreak was not long off. He quickly glanced towards Emma and sighed in relief. She was sleeping soundly under the tattered blanket provided by her brother.
Most likely an old horse blanket, riddled with rips and tears, as comforting as the affection Thomas had shown her on this journey.
Standing a few yards away, Thomas was watching Emma as she slept. William did not like the gleam in her brother’s eye. Could it be that he was simply watching over Emma as he himself was? A fierce need to protect what was his climbed up William’s throat. He had his sword on his waist and a dirk tucked into the folds of his kilt, but Thomas was too far away for William to strike and remain hidden.
He was still unsure of the man’s intentions and did not want to expose himself just yet.
Looking around him, he noticed a pile of stones. If Thomas was worried about his sister’s safety, he would surely investigate any strange sounds. With the element of surprise and distraction on his side, William picked up a few of the stones. He was a good shot, and using a practiced aim he threw one stone, then another, just beyond the tree where Thomas sat.
As he hoped, Marston turned at the sound. Twisting back to look again at Emma, he then turned and moved with great care toward where William had thrown the stones. William needed to wake Emma. He would have to trust that she would keep his presence a secret, but he needed her to know he was there.
Looking once again for Thomas to return and satisfying himself that the man was still off in search of the mysterious sounds he heard, William moved from the cover of the bushes and knelt beside Emma.
She was beautiful; the moonlight played with the pale soft skin of her cheekbone, and William reached a hand out and gently touched her face. Emma stirred slightly, but knowing their time was short, he needed to wake her fully.
“Och, lass, wake up for me,” he whispered. She let out a contented moan and rolled toward him.
“Not yet,” she said, still very much asleep. Based on the smile she gave, it was a pleasant dream she was having, and William was loath to wake her. If only he didn’t need to in order to keep her safe. “Just a few moments more, William, please.”
He retracted his hand as if burned.
William?
She’d said his name in her sleep. She dreamt of him. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to take her into his arms, to feel her softness against his own hard lines.
“There is no time, lass, I need ye to open yer eyes for me.” The urgency in his voice was partly due to worry for their visitor to return, and partly due to strong desire coursing through him.
She opened her eyes and gave him a small smile. He waited for a moment, needing her to register that this was not whatever pleasant dream she had awoken from, that he was here in the woods with her, a stone’s throw away from her brother and his men.
“My God! William?” Her whisper was harsh, and she looked around as if looking for help. She still did not trust him. Not fully. After the sweetness of hearing his name on her lips in pleasure, the worry on her face now stung.
&n
bsp; “Aye lass, ’tis I. Dinnae scream, I need ye to be verra quiet. I’m sorry I woke ye, but I couldn’t let ye go one believin’ I had somethin’ to do with yer father’s death.”
“What…what are you doing here? Have you been following us this whole time?” She abruptly sat up on her meager bed and backed away from him. It was barely perceptible, but she was shivering, and if William had to guess, it wasn’t from the chill in the early morning air.
One of these days it would be nice if the lass doona always shrink away from me.
“Aye, I’ve promised to keep ye safe. I wanted ye to ken I was here. I thought it best with how we left things if I kept me presence hidden, but I’ve been here the whole time. Watching over ye, lass.”
“Ye need to stay close to yer brother. He was watchin’ ye sleep. I ken he is difficult, but ye need to stay safe.”
Emma paused in thought. Her features softened in understanding. Then her eyes filled with worry.
“I never thought you had a hand in my father’s death, William. I’m so sorry I backed away from you. I shouldn’t have.” There was no bad feeling between them. Her words meant more to him than she could have realized.
“The camp is beginning to stir. Stay as close to Thomas as possible on the rest of the journey, lass.”
“But you must stay out of sight. If Thomas finds you, he will kill you.”
She need not worry about him. He wanted her focus to be on the road ahead, at least until he knew she was safely ensconced at the manor house, under the protection of her brother, his men, the villagers, and tenants of her ancestral home. The more eyes to keep her safe, the better. Just the same, he was touched when she attempted to put his needs ahead of her own.
“Do ye trust me then, lass?” He didn’t know why the answer mattered to him as much as it did. He would continue to watch over her regardless of the answer she gave, but he saw the worry in her eyes for him, and suddenly it mattered very much if Emma trusted that he was not going to harm her.
She looked up at him and gave him a shy smile. For a moment, he was reminded of the wee rascal in the bushes from long ago—how appropriate that it was now him in the bushes, desperately waiting for her to respond. His very future depended upon the words she would speak next.
“I do trust you, William. I couldn’t stand it if I thought you were hurt, especially because of me. Do be careful, don’t let them see you.”
“Lass, ye need nae worry over me. I’ll be ridin’ along with ye, just out of sight. If ye find yerself in trouble, I’ll be there. I told ye, I would protect ye and that nae a promise I made lightly.”
