Page 52 of Saved By the Highland Beast
“Bring her back to us, Faither!” Cillian yelled after his father as he ran toward the stables.
* * *
Dean hurried into the warmth of the stables as he brushed the snow from his shoulders and cloak. There was no time to waste, given the fact that he didn’t know how long Cillian had been lying in the snow before Nessie had come to his rescue. His only hope was that an Englishman wouldn’t know the lay of the land as well as he did.
Jamie stared at him with wide eyes as he led a saddled black stallion to its stall. The day was coming to an end, and all of the horses were being brushed down for the night. “I was just about to finish for the night, my laird,” he hurried to explain. “I swear I was nae doin’ anythin’ I shouldn’t.” He fidgeted with the reins in his hands. “Crofter is the last one that needs his oats.”
“There’s nae time for that now,” Dean barked as he took the reins from the boy’s hands and led the horse toward the stable doors. “Go inside the castle an’ see if Anthony needs any help. He’s taking Cillian to the healer,” he explained as he pulled on the straps to ensure that the saddle was fixed in place.
The pure black horse snorted as he bobbed his head up and down, shaking his main.
“Did something happen, my laird?” Jamie asked as he backed away from the neighing horse. The black stallion was well known for being a difficult mount that kicked and nipped without warning.
“There’s nae time for questions, lad! Go an’ do as yer told!” Dean pulled himself into the saddle, swinging one leg over the beast and adjusting his position.
“Aye, my laird!”
Jamie ran from the stables, swinging his gangly arms in the air.
Dean clucked his tongue and led the horse out into the snow, then he hurriedly dug the heels of his boots onto the horse’s flanks, urging the creature into a gallop as they made their way through the gates. Icy crystals whipped him in the face as they passed the area just outside the walls where Cillian had been lying in the snow.
Leaning down low, the laird gripped the side of the saddle as he strained to see where the footprints were headed. Spotting the general direction, he straightened in the saddle and clucked his tongue once again, forcing the stallion to pick up the pace as they followed the barely visible trail into the blizzard across the frozen meadow that led to the woods.
* * *
Dean pulled on the reins as he brought the horse to a stop in front of a snow drift that almost came up to the horse’s flanks. Breathing heavily, he swung his body from the saddle and dropped to the ground with a muffled thud as his boots sank into the snow. His breath billowed out in white clouds in front of his face as he hunkered down and searched the snow with one hand.
The passing blizzard had all but covered the tracks. He swore under his breath as he straightened again.
I should never have allowed her to go for a walk.
The woman he loved more than any other was missing. He hated the feeling of helplessness that took over his body. Losing his temper, he kicked at the snow and shouted profanities. “Sophia!?” he called out into the empty white plain that led into the woods.
His voice disappeared into the distance as it was carried away by the icy wind. Quickly catching the reins of the horse, he soothed the stallion and held it steady as it neighed and backed away from him. “What am I goin’ to do?” he whispered to the horse as he looked around. Turning back to the forest, he surveyed the line of willow and rowan trees that created the border. The tops were covered in snow as they towered high above him and the horse.
It was more than likely that the man had taken her into the trees in an attempt to find a hiding place until the storm had passed.
Only a madman would brave the open plains in weather like this.
Dean pondered the thought for a brief moment, but then again, how sane was a man that sent notes to a lady that didn’t even know who he was? It was possible that the man had taken a horse and raced across the snow and out into the open.
The wind howled and whipped the branches back and forth as the laird stood with his thoughts. Frowning, he brought the horse forward as he spotted something on one of the branches of a nearby tree. Reaching out, he pulled a piece of grey fabric and rubbed the rough material between his fingers.
“Sophia,” he whispered as he suddenly recognized the material.
The fabric had come from one of the winter skirts he’d given her. He’d personally gone and ordered the fabric from the dressmaker to ensure that she was warm. Scanning the trees, he searched for any other signs that she had been in the woods. His eyes quickly fell on a white piece of fabric hanging from the branches a few feet away.
Pulling himself back into the saddle, he nudged the horse toward the tree and retrieved the slip of cloth. The silk was cold and jagged around the edges as if someone had hastily ripped it from a blouse. Lifting the piece to his nose, he sniffed the fabric and immediately got the scent of lavender. The same scent from the oil that Sophia kept in her room. He’d smelled it on her clothes when he’d tidied her room and when they’d spent that night together in the tub.
“Clever girl,” he whispered as he lifted his head and spotted a trail of fabric that led down the path into the heart of the woods. “Walk on,” he commanded the horse as he eased the beast down the trail, hope growing in his heart as he shoved the pieces of cloth into the bag that hung on the saddle.
The trees grew denser as he carefully guided the horse into the forest. The snow-covered trail was wide enough to comfortably fit two horses if they rode abreast. Slowing the pace whenever he saw another piece of cloth, he leaned over and placed the scraps in the bag.
Hang in there, I’m coming.
His kissed a scrap of silk before holding it against his heart.
Ye will be back where ye belong, soon. Just hold on a little longer.
