Page 52 of A Rogue in Twilight
She remembered his leg then. “Of course,” she murmured.
“You have a turned ankle, and what of our horse and gig? I wonder if we could walk the horse over the bridge without the gig.” James went forward to step tentatively on the bridge,jumping up and down to test its soundness, then walking toward the middle.
Elspeth heard the low groan of wood and iron. “No, stop!”
He moved back to the grass. “It might hold, but the water could wash over at any moment. We must go upstream to cross, or return to Struan.”
“The bridge will hold me. I can cross here. You return to Struan with the horse and gig. You need not escort me all the way home.” She did not want to say farewell but did not want him to take the risk for her.
“So the viscount traps you at Struan overnight, then tosses you out of his gig to walk home on a poor ankle, in a storm, over an unsafe bridge? My lass, they write ballads about such cruel lovers as that. And your grandfather would call for a hanging.”
Lover,she thought, thrilled at the casual way he said it, with such acceptance. “He would bring a reverend, not a rope.”
“Which is worse, to Miss MacArthur’s thinking?” he asked wryly.
She only laughed, walking back to the gig beside him. He lifted her inside, his hands firm at her waist, then leaped up and took the reins to turn the placid mare. Then he guided the horse along the earthen track beside the gorge in the direction of the other crossing. Below, the water rushed and brimmed nearly to its sodden banks.
Nearing the fording place, where the sides of the gorge disappeared to flatter moorland, Elspeth saw that the run-off had flooded the moorland to either side. “The crossing on foot is over there,” she said. “The rocks are flat and it is usually easy to walk across. But the water is too high now.”
“Aye.” He stopped the horse. “That is no easy crossing there. Our wheels could bog down.”
She nodded. The burn had overflowed its banks, creating a swampy area to either side. The rocks used for crossing on foot were mostly submerged.
“How deep is it over there? Are there good-sized rocks we could use to step across?” He pointed downstream.
“It is not too rocky there, and usually is just inches deep. But more today.”
“I think the gig can make it across. If the horse will not falter, we’ll do all right. Hold on.” He set the horse forward before Elspeth could protest.
Under his skilled and certain hands, the gig rattled steadily across the boggy ground. Elspeth clung to the seat, grabbing James’s sleeve with her other hand, his arm tensing as he guided reins and horse.
Then they were fording the burn, the horse moving through the flow, the gig following. Elspeth squealed in alarm at the swirl and rush of the current.
“We’ll be fine,” James said. Within moments, the water swirled to the hubs, then nearly the tops, of the wheels, splashing over James’s boots and soaking Elspeth’s hem.
“Turn back,” she said, clutching the seat.
“We will be fine, my girl.” The horse stepped through the surge. As water sluiced over the floorboards, Elspeth shrieked faintly.
Halfway across, the horse stopped, and the wheels seemed stuck, the gig shuddering in the current. Water slopped over the floorboards, wetting Elspeth’s shoes and skirts. The horse pulled again, whinnied, stopped.
“Stay here,” James told Elspeth, and stepped down into water that surged around his legs. The tail of his frock coat floated behind him as he surged ahead and took the horse’s bridle. He spoke quietly, patting the mare’s nose, then movedforward, the horse following. Within moments, the gig lurched free.
Elspeth drew her legs up to the seat, water washing over the floorboards. The horse gave a hesitant whicker but plowed steadily through the water in response to the man whose calm and caution made the girl and horse feel safe.
Holding the bridle, James led the horse ahead carefully, slipping a bit in the swirling water, his hat tipping off as he caught himself. Elspeth bent to snatch up the hat as it swirled past.
The gig surged dripping from the water, horse and man guiding. As it lurched up to the opposite bank, James climbed inside.
“Well done!” Elspeth handed him his hat. “Kilcrennan is north, that way.”
“There’s something to be said for funding new roads,” James said, as the gig rolled along the rutted, muddy track.
“As laird of Struan, you could pay for repairs rather than wait for the Crown to fix the roads. They are in no hurry to fix up the Highlands after they laid straight new roads through the hills to quell the Scots a hundred years back.”
“And much good it did. Highlanders are a stubborn lot,” he said.
“We are.” She laughed, and he did too, and they rode quietly toward Kilcrennan and her grandfather.
