A Highlander’s Terror_A Medieval Scottish Romance Story Read online

  And if he's as peculiar as we think he is, that'd be only right.

  She could not imagine her father would wish for an alliance with a man who was clearly involved in a plot. For that was what it looked like, why else detain people on the road?

  Who is he looking for? A messenger? An envoy?

  She blinked, realizing she was standing in the hallway, staring out of the door into the yard.

  “We should go,” she said, nodding. “Thank you for organizing the extra horse.”

  “It was nothing, milady,” he said gently. “As it is, we owe our current lodging to our open-handed stable hand. And your former gift.”

  She smiled. “I might have given him the cash – he didn't need to share it with us.”

  Rufus chuckled. “I guess not.”

  They smiled at each other, a knowing smile that told Amabel he remembered the evening before and had enjoyed it almost as much as she had. She blushed.

  “We should go,” she said. “I'm ready.”

  He chuckled. “You beat me to it, milady.” He pulled a face. “I can see I am going to be kept on my toes during this journey..!”

  She laughed, feeling happier than she had for ages. “Indeed,” she said.

  He grinned and, turning away, headed up the stairs. Amabel stood in the hallway, and was soon joined by Brogan.

  “My lady!” he said, looking up at her with big brown eyes. Amabel smiled.

  “Ready to go?”

  “Got all my belongings,” he said proudly, slapping his pocket which still jingled of fresh change. She noticed he had new clothes and wondered where he'd got them.

  “You will be warm enough?” she looked out into the yard.

  “Have to be,” he said with a shrug. “Wish I was a sheep, milady. Grow me own pelt.”

  They both laughed and they were still laughing when Rufus came downstairs, his cloak slung across one arm, a small sack over his right shoulder. Amabel saw it and frowned.

  “Got provisions for the journey,” he said.

  “Ah. A donation from our cook?”

  He flushed red. “Yes.”

  She chuckled. “Well! You see. A man who can get victuals on the strength of his grin is the sort of friend we need. Eh?” she smiled at Brogan.

  “I got victuals too,” Brogan said proudly.

  They all laughed.

  In the yard, when she had mounted up on Rufus' own hunting horse, he passed her the cloak.

  “Rufus,” she said in protest. They realized she had never used his name alone and both blushed. “I can't take it,” she continued. “You'll be cold.”

  “No, I won't,” he said simply. “You need it and I'll worry if you don't have it. Which will make me more uncomfortable than the cold would do. So there.”

  Amabel smiled. “Thank you.”

  He draped it gently around her shoulders, and Amabel felt the trace of his finger on her shoulder like a burn, so strongly did she feel it. She smiled into his eyes and he let his finger stay there a moment. His throat worked, swallowing hard, and Amabel guessed he felt it much the same as she had done. She smiled.

  Brogan was watching them with interest. He didn't say anything and Amabel flushed, knowing he had noticed the depth of their regard.

  Well, if it's so obvious what we feel for each other, is that a bad thing? She smiled. Probably not.

  They all mounted and rode out to the road.

  The instant they were out of the town, Amabel turned to Rufus.

  “What do you think...?”

  “How about...”

  She chuckled as they both spoke together.

  “You go first,” she offered.

  “No, you.”

  She laughed. “Very well. I wanted to say that we need to discuss what's going on. I think that we were stopped from going to Buccleigh for some reason. Which means that we need to get there as soon as possible. We must find out what's going on.”

  He nodded. “I was thinking that we ought to skirt the main road somehow.”

  Amabel nodded. “We need to keep to the back roads. Does anyone know,” she said, including Brogan in the discussion with a raised voice, “how to reach Buccleigh without needing to follow the main path there?”

  “I do,” Brogan spoke into the silence. Both Amabel and Rufus laughed.

  “We knew you would,” Rufus said.

  Behind him in the saddle, Brogan glowed with pride.

  “Well, if we take this road, and then go North at the next fork, and then go East at the next one, we'll have ridden round the village and be coming in through the North gate. As far as I can fathom,” he added.

