Page 87 of Highland Renegade
She reined in the filly, pausing to look over the landscape. The peat bog was not far away. She could see men in the distance, bending to their work, and wondered how far they would be able to go before they confronted an oozing mess. For a moment, she considered riding over to watch Ian work, but her presence would only remind him she was riding alone. Reluctantly, she turned Muirne in the other direction.
The road stretched out ahead of her, flat and smooth. Beneath her, she could feel the filly’s anticipation of a good run. Emily laughed and leaned over the horse’s neck, whispering in her ear.
“Let’s go!”
Without breaking stride, the filly launched into a rocking-chair canter and then faster as Emily urged her on. The wind whipped the mane in her face and her hairpins fell out, letting her hair fly freely behind her. Powerful muscles bunched under her, the steady rat-tat-tat of hooves filling the air as the horse snorted and tossed her head. Emily had never felt so free.
And then she felt the saddle slip. Emily grabbed for the mane, which loosened her hold on the reins, allowing Muirne to stretch into a full-out gallop. As she did, Emily felt herself go airborne.
For a moment she floated in the air before she landed hard and the world went black.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ian hated working in the bog. It was messy, stinking, backbreaking work, but he never asked his men to do something he wouldn’t do himself. Today had been especially bad because the muck wasn’t quite dry enough and had sucked at his boots with every shovelful unturned.
Now he perched on the edge of the horse trough in the bailey and pulled off his mud-laden boots. Maggie would skin him alive if he even attempted to track through the kitchen in them. He was tempted to roll back and drop himself into the trough to wash the dirt off, too, but the horses wouldn’t appreciate it. Besides, the temptation of ahotbath was more than enough incentive to pick himself up.
He took the servants’ stairs up to his chamber, knowing Hamish would have seen him in the yard and sent some lads up with hot water. Since it was only the middle of the afternoon—he’d finally yielded to the bog—he allowed himself to linger in the copper tub until the water turned cool. Besides being practically a sinful luxury, it gave him some quiet time to reflect on Emily.
He could still feel how perfectly she fit against his side as she’d fallen asleep in the carriage. How warm and soft she’d been and the delicate scent from her hair. How she’d burrowed her head into his shoulder with a satisfied moan… A moan he’d like very, very much to make her do while she was awake and lying beneath him in the throes of passion.
And he had no doubt Emily Woodhaven was a passionate woman. She might appear quiet and calm and quite sensible, but the kiss they’d shared—the one that she’d asked to prolong after Devon had interrupted them, said otherwise. So did her bold invitation to go into the darkened hallway at Kilchurn. If only Devon had not been called out… Ian sighed. His brother did turn up at the most inconvenient times.
Stepping out of the now cold tub, he dried off quickly, donned some clean clothes, and went down to the Great Hall. While it was still too early for the evening meal, the workers were enjoying well-earned kegs of ale. Many were already refilling empty tankards as he entered. None of the women were in sight, but he saw Carr near the dais and walked over to him.
“Did Alasdair get off all right?”
His brother nodded. “Hamish said he left for Glasgow shortly after we went to the bog.”
“If he catches the tide right, he’ll be in Ireland tomorrow then.” Ian looked around the room. “’Twill be a pity he willna be here when Lord Mount Stuart presents the bill.”
“Ye are that sure it will pass?”
“It has to.”
Carr raised a brow. “Have MacGregors nae been saying that for the past two hundred years?”
“Aye,” Ian said, “but this time we have a former prime minister to lend his support to it.”
“Ye have that much faith in him?” Carr asked. “Did he tell ye so?”
“He seemed to be most favorable when I spoke to him,” Ian replied.
“Favorable is nae a definite.”
“True, but Argyll was with him when we spoke.” Ian grinned. “But ’twas Emily who told me about their conversation. He will support us.”
“So the countess is on our side then?”
“Aye.” Ian paused. When Emily had told him that Lord Bute would back the restoration, she had sounded a bit constrained, but then she’d smiled and said he had nothing to worry about. “I trust her.”
“I do, too, although I canna speak for our brothers,” Carr replied.
Ian looked around the hall again. “Where are they, by the way?”
“Rory heard that some of the mares had gotten out of the pasture this morning so he went to check with Jamie.” Carr shrugged. “I doona ken where Devon went.”
“Hmmm. I wonder where the women are?” He’d no more than finished the sentence when he saw Fiona enter with Lorelei and Juliana. He frowned when he didn’t see Emily and then the hair on his nape began to rise as all three of them hurried over to him.
