Nairna tilted her head as though it were no matter. “I’m leaving for Locharr now. Monroe is going with me. I suspect he’s strong enough to protect me.”
“Monroe is afraid of horses.” Dougal sent a disgusted look toward the adolescent, who was indeed looking nervous about the prospect of riding.
Nairna rested her hands on her hips. “He’ll do well enough, if you won’t help.” She’d not received an offer of any additional escorts from the MacKinloch men. They’d claimed that they couldn’t leave Glen Arrin unattended. Since it was only a few hours’ ride, she saw no choice but to use Monroe and Dougal as her guides. At least there was no need to bring supplies or food. They could return tonight if the women agreed to it.
She confronted Dougal and demanded, “Are you coming or not?”
He mounted the horse Monroe gave him and started off through the valley. Though he kept a sour expression on his face, his posture showed his eagerness for an escape from Glen Arrin.
Nairna reached for her riding gloves, but her right palm wouldn’t slide into the leather. When she reached inside the glove, she found a scrap of linen. She unfolded it and found a dried sprig of purple heather inside.
It must have been from Bram. Nairna blinked, for it had been over a sennight since she’d seen her husband last. The simple gift caught at her heart, and in that moment, loneliness swelled up inside her.
Last night when she’d slept alone, the mattress had seemed larger, the space empty. She’d touched the space where he’d laid his head, praying for his safe return.
It was easier to sleep with his warm body pressed against hers. She wondered what it would be like to roll over and feel his kiss claiming her mouth, his hands moving over her skin.
Nairna stroked the heather, closing her eyes for a moment. Bram had conjured up the past with a single flower, of the days when they’d exchanged gifts with one another. As she tucked the flower away, the shaky emotions started to well up.
Quickly she pretended to check the bridle to hide the foolish tears pricking at her eyes. Despite all the years between them, she still cared about Bram. She touched the heather, promising herself that if he returned, she would be a good wife to him.
As she spurred her mare onward to catch up to Dougal, Monroe hung behind. Though his own mount seemed gentle enough, the boy’s face had gone white as he gripped the horse’s mane for balance.
Once she was certain he wouldn’t fall, Nairna rode up beside Dougal. He rode as if he’d been born a part of the horse. The natural gait seemed to flow between them and he appeared to revel in the freedom. No longer was he the angry, frustrated young man. Instead, there was a peace upon his expression.
“Is this your horse?” she prompted, trying to open a conversation. “He’s beautiful.”
“He belongs to Alex,” Dougal said. But his hand passed over the stallion’s neck with an air of possession. He quickened his pace, as if to avoid further conversation. Nairna rode faster, determined not to be left behind.
The wind slashed at her face, her hair whipping free of its braid. When he saw that she’d kept up with his pace, surprise transformed his mood. On impulse, Nairna smiled at him. “Want to race?” Without waiting for his reply, she urged her mare into a full gallop.
“You don’t know where you’re going!” Dougal shouted.
“Then you’d best keep up and show me!” she called back. It had been years since she’d ridden so fast and the exhilaration of speed intensified her enjoyment of the ride.
As she’d predicted, Dougal caught up and overtook her. Nairna tried to increase her mare’s gait, but she knew the animal would tire too soon. Instead, she kept a slight pace back, letting Dougal have the advantage. He led them toward an enormous castle in the distance, one she’d never seen before. Tall square towers were surrounded by strong walls, perhaps eight feet high.
It must have been built by the Normans, she guessed. Possibly twenty years earlier. It must have taken a great deal of wealth to build such a place. Along one of the towers, she saw climbing vines, trailing up the stones.
A small stream flowed across the land ahead, and Dougal slowed his mount in front of it. Nairna judged the distance, took careful aim, and jumped the stream with her mare. They landed safely and she turned to smile at Dougal. “I win.”
“You shouldn’t have jumped her,” the young man argued. “She’s not used to jumping. She might have broken her leg.” Dougal dismounted and sloshed through the stream, moving forward to inspect the mare.
Nairna dismounted to allow him a better look, then said gently, “It was a good race, Dougal. You’re one of the best riders I’ve ever seen.”
He flushed, but he didn’t acknowledge the praise. “She’ll be all right. But don’t jump her again.”
Nairna rubbed the mare’s back. “Do your brothers know you ride this well?”
He shook his head. “All they care about is teaching me how to fight.”
“How did you learn?”
Dougal returned to his own stallion, inspecting the animal and speaking softly to him. “I sneaked out at dawn and taught myself.”
“Why wouldn’t you ask your brother for a horse of your own?” she began. “Alex might—“
“He won’t.” Dougal cut off the conversation and nodded toward the castle. “Now, if you’re wanting to talk to Grizel, you’ll find her inside.”
