Page 18 of Transporting a Ruthless Highlander
“About ten miles, I think,” he replied.
Gavina looked down at his feet. It was clear that he could not walk that distance with his feet in such a sorry state. They needed a horse, but one of those would cost more than their last shilling!
Once more, Gavina’s agile mind went into action. The same people who could spare silver could spare horses. Anyway, it was a matter of life and death, and in cases like that, the end justified the means. She told none of this to Struan; he was far too squeamish and noble. But to Gavina, it was a challenge, and she was almost looking forward to it.
By asking the baker, Gavina had discovered that the local landowner was a man called Laird Stewart Blair and that he was the man they had seen at the market the day before.
“He isnae a bad laird,” the baker told her. “But we hardly see him. He is fair smitten wi’ that young lassie he wed last year, an’ a’ his good sense has gone out o’ his heid.” He shook his head. “I am sure she manages the estate herself wi’ a couple o’ pals. She does a good job o’ managin’ him!”
When Gavina had told Struan what she knew, he was incredulous. “So you plan to steal a horse?” he asked.
“Aye,” she answered, as if it was something she did every day of the week.
He was silent for a moment, then he said: “You are the most remarkable woman I have ever met. Is there anything you cannot do?”
“I cannae sing,” she replied sadly.
Struan took one look at her desolate face and laughed heartily. “Never mind, Gavina,” he said soothingly. “Neither can I.”
The laird’s residence, Castle Invermuir, could not really have been described as a castle. It was a sprawling building made of granite with a high, crenelated wall around it. It climbed three stories and was topped by a bell tower so that an alarm could be sounded in times of emergency. It had no moat, and there were only two guards, who were stationed at a small stone hut just outside the sturdy oak gate. Despite the bell tower, a determined enemy could easily force their way in.
They watched the castle for a long while before they noticed that there were carts of produce going in and out of another gate, a much smaller one that was situated at right angles to the bigger gate.
“The tradesmen’s entrance,” Struan observed. “Not very sturdily built, and there are no guards.”
They were hiding behind the thick trunk of an ash tree about a hundred yards away from the wall, but there was open ground between them and the building, and they could not pass unnoticed.
“This is a puzzle,” Gavina mused, frowning as she stared at the walls of the castle. “How dae we get in that wee gate without bein’ seen?”
“Perhaps we should climb into the back of a cart,” Struan suggested.
“How? By becomin’ invisible?” Gavina laughed.
However, as it happened, they did not have to. Just then, a guard came out of the main gate riding an impressive black warhorse with feathered feet and a high, prancing gait.
Gavina thought quickly. She turned to Struan, then gave him a few rapid instructions. “Understand?” she asked, and he nodded, then he began to limp out from under the tree. He waited until the guard had seen him, then he fell onto the grass, moaning and clutching his ankle.
The guard turned his horse toward Struan, then dismounted and bent over the seemingly injured man. At that moment, Gavina sprinted out from under the tree and jumped onto the horse in one fluid movement. Struan leaped to his feet and knocked the man to the ground so hard that his head hit the ground with an audible thud. While he was horizontal and dazed, Struan grabbed the dagger from his belt then scrambled onto the horse with Gavina’s help.
“Hurry!” she shouted. “They will be out after us like a pack o’ dogs in a minute.”
As soon as Struan had settled into the saddle behind her, she spurred the big black stallion into a furious gallop, and before long, they had left Invermuir Castle far behind them. After a while, she slowed the big animal down to a fast trot, and it became apparent to Struan that this was yet one more talent that Gavina had. She could ride like a cavalryman.
“You can ride,” he remarked. “When did you learn to do that?”
“Ye noticed that, did ye?” She shrugged. “I picked it up in America. They have wonderful horses there. An’ before ye ask, I cannae dae embroidery, or play the piano, or draw pictures like other lassies.”
“No, somehow I did not think you did.” He laughed. “Tell me how you came to be the captain of a ship.”
Gavina sighed. “I will tell ye about my childhood,” she said bitterly. “My father was a brute, an’ when my mother died givin’ birth tae me, he hated me because he said I killed her. He gave me tae his sister, my aunt Jenny. I loved her, an’ she loved me, but she died o’ measles when I was eight. My father was a drunk an’ a gambler, but he saw a use for me. I learned tae steal an’ beg. That is how I am able tae turn on the tears whenever I need tae. I was the one who fed us since my father hardly ever won anythin’, an’ when he did, he drank it a’ away or spent it on women.
“I was pickin’ Captain Hunter’s pocket one night when he caught me an’ offered tae gie me back tae my da or take me tae the ship. I chose the ship. I had never been on one before, but I thought, even if it was terrible, it couldnae be worse than the life I was livin’. An’ if it became unbearable, I could throw myself over the side an’ drown.
“Captain Hunter was my real father. He taught me tae read an’ write, how tae sail the ship, and how tae talk tae people. An’ he gave me chances tae learn things I would never have had wi’ my da. I still dinnae know how tae dress like a lady, but I think I could pick that up as I go along, but only if I want tae.”
“You have had a hard life,” Struan observed. “But you survived. I admire you, Gavina.”
Gavina said nothing more, and they trotted on in silence. She was enjoying the feeling of Struan’s warm, strong arms around her. When they spoke again, mainly about trivial things, she loved the sound of his deep, rumbling voice in her ear and the warmth of his breath against her neck.
