by Amanda Scott
“And she has a fiery temper,” he said, licking his lips suggestively. “Hot blood in a lass provides heat for a man, too, I’m thinking.”
“Aye, sure,” said the other. “Slip down off o’ that horse, pretty lass, and let’s ha’ a closer look at ye.”
“You keep your distance,” Bab said. “Perhaps you do not know me, but I am Mistress Barbara MacRae of Ardintoul. My brother, Sir Patrick MacRae, is friend to King James, and I am presently under the protection of Lord Chisholm of Dundreggan. If you dare to harm me, I assure you his lordship will report you to the sheriff if he does not punish you himself.”
Both men laughed, exchanging knowing looks. “Sakes, lass, we be the sheriff’s own men, and if ye think he’ll care if we annoy his lordship, ye dinna ken the man. Nor will his lordship interfere wi’ us, for we ken well that he scarce lifts a hand to anything these days. Now, come away off that horse like I told ye.”
He reached for her, but Bab struck unhesitatingly with her whip at his hand, and as he snatched it back, she screamed at the urchin to take flight. The second man leaped toward her but jumped back almost as quickly when he, too, met her slashing whip.
Seeing the child disappear into the shrubbery, she noted as well that the men’s horses, startled first by the gelding and then by her screams, were loping off toward Inverness. She spurred the gelding, and it responded instantly. With whip and spurs, she urged it to a gallop back up the hill.
As she reached the crest, she was dismayed to see that the two men below had already recaptured their horses and were about to give chase. One lifted a horn to his lips and blew two long blasts.
Hearing shouts from the far side of the heathery moor, she saw other riders, at least half a dozen, responding to the horn’s signal.
Desperately seeking shelter, she rode back into the trees at the moor’s edge. Then, knowing that her pursuers would expect her to ride downhill and try to slip past the two men, she firmly guided the gelding across the hillside instead, avoiding both the track and the thickest part of the woods in favor of speed. At best she was only a few moments ahead of both sets of pursuers.
Soon she saw a clearing ahead, and as she neared it, she saw in its center what appeared at first to be a dark shadow. Then she recognized the great black stallion and its rider. When he raised a hand, gesturing to her to follow, she did not hesitate, leaning low over the gelding’s neck and spurring harder than ever.
Since she had been sure that riding up over the crest again was her only chance for escape, she was surprised when he followed the curve of the hillside for a short distance more before turning downhill. Surely, if the men chasing her guessed which direction she had gone, they would see both her and her rescuer as soon as they broke from the woods. Ahead, through trees beyond the dark-cloaked rider, she could already see sunlight on a grassy meadow.
The horn sounded again in the distance behind her.
“What be he a-doing now?” Lucy demanded, peering between the gray gelding’s ears at the dark rider ahead. “Does he no ken that this hillside ends in a cliff above yon river. ’Tis a gey dangerous course he’s taking, for the river be heavy wi’ melting snow and the rains. Ye can hear the hurl-come-gush o’ it from here!”
“Aye,” Claud said, frowning as he clutched the gray’s mane and tried to look both forward and back at once. “I dinna ken his intent, but they mustna fall victim tae the sheriff’s men—no just yet, I’m thinking.”
He wondered where Maggie was and hoped she was keeping watch. It did not occur to him, however, to express that hope to Lucy.
No sooner had Bab emerged from the shelter of the trees into the meadow, than she heard shouts from behind.
Looking over her shoulder toward the sound, she saw that the two groups of riders had converged and were riding toward them, spread out in a line.
“Mercy,” she muttered, urging the gelding on, “they’ll surround us!”
She knew she was riding at a dangerous pace, especially since she did not know the terrain. For all she knew, the way ahead led through a rabbit warren, pitted with holes to snap the leg of an unwary horse and send its rider flying. Still, she had no choice but to trust the rider ahead of her, so she rode on, trying to follow exactly where he led.
When she realized that she was catching up with him, she attributed the fact to her wild pace, but it soon became evident that he was slowing.
The hillside appeared to end abruptly just ahead.
Then she heard the roar of the water and realized that she had been hearing it for some time without troubling her brain to identify the sound. Had she thought of it, she realized, she would have expected the way to the river to be over granite, as it had been before, not ending in grass or heather. Understanding swept through her now with an icy chill of terror.
Looking back, she saw that the groups of pursuers were rapidly merging. Even if she and the Fox turned downhill, away from the water, it was too late.
As the thought crossed her mind, she saw the stallion rear and paw the air, wrenched to a halt by the strong hands of its rider. Just beyond, the hillside fell away in a sheer cliff above the raging, flood-swollen river. They were trapped.
“She kens his folly now,” Claud said, “but it be too late.”
“We should ha’ done summat when she met them first two louts,” Lucy snapped. “Whatever can we do now?”
“Nowt,” he growled. “Nor could we ha’ done aught afore, Lucy. We be bound by our rules, and I be in this mess in the first place through interfering wi’ mortals. The only thing that might save them now would be tae make them invisible, and tae do such a thing wi’ so many witnesses tae see it would mean my ruin. We’d ha’ tae answer tae the Circle, ye ken, the both o’ us.”