The noise of the camp waking around them grew louder and William retreated back into his hiding spot among the bushes. He closed his eyes. He would quietly wait, allowing time for the camp to pack up and begin the final leg of their journey before he left to seek out his horse and follow.
Briefly, the bushes in front of him rustled. He opened his eyes to see two gorgeous gold-flecked, hazel eyes staring back at him. The sweet scent of her was lingering in his nose. Honey mixed with something else, something floral he couldn’t identify, but that reminded him of a garden after a summer storm. “Lass…”
She kissed him, brief and chaste but enough to make his whole body quake with the desire for more. “Thank you.”
Before he could respond she was gone.
Chapter 10
Somewhere out in the tree line, William, her personal protector, stood watching over her. Emma tried to remain as calm as possible, and not give away any of the happiness that she was feeling. She could scarcely believe he had been following them the entire journey, silently watching over her, keeping her safe. The thought of it sent shivers down the length of her body.
True to her word, she kept as close to Thomas as possible for most of the day’s ride. Now the sun was high and they had crossed the border back into England. She knew they were close to home, so she allowed herself to relax in the saddle.
Her whole body ached from the journey. She turned her head to watch the tree line, hoping for a glance of William—a glimmer, a speck, something to let her know he was close. She felt him, but she ached to see him. She thought back to morning, when she had brashly delivered a chaste kiss to his lips. God! How she wanted to do so much more!
Stop it, Emma! she chided herself. Your emotions are running high, you haven’t properly grieved for your father. Yet all she could think about was William. He was the calm to her storm. Lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t realize she had slipped back behind the rest of the party. Thomas had ridden ahead, and now she was alone at the back of the line.
Before long, she kicked the horse into a trot. She must have put too much pressure on the mare because the horse let out a terrified whinny and reared up before taking off like a shot, in the opposite direction of the rest of the party.
A frantic realization dawned on Emma—the horse did not intend to slow down. She blindly kicked her mare. The blasted animal was slow and half dead at any other time, and now she ran wildly, as if the devil himself had gotten into the animal.
“SLOW NOW!” Emma yelled at the horse.
The horse reared, and Emma could not see which direction she was headed. Now moving faster than she would bet the animal had moved in its whole life, the horse took off, heading straight for the tree line. Emma finally knew where they were, and she knew that particular tree line well. Just beyond, in a break, there was a rocky ledge that led down a deep embankment.
If she did not get control of the mare and quickly, the animal would take them both over the edge and to their deaths. Pulling wildly at the reins, she begged the horse to slow. She was a horrible rider! She had known her inferior ability would be the cause of distress.
She would not spare a thought for the man who was the cause of all of this. She knew William was close, but had he seen what had happened? Was he close enough to stop the runaway animal? If she screamed, he would come, she knew he would, but it would be too late, and then, he would be exposed for nothing.
If I die, and he is exposed, Thomas will lay the blame at his feet. She would not allow that to happen.
The trees were coming closer now. Emma had to duck several times as they entered the small wooded area to avoid being hit in the head with a low branch. Hooves began to race up behind her, and her heart began to thunder wildly.
“Emma! Can ye slow the beastie!?”
Relief washed over her, but her relief was short-lived. William was there with her. But he needed to get away, the horse was too far gone for him to help, and if Thomas found him…
“William, leave! Thomas can’t see you!” She shouted back at him through gritted teeth. She needed to get control of the horse on her own and fast. Surely, by now she was missed, and Thomas would send men after her and William would be found.
“I’ll nae leave ye, lass. Ye need to get control of the horse.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” She screamed back into the wind. “HOW?”
“Pull the reins as hard as ye can!”
When he said it, it seemed so simple, yet, the reality for Emma was much more complicated. What if she didn’t have the strength? What if the stubborn animal did not respond? She pulled sharply on the reins.
“It’s now or never, beast!” She shouted. The horse stopped but it was too abrupt for Emma to hold her seat and she went flying over the animal’s mane.
* * *
“EMMA!” William watched in horror as the horse threw her over.
No, no, no, no…
He saw the terrible fall in slow motion. The mare had gone into a full-on spook and Emma lost control of the animal.
After watching her for two days, William knew that she was not an able rider, and the chances of her controlling the animal were slim being under such fright. He had made the only choice he could. He could not have remained hidden. He needed to get to her and fast.
Now he watched, terrified, with his heart in his throat as she landed on the gro
und with a soft thud and rolled. William wasted no time jumping down from his own horse and running to her.
Please, dinnae let her die, please…
He reached her and her eyes were closed. Dropping to his knees, he took the delicate lass into his arms. Placing the pad of his finger to her throat, he was relieved to find her heartbeat thumping strong. She was breathing, and she lived!
He wiped the mud from her face and kissed first her forehead, then each cheek and eyelid, murmuring to her in Gaelic, words of love and praise.
“Emma, lass, open yer eyes, please open yer eyes…”
Disciplined by the Highlander: A Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 7