her. But then with three older brothers—
The memory of her grief-stricken face when she’d eventually told of their fate strengthened his resolve to protect her from further distress. “You’ve a knack with horses,” he said with a smile as they made their way out of the bailey.
“Aye,” she replied shyly. “What’s the palfrey’s name?”
Her question took him aback. He’d known what name he’d bestow on his own horse as soon as he’d set eyes on him, but the notion other animals might have names had never occurred to him. “He’ll bear whatever name ye wish to bestow,” he rasped. Obviously the vision of Margaret’s thighs pressed to his flanks had stolen his wits and rendered him a babbling fool.
She eyed him curiously, looked back at the horse and declared, “Bàn.”
Perhaps he’d misheard. “Oban?”
“Nay. The color. Yer horse is black, mine is white. Yers is Dubh, mine is Bàn.”
He had to agree it was appropriate.
He took off the leather satchel he’d slung across his body and secured it to the saddle. He’d pilfered provisions from the kitchens and a few necessities from his chamber, among them his raser . He’d never favored a beard, and took the treasured possession with him wherever he went. Logan often teased him about it.
Soon they were cantering alongside Loch Tay, headed for the Grampians. The darkness demanded they give their full attention to the road, though the full moon bathed the rippling loch in its silvery light.
“Beautiful,” Margaret shouted breathlessly.
“Aye,” he replied, wondering how he had lived his life beside this same loch and never noticed its splendor.
For years he’d wrestled with the irritation of Tannoch’s misrule of Dunalastair, but done nothing to change matters. It had taken the advent of a lovely young woman in trouble to push him into defiance. And of course the startling questions concerning Tannoch’s progeny had convinced him and Logan something had to be done.
What drew him to Margaret? She affected him physically. He’d been pursued by many beautiful women, bedded more than one—he was a healthy young man in the prime of his life. Margaret was different. He’d only to catch a whiff of her perfume, or sense her nearness, for his body to catch fire. Simply thinking of her had his balls in an uproar.
But there was more to it. He liked her, admired her. She had a knack of making the best of a bad situation. She’d uttered no words of censure for her unjust imprisonment. Here she was riding in the dark on an unknown road towards a castle where danger might lurk, her hair flowing behind her like a silvery cape. She looked like she was enjoying an adventure.
Life with such a woman would never be dull.
If they survived this lunacy.
~~~
Dunalastair had appeared pink in the sunlight. Blair loomed ghostly white in the moonlight. Two turret rooms, each topped with a cone-shaped roof, clung to the sides of a tall tower. Rheade’s home had delighted Margaret; Robert Stewart’s dwelling filled her with dread.
Strangely, the ride had been exhilarating, a reminder of the carefree life she and her brothers had led before—
She sensed something had happened to cause Rheade to embark on this foolhardy expedition. What had prompted him to defy his chieftain’s orders? Whatever it was, she was surprised to discover she trusted him. And what choice did she have?
They reined to a halt in the deserted bailey. “Blair Castle,” he announced with an expansive gesture as if conducting a tour. She appreciated his efforts to allay her fears.
They dismounted and led the tired beasts to the stable. “It’s colder up here,” she said, her breath hanging in the air, mingling with the warm snorts of the horses.
“Aye,” he replied. “We’re only in the foothills of the Grampians, but already a body can feel it.”
They took care of their horses’ needs, gathering what fresh hay there was. The stable was well equipped, but eerily
The memory of her grief-stricken face when she’d eventually told of their fate strengthened his resolve to protect her from further distress. “You’ve a knack with horses,” he said with a smile as they made their way out of the bailey.
“Aye,” she replied shyly. “What’s the palfrey’s name?”
Her question took him aback. He’d known what name he’d bestow on his own horse as soon as he’d set eyes on him, but the notion other animals might have names had never occurred to him. “He’ll bear whatever name ye wish to bestow,” he rasped. Obviously the vision of Margaret’s thighs pressed to his flanks had stolen his wits and rendered him a babbling fool.
She eyed him curiously, looked back at the horse and declared, “Bàn.”
Perhaps he’d misheard. “Oban?”
“Nay. The color. Yer horse is black, mine is white. Yers is Dubh, mine is Bàn.”
He had to agree it was appropriate.
He took off the leather satchel he’d slung across his body and secured it to the saddle. He’d pilfered provisions from the kitchens and a few necessities from his chamber, among them his raser . He’d never favored a beard, and took the treasured possession with him wherever he went. Logan often teased him about it.
Soon they were cantering alongside Loch Tay, headed for the Grampians. The darkness demanded they give their full attention to the road, though the full moon bathed the rippling loch in its silvery light.
“Beautiful,” Margaret shouted breathlessly.
“Aye,” he replied, wondering how he had lived his life beside this same loch and never noticed its splendor.
For years he’d wrestled with the irritation of Tannoch’s misrule of Dunalastair, but done nothing to change matters. It had taken the advent of a lovely young woman in trouble to push him into defiance. And of course the startling questions concerning Tannoch’s progeny had convinced him and Logan something had to be done.
What drew him to Margaret? She affected him physically. He’d been pursued by many beautiful women, bedded more than one—he was a healthy young man in the prime of his life. Margaret was different. He’d only to catch a whiff of her perfume, or sense her nearness, for his body to catch fire. Simply thinking of her had his balls in an uproar.
But there was more to it. He liked her, admired her. She had a knack of making the best of a bad situation. She’d uttered no words of censure for her unjust imprisonment. Here she was riding in the dark on an unknown road towards a castle where danger might lurk, her hair flowing behind her like a silvery cape. She looked like she was enjoying an adventure.
Life with such a woman would never be dull.
If they survived this lunacy.
~~~
Dunalastair had appeared pink in the sunlight. Blair loomed ghostly white in the moonlight. Two turret rooms, each topped with a cone-shaped roof, clung to the sides of a tall tower. Rheade’s home had delighted Margaret; Robert Stewart’s dwelling filled her with dread.
Strangely, the ride had been exhilarating, a reminder of the carefree life she and her brothers had led before—
She sensed something had happened to cause Rheade to embark on this foolhardy expedition. What had prompted him to defy his chieftain’s orders? Whatever it was, she was surprised to discover she trusted him. And what choice did she have?
They reined to a halt in the deserted bailey. “Blair Castle,” he announced with an expansive gesture as if conducting a tour. She appreciated his efforts to allay her fears.
They dismounted and led the tired beasts to the stable. “It’s colder up here,” she said, her breath hanging in the air, mingling with the warm snorts of the horses.
“Aye,” he replied. “We’re only in the foothills of the Grampians, but already a body can feel it.”
They took care of their horses’ needs, gathering what fresh hay there was. The stable was well equipped, but eerily
Similar Books