  Amabel smiled. “That seems sensible to me. Not so, Rufus?”

  “Seems very sensible,” he agreed. “Let's go.”

  They rode.

  The first turning to the north came after three miles of riding. Amabel felt her back stiffening up, for they kept a good trotting pace. She watched Rufus. He looked relaxed and at ease. Riding with him was a good time to study him, and she watched him from the corner of her eye, enjoying the leisure to stare at him a little.

  He is so handsome.

  She took a furtive glance sideways at that muscled body, the way he sat on horseback perfectly showing how well-developed the muscles of his waist and chest must be. He rode with tense grace, the way he did everything. She felt her cheeks burn as she realized she had been thinking about what it would be like if...

  “Milady!”

  “Yes?” she blinked, hearing him call her. She whipped round to look at him, hair following her head in bouncing foam of curls. She wished it would stay where she'd tied it, but it kept escaping from its bonds.

  “We're about halfway there, or so my informant informs me,” he said, with a nod of his head in Brogan's direction. Brogan grinned.

  “Aw, sir. You make me sound cleverer'n I am.”

  Rufus laughed. “I doubt you mind that, eh?”

  The boy flushed and Amabel laughed.

  “I'm glad to hear it,” she said, speaking to cover her discomfort at having been caught in such naughty trains of thought. “When do you think we'll arrive?”

  “Midday, or thereabouts?” Rufus shrugged. His informant nodded.

  “Should be there by eleven of the clock, sir. Tisn't far.”

  “Mm. Good,” Rufus nodded. “Though a shame we won't need the victuals for luncheon.”

  Amabel chuckled. “They shan't go to waste. We're always in need of provisions.”

  “Aye!” Brogan said, cheery voiced. “I did say my stomach is a cruel overlord, so I did. It never lets me sleep for want of complainin'.”

  They all laughed. Amabel, her hair free in the breeze, in a simple shift and boots, riding along under clouded spring mornings, was happier than she could remember being.

  “Off we go, then!” Rufus grinned. “Race you to the woodlands.”

  “Rufus...” Amabel said in protest. Nevertheless, he was off. Laughing, she joined him, and, hair flowing back on the wind, laughing and panting as the cold morning air scalded her lungs with each breath, she joined in.

  They reached the trees at almost the same time.

  “I won!” Rufus said contentedly.

  Amabel shot him a look. “Just you wait, Rufus Invermore.”

  He smiled and again the smile was so loaded that she was sure the air would catch alight. She sighed.

  “Do you think that we...”

  “Go!”

  Rufus shouted it on reflex as a spear streaked past his head. Amabel felt her horse take off from under her and there was nothing she could do to halt him.

  “Rufus!” she shouted. She clung to the reins, feeling her horse run headlong down the path ahead of them, a mud track that was little more than a walking trail between the trees. She turned back, staring, terrified for Rufus and the boy, who couldn't risk going as fast with two riders. What if he'd been hit?

  “Rufus!”

  She heard hoofs then. She looked back. Still, she couldn't m
ake her own horse stop.

  “Stop,” she whispered. “Please. Halt.” She drew back on the reins, patted the creature's neck, leaned back...but nothing, she knew, was going to halt the horse. He was terrified.

  The sounds of the woodlands were all around her, and the thrumming roar of the hoof beats as her horse, snorting in panic, steamed through the trees.

  “Stop!” Amabel screamed. She was fully aware of how dangerous a headlong rush was. They were in dense forest and her horse running into a bough could knock her senseless or break her spine. She saw a tree ahead and screamed, reaching out a hand to cover her horse's right eye.

  Blinded on that side, her horse veered left. Just in time. They sailed past the tree.

  Amabel was sobbing now, terrified and breathless. Where were they? They had left the path now and cantered into the woods. She was on a course she could not halt. To some unknown destination.

  “Please, oh please...”

  Hoofs. The rolling roar of them, another pair, coming through the forest behind. She tensed. What if it was an enemy? She could barely risk turning away, for she had to keep an eye out on the path...

