Page 50 of Stealing Sophie
He huffed. “I am no longer in the regiment and no longer one of General Wade’s men. But if you are determined—” He stopped, removed his guiding hand, waved. “Go on, then. Go, if you wish.”
“Go?” She sounded surprised.
“If you manage to avoid Highland thieves and soldiers lacking morals, you might also be lucky enough to find Sir Henry Campbell again.”
“Campbell?” She looked around warily.
“Aye, he is out here searching for you, too. I saw him today, from a distance. And I watched soldiers combing these hills. I am sure Sir Henry would offer you assistance.”
“No doubt.” She did not move.
“He is a magistrate, after all, and could help you obtain an annulment from your thief of a husband. Although you would have to appeal to Rome for that, being Catholic,” he added. “That would take some weeks. Then you would be free to marry Sir Henry.”
“You know I do not want that,” she snapped.
“I am not sure what you want,” he answered. “Are you?”
She lifted her chin. “If I went to Sir Henry, he would have you arrested.”
“I am sure he would relish that.” He watched her, waited, his heart beating hard. It was a gamble to give a kestrel a chance to spread her wings. Perhaps he was wrong to hold her, promise or not.
But if she took off, he would have to follow her all night just to make sure she was safe. He could not live with himself otherwise. He waited, arms folded, heart pounding.
Brow furrowed, she looked around, then turned to study him warily. Connor turned and began to walk away.
A moment later, she fell into step with him, skirts rustling softly. He slid her a glance, masking his vast relief. “If you wanted to escape, Sophie lass, you should have tried in daylight. These hills at night are not the place for a girl alone.”
“I was busy all day wandering the castle, with my guard and a pack of dogs at my heels,” she snapped.
“I am glad you found something to do. Hush,” he said suddenly, stretching out an arm to stop her, silence her.
The hair on his neck prickled, his senses sparked with alarm. The rustle of old heather, the burble of a nearby burn, the snap of his plaid in the wind, the liquid trill of a curlew—normal enough sounds. But he had heard something else. He waited.
And heard it again–shouts muffled by distance and breezes. The lowing of cattle as well. Men and livestock were on this same hill, where they should not be.
In silence, he took Sophie’s arm and drew her with him toward the fringe of pine trees. Without a word, she hastened with him.
Ducking under the wide,low-hanging branches of a pine tree, Sophie fell to her knees as MacPherson pulled her down to the ground. He grabbed her, drew her hard against him under wide sheltering pine branches as he knelt. She half fell, half sat over his thighs. His arms wrapped quickly, tightly around her.
“What is it?” she asked, and he slid his palm over her mouth.
“Shh,” he whispered. She felt the tension in his body, taut as a bowstring. She sensed the heavy thudding of his heart, too, felt it pulse in his hand over her mouth. She stayed quiet, breathing quickly, peering through the thick tree branches, the scent of pine and earth enveloping them. Connor dropped his hand away. She stayed still.
Now she heard men calling out, heard the bellows of cattle and the thud of hooves. Watching through the screen of pine boughs, she gasped to see three Highland men and several cows crossing the same slope where she and Connor had been walking. The rising moonlight struck along the animals’ horns, highlighting their huge heads and broad backs. Solid, shaggy, the beasts moved steadily across the incline, driven by the men, who called and hooted.
“Cearnach,” he whispered. “Cattle thieves. Hamish MacDonell and his brothers, I think. A naughty bunch of lads. We will just wait here, you and I.” His breath blew soft over her cheek, his voice resonated through her body.
Sophie nodded, glad of his arms around her. She waited in silence with him, her breath in tandem with his, taking in the pungent scent of sap branches and pine. MacPherson shifted slightly, one arm crossing her bodice, one around her waist. The heel of his hand pressed against her upper chest, warmth gathering there.
She kept utterly still, watching the men and animals wander over the hill. The men called to each other, laughed, seemed to feel no urgency. The cattle turned in wayward directions, one moving so close to the cluster of pines that Sophie could hear the beast’s heavy breaths and snorts. One of the men ran toward it, swearing as he tried to drive it down to join the others.
Instead, the animal turned directly for their tree. Sophie stiffened.
“Easy,” Connor whispered. “Hush.” His head tipped against hers.
At the last instant, the cow veered to follow its drover. Sophie blew out a breath.
Within moments, men and herd disappeared around the shoulder of the hill. Sophie began to sit up, but MacPherson pulled her back.