“But they’ll be captured, Claud. We must do summat, and quick!”
Claud frowned, thinking hard.
Bab, too, expected capture at any moment. Drawing rein beside the Fox, she looked at the tumbling river thirty feet below and gasped at the awesome sight.
“Faith, sir, what can we do?”
His gaze met hers, and she saw that his eyes were dancing. With a chuckle, he leaned toward her, and before she had any idea what he meant to do, he snatched her from her saddle and spurred the stallion forward.
Surprise left her breathless and was all that kept her from screaming as the great black horse plunged off the cliff toward the raging waters below. She clutched her arms around the Fox’s neck and buried her face in his cloak, certain that she was about to die.
“I trust you can swim,” he murmured, and she heard laughter in his voice.
“Not in water like that!”
She did not know if he heard her, because the freezing waters closed over them just as she finished the sentence. Her mouth full of water, choking and unable to breathe, she struggled madly, but his strong arm held her, and he did not let go. Her skirts billowed up as they submerged and then tangled around them and threatened to drag them back down again when he stroked for the surface, but she felt him kick hard, and suddenly her head was free of the water.
She came up coughing and sputtering, but he held her high enough so that she could catch her breath, and she saw with relief that they had already traveled a good distance from the cliff.
She glanced at her companion, hoping for at least a glimpse of his face, but the wet mask clung to it, revealing nothing but its shape. They were moving with the swift current, and he had evidently managed to retain his grip on the stallion’s reins, because the great horse swam nearby.
“Try to catch hold of his saddle,” the Fox said.
She clutched him tightly, reluctant to let go.
“Easy, lass,” he said gently.
“You are mad,” she retorted.
He chuckled. “In truth, I canna argue with that. A wee voice in my head that keeps telling me daftish things said, ‘Jump,’ and I did. ’Twas mad indeed, but it saved us. Go on now, reach for him.”
She swallowed hard, trying to
breathe normally and to think clearly. The great horse, which had seemed so near only moments ago, looked miles away now, surely too far for her to catch hold of him before the current swept her away.
Calmly, as if he were finding it no trouble to swim in the turbulent water while holding her, her companion said, “If you miss or cannot hang onto him, do not try to swim to shore. Just let the current carry you until it eases enough to let you swim. Then begin angling a little at a time to your left.”
“I… I don’t know if—”
“You can. A slight bend lies ahead, and if we’re lucky, we’ll make landfall there. If we miss it, the river bends more sharply and widens beyond. The water is shallow there. Just worry about breathing, and let the river do the work.”
“You make it sound easy,” she said, cautiously reaching toward his mask.
“It is easy,” he responded as he heaved her toward the stallion.
She went under again, but as she did, she managed to catch the girth and easily hauled herself up, although at one moment, she feared the stallion might kick her. It did not seem to notice her weight though, and it swam powerfully. She found that gripping the saddle was easier than she had expected, and she was no longer afraid. She had not really been so from the moment her head broke the surface and she could breathe again. In the Fox’s company, she felt safe.
Claud clung to the gray’s mane as he stared, gaping, after the crazy mortals.
“Faith, Lucy,” he said, “did ye put that fool notion into the man’s head? Because if ye did, I promise ye, I’ll—”
“I did nae such thing,” she replied, “but ’twas an excellent notion all the same, Claud. Only see how that grand leap ha’ baffled their pursuers.”
To be sure, the men chasing Mistress Bab had reined in hard and were now riding cautiously toward the cliff.
With the fingertips of her right hand, Lucy waved a circle above her head.
“What be ye a-doin’?” Claud demanded.
“Think, Claud. The lass willna want them louts tae ha’ her pony.”
He gave a gasp and stared at her as the gray plunged from the cliff with the pair of them still clinging to its mane. “Ye’re mad, lass, that’s what ye are!”
Lucy chuckled and blew him a kiss from the fingertips she had just waved, then flitted away, vanishing just as the gray gelding hit the turbulent water.
Chapter 13
The Fox swam alongside Bab, his head up, his powerful arms and legs moving easily. He did not even seem to exert himself.
The bend he had mentioned was swiftly approaching, and she saw that the stallion swam toward it, but she did not see how they could make landfall there. Huge boulders flanked the riverbed.
“We’ll keep to the center,” the deep voice beside her said, still calm.
“Aye, we will,” she murmured fervently, glancing at him.
His eyes still danced, bluish-gray now, reflecting the water.
“Are you still daring to laugh at all this?” she demanded.
“Faith, lass, sometimes laughter is all we have. Look behind us.”
She had looked back only the once, but now, with a touch of fear, she looked again only to stare in astonishment. “Is that my horse?”
“Aye, it must ha’ missed ye, for who’d ha’ thought it had such pluck?”
The laughter in his voice was unmistakable now, and the brief thrill of fear she had felt before seeing the gray swimming after them turned to delight. This was exactly the sort of event that had made Sionnach Dubh a legend in the Highlands.
They passed safely through the rocky bend, although Bab feared each moment that they might crash into one of the huge boulders. Had the river not been so high, she knew they could easily have been dashed to bits. Instead, the river swept them on until it broadened into a wide, shallow, much calmer pool around the bend.
