little with her, a change of clothes and enough food for a single day. More would have raised suspicions, and that she could not do.
Her plan depended on her behaving in a routine way, so she had broken her fast and tended to her daily duties. Broc had, as usual, sought her out to make her miserable, taunting her with her impending doom, which had resulted, in part because it suited her purposes, in one of their usual rows. Now she was leaving to ride off her temper, or so everyone would assume. She had borrowed Gowan’s horse for three days now, riding out for several hours after seeing to the business of the castle, returning a bit later each day. No one would expect her today until well after the midday meal. By then she would be nearly to her aunt’s village by the sea. Once there Catriona would secure her help in hiding her until the hated Dogface MacDonell gave up and returned to his home. That would give her the winter to convince her father that marrying her to the vile man would accomplish nothing good.
Outside the gate she mounted the horse and headed toward the loch. There she would turn away from her destination. As soon as she was out of sight of the castle, she would circle back and take the correct trail. She hoped her deception would throw off anyone who came searching for her.
The loch stretched before her and Quinag rose on the far side, but today the sky was steel gray, and the mountain’s peak lay hidden in a heavy mantle of clouds. She stopped for a moment, as she always did, and admired this peaceful spot, but she could not tarry long. She would return to her home soon. For now, though, she must continue as if ’twas any other day. She turned the horse and rode quickly away from Assynt.
When she rounded an outcropping that hid the castle from view, she kicked the horse into a gallop and raced down the trail, away from her home, away from her family that made her miserable and away from a marriage she refused to even consider. She leaned low over the powerful horse’s neck and let him fly. The cold wind pulled at her cloak, but the exhilaration of being free overrode any discomfort. When they came to the deer trail she had found yesterday, she guided the horse to it and circled quickly behind the castle and back to the trail that this time would lead to her destination. In no time, she would smell the salt tang of the sea air. Soon she would be at her aunt’s. Her father, Broc, and the sheep would not know where she had gone. They would be left to explain to Dogface why he had traveled all this way when there would never be a bride for him at Assynt.
Catriona took satisfaction from the difficult position she had left her family in. She urged the horse faster, twining her hands in his mane, letting the wind pull her hair from its braid, enjoying the cold bite of the rushing air on her cheeks for a long time until at last the horse began to slow of his own accord. Only when he came to a stop did she realize her stomach was grumbling with hunger. She looked up, trying to determine the hour, but the gray sky had lowered until it appeared to hang just above her head, blotting out the sun. The bens were swathed in dusky light, only their rocky feet visible beneath the clouds. The wind, which she had thought was due to the horse’s swift pace, pulled at her cloak, whipping it about her as if trying to wrench it away.
How far had she ridden? She could see nothing familiar, and snow was beginning to swirl on the wind. Surely she should have reached the sea by now. She looked about, certain that the crash of waves upon the rocky shore was near. Perhaps the clouds dampened the sound? But the smell…she sniffed. She remembered the smell of the sea from her single visit to her mother’s people, but the sharp, clear scent of salt and spray wasn’t on the wind. Snow was.
Panic gripped her for a moment until she forced herself to breathe deeply and think clearly. Had she gone the wrong way? She had a
Her plan depended on her behaving in a routine way, so she had broken her fast and tended to her daily duties. Broc had, as usual, sought her out to make her miserable, taunting her with her impending doom, which had resulted, in part because it suited her purposes, in one of their usual rows. Now she was leaving to ride off her temper, or so everyone would assume. She had borrowed Gowan’s horse for three days now, riding out for several hours after seeing to the business of the castle, returning a bit later each day. No one would expect her today until well after the midday meal. By then she would be nearly to her aunt’s village by the sea. Once there Catriona would secure her help in hiding her until the hated Dogface MacDonell gave up and returned to his home. That would give her the winter to convince her father that marrying her to the vile man would accomplish nothing good.
Outside the gate she mounted the horse and headed toward the loch. There she would turn away from her destination. As soon as she was out of sight of the castle, she would circle back and take the correct trail. She hoped her deception would throw off anyone who came searching for her.
The loch stretched before her and Quinag rose on the far side, but today the sky was steel gray, and the mountain’s peak lay hidden in a heavy mantle of clouds. She stopped for a moment, as she always did, and admired this peaceful spot, but she could not tarry long. She would return to her home soon. For now, though, she must continue as if ’twas any other day. She turned the horse and rode quickly away from Assynt.
When she rounded an outcropping that hid the castle from view, she kicked the horse into a gallop and raced down the trail, away from her home, away from her family that made her miserable and away from a marriage she refused to even consider. She leaned low over the powerful horse’s neck and let him fly. The cold wind pulled at her cloak, but the exhilaration of being free overrode any discomfort. When they came to the deer trail she had found yesterday, she guided the horse to it and circled quickly behind the castle and back to the trail that this time would lead to her destination. In no time, she would smell the salt tang of the sea air. Soon she would be at her aunt’s. Her father, Broc, and the sheep would not know where she had gone. They would be left to explain to Dogface why he had traveled all this way when there would never be a bride for him at Assynt.
Catriona took satisfaction from the difficult position she had left her family in. She urged the horse faster, twining her hands in his mane, letting the wind pull her hair from its braid, enjoying the cold bite of the rushing air on her cheeks for a long time until at last the horse began to slow of his own accord. Only when he came to a stop did she realize her stomach was grumbling with hunger. She looked up, trying to determine the hour, but the gray sky had lowered until it appeared to hang just above her head, blotting out the sun. The bens were swathed in dusky light, only their rocky feet visible beneath the clouds. The wind, which she had thought was due to the horse’s swift pace, pulled at her cloak, whipping it about her as if trying to wrench it away.
How far had she ridden? She could see nothing familiar, and snow was beginning to swirl on the wind. Surely she should have reached the sea by now. She looked about, certain that the crash of waves upon the rocky shore was near. Perhaps the clouds dampened the sound? But the smell…she sniffed. She remembered the smell of the sea from her single visit to her mother’s people, but the sharp, clear scent of salt and spray wasn’t on the wind. Snow was.
Panic gripped her for a moment until she forced herself to breathe deeply and think clearly. Had she gone the wrong way? She had a
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