Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“What a bunch of wet lads!” Duncan shouted.
Tearloch laughed but did not point out to his friend that the two of them were working just as hard to keep their mounts in the thick of the pack.
Jamie was long gone on Kenna’s horse, hopefully catching up with their captive.
With its long legs, the great black was not an animal that was easy to match, however, and there was that chance that the woman could actually get away on it.
Tearloch worried that the others may be holding back to let him catch up and take the lead, so he waved them on. He was the true winner here, but only if they could catch her. And this was no time to let his pride get in the way.
He hoped against hope that this was not her next attempt to elude them, and wondered if Duncan had been thinking clearly when he suggested she take the destrier, for he certainly hadn’t. His head had been filled with a misty haze from her kisses, and in truth, it still lingered.
Surely, she wouldn’t do anything as foolish as stand on the big black’s back while he flew down the road.
Nearly an hour and a half later, the group had to slow their tired horses. They had yet to overtake Jamie, so there was still hope.
They let the animals cool down and have a wee drink before they set out again. They started slowly, which was fortuitous. If they’d been riding hard, they might have missed the flash of black off to the south of the road.
Saint’s be praised, they’d found her.
The entire company shouted with relief and turned into the meadow, stopping when they reached Jamie, who was sitting on the ground watching the woman play with his deadly warhorse. He stood when they joined him.
Kenna sat happily with her clothes riding high on her thighs. She and the beast were at the top of a large mound where she was turning the proud prancing destrier back and forth in exhibition. Then she pulled the reins firmly and had the horse backing across the crest of the hill.
“Brace yerselves,” Jamie called out, just as Kenna started the horse down the hill toward her audience. Her eyes and smile were wide, her excitement evident from far across the stretch of low grasses that lay between them.
All but Tearloch and Duncan gasped when she pulled her feet up on the saddle and stood, rocking forward and back as the black galloped leisurely beneath her.
Her hair was a glorious red cloud fluttering like a dark sail behind her.
Her thighs, now covered, pushed the limits of her seams, the muscles well defined.
Not one man could have looked away had he been ordered to.
Twenty hearts flew out of their chests when they saw the black stumble.
As if horrified screams could cushion her fall, their voices cried out as she flew over the horse’s head and landed in front of the animal’s thundering hooves.
If the beast hadn’t stopped dead in its tracks, she would have been trampled and killed!
Tearloch had died. He was sure of it. His body simply hadn’t realized that his heart had stopped. If he was quick, he might catch another glimpse of her before his body gave out.
He, Duncan and Jamie raced toward the spot in the knee-high blossoms where the flurry of white had disappeared. But before they were halfway to her, Tearloch heard the familiar music of Kenna’s laughter, a tune that his whole body was quick to recognize.
It was not the laughter of relief, but the unashamed peel of joy. The glorious white form sprang to her feet and embraced the black, then turned to face her audience.
“Are ye hurt?” he croaked. If she weren’t, he was going to kill her.
Kenna noted Tearloch’s white face and took pity on him. He had that murderous look in his eye again, but this time it was tempered with something else that told her she had nothing to fear from this man. He was not unlike Jamie’s horse.
“I am none the worse for wear, my laird and master,” she added breathlessly.
She was breathless from laughter, not exertion.
“A poor jest. I see that now. Forgive me.” She started toward him, for he seemed unable to close the distance himself.
“I assure you I am as adept at falling as I am at riding. You cannot learn the one without the other.”
Jamie headed for the horse, but she stopped him as he passed and threw her arms around his neck.
“Thank you, Sir Jamie. Thank you for sharing your joy with me and allowing me to feel like a child again. I haven’t felt as happy for an eternity.” She suddenly looked worried. “I hope you will share him again someday.”
“Certainly, my lady, if the Commander allows it. But I own I am more worried that he will not welcome anyone else on his back again.” He laughed, but his worry was real. The horse shoved him away, then nuzzled him immediately after. And the next bout of laughter was pure relief.
“He is a clever lad to prefer you,” Kenna called out.
Jamie shook his head. “I must beg ye to stop addressing Queenie as he.”
“Queenie?” she said as she bent and peeked beneath the horse’s belly, then back at Jamie. “How wonderful!” Then she curtsied to the horse. “My apologies, Your Highness.”
“My lady,” Tearloch said, drawing her attention. “If ye’ll mount the other horse, perhaps we will see our homes before the sun sets again—and while we still remember the way.”
Kincaid brought the animal forward and Tearloch used the excuse to put his hands on her waist. Breathing was forgotten when her gaze rose to meet his, and the meadow and all its occupants were forgotten.
“Before the sun sets again, ye say?” Duncan said, from atop his mount. “By the time ye finished makin’ moon-eyes at each other, I worry we will have forgotten the way!”
Tearloch could feel many envious eyes on him, and the sensation reminded him of the discussion around the campfire the night before. She’d been as honest with the others as she’d been about trying to escape again—she was honestly considering trading her virtue to accomplish her ends.
He couldn’t let that happen. And he knew just how he could ensure it did not—take away what she planned to barter. He had two choices. The first was to steal it from her. The second…the second was to make her believe she no longer had it.
Malcolm’s parting words were clear. Bring my sister home—whole and healthy. His pointed look made his meaning clear. No anticipating the marriage vows. Keep his hands to himself.
But considering how sheltered she’d been in a fort of women only, how ignorant might she be?
It was worth discovering. And even if she couldn’t be convinced he had taken her prize, he could still lead his men to believe he had, and that was the point.
Soon after they arrived, word would spread, and the men of Lochahearn would believe the same—that no matter what they heard, there was nothing left to offer.
His honor might suffer some tarnish, but as long as she was his, in the end, he could stomach it. He would know the truth, that he had honored his King’s wishes.