  “Amabel!”

  Rufus.

  “I can't stop!”

  She heard him grunt and heard the speed increase. She held her breath.

  “No!” she screamed. “It's dangerous. Go..!”Still he came on. She heard the horse draw up alongside her own and then suddenly he was beside her. He gripped her arm. Drew her across to his horse.

  Amabel felt her heart still as he reached over, grabbing onto the pommel of her saddle. He held it steadily, and then leaned forward.

  “Cover his left eye!” he shouted.

  Amabel did so. At the same time, he covered his right. The horse stopped. Reared.

  Amabel felt a scream of fright at her mouth as she was thrown back and then, still keeping seated, brought down hard again. Her whole spine jarred and she thought her neck might break if he did that one more time. He didn't.

  Shivering and sweating, her horse stopped in the trees. The forest was silent. The only sound was the rustling of some small creature, indignant at their untimely intrusion, scurrying in the undergrowth. She heard the breath of her horse, and his, and his own horse breathing. She was sobbing. Somewhere high overhead in the branches, a thrush called and was then silent.

  “Rufus,” she sobbed. “Thank you. You...you saved my life.”

  He looked into her eyes, his own tight with concern. “I almost lost you,” he said. His voice was gruff with emotion. “I can't believe how close...”

  She sighed. Still breathless with recent terror, she reached across. Took his hand. He gripped hers.

  “I can't believe that...happened...” she breathed out, wearily. “He just...went...and...” she shook her head, leaning on the pommel of the saddle, feeling her reserve wash away in tears. She was so tired, so relieved. She had been so scared.

  “You must think I'm useless,” she confessed shakily, trying to dry the tears off her cheeks. “Letting my horse bolt that way.”

  “Oh, Amabel...” Rufus leaned over. He took her hands. “Amabel. How can you think I would think that? I love you, Amabel. I love you.”

  Amabel stared at him. She felt her eyes stare into his and their gazes felt as if they touched across all space and time, her whole life and her whole heart pouring into his. She slipped off the saddle and he dismounted as well, standing opposite her.

  In a space between the trees that was silent save for the slow breath of their horses and their own breathing, they kissed.

  Amabel let her mouth accept the probing tongue and drew herself closer to him, hearts resting together. She could feel the ragged breath and the slow heartbeat as if they were within her, part of her own body. She wrapped her arms tight around him and savored the sweet taste of his mouth on hers. His lips – hard and passionate – pressed on her own. When they drew apart, her heart was racing. She looked into his eyes.

  “I love you, Rufus. So much. So much...”

  “I love you too, Amabel Blackheath. Love you so much. With all my heart. Forever.”

  They kissed again, and it felt as solemn as a church service, there in the silence of the trees.

  They were in love. They were happy. They were as good as promised.

  Amabel stiffened as she felt his hands stroke down her back. The mood of the embrace changed, becoming more intimate, warmer. She was shivering, though it was not with cold. Her body pressed against his and she realized that his hands were moving down her back soothingly, searchingly. He gripped her and pulled her closer, his mouth devouring hers. She breathed out as her body melted in the sweet sensations he aroused in her.

  When his hand moved to touch her breast, Amabel tensed. The feeling that raced through her body was so powerful she almost cried aloud. However, it was not a feeling she could follow. Not here. Not now. She tensed and he moved.

  “Rufus...” she sighed.

  “Amabel...”

  His face was a mask of pain and she wished that she could indulge in the feelings that were flowing into her and over her and driving her to do things she would never have imagined doing, would never have imagined she wanted. Still, there was no way she could do that. Not now.

  She shook her head. Sighed breathlessly.

  He laughed. His chuckle was tinged with wonder.

  “I know,” he said softly. He closed his eyes. “We can't.”

  “Oh, Rufus,” she breathed. “I wish I...” she shook her head. “No matter. We must needs do what we can. But first,” she said with a wry smile, “we must reach Buccleigh.”

