Alanna’s heart slammed against her ribs. “We’re turning back?”
“Nae, I am,” he said, confusing her.
“But-”
“I’ll fetch the cat,” he said, jerking the reins, turning his horse round, then pounding away in another direction.
The wrong one.
Alanna twisted to look up at him. “Sir, you’re-”
“Callum,” he said. “My name is Callum.”
“Sir Callum, Seacliffe is behind us.”
“I am no’ a sir,” he told her, his tone cold again. “And I know fine where your home is,” he added, his gaze on the vast, snow-crusted moorland spreading before them. “I’ll ride to Seacliffe on my own, after you tell me where I’ll find your Gubbie.”
“And me?” Alanna kept her gaze on his profile, something about the blade of his nose, the slant of his strong, dark-bearded jaw, making her breath come harder. “You can’t leave me out here.”
“Och, nae?” He shot a glance at her, then spurred his horse toward the horizon, there where a line of tumbled boulders seemed to roll away to forever, their tops covered with winter-dead heather, the dried blooms white with snow.
“Gubbie is afraid of strangers,” Alanna argued. “He won’t go with you.”
“He willnae have a choice.”
“Nor do I,” she muttered, as much to herself as to him.
“Aye, you do.” He sounded so sure. “I’ll leave you at the farthest edge of the world – or so the place seems. You’ll have two plaids to keep you warm, a flask of whisky for the same reason, and a few bannocks, though they may be hard.”
“And if I run away?”
“That’s your choice. You can be wise and wait, or you can take off and regret your foolery.”
“My people will help me.” Alanna’s mind raced, trying to gauge the distance to help, the nearest farm or croft, and if she could make it there, given the cold and snow. “Some dwell hereabouts.”
“No’ where I’m taking ye.” He shuddered – or so she thought, having felt the chill rush through him. “Nae man lives there, or would want to,” he finished, slowing the horse as the line of stones drew ever nearer. “Besides, you want your cat, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then you’ll stay put.”
Alanna’s breath caught. “What are you saying?”
“What I just did.” He had the nerve to smile. “Disappear and you’ll ne’er see me again. Or him.”
Chapter 9
“Thor’s frozen danglers!”
Callum muttered the curse as he reined in behind an ancient, now-empty byre a good sprint from Seacliffe Castle. Satisfied no one had seen him, he swung down from Storm, his borrowed steed, a spirited beast said to be one of the Stewart band’s favorites. Understanding why, he led Storm into the ruin.
Sorry he didn’t have a sack of oats or a handful of carrots for him, he scooped armfuls of snow into an old stone trough, hoping the horse could at least slake his thirst – if the poor thing didn’t mind freezing his teeth.
Hedeserved to freeze.
At the least, he knew a loathing he’d never thought to aim at himself, prizing charity and honor as he did.
Had he truly threatened an innocent lass that she’d never see her pet again?
