Arran glanced at the map then back at Jenna. Was she imagining it, or was there a slight blush to his cheeks?
“Aye, fine. Whatever ye wish. Mal will attend ye after ye have finished breakfast. He will escort ye wherever ye wish to go.”
Mal? Eh? “But I thought we would—”
“Ye must excuse me,” Arran cut in. “There are matters I have to attend to.”
He gave Jenna and Rosaline another small bow and then hurried off with his men. Jenna watched him go with a sinking feeling in her stomach. They had agreed to pretend that last night never happened, and it seemed that Arran was determined to stick to that agreement. She knew it was for the best, but that didn’t stop her feeling like she had a bowling ball sitting in her stomach.
“Jenna? Is everything all right?”
She blinked and, realizing she’d been staring after Arran, forced a smile as she looked at Rosaline. “Never better. Let’s go get some breakfast, shall we?”
Yet even though she was hungry, Jenna found herself hardly eating a thing. Throughout breakfast she felt restless and out of sorts and kept catching herself glancing at the door, hoping that Arran would walk through it. He didn’t.
Annoyed with herself for feeling this way, she was glad when Mal strode in and came over to where she was sitting with Rosaline at thehead table. He gave a slight nod in greeting, brushing back a blond braid. Even though they were cousins, Jenna could see little family resemblance between him and Arran. Their coloring was similar but Mal was bigger and blockier than his cousin, and seemed more inclined to smile than the laird.
He bestowed that smile on Jenna now. “Arran tells me ye wish to ride out today? Well, I’ve organized the men so if ye are ready, we can be on our way.”
Jenna pushed away her half-finished bowl of porridge and stood. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Outside, she found a guard of at least thirty men waiting in the courtyard with their horses. Jenna tried not to scowl as she looked them over. Thirty men? Really?
Mal led her over to a docile gray horse whose head was hanging down, half-asleep. “This is Misty. She’s a gentle beast who we use for teaching youngsters to ride. Ye should be able to handle her.”
A child’s horse? Did they really think she wasthatuseless?
At her stony silence, Mal cleared his throat. “Or, if ye prefer, ye can ride with me—”
“No, Misty will do just fine. Thanks.” She most certainly didnotwant to share a saddle with Mal. He wasn’t Arran, after all.
She thrust the map at Mal and pointed to the spot on the coast where the second anchor stone was marked. “That’s where I’d like to go, please.”
Mal took the map and nodded. “Aye. I know it.”
“Right.” She approached Misty cautiously, as though she was some wild stallion who might stomp her into mush. Misty raised her head and watched Jenna dolefully.
“Hello, girl,” she muttered. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but I’m sure we can be friends, huh?” As she’d seen Arran and the others do, she got her foot in the stirrup and then bounced a few times on her other foot to work up momentum before boosting herself intothe saddle. It only partially worked and she ended up with her belly over the saddle and had to wriggle her way around to the proper position before pulling herself upright and taking the reins.
Mal and his men studiously looked away.
“Well?” she demanded. “What are we waiting for?”
It was a bright, still morning, with a warm sun beating down on the countryside and the sparkling blue ocean spreading out to the horizon. Jenna guessed it was the kind of day that horsey people the world over would love to spend out on a hack, enjoying the great outdoors, but to Jenna, the two-hour journey was nothing short of torture.
By the time Mal announced that they were nearing their destination, Jenna’s backside was numb, her fingers hurt from clenching the reins in a death grip, and she felt like she was slowly being sawn in half. As Mal called a halt and Misty followed the lead of the other horses by plodding to a stop, Jenna swung her leg over the saddle and slid ungracefully to the ground where she landed in a heap among a pile of prickly heather.
Groaning, she sat up. People rode these things forfun? Were they out of their minds?
Rubbing her backside, she climbed gingerly to her feet and looked around. The thirty men that had accompanied her had spread out in a broad circle around her and Mal, and none of them had dismounted. They watched the landscape in every direction, their expressions hard, their gazes intense. She had no doubt that Arran had given them strict instructions to ensure her safety, and they were taking that dutyveryseriously.
Jenna pushed thoughts of Arran out of her mind and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes. Almost immediately, she felt the presence of the anchor stone somewhere nearby. Like the first one, it brushed against her senses like an electric current, pulling her towards the shoreline.
She opened her eyes and began walking. Mal strode by her side although he didn’t speak. On this part of the island the coast was comprised not of pebbles or driftwood or even rock pools. Instead, a craggy, pockmarked cliff descended almost straight down into the booming waves below. Hesitantly, Jenna edged her way to the cliff edge and looked down. A dizzying distance below her, waves pounded against a thin strip of blackened rocks that looked as if they had fallen from the cliff some time in the distant past. Froth and spray went shooting into the air every time the waves broke over the rocks, and the air was filled with the boom and thump of their impact.
It was not an inviting place.
“Is there any way down there?” she asked Mal.