  He smiled. “Yes,” he agreed gently. “We must.”

  She looked around, the clearing reasserting itself on her vision. She felt as if she had been somewhere else for the last few minutes, transported somewhere new by their declared love. Now, she was back in a springtime clearing in late morning sunshine, the shadows tracing shifting patterns on the leaf mold beneath her feet. She walked to her horse, swaying slightly with exhaustion.

  She slid her foot into the stirrup and mounted up. Rufus stood at her horse's head and looked up at her, eyes soft and rueful as she gave him a gentle smile and turned her horse.

  “We ride south,” she said. “We need to rediscover the path.”

  He nodded. “We go south.”

  He mounted and they rode back through the woods.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  A WORRYING SITUATION

  A WORRYING SITUATION

  We made it!” Amabel called back. With her loose hair flowing in the breeze of the ride, her white cheeks suffused with warmth and her grin lighting her face, she was so breathtaking Rufus felt as if a spear pierced him. He smiled.

  “Good! Where now?” he said. His voice was rough and he coughed, marveling at the effect she had on him.

  I can't go near her without thinking of things I shouldn't be thinking of.

  “Right!” Amabel called back, turning away. He was behind her and he admired her posture, straight and stiff, clearly used to riding. He sighed. She was so beautiful and had quite captured his heart.

  I am in love with her. I can almost not believe she feels the same.

  He couldn't help the feeling of wonder that suffused his chest, a bruised delight. Thoughts of her were so strong they were almost painful.

  And I cannot stop looking at her.

  His eyes were as besotted as the rest of him, lingering on her narrow waist, her wide hips. Her hair.

  “Brogan!” he heard her call out. He let out a sigh of relief. Therefore, the boy had made it. He had dealt with their assailant swiftly, and then left Brogan in the path alone, heading off to find her.

  “Brogan?”

  He leaned forward, sending his horse behind her. He saw his new squire grinning up at his lady as if she was the sunrise in Paradise.

  Now there's an unforeseen difficulty. He chuckled. He hadn't expected his poor squire would one day be as besotted with his woman as he hi
mself.

  She dropped her reins and slid out of the saddle easily, making him draw breath at her consummate grace.

  She's as lovely riding as she is walking, as sitting in the palace at the dinner.

  He had never seen a woman like her before. A true lady. As beautiful covered in stains in the sickroom as she was at a masque.

  “Brogan?” she said. “What news?”

  “Found out a lot, mistress,” he said cheerfully. “Yon fellow has a swing on him like you wouldn't have seen afore.” He grinned at Rufus, who raised a brow sardonically. “He finished the man,” he explained succinctly.

  “And you had a good look at the corpse?” Rufus asked.

  Amabel gave him a look of disgust and he grinned, shrugging.

  “Someone has to,” he continued. “We need to find out who he is. What he's doing here. Blighter tried to kill us,” he added with a sudden stab of anger.

  Amabel sighed. “He did. Though I reckon he was just a harmless vagabond.”

  “He was, milady,” Brogan said, gaping at her in awe as if she had just foretold his future.

  Just you wait until she does, youth. Rufus chuckled. Then let's see how surprised you look. He smiled. It seemed there wasn't end to her surprises. She surprised him with something new each day.

  “So what else was there to learn?” Amabel was asking him thoughtfully.

  “Not a lot,” the boy said with a grin and a lift of one shoulder, as if to suggest this was all expected. “He was carrying sixpence, though. And I found this.” He drew out a pewter object. Rufus took it. He stared.

  “Is this what it looks like?” he said to Amabel. She went even paler, eyes stark in her white-skinned face.

  “The clan sign of the duke,” she said. “He's of Clan McDonahue.”

  Brogan stared at her. “By! So he is.”

  Rufus almost dropped the brooch he held into the leaves in shock. He stared at it, the hawk's head somehow tainted now. He passed it wordlessly to Brogan.

  “Keep it,” he said. “But put it somewhere safe. We'll need that,” he added.

  “We must show my father,” Amabel agreed firmly.