Chapter 7
“T
here’s a storm on the way,” the innkeeper told them as they left the taproom and approached the man to settle the bill. “It swept in last night. Reports coming in from southbound travelers making their way from the north say the frost is so hard on the ground, the horses can barely walk on’t.”
Meria, clutching at hope like a drowning man clutching at straws, looked over at her escort. “Well, that settles it then. We will travel nay further until the weather has improved. This is a nice place. Let’s wait here.”
She watched Kerr give her one of his calculating looks. “It’s late in the year, lady,” he said in what she believed was an offhand manner. “The weather is no’ likely to improve until spring.”
Meria could feel him waiting for her to say they must wait until spring.
The urge to tell him to go to hell—that he would have to drag her out into the freezing weather by the hair if he wanted her to depart with him this morning—mounted inside her, but she bit back the words.
Her plan was to make Mister Kerr relax his guard, then she would escape, and she did not care whether it was on the road or at a roadside hostelry.
After what he did to her last night, Meria had made up her mind that her escort was just as big a brute as Laird MacTavish.
She gave a wan smile. “Very well, Mister Kerr. Let it be yer command.” Meria waited to see how shocked he was to hear her agree with him, but when he seemed to take her acquiescence for granted and began to carry his saddlebags out to the stables, she had the overwhelming desire to pick up a horse pat and throw it at the back of his head.
Fuming and muttering curses about men under her breath, Meria tramped upstairs and emptied the contents of her small chest out onto the bedchamber floor. A diaphanous wedding gown and thin lace petticoats greeted her gaze.
Blast him! Blast all men! I swear I will hate every last one o’ them for the rest o’ me life!
She sifted through the scraps of wool: a bonnet, a pair of mittens, a thin shawl.
The problem was that no bonded bride was allowed to travel to her new home or set foot on her new husband’s land while still carrying the plaid of her own clan.
A wife must cast away her family plaid and embrace her new clan’s colors.
All of her warm arisaids and plaid woolen skirts were sitting in trunks back at the Calvin estate.
They had left traveling too late in the year.
Suddenly, Meria felt envious of the milch cows that formed part of her dowry.
At least they got to spend winter in the barn.
It was too late to lament the loss of her warm woolen clothes. Meria pulled the mittens on, flexing her fingers in a businesslike way when they came out the end.
At least the palms o’ me hands will be warm, even if me fingers get cold.
Mittens were usually worn by milkmaids when they worked in the dairy during the early winter mornings.
The cropped-off fingertips meant they could judge how hard to pull the cows’ teats.
Meria sighed and tied the shawl around her waist, hoping the extra layer would protect her spine from the cold.
There was no looking glass in the chamber, so she pulled the bonnet down over her head and flung her ringlets behind her back.
She was as warm and ready as she was ever going to be.
He was waiting for her with both horses when she joined him downstairs. He took the chest from her hand and began tying it to the saddle with the same cord that had bound her to him the previous night. He was frowning.
“Did ye no’ pack woolen knits an’ weaves, lady?
” When she shook her head, his frown darkened.
[new paragraph] “I have never had to ride out in winter before, Kerr,” Meria explained, “and I cannae enter m’new husband’s home carryin’ the colors of me auld clan.
The only warm garment I have that is no’ plaid is me traveling cloak. ”
For one moment, he stopped his preparations to leave. He stood with his hand on her horse’s mane, his forehead furrowed in deep thought.
Meria stamped her foot. “I’m here. I am ready to leave. I’m freezing in this icy wind. Can we please get on?”
That seemed to make his mind up for him.
“If ye are adamant, then who am I to tell ye nay?” He did not wait for her to put her foot into his palm for a leg up.
Kerr lifted her onto the saddle by holding her by the waist and placing her atop the pommel, and then waited for her to adjust her bottom so she could ride sideways comfortably.
