The ride the next morning was quiet.
For the first time, Caird hated the silence. It punished him, just as the woman in his arms did. Mairead kept her silence when they woke, kept it as they prepared the horse and started again on this cursed journey. But her silence wasn’t full of defiance like before. Now she sat stiffly away from him, her back straight not from ire or frustration, but out of sheer need not to touch him.
Confusing, contrary, maddening woman.
He’d gone to the streams to bathe in the cold water. His clothes had got wet and he’d pulled on the linen breeches to sleep because he required their restriction. Only when he had thought he could control his need for her did he return.
Then like some dream she was there, watching him. The fire behind her highlighting and brightening her dark curling locks until they looked part of the fire.
She had been wrapped in a blanket, but her shoulders were bared to him. Uncovered, the fire accentuated every creamy curve of her skin.
Then despite the wait, the icy water and the breeches, he knew he hadn’t gained control. It was neither her uncovered shoulders nor the bared tops of her breasts that made him realise it. What caused his breath to catch and his blood to pool was what she revealed in her eyes: her need for him.
Instantly, he had fought his reaction, but still he walked closer to her. Sure that at any moment she’d turn her back and avert her eyes.
But she didn’t and he wanted more and fought more. Because what she needed could not happen.
He couldn’t allow the distraction, he couldn’t allow the trust, couldn’t allow any weakness. Because if she was treacherous and only wanted the jewel, then he was a lustful fool and all of Scotland would weep at Clan Colquhoun.
When she stood, she was just as glorious as all his imaginings and more. Then she demanded that he take.
A Colquhoun from a Buchanan.
No, it wasn’t the clans’ differences that had stopped him last night. Even he could admit to that. It was the jewel. A good reason.
But his body gave naught for reason.
So he resented her and wanted her and they rode in silence. He felt like a man heading to the gallows.
The horse gave a shudder and he welcomed the interruption to his thoughts.
‘We have to alight,’ he said.
She waited until he dismounted so she could, too. Then they moved quickly away from the animal.
This wasn’t the first time they’d stopped since they had woken and he doubted it would be the last. The horse had definitely eaten something it shouldn’t.
With another shudder, it cleared its bowels again. Given that it hadn’t eaten, Caird was surprised how much came out of it.
‘We can’t ride it again,’ she said. It wasn’t a question.
‘Nae,’ he answered. ‘Your ankle?’
She flexed her foot. ‘It doesn’t hurt.’ She pointed to the horse. ‘Is there something we could give it?’
‘Mint.’ But Caird hadn’t seen any. ‘We’ll need to walk.’
This journey would take days. It hadn’t rained last night, but he knew it would and soon. The clouds that had started darkening yesterday now hung heavy over them. They were wet just from the mist alone, but that wasn’t what worried him.
There had been too much rain over the last sennight and ahead there was a river surrounded by plains. He could only hope the river hadn’t broken its banks.
* * *
The plains were worse than he imagined. He’d known they were getting close to the river as dense trees turned to open meadows and rockier soil.
He’d thought they would travel a bit more, but even from here he could see the river had broken its banks and flooded the plains. It raged with every wild emotion he wanted to express himself. Shrubs and trees were half-drowned beneath the rapidly flowing water that curved and carved its own way forwards.
This was Scotland. And it reminded him that along with its beauty, the land demanded freedom with force and persistence.
The horse still hadn’t eaten, but had been settling to their pace and looked no worse. He hoped it would have the strength to make it. He and Mairead would need their strength as well.
The water was nigh impassable, but the jewel pressed heavily against him as it, too, demanded its freedom. If they travelled further east, as he and Malcolm had done to reach the inn, he knew it would be a safer crossing. However, they’d lose another day, maybe two. There was also no telling what further danger they would come across.
No, it wasn’t an enemy making him reckless and taking away his control.
He glanced over at Mairead, relieved she wasn’t looking at him.
Since they started walking, she’d stolen furtive, frequent glances to assess him. He practically felt her questions and the conclusions she came to. The closer they got to her home, he could see her emotions change. Anger, resolve, her dogged persistence and determination.
In those moments before she turned her face away, before she hid her emotions from him, he saw something wild, exposed. That same tortured look she’d given him before she’d kicked him in the stomach and taken his horse.
