The Enchantress by May McGoldrick Page A

behind him tried to snuggle closer against his back, it occurred to him that the Sinclair chief was not yet free of Ross incursions.
    A stinging shower of sleet whipped in on a driving wind, and in a few moments the frozen rain turned into a heavy, wet snow, covering the ground quickly with a shroud of pale white.
    Damn, William thought, glancing back at the tracks they were making. He pushed Dread into the shallow water of the creek’s edge.
    “Do you think that any harm will come to mother superior and the nuns?”
    William felt a pang of relief that her voice was still strong. But he knew that he needed to reach shelter before long, or the shivering heap behind him would be frozen solid.
    “You should have thought of that before bringing those villains to their door.”
    “I did not bring them! Somehow, they found me on their own.”
    “And would it not have been safer for all if that scrawny excuse for a monk had found you where you should have been...in the abbey convent of St. Duthac?”
    “I see no difference,” she grumbled, rubbing her forehead again on his back.
    Though he didn’t think she was even aware of the action, he took a deep breath. How was it that he could be so annoyed and so excited by such a simple act? And by a wee, bullheaded court chit at that.
    “No difference at all,” she repeated quietly. “I would have been forced to flee that place as well.”
    “Who is the monk?”
    She paused a moment. “I’ve never seen him before.”
    “Someone must have paid him to come after you. And those Lowlanders. Gilbert never said a thing about them.”
    “Gilbert? You mentioned that name before.”
    She tightened her hold as William nudged his steed up an embankment. Through the whirling snow he could see a dip between two rocky braes. “Who is this Gilbert?”
    “The provost of the Shrine of St. Duthac.” He spurred the horse into a canter. “Your mentor and protector. The one who was so worried about your whereabouts. The one who came begging to me for help.”
    He thought he heard a snort of derision, and considered dumping her right there in the meadow.
    “Guff told me that you are William Ross of Blackfearn.”
    He spurred Dread into a gallop over the hard ground. The snow on the meadow brightened the vista considerably.
    “It would have been much simpler if you had explained that much to me in the market square.”
    “And when are you thinking I was supposed to do that? While you were caterwauling and bringing every Sinclair in the Highlands down upon us? Or should I have waited and told you after you tried to kill me?”
    William reined in the mount as they reached what appeared to be a path winding between the snow-covered hills.
    “You deserved what you got.” She tried to take her hands from his waist, but he reached down and trapped them with one of his own.
    “You keep those where they are, lass. You’ve done more damage to me in one day than I’ve had in ten years of fighting.”
    “Then you’ve led a soft life.”
    This time he was the one to sputter derisively. To think, this from her, the very picture of the spoiled brat!
    “I thought we would be going around the loch and to the south.”
    “You thought wrong.”
    The wind swung around, stinging their faces with a mix of sleet and snow. He felt her adjust herself and nestle closer against him.
    “What is your plan?”
    “I have none.”
    He felt her stiffen. It took only a moment, but he could feel it coming.
    “Then perhaps if you’d listen to what I have to--”
    “Hold tight.”
    William nudged Dread down the steep, rocky path, and Laura again had to tighten her hold so she wouldn’t fall off the horse. In a few moments he pushed the horse around a boulder, and they were suddenly out onto a stony strand, the roaring sea before them. Pushing the giant animal to the very edge of the foaming water, William again turned them northward.
    The riders were now taking the full brunt of nature’s forces, but the