Page 88 of Stealing Sophie
“I need to take the dogs for a long run tonight. I thought you might like to come along.” He glanced at her. “You like lambs, I think?”
“Not to eat,” she said.
He chuckled. “I am taking the dogs out to look for fox dens, as they are very sharp about such things. It is lambing time for the hill sheep now, so we run the dogs in the hills at night to frighten the foxes away from the new lambs. It is my turn tonight.”
“Hunting foxes? I am not sure I want to see that.”
“We are not hunting them. The dogs do their job well.”
“They kill the foxes?” She stopped short.
“Such a tender wee thing, Saint Sophie.” He cupped her elbow. “No, lass. The dogs guard the flock and put up such a commotion with their barking that no foxes dare come near. These dogs are good, loyal wee warriors,” he added. “Do you know why terriers are called ‘earth dogs’ in the Highlands? Because they will follow a rabbit or a fox down into warrens and dens if need be. That threat keeps the foxes away.”
“Ah. Rabbits and foxes have cubs this time of year, too.”
“Aye, and they want to protect their little ones and feed them on my wee lambs. And I mean to protect my wee ones as closely as if they were my own babes.”
Her heart stirred at that. “The lambs are so small at this time.”
“Newborn lambs make a tempting meal for foxes. So we keep the dogs out and about. Foxes are smart and learn to keep away. If they do not, the dogs will see to it.”
“Oh,” she said in dismay.
“Just Nature doing its work, lass.”
“I know,” she said. The shadows were long and deep now as she climbed the slope beside Connor. Somewhere nearby, she heard the burble of a rushing burn. On a far hillcrest, she noticed a group of deer silhouetted against the twilight.
She paused, breathing in the beauty, the peace of it all. Glancing toward the glen below, she saw the gleaming loch and the river beyond it, reflecting the moon above and the purple of twilight merging into the darkness.
“This is much nicer than the last time we went hillwalking at night together,” she said wryly. Connor laughed, setting a hand to her waist as they took the incline. The dogs caught a trail and ran off, barking, and Connor soon strode ahead to look for them.
His shirtsleeves fluttered pale, his dark plaid rippled about him as he walked ahead, and she could not help but admire his strength and the constant air of certainty and determination around him. She smiled a little to herself, private, glad to be outside, especially with him.
Ahead, she saw the milky blurs of the sheep scattered all along this hill and the next, the adults stodgy and darker shapes, the lambs fuzzy and small, leaping about here and there. Sophie watched for a few moments, laughing at their sweet antics. Then, high on the ridge of the hill, she saw Connor, who beckoned her upward.
He had been right, she thought—she had very much needed to come out here on such a beautiful night, where the air was clear and fresh, the wide sky sparkled with stars, and the water in the long bowl of the glen shone like steel.
Connor moved out of sight as the dogs began to bark, far in the distance. And for a moment, Sophie realized that she had the perfect chance to flee. From here, she could run in any direction, and he might never see the path she took.
Yet she could not.
Watching the sweet lambs and their truculent parents, she chose to stay. At that moment, climbing the slope, her skirts billowing in a cool wind, she felt more freedom than she had ever known.
