Page 55 of The Forest Bride
“He likes you. He does not like everyone,” Duncan said. “You are kind to him. I appreciate it,” he said briskly. “Later, then. I will find you a falconer’s glove. Come up the stairs now, and back to your chamber.” He walked backwards as he spoke.
“Will you draw the bar this time?”
“We shall see.”
“Could I have a book or two from your library? I looked at the others there already.”
“I will send some up for you.” He led her into the keep and up the stairs. At her bedchamber door, she stepped inside and turned. “I believe there is a book of Arthur’s tales if you like it. Though it is in French,” he said.
“That will do. I will see you later.” She smiled, tremulous. Hoping. Not certain that she could hope, unsure yet what he felt. His outer reserve contrasted to the inner passion he had shown her, spun her about. The other night he had responded to hervitally, passionately, and yet drew away. Perhaps she had been too impulsive, his closeness stirring her, his kindness misleading her.
Duncan Campbell kept himself to himself. Perhaps for him, this new peace between them was enough.
“I have matters to attend, cases and suchlike. I will see you later.”
Ah. She smiled. “Thank you for showing me the birds. That was kind of you.”
“I wanted you to know she was here, and safe.” He opened the door and stood back as she entered. His smile was pensive as he shut the door.
A long moment passed. She did not hear the bar slip into place.
So, trust was offered. Perhaps she should not hope for more.
Chapter Fourteen
They headed northout of Brechlinn and followed the course of a narrow river through a green glen where curving foothills stretched toward far mountains. Margaret looked about, savoring the sunlight, the wind, the freedom. The Highland air was fresh and wild, the clouds high overhead, and she felt content. What she had missed these days, she realized, was simply being outside—the air, the hills, the forest that always fed her spirit and gave her a sense that all was well, at least for the moment.
Bran had saddled four garron ponies, the short, heavy-set, shaggy Highland breed that was so surefooted on slopes and rocky ground. Secure on the garron’s wide back, Margaret hooked her knee around the pommel of the sidesaddle Bran had thoughtfully provided, though she could have ridden a man’s saddle if needed.
Duncan, Bran, and Lennox, all big men, looked a bit awkward on the ponies, she thought, their boots brushing grasses and bracken at times. Normally knights rode huge chargers or even larger destriers. But as Highlanders, they were perfectly at ease on the garrons. She knew they could not easily take larger horses through some parts of the Highlands, and she was grateful for her mount’s gentle, intrepid character.
Duncan rode beside her while Bran and Lennox rode ahead, accompanied by the two large dogs, Mungo and Freya, thatmoved about freely, running off and coming back as they pleased.
“Your hounds are enormous,” she said.
“Wolfhounds, aye. They need big spaces, indoors and out. They are happy here.”
“And the birds, they are fine with the dogs?”
“They tolerate each other.”
On her thick leather glove, she carried Aurelia, the peregrine falcon, compact and powerful, dark-feathered with a creamy breast. Her large dark eyes were striking, ringed in gold, hence her name; her fierce expression and flickering eyes seemed to see all. She was not hooded, as Duncan said she was well-behaved and would not pull at her jesses or launch away on her own. Duncan carried Greta hooded in red leather.
“How far will we go with the horses?” she asked. “You said we would walk with the birds in open spaces.”
“We will. I want to take you north through Glen Falloch to the waterfall, not far ahead. Further north is the village of Crianlarich, and west of here, a quick route to the western Highlands and the Isles. East lie hills and moorland, with Stirling less than a day’s ride. Either way is a good outing for hawks and falcons.”
“Duncan should have told you,” said Malcolm Lennox, slowing his garron, “that along the eastern side of the great loch below Brechlinn are my lands. I am lending the Lennox to Sir John for now, until it pleases me not to.”
Duncan laughed. “A loan, is it?”
“I stomach it better that way until I have it back.”
“Indeed, you must have it back soon forthwith,” Margaret said.
“Duncan Dhu, I am a bit in love with your lady.” The earl smiled at her.
“And Greta thanks you,” Duncan retorted.
