by Aileen Adams
“Heather, I'm going to drop a bundle down to you. It's a blanket and some food. I need to make sure that it lands as close to you as possible.”
“And how will you manage that?”
“I want you to hum, softly, enough for me to hear you, but not loud enough for the sound to carry. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
He got back onto the ground, laid on his stomach, and edged closer to the cliff. He heard her humming. He didn't recognize the tune, but it didn't matter. He shifted his position a bit to the right, waited, and then shifted yet again. “All right, I'm dropping it down.”
He let it go. Didn't hear anything. “Did it land close to you or did it go over the edge?”
“It landed right in my lap, Jake,” she said with a soft laugh. “You have very good instincts, and a good ear.”
“It's not much, but it should at least help you get through the night.”
He doused the torch and then rolled over onto his back and stared up into the night sky. The thought of her down there alone and injured left him feeling incredibly frustrated and guilty. A blanket and a loaf of bread were not much, but it was something. It frustrated him to no end that he hadn't found her sooner.
But she was right.
It would be pure foolishness for him to try and make his way down in the darkness. One slip, one loose rock, and not only could he lose his life, but he could seriously injure Heather, or even worse, knock her off the ledge and send her plunging to the bottom as well.
“Are you looking at the stars, Jake?”
He smiled at her question, looking up at the myriads of stars twinkling above. “Yes.”
“You see that one directly above us, the bright star with the three smaller ones lined up in a row next to it?”
He searched, seeking the stars she spoke of, and then once again smiled when he saw them. It was comforting somehow, that they both looked at the same cluster of stars.
“Yes.”
“What do you think of when you look at those stars?”
He frowned. Brought himself back to her predicament.
“I'm thinking that I shouldn’t be lying up here looking up at the stars, and you shouldn't be trapped on a ledge down there doing the same.”
Silence.
“I'm thinking that you’re a foolish woman who allowed her emotions to control her actions. But we'll talk more about that tomorrow after I get you off that ledge and back to the manor house.”
“I don't know how you're going to manage it, Jake, but I'm looking forward to it.”
And that's how they spent the night, somewhat together though they might as well have been miles apart.
The ground was cold, but he dared not light a fire. Biting off a groan of pain, he scrambled to his feet, returned to his horse, and grabbed a blanket of his own. He settled himself near the edge of the cliff, close to where he had lain earlier, knowing that it was likely directly above where Heather also sat, trapped on the ledge below.
Neither of them spoke after that. He hoped that she had fallen asleep, had eaten some of the bread he’d brought along, wrapped the blanket around her. Not much, but at least something to ward off the chill. He knew she would be uncomfortable; as uncomfortable as he.
And he, a warrior, a man used to spending the nights exposed to the weather.
Impatiently, he waited for the hours to pass and dawn to brighten the eastern horizon.
Stretching the muscles in his right thigh, he managed to attain a cross-legged position where he could keep watch. His muscles screamed in protest at first, but then gradually, the pain and the tightness eased.
He kept watch, but saw no signs of life out there.
No fires.
Smelled no smoke.
And so he waited, one excruciating minute after another.
* * *
The eastern horizon glowed dimly, a lighter shade of darkness than to the west. Soon, the sun would peek over the horizon, gradually bringing forth a new day.
Jake remained seated, forcing himself to wait. To be patient. One false step would send him careening down the steep slope.
He waited until just the tip of the rising sun cast the eastern horizon into a brilliant and colorful pinkish-orange display. It never ceased to amaze him—the beauty of a sunrise or sunset. Not something that a person like him spoke about to anyone, but something that was appreciated, nonetheless.
Slowly, he shifted his position, grimacing as pain shot through his leg. Gritting his teeth, he did his best to ignore it and successfully if slowly managed to get his feet under him. He waited for the throbbing to subside. His muscles were stiff, nothing unusual after spending a night outdoors in the damp and chilly Highland air.
He swung his arms across his chest and turned to the horses, both grazing peacefully, tails flicking, not a care in the world. Both horses carried his weapons—bow and quiver of arrows, a short sword, his target or shield made of not one but two layers of fur layered at an angle and covered with tightly stretched leather, an arm strap sewn into the padded back. A dirk tucked into a loop on his saddle, the other worn at his side.
He turned back toward the cliff, as he could think of no other name for it. Too steep for a slope really, it dropped precipitously at a steep angle.
Carefully, he approached the edge, making sure he had solid footing, testing his weight one step at a time, he leaned forward and dared a quick look over the side.
There, perhaps thirty feet down as Heather had estimated, he saw the edge of the ledge upon which she was trapped.
All he saw of her was her left foot, the thin slipper shoe, and a glimpse of an ankle. A delicate, finely formed ankle… he frowned at his wayward thoughts and took a step back and searched the surroundings, looking for another way to reach the ledge.
She was in a precarious location.
How was he going to get her off the ledge and back on top of the ridge?