Then he handed her the reins. “I don’ ken much about what a lady wears under her skirt and coat,” he said, “but if ye say it’s warm enough to last ye through the journey, I suppose we can be on our way. ”
She did not answer him and then hoped her silence had not come across as an angry sulk.
They had not gone more than one mile up the northbound road before Meria was cursing her tempestuous nature for being too proud to tell him the truth; even when they had been in the stable courtyard, she was already freezing.
He led the way but did not ride so far ahead that she lost sight of him.
They were entering a mountainous region now; the road was empty of travelers, and no wonder.
It was too cold to venture forth. Only the wild and desperate would attempt to cross the mountains in such weather.
The road turned into a narrow pathway as the horses picked their way over the moss-covered stones and rolling pebbles.
Any hope Meria had about them reaching a comfortable inn before nightfall disappeared like mist on a hot day.
Only a madman would build a hostelry along this route.
Leaning over her horse’s withers, she guided her little mare up the steep mountainside, praying the animal’s body heat would keep her warm until they reached the other side of the mountain.
When she heard Kerr’s horse whinny, she sat up, her eyes widening with happiness when she saw they had ridden all the way up to the mountain’s crest. It was all downhill from there on, and then it should only be a few more miles until they arrived at an inn!
The view that greeted Meria’s eyes made her moan and sway in the saddle. All around them, as far as the eye could see, were mountains. They stretched so far into the distance that Meria could not tell where the gray hills and granite peaks ended and where the dark sleet-filled sky began.
He had heard her moan. Kerr reined in his horse and turned in the saddle, shouting back at her over the howling wind, “Is all well, lady? Are ye strengthy enough to continue?”
Her lips were so frozen, she could hardly form the furious words. “This is all yer fault! Ye should have listened to me! What’s the use of stopping? It’s nae like there’s anywhere for us to lodge!”
The wind whipped the angry words away into the mountain air the moment they left her lips.
But he could read her expression and seemed to accept that whenever Meria spoke to him now, it would only be to berate him and update him with the fretful passions she was feeling by being thwarted by him.
He turned back to face the pathway and gave his horse the command to begin the descent.
It was almost too much for Meria to stand.
Her back was a frigid board, there was no feeling on her face, and she could hardly control her frozen limbs.
She dropped the reins and could not pick them up again; her fingers would no longer move at her will.
Knowing she would have to guide her horse with her knee, she gripped her crop in a clumsy fist and brought the switch down on her little mare’s hindquarters.
Meria misjudged the strength of the blow.
Her mare gave a shrill whinny and broke into a furious canter down the mountainside pathway.
Meria felt her hood fall off, rapidly followed by her bonnet as the thick ringlets spiraled out of control.
Her frozen fingers could not lift up the reins to pull the mare to a halt; the mittens had not been enough to stop the sleet freezing her fingertips.
For one wild moment, Meria was too embarrassed to call out to Kerr and ask for his help.
Then it dawned on her that she might die.
“Kerr! Save me! Me hands are frozen!”
She screamed so loud that he turned around, but for some strange reason, as if time was also frozen still, Meria saw him look as if he did not recognize his own name.
He sprang into action immediately. In a trice, he had his horse’s head pointed toward her, spinning the beast around so hard it pawed the air with its hooves while it pivoted…
but it was too late! They would collide!
He was riding his horse at a gallop straight for her along the same narrow pathway!
Meria’s mare turned aside and left the path.
It jumped over the rocks in a confused stampede.
The edge of the mountainside loomed ahead of her, and Meria’s scream was louder than her mare’s.
The crazy race had dislodged the small chest from the saddle.
Just as Kerr’s hand reached over and jerked the reins into his hand, the small chest soared off the saddle into the air and teetered on the brink of the mountainside for one moment.
Then it crashed down the steep cliff, smashing on the rocks and boulders until they could no longer hear it.
But they both watched in fascinated shock as Meria’s wedding gown and petticoats got caught up by the wind and blew away over the Grampian peaks.