He raced after her then. Now, when he saw that expression again, he could barely stop his feet from taking him closer to her. To hold her, to comfort her. But he was no fool. Even he knew it wouldn’t end there.
He couldn’t go through another night like the last. Hard, aching, letting her sleep, while he stole away, the restriction of his breeches no deterrent to what he needed to do. But it hadn’t been enough.
If she demanded again for him to take her, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.
So he was foolish. Rushing the journey and risking their lives. He knew there would be shallower sections of the flood. Unfortunately, the water covered most of the landmarks, and Caird could only guess this section would provide a safer passage. His guessing was only another risk.
‘There’s too much water here,’ Mairead said.
‘Didn’t you come across some when you came to the inn?’
‘Nothing like this and there was a bridge of sorts. This water here’s too high.’
‘We won’t go around it,’ he answered.
‘Do you mean to do this?’ she asked, a tension in her voice. He had never heard such a tone before. She was more than worried. She was terrified.
‘Aye.’
‘There’s a dead deer over there!’
The dark clouds overhead had left the deer in shadows. Still, she had seen it, bloated, its head buried in the turgid water.
‘Wouldn’t happen to us.’ There was no hope for her fear.
He pulled the reins to the left and the horse shied before Caird had him going forward again.
Crossing here would work. In truth, the river was better with broken banks. The water slowed as it spread shallowly over the land. It would give the horse time to become used to the water.
‘It’s nae more than five men’s length of swimming,’ he added, to quell her fear. He knew it was a paltry comfort. Five men’s length of swimming, aye, but he had a sick horse, Mairead with a hurt ankle and he with sore ribs he’d hastily rewrapped. ‘You can ride the horse.’
She stopped walking, forcing him to look at her. He’d avoided looking directly at her since they’d woken.
‘Can it carry me?’ she asked.
He nodded. Another guess, but there was no choice. With Mairead on the horse, she would make it across. If they started to go down, if the water got too deep, he would simply let go. The only loss would be him.
And the jewel. But maybe that wouldn’t be such a loss. It could go back to being a legend, become a beacon of hope again. Better a legend than to be captured by the English. To be used—
No. He wasn’t thinking rationally. He needed the journey to end, the mystery of the jewel to be solved.
When they had got as close as they could, he halted the horse near a boulder for Mairead to use to mount. The boulder was wet and slick with lichen. He would have to help her.
She quietly approached him and he chanced a look at her. It wasn’t her fear keeping her quiet. There was a light in her eyes.
‘You’re looking forward to this?’ he said, unable to hold the words back.
She shrugged and took his hand. ‘What if I am? I’m almost home.’
‘Can you swim?’ He lifted her until she was mounted. Only when she’d settled, did he let go of her hand.
Her mouth curved, not out of embarrassment, but out of daring. ‘You care for my safety?’
He ignored her and tied his cloak and the pouch carrying the dagger and jewel to the horse. She watched him, but he did not raise his eyes to her. At least now, if he did drown, the jewel would not be lost.
Adjusting the damp hem of her gown, she asked, ‘I know you would not go to all this trouble to be rid of me here.’
He frowned, unable to answer her. She confused him. She was scared, couldn’t swim and she now teased him? What questions and conclusions had she reached while they walked?
Certainly different conclusions than his own, which had seized on only one emotion since yesterday: desire. Even now, when they could drown, he wanted her. He craved to just touch her hand again.
Refusing to answer her, he looked the horse in the eye. Gently, but steadily he brought it to the water’s edge. He was in control now.
‘Would you, Colquhoun?’ she demanded of him.
He glanced heavenward for patience. The cloud cover made it darker than usual for late afternoon. It would rain and soon. The water would only get deeper.
‘Brace yourself,’ he ordered, leaning forward. The water was cold, unforgiving, stronger than he was expecting, but no deterrent. He kept moving steadily forward. The horse trusted him and did not shy.
‘What for?’ she called out.
Exasperating female.
When he felt the sharp incline, he widened his stance as water rushed over his chest. Despite her bold words, he saw her tighten her grip on the saddle.
Wrapping the reins tighter around his wrist, he pushed away and stroked hard to get the horse off the bank. Immediately, water battered them, hard, fast. He lost direction more than once, but he kept his focus on the far bank. The horse jerked, pulling him under, but he couldn’t look back; his entire being was focused on getting them to the other side.
They were close.
He felt a sharp pain as his shin smacked against a boulder; he tugged to the left to get the horse around it. He pulled again, the leather biting into his hand and wrist just as the horse found purchase. Trying to avoid getting trampled, he loosened the reins to increase the space between them. They were safe.
And then Mairead disappeared.
Just as he turned around, he saw a slender foot as she upended into the water. Never taking his eyes from her, he tugged at the reins wrapped around his wrist, but the wet leather wouldn’t give.
She slipped further away, the weight of her gown pulling her under. Furiously he fought the reins that cut deep into his bleeding wrist until he was free. Slapping the horse to the shore, he dived.
Nothing.
Coming up for air, he saw her head bobbing up. She was sputtering, fighting the water and already out of his reach. The fierce current would keep them apart. He’d never catch her this way because there was no log or branch to find purchase and bridge the gap.
His heart lurched as she went under again.
Swimming to the shore, he ran along the broken bank. The water slowed him, but he began to gain ground, overtaking her until he pushed into the deep water again.
Closer!
He stretched his strokes towards her. Her hands reached for his, the erratic current twisting them away until he caught her and pulled her closer to him.
‘Kick!’ he ordered as he dragged her to shore.
Finally, land beneath his feet, water becoming shallow. When he could, he let go of her and fell on his back. She flopped down next to him.
Searing pain in his side restricted his breathing. His ribs weren’t broken, or he’d be dead. He was very much alive and his body made certain he knew it.
He felt throbbing in his leg from the boulder and hundreds of abrasions stinging across his skin. Roaring in his ears; lungs desperately filling loudly with air. His heart not quite comprehending, thundering in his chest. Alive.
The water had been like ice shards battering him. His push off the bank, his faltering, knowing too late he entered deep waters. His ribs, loosely re-bandaged, restricting movement. The strong water sweeping his bandages away.
Then making it to the bank, the flutter of relief, only to turn and see Mairead disappear. Swallowed by the same water that had tried to seize his life.
But he had reached her, pulled her here. They were alive.
His heart comprehended, eased and then he heard it. Laughter. Sputtering, choking gasps. Great bursts of unbridled sound.
Mairead in shock.
His tunic twisted as he rolled on to his side. Mairead lay next to him with clenched eyes, and skin mottled from cold and lack of air. Her sodden hair clung to her cheeks and forehead.
When she opened her eyes, he saw that recklessness, excitement and laughter all danced inside her.
‘Oh, you almost killed me!’ she gasped between her lost breaths.
He knew other emotions tainted her laughter: hysteria, fear, the same incomprehension he felt that they were alive. But she laughed and it was lightning to him. Alive.
He raised himself up and placed his head on his bent arm.
Her tight yellow gown, now sodden and torn, threatened to burst. The bright fabric outlined her body’s peaks and shadows, and exposed every facet of her ample yet petite frame.
Her right arm was carelessly thrown above her head, her left lay by her side and near his. He didn’t need his hands to know where her breasts swelled, her stomach curved or her legs dipped. He hungrily saw it all.
A question entered her eyes. ‘You had the dagger.’
The dagger, inside the pouch and strapped to the horse along with his cloak, was now further up the shore. Not here, poised on a cliff as he knew he was.
‘Are you hurt?’ he asked, peering into the chasm of her eyes. He felt suspended as if his feet had already stepped off the edge and his mind hadn’t caught up.
She stopped laughing, her dancing eyes watching him.
‘Have you come to harm?’ he asked, anticipation lacing his words.
Tangled in her gown, her legs were unknowingly open, bent by a resting knee. He knew exactly where her right ankle was, how he could wrap his hand around the slender bone to gently lift and place it across his hip.
Her eyes darted aside, running an internal inventory as she stretched her legs, her arms, unconsciously bowing and arching her body.
‘Aye or nae, Mairead.’ His voice was urgent. He was going to jump off the cliff and it was imperative he take her with him.
She shook her head, the wet tendrils sliding across her now pale cheeks. Her skin was no longer mottled, but warming with the air she breathed. Very much alive.
‘I doona think so,’ she answered.
Moving closer, he hovered over her left hand resting beside him, and eased himself until he was acutely, agonisingly, aware of where it touched. As she curled her fingers into the earth, his mind went blank as he imagined her palm raised up instead of down.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked, her eyes darkening with comprehension despite her words.
‘I’m taking.’