Page 26 of Stealing Sophie
Sophie halted. “I...please, you must let me go—”
“What happened to your appetite for adventure?”
“It does not extend to screeching ghosts. This was a horrible mistake, Mr. MacPherson. We should not have—outlaws are one thing,” she continued, “but ghosts...I do not think I can face them.” She leaned back. As a child, she had suffered nightmares about ghosts and bogles. Even as an adult, she was not keen on the dark. As a child, she had heard of ghosts at Castle Glendoon, though no one she knew had seen them.
She pulled, but could not break free. “Let me go!”
“Down that long hill? But that way,” he murmured, leaning close, “lies a treacherous descent. Could you make it safely away in the dark? This way,” he said, turning her toward the castle, “are ghosts and outlaws. Which will you choose?”
She looked up at the castle’s black silhouette, with the outlaw’s hands firm on her shoulders, then glanced back at the dangerous incline, shuddering.
“What does your courage want? You will find adventure in either direction.”
Drawing a breath, heart racing, Sophie closed her eyes. She felt as if she stood on a cliff about to step into the open air.
For a moment, she reached up to clutch the silver and crystal pendant at her throat, wishing its dormant, rumored magic could whisper some guidance. She breathed slowly, then knew. Just knew.
“Wherever I can find a hearth and a pillow, and a cup of hot tea,” she said, lifting her chin, “that way will I go.”Wherever I will find love,she wanted to say,I will go there.If her fairy stone’s magic urged her toward love, she would not find it here.
“Aye then. Hot tea it is.” He took her arm. “Come ahead.”
Heart pounding, she walked with him, eyeing the castle looming on the black hill. Then she realized that the gorge that held the burn served as a natural moat for the castle grounds. The gorge walls were too steep to climb down. “Where is the bridge?”
“No bridge. If we had one, anyone might come up here.” MacPherson pointed across the black gap. “We will have to jump.”
“Jump!”
“Or we can walk down the hill again and find a cave for the night.”
His tone had a wry twist. Surely he did not mean what he said. Though she felt tired and miserable, she had to prove that she could take each challenge with some measure of grace and courage. She had her pride, just as he did.
Letting her go, MacPherson stepped back a few feet, then ran forward and leaped a narrow split in the gorge, straddling the air like a dancer, landing easily on the other side.He had meant, quite literally, jumping over.
“It is not so bad,” he called. “Come over.”
“No.” She backed away, turned, tempted to run while they were separated by the gap. She hesitated, eyeing the dark and dangerous hill behind her.
With a thump, MacPherson leaped back again, taking her arm before she could flee. “The jump is not far. It just looks so. I think you can do it.”
“You think, or you know?” She gave him a scathing look. Yanking out of his hold, she turned to walk along the edge of the bank, where the gorge walls grew steeper. She had not noticed in the mist how deep it was. “There must be some other way to get across. They must have built a bridge to live here long ago.”
“Well, there is a bridge,” he admitted.
“You could have told me so!”
“But the leap is faster. I thought you were anxious for your tea...and a bed.”
“Hateful man. You just wanted to see if I would jump after you. I will not. I am tired and I have no more patience. I want to rest. Where is the crossing?”
“Up the slope that way, there is an easy place to cross.”
“Leap across if you want. I am taking the safe route. And I will have tea for my trouble.” She picked up her bedraggled skirts and stomped away. He did not follow. Was he letting her go so readily? She glanced back, wondering if she could risk escape.
“Watch out for wild cats,” he called.
Her heart quailed, but she did not turn. A moment later, she glanced back again. He was not far behind her. She felt a surprising sense of relief but refused to ask about wild cats or wolves, though she glanced about uneasily.
Raising her skirt hems, she picked her way beside the gash and noticed that the gorge lessened considerably down a hill, becoming a shallow slice in rough grass. In the water, stones offered a secure crossing.