He didn't have a rope with him. He might be able to scramble down to the ledge, but bringing her back up was another question entirely. The others in the search party had spread out in all directions last night. Most had circled around and ventured back toward the manor as it grew darker, but he had pressed on. The others would soon be searching again, but would any think to come in this direction?
Most, including him at first, thought Heather would stay to low ground, heading west, but she had obviously veered deeper into the trees and lost her sense of direction.
How she had ended up here, so far from the manor, he had no idea, but now was not the time to ask.
Should he just wait here until one of the Duncan men found them or should he ride back to the manor house and get help? Neither was optimal. She was injured. Another night spent exposed to the elements without food…
He tried to come up with a plan to get her off for that ledge without risking more danger, but nothing came to mind. He was also concerned about the riders that Heather had seen the evening before.
If she had spotted McGregor clan riders, they were likely scouting the area. Assessing their defenses? They might double back. He didn't want to leave her alone on the ledge.
It would take at least a few hours to ride back to the manor house, alert Phillip and Sarah, collect supplies, and then return. He turned to the north, scowling when he saw clouds hovering near the northwestern horizon.
They would bring rain before the end of the day.
“Jake?”
Her voice carried in the stillness.
She wasn't raising her voice too much, but it did echo, and he winced.
“I'm here, Heather,” he said, moving toward the edge of the slope. “Try to keep your voice down. Sounds carry great distances in these narrow valleys.”
“Can you get me up?”
“I'm thinking on it,” he said. “Just try not to move around too much. Is that ledge you’re sitting on pretty solid?”
“Seems to be,” she said, her voice subdued.
He could hear the
fear in it. The worry. He knew what she was thinking. Not sure if he could help her? Thinking he would leave her here, alone.
“I'm not going to leave you here,” he said, trying to sound reassuring.
He continued to glance around, looking for anything that might help him get her off without ledge, but his focus wasn't as sharp as it should be.
Worried about Heather, the pain in his leg a constant throbbing that niggled at his brain, the oncoming rainstorm, the mysterious riders that she had seen the night before.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
He glanced back at the horses, tied to shrubbery about twenty paces from where he now stood. He had his blanket. He wished now that he had the one he had thrown down to Heather, but there was no way she could toss it back up to him.
He glanced at the horse’s reins. Maybe he could tie them together, create a makeshift rope.
He eyed the ground near the edge of the slope, looking for something that he might be able to tie one end to and noted a sturdy-looking shrub. But would it bear his weight? A couple of large boulders nearby, but wrapping his makeshift rope around that would leave him very little left over.
He couldn't make anything long enough to drop down the entire way, but even halfway would be beneficial.
“Heather, can you look up above you and see if there are any solid pieces of rock or niches in the rock, any place to grab a handhold or foothold?”
He waited for several moments before Heather finally answered.
“It looks like there are some good handholds. I think I can make my way back up.”
“No, stay where you are,” he said.
He didn't want her risking it. He supposed the only thing he could do was try to get down there. Getting back up would be even more precarious. The only way he could think to do that was to have her climb onto his back. Not an ideal situation for either one of them.
Before his injury, he would never have questioned his ability to scramble down there or back up again with Heather on his back. But now, with his leg? Would it bear not only his weight, but Heather's? Would that shrub hold? Would the makeshift rope he planned to make?
He grumbled as he strode toward the horses.
A short distance upslope stood a cluster of trees, clinging to the top of the ridge before dipping downward on the far side of the mountain. He could hobble the horses in those trees, keep them out of sight, just in case. They would be content enough, munching on grass and shrubs.
He sighed, knowing that he had no other option. It was up to him to get Heather off the ledge, and he would do it.
In a short time, he had taken care of the horses, created makeshift hobbles for them with several strips of his blanket, and then using his knife, tore the rest of the blanket into strips that he quickly braided together.
He removed the horse’s reins and then tied the length of each of them with knots to the braided strips of the blanket. By the time he tied one end off on the shrub, he might have roughly twenty feet to work with. It would have to be enough.
If he waited much longer, the rain would come, the slope would grow slick and treacherous, and it would be impossible to climb back up.
13
The night had seemed to last forever. She was chilled to the bone and worried. How was she going to get off this ledge? She knew Jake would think of something, but one of the best options would be for him to ride back to Duncan Manor and get some help. That could take most of the day if not longer.
The thought of spending another night on this ledge was daunting.
Her tumble down the slope and her hard landing had left most of her muscles sore and aching. Her knee throbbed.
If this was just an inkling of what Jake felt on a daily basis, her admiration for him grew tenfold. Not that she didn't admire him already. He had kept looking for her even after darkness fell. Had found her, too. Had stayed up there up top and hadn’t left her to fend for herself.
A surge of affection prompted a smile. She knew she should have—
A small pebble rolled downward and plopped onto the surface of the ledge next to her side, and then bounced off and disappeared over the side of the ledge.
Then another, and yet another.
