me.” The creature’s hooves plodded heavily over the damp ground. “How long will it be before someone notices your absence?”
“Not until morning. Though my maid will notice later tonight.”
“Will she speak up?”
Catherine considered it. “No, she’s quiet and discreet. I believe she will wait for someone to question her.”
Catherine’s eyes adjusted eventually to the reduced light, and she was thankful at least for the full moon, which provided some illumination through the thick autumn foliage.
The horse picked his way gallantly over the leaves and dry twigs, and they soon found a narrow bridle path that took them farther away from the manor house.
“What is your name, Highlander?” she asked. “You have not yet revealed it.”
“I am Lachlan MacDonald, former Laird of War at Kinloch Castle.”
“Ah. A powerful and battle-seasoned warrior. I should have known.”
He gave no reply, and she did not press him for one, for she had not accompanied him on this journey in order to become better acquainted. All she wanted was to meet the man who had allegedly been her lover. She had so many questions for him.
But what if she found him hideous? What if he was cruel?
What if she still loved him?
“Tell me about Angus,” she blurted out, hoping to quench some of her curiosity and ease the nerve-racking fires of doubt in her belly.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Anything. Why do they call him the Lion?”
“Because he is a fierce and ruthless warrior, famous for his killing exploits during the rebellion.”
“The Jacobite Rebellion?” Her family had claimed she was a passionate supporter of the cause before she went missing.
John, on the other hand, was a Hanoverian.
“Aye. His father raised an army for the battle at Sherrifmuir.”
“That is particularly interesting,” she said. “Catherine Montgomery’s father, the former earl, died in that battle.” She turned her head to the side. “Does the Lion’s father still live?”
“Nay, he died for the cause, too, and now Angus just wants peace.”
Catherine considered all that Lachlan had told her so far and strained to remember. She tried to imagine a ruthless, lionish warrior who fought bravely in Scottish battles, but alas, nothing seemed familiar.
“Is there anything else you can tell me?”
He leaned forward and spoke in a soft voice that was snide and taunting. “He has a beautiful wife and child.”
Catherine turned quickly in the saddle. “A wife and child? Since when?”
Lachlan frowned at her, and his head drew back slightly. “You truly do not remember? Or are you just a gifted actress?”
“How many times must I say it? I do not remember a thing. I cannot even imagine what Angus looks like.”
Lachlan regarded her with increasing frustration, and she wondered if he would ever believe her about her lost memories. Either way, he seemed disappointed that she was not throwing a tantrum about the mention of a wife and child.
“Imagine this,” he answered harshly. “He looks like a lion, and has a mighty roar.”
The horse lost his footing slightly over the uneven ground. Catherine slid sideways in the saddle, but Lachlan held her steady.
Again, to her dismay, his touch sent a tingling flow of excitement through her body. It was a feeling she fought hard to crush.
“You expected me to be jealous,” she said, referring back to Angus and his beautiful wife. “But how can I be, when I have no recollection whatsoever of the time we spent together?”
Lachlan considered the question thoroughly. “I’ve never heard of anyone losing all their memories before, and I’m still not sure I believe it. So don’t get too comfortable, thinking I’m convinced.”
She scoffed. “Trust me, I am not the least bit comfortable with you.” How could she be, when everything about him overwhelmed all her sensible thoughts? “Clearly I did not make a good impression on you,” she added, “when we knew each other
“Not until morning. Though my maid will notice later tonight.”
“Will she speak up?”
Catherine considered it. “No, she’s quiet and discreet. I believe she will wait for someone to question her.”
Catherine’s eyes adjusted eventually to the reduced light, and she was thankful at least for the full moon, which provided some illumination through the thick autumn foliage.
The horse picked his way gallantly over the leaves and dry twigs, and they soon found a narrow bridle path that took them farther away from the manor house.
“What is your name, Highlander?” she asked. “You have not yet revealed it.”
“I am Lachlan MacDonald, former Laird of War at Kinloch Castle.”
“Ah. A powerful and battle-seasoned warrior. I should have known.”
He gave no reply, and she did not press him for one, for she had not accompanied him on this journey in order to become better acquainted. All she wanted was to meet the man who had allegedly been her lover. She had so many questions for him.
But what if she found him hideous? What if he was cruel?
What if she still loved him?
“Tell me about Angus,” she blurted out, hoping to quench some of her curiosity and ease the nerve-racking fires of doubt in her belly.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Anything. Why do they call him the Lion?”
“Because he is a fierce and ruthless warrior, famous for his killing exploits during the rebellion.”
“The Jacobite Rebellion?” Her family had claimed she was a passionate supporter of the cause before she went missing.
John, on the other hand, was a Hanoverian.
“Aye. His father raised an army for the battle at Sherrifmuir.”
“That is particularly interesting,” she said. “Catherine Montgomery’s father, the former earl, died in that battle.” She turned her head to the side. “Does the Lion’s father still live?”
“Nay, he died for the cause, too, and now Angus just wants peace.”
Catherine considered all that Lachlan had told her so far and strained to remember. She tried to imagine a ruthless, lionish warrior who fought bravely in Scottish battles, but alas, nothing seemed familiar.
“Is there anything else you can tell me?”
He leaned forward and spoke in a soft voice that was snide and taunting. “He has a beautiful wife and child.”
Catherine turned quickly in the saddle. “A wife and child? Since when?”
Lachlan frowned at her, and his head drew back slightly. “You truly do not remember? Or are you just a gifted actress?”
“How many times must I say it? I do not remember a thing. I cannot even imagine what Angus looks like.”
Lachlan regarded her with increasing frustration, and she wondered if he would ever believe her about her lost memories. Either way, he seemed disappointed that she was not throwing a tantrum about the mention of a wife and child.
“Imagine this,” he answered harshly. “He looks like a lion, and has a mighty roar.”
The horse lost his footing slightly over the uneven ground. Catherine slid sideways in the saddle, but Lachlan held her steady.
Again, to her dismay, his touch sent a tingling flow of excitement through her body. It was a feeling she fought hard to crush.
“You expected me to be jealous,” she said, referring back to Angus and his beautiful wife. “But how can I be, when I have no recollection whatsoever of the time we spent together?”
Lachlan considered the question thoroughly. “I’ve never heard of anyone losing all their memories before, and I’m still not sure I believe it. So don’t get too comfortable, thinking I’m convinced.”
She scoffed. “Trust me, I am not the least bit comfortable with you.” How could she be, when everything about him overwhelmed all her sensible thoughts? “Clearly I did not make a good impression on you,” she added, “when we knew each other
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