Page 42 of The Story of his Highland Bride
Lennox pulled his horse to a halt. “One of the castle guards saw ye and Miss Eloise leavin’ and came to ask if ye’d summoned a guard to follow. Obviously, I kenned nothin’ of it, so I came after ye.” He paused to catch his breath. “I daenae ken if ye want guards or nae, M’Laird, but as yer Man-at-Arms, I thought it best to err on the side of caution.”
“Now that ye’re here, I’m nae goin’ to send ye back,” Jackson said with a sigh. “We’ve encountered wolves in these woodlands before, and they might think twice if they see a few horses.”
Lennox nodded. “That was me thinkin’, M’Laird.” He glanced at Eloise, flashing a bright smile. “And I dinnae want Miss Eloise to leave without sayin’ a farewell to her.”
“How did you know I was going somewhere?” Eloise frowned.
Lennox cleared his throat. “His Lairdship mentioned the other day, while we were helpin’ at that farm, that ye might have to leave soon.” He offered an apologetic look to Jackson, like he had said something he should not have done. “I guessed that’s what had happened.”
“Oh—” Eloise turned her face away, staring ahead at the darkness.
“I’ll be sorry to see ye leave. I ken I’m nae the only one,” Lennox added. “Do ye intend to return?”
Eloise made a strange sound, partway between a choke and a laugh. “If I can, Lennox, but you know how things are right now, and I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
“Aye, I ken.” Lennox sighed. “Jane doesnae want to go back to the village, either, for reasons that are likely nae dissimilar.”
Eloise turned back. “Jane?”
“The lass we saved from a burnin’,” Jackson intervened, explaining. “Lennox has somethin’ of a fancy for her. They were courtin’ a while ago, and it seems they’ve rekindled their affection for one another.”
A sad smile turned up the corners of Eloise’s lips. “Well, good luck to the pair of you. I hope you’ll be ridiculously happy together, despite that priest’s best attempts to ruin everyone’s lives. In fact,tospite it would be better.”
“Thank ye, Miss Eloise.” Lennox beamed from ear to ear. “I intend to be ridiculously happy.”
Evidently, the Man-at-Arms was too blinded by his own love to read between the lines of the forced smiles and too-cheery voices of Jackson and Eloise. Nevertheless, it warmed Jackson’s heart to see that Eloise was gracious, even at a moment when her own heart was aching.
She’d have made a fine Lady,he knew.
The group moved on through the forest, disturbing the doves that roosted in the trees and the rabbits that nestled in their burrows, while hedgehogs froze in their nocturnal hunt for worms to watch the horses plod by. It was a beautiful winter evening: crisp and clear and not so cold it made a man wish for summer. Although, in that selfish part of his mind, Jackson longed for the snow to come again, to block the way to the Cairns.
“We’re nae far now,” Jackson told Eloise, as the horses cut across a glade that branched out into an actual path.
The trail was overgrown after years of neglect; nature reclaiming that which the new ways had chosen to ignore. Indeed, only those who knew what they were looking for would know there was a path there at all. And in the depths of Jackson’s memory, he recalled his mother bringing him this way, though he could not remember why or what had happened when they reached the end of the trail.
“Oh—” Eloise sank back into him. “Are we?”
He nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Aye, Love.”
“Should we… um… say goodbye now?” she whispered, her voice strained. “I don’t want us to have to rush when we get there, in case time is running out. I’d give anything to have a watch on me, right now.”
He drew in a breath, determined to be strong for her. “We’ll have time enough, Love. Ye willnae leave without us sharin’ a proper, lastin’ farewell. The snow and the trees were nae as difficult to navigate, thanks to Claymore, so… nae yet, Love. We daenae need to yet.”
The horses trudged on, their riders silent. The occasional hoot of an owl or the rustle of a creature scarpering through the undergrowth peppered the quiet, but even the night seemed to be holding its breath for the lovers who would soon part, giving them peace.
At least, it seemed that way, until Lennox suddenly spoke. “Do ye hear that, M’Laird?”
“Hear what?” Jackson pricked his ears and squinted into the darkness.
Lennox leaned forward in his saddle. “I hear voices, M’Laird. Quiet, like, but I hear ‘em.”
They could not have been more than a few minutes away from the two gnarled, ancient oaks that marked the entrance to Clava Cairns. Jackson could remember the way vividly, though he did not know why. But who else would be out here in the middle of the night?
“I see lights, Jackson,” Eloise whispered, her body stiffening in his embrace. “Through the trees over there. I see lights.”
No sooner had she spoken than Jackson saw them too: hazy orbs that glowed in the near distance, blazing out of the shadows. Torches. And silhouetted in their light were wavering figures with menacing faces, edging closer to where the riders had halted.
All of a sudden, a cry went up from the trees ahead: “I see ‘em! They came, and they’ve brought the witch with ‘em!”