She looked up, alarmed.
Clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.
Jake was scrambling over the side of the ledge, dangling from something. She wanted to yell at him, tell him to stop, to go back. What if he lost his footing? What if he missed a handhold? What if—
She held her breath, eyes wide as she watched him decline slowly and carefully, his boots seeking toeholds on the way down. Her heart thudded with excitement at the thought that he was coming down to rescue her, but at the same time, she felt chilled with fear that he would slip and fall. What did he think he was doing? What was he going to do once he got down here? They would both be stuck on this ledge!
Had he told anyone he was heading in this direction? At first light, she had cast her gaze over the landscape from east to west. No sign of village smoke, no sign of Duncan Manor, no sign of anyone.
More dirt, small stones, and pebbles came down. Heart pounding forcefully now, the pulse throbbing in her neck, she closed her eyes, hand still clamped tightly over her mouth, not wanting to make any sound that might distract Jake.
All of a sudden, he stopped. His feet dangled maybe ten feet or so above her. He was hanging onto something, but she couldn't see exactly what.
She saw a flash of his face as he looked down at her over his shoulder.
“How far am I from the ledge?”
“Maybe ten feet or so, Jake. Oh, do be careful!”
Before the last word left her mouth, he landed heavily on the ledge beside her, feet spread shoulder width apart, knees bent to absorb the shock.
She cringed and uttered a sharp cry of distress, thinking that maybe the entire ledge would detach from the mountainside and send them both tumbling downward.
It held. Didn't budge at all.
And then he was crouching down beside her, his gaze searching hers, a grin on his face.
Her admiration, gratitude, and pride in his bravery disappeared in an instant.
Angry, shocked by what she perceived as foolishness, she scowled at him.
“What have you done?”
He looked back at her, confused. “What you talking about?” His grin broadened. “I came to save you, lass.”
“You did, did you?” she asked, gesturing around, and then back up to the top of the cliff. “And how do you propose we get back up? Why did you come down here? Now we’re both stuck!” She shook her head even as he settled himself down beside her. “You should've ridden back to the manor, Jake, gotten some help, some horses, rope, something!”
“You're not being very gracious,” he scolded. “After risking life and limb to come save you, this is the thanks I get?”
He was still smiling.
“I'm serious, Jake. How are we going to get out of here? You should've gone for help.”
“I don't need any help,” he grumbled. “I have a plan.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Indeed? And what exactly is your plan? That we sit here long enough to sprout wings?”
He chuckled. “Where is your faith, Heather?”
She sighed. “I'm sorry, Jake. I appreciate you finding me. Staying up there all night, but I don't understand why you came down here.” She gestured again. “There's no way down. My knee is injured. I doubt if it will bear all my weight. And your leg—”
“My leg is just fine,” he interrupted. He glanced at her leg, as if trying to see through her skirt and kirtle. “Is it broken?”
“I don't think so. But it throbs terribly, and I can't move it very much. I think I sprained it quite badly or perhaps twisted it and tore something. Sarah would know.”
“Well then, let's get off this ledge and get back to the manor house. Sarah can take care of you.”
She stared at him in dismay, still clueless how he intended
to get them both off this ledge.
“I've got the horses hobbled in the trees a short distance away. Once we get off this ledge, the rest is easy.”
Emotions surging, she was torn between wanting to throw her arms around him and yelling at him.
Quite to her surprise, the former won out.
Despite her annoyance, despite her uncertainty about what they were going to do and how they were going to get out of this, he had come for her.
He wasn't going to leave her down here all by herself. He had risked his life to come down here to her.
She flung her arms around his shoulders and pressed her face into the warm crook of his neck.
“Thank you for not leaving me,” she said softly. “Thank you for risking your life for me.” She pulled her head back and looked up into his face. “But you better not.”
“Better not what?” he asked, his gaze searching hers as he wrapped one large arm around her figure.
“You’d better not get hurt. Or even worse, end up killing yourself for my sake.”
Despite the pain in her knee, her aching joints, and her frustration with him, she couldn't help but feel incredible gratitude and affection. Her own foolishness had gotten her into this mess, and she wouldn't have blamed Jake for scolding her, but he didn't. At least not yet.
Maybe he was saving it until they got up top and off this ledge. Maybe—
She felt his warm breath against her cheek, the gentle brush of his lips against her skin, and then his hand cupped her chin, lifting her face toward his.
“It was foolish of you, you know, to go running off into the woods,” he said.
Before she could reply his lips were on hers.
Gentle, warm, caressing.
Tentatively at first, and then more firmly. Emotions and sensations surged through her.
She returned his kiss, marveling at the feelings racing through her body.
This was neither the time nor the place, sitting exposed to the elements on a rocky ledge jutting out from the mountainside, but at the moment she didn't care about anything but the feelings that his kiss evoked within her.
She tightened her grasp around his shoulders as he pulled her closer, their bodies warmed against her early-morning chill.