She could tell when the stallion touched bottom, because it surged toward the riverbank, and somehow she managed to hold on to it until her own feet touched solid ground. The current was still strong, but her companion suddenly loomed beside her, and when he caught her arm, she knew she could safely let go of the horse. In moments, they were ashore, and she knew that no matter how swiftly the men chasing them might ride, they could not catch them now.
With a delighted chuckle, she watched the gray gelding follow them from the water and shake itself like a huge dog. She was shivering and dripping wet, but she did not care. Turning to her companion with a wide grin, she said, “That was extraordinary! I have never in my life enjoyed such an adventure. Thank you!”
To her astonishment, he caught her hard by the shoulders, and the amusement she had seen in his eyes and heard in his voice vanished. Giving her a shake, he said roughly, “What in the name of all that is holy were you doing out alone, and what devil possessed you to draw the attention of Dalcross’s men?”
She snapped, “Take care, sir, for we MacRaes have tempers, too. Two of those men were abusing a child if you must know, and so I intervened. Would you, of all people, have expected me to ride on and ignore such brutal mistreatment?”
“And just how did you intervene?” His voice was low, like the growl of a lion, and it sent chills up her spine. She had not known he could speak to her so.
“I struck them with my whip, of course, and screamed at them, whereupon their horses took fright and ran off. Unfortunately, they did not run far,” she added with a grimace. “The men managed to catch them and follow me soon enough.”
“What happened to the child?”
“He got away when I shouted. So, you must see that I did the right thing, but I do thank you for coming to my rescue,” she added conscientiously.
“You want beating, my lass,” he retorted, unknowingly echoing Kintail’s words and using much the same ominous tone. “You have courage,” he added, “but you lack sense. I suppose you told them exactly who you are and where you live.”
“Of course, I did. I believe they will not soon try again to harm someone under Lord Chisholm’s protection.”
“If that were the case, why did you have to defend yourself with your whip?”
She hesitated, but it was no use prevaricating even if prevarication had been a habit with her, so she said with a sigh, “They did not heed me. Mayhap they did not pause to consider the consequences.”
“What consequences do you imagine they might fear?”
“Why, Chisholm’s wrath, of course.”
“You clearly do not comprehend the power Francis Dalcross and the sheriff have gathered unto themselves,” he said. “Their army is greater than any other now that so many of the Highland lairds have sent their men to support Jamie. I thought that you, of all people, understood that.”
Hearing the echo of her own words and the touch of sarcasm in his voice, she knew he was still angry with her.
“Most of our men are with Jamie,” she said, “but no one would act against Kintail even now. No one would dare.”
“Doubtless that is true,” he agreed, “but the sea guards Kintail’s land on the west, and the people to the north are friendly to him and they are all far enough from Inverness to ignore the Dalcrosses. Would you have the same confidence if the Macdonalds should now decide to take back the Lordship of the Isles?”
“They can scarcely do so whilst their chief entertains himself in London,” she said, but she could see his point. “Has Chisholm so many enemies then?”
“No, but that is not the point. The point is the power that the sheriff wields and the use to which his son puts that power. Together they have accumulated more men-at-arms under their leadership than all of the local lairds together.”
“I still do not see how anyone could object to my actions today,” she said stoutly. “I was merely protecting a child from two bullies.”
“You might have protected him temporarily,” he said, “but you have likely angered your bullies. What do you suppose they did after they lost sight of us?”
Abandoning her defens
es in a sudden rush of fear for the little boy, she exclaimed, “You believe they went after him!”
“I do,” he said, “but in fairness, I doubt they will catch him today, and I can learn who he is soon enough and see that he is protected. Still, my point is good, in that your interference is more likely to cause harm than good. You don’t understand the politics hereabouts well enough to take a hand in them.”
“I see,” she said. “I do think Sir Alex should take a hand. His lordship certainly wishes he would.”
“Are you so sure of that? Not only does his lordship believe in the rule of law even when those bound to enforce it ignore it, but it is hard to imagine Alex Chisholm making much of an impression on louts like those two you met today.”
The temptation to agree with him was strong, particularly since she detected amusement in his tone again and wanted to soothe his temper. And, in truth, she could not imagine Alex confronting the two bullies she had confronted. He would have protested their behavior, of course. Any gentleman would. And perhaps, had they recognized him as a member of the local gentry, they might have left her alone, but she doubted that. Still, as long as she and her mother stayed with Sir Alex’s family, she would not criticize him, not even by agreeing with the Fox.
She said quietly, “You do him injustice when you speak so, sir.”
“Then you will not mind telling him what you’ve been up to today.”
“Don’t be absurd. You cannot want me to tell him about this.”
“He has every right to know where you’ve been and what has happened.”
Startled, she exclaimed, “You cannot mean to tell him! Not that he would do anything horrid, but if Chisholm should hear of it, it would vex him sorely. He is not yet entirely well, you know. You could not be so unkind as to tell them.”
“I won’t say anything to his lordship or to Sir Alex.”
“Thank heaven! I knew you could not be so unfair.